Fiona guided Shaneese back as the downdraft from Zirenth’s great wings blew up dirt and pebbles, while behind them more circles of dust rose in the early afternoon air under the other dragons of his Wing.

The Wing itself was half the size of a normal, full-strength Wing, as were the other three Wings that rose with it. Telgar Weyr could count only seventy-three fighting dragons as its strength now.

Fortunately, they would be joined by the eighty-nine dragons of High Reaches Weyr, forming almost two full Flights of dragons. Almost.

Less, really, when the reserve Wing of thirteen dragons was counted. Those thirteen, under C’tov’s leadership, still waited on the ground, ready to fly to aid or to replenish those low on firestone.

Still, Fiona thought with relief, it was much better than the notion of flying with only three short Wings.

She glanced around at the first-aid stations being set up without any real concerns; time and practice had drilled the weyrfolk to a fine pitch. Her eyes narrowed as she caught sight of Lorana arranging bandages near the Hatching Grounds and, suppressing an irritated growl, Fiona sprinted over toward her.

“Don’t say anything!” Lorana said, a hand raised to forestall Fiona’s incipient scolding. “I’m going to sit down as soon as this is arranged and I won’t get up again until I’m needed.”

“You should be getting your rest.”

“No,” Lorana retorted, her lips curving upward in a slight smile, “you should be getting your rest.”

“She’s right,” Shaneese chimed in, having caught up with her peripatetic Weyrwoman. She shook her head at the Weyrwoman in exasperation as she added, “If anyone should be resting, it’s you.”

Fiona glanced back and forth between the two women, caught sight of Bekka and Terin bearing down out of the corner of her eyes, and surrendered sweetly, saying, “How about if I just sit here?”

Lorana examined her carefully, suspicious at her sudden acceptance. “Well …”

“Don’t!” Bekka’s voice cut across hers even as the youngster raced up and halted, nearly breathless, to stand bent over with her hands resting on her knees in front of the table. “Don’t let her get away with anything!”

“I was just—” Fiona began in protest.

Terin caught up with Bekka, her face split in a big grin: She’d heard the whole exchange. She glanced at the young healer, saying facetiously, “So, you’ve heard about our Weyrwoman, have you?”

Bekka ignored her, catching her breath enough to push herself upright once more and tell Fiona, “You get to bed and rest.”

“The Weyrwoman—”

“—has more than enough help and will show that she can follow orders,” Lorana cut across Fiona’s protests. Fiona glared at her, but the older woman was unrelenting. “Didn’t you mention something about setting an example?”

“But—” Fiona spluttered.