Her nose and lungs froze as she took another breath. Frantically, she pulled a portion of her thin scarf up to cover her nose; the air was easier to breathe that way, but her breath fogged her vision.

It had been an age for her since that time—only days ago here—when the strange gold rider had come:

“Get dressed,” the rider had said. “We must be quick. We can’t wake the others.”

Fiona had had only an instant to decide: a rash plunge into the unknown. Why had she taken it?

But she had; and for three Turns she’d been Weyrwoman of Igen Weyr, which had been abandoned until she and the other Fort dragonriders had gone back ten Turns in time to use it as a place to grow and heal … She’d learned to trade, learned to fly, and learned what it meant to be a Weyrwoman.

She had nearly seventeen Turns now, but here, back in her own time, they still thought her not yet fourteen. A part of her longed for that, longed to give the responsibility for decisions to others, to rest and relax and just focus on raising her queen.

Her queen. Beautiful Talenth had grown, had become a queen in all her glory, ready for her first mating flight, ready to add her hatchlings to the dragons of Pern.

When Fiona had realized that, had really understood, she had turned to T’mar. The bronze rider had been her mentor, her trainer, and the Weyrleader of the small group of injured and immature riders who had accompanied her back in time. He had been the one person who could help her take that next step in becoming a queen rider. There was a bond between them, she knew it. More than shared peril, more than shared times. He had a piece of her heart, freely given. But, she thought with a breath of the cold air, he didn’t have it all.

Kindan. He was also there, on her horizon. As a child, she had loved him, while he had loved her older sister, Koriana. During her time at Igen, in the past, she had met him again, but she’d been older, and he hadn’t recognized her. Now, as a grown woman, she had discovered that her feelings for him were no less than they’d been when she was a girl. Did she love him, she challenged herself, or did she just want to prove that she was as good as Koriana, whom he’d held in his arms as she died?

“Are you ready?” Terin asked, from her perch in front of Fiona.

“I’m ready,” Fiona said, moving her scarf away and glancing down to the Weyr Bowl below.

The older riders had already landed. T’mar was being embraced by Weyrleader K’lior, and there, to one side, stood dark-haired, quiet Xhinna.