“Do you want to talk about it?” Kindan asked in a gentle tone that sounded well-practiced to Fiona’s ears. She closed her own eyes in thought and remembered—it was the tone he’d used to talk to those with nightmares from the Plague.

“You’re both so cold,” Lorana said, shivering. She twitched as Fiona laid a hand on her forehead.

“No, you’re very hot,” the Weyrwoman said. “Kindan, feel her head.”

Kindan’s hand was little warmer than Fiona’s and Lorana gasped once more.

“So we felt cold,” Kindan said as he removed his hand. “Was that it?”

“Yes,” Lorana said quietly.

“You were in bed with two others who were cold?” Fiona guessed.

“My brother and sister.”

“I’m not going to die on you,” Fiona assured her fervently.

“Sometimes,” Lorana said in a pained voice, “you remind me exactly of my sister.”

“And she said the same thing,” Fiona guessed.

“Yes.”

“I’m still here, my heart’s still beating,” Fiona said, moving closer to Lorana, grabbing a resisting hand in her own and dragging it to her heart.

“See? Feel it?”

“No one can predict the future,” Lorana said in protest, pulling her hand free.

“Not unless you go there and look,” Fiona agreed. “But, by the First Egg, I’ll never abandon you: as long as I draw breath, I’ll be there for you.”

“That’s all anyone can ask.” Lorana took a deep, calming breath.

“Well, that and some more blankets,” Fiona said. “Kindan, could you pull the spare ones up?”

The harper complied and moments later, Lorana felt Fiona turn on her side, the length of her warm back closest to her. Kindan reciprocated not long after and Lorana found the heat she’d been missing in her nightmare.

“Everything’s ready here,” Fiona assured T’mar as she steadied him on his climb up to his perch on Zirenth. “Just make sure we don’t need it, okay?”

T’mar swung his right leg over Zirenth’s neck and adjusted his seat, tying himself to the riding straps and checking, once more, the straps that held the sacks of firestone on the harness close to hand.

“We’ll try, Weyrwoman.”

“You come back in one piece, with no nicks or cuts,” Shaneese told him fiercely from where she stood next behind Fiona.

“Of course, headwoman,” T’mar agreed, a broad grin on his face. “I wouldn’t dare disappoint either of you!”

“Just as long as that’s understood,” Fiona said, moving back to grab Shaneese by the hand. Her own mood slipped and she strained upward, using her hold on the headwoman to aid her as she added, “Fly safe.”

T’mar nodded, his grin slipping into a steady look. He took a deep breath, then turned to the rest of his Wing and gave the arm-pumping gesture for them to fly.