Young Toric, now, would lose some of his bitterness if he did Impress a fire-lizard. He would feel that his claim was vindicated. And if fire-lizards did take to anyone, and could carry messages back and forth, what a boon that would be. A lizard for everyone? That would be quite a battle cry. F’nor chortled as he thought of the Oldtimers’ reactions to that. Do them good, it would, and he chuckled at the vision of T’ron trying to lure a fire-lizard which ignored him to be Impressed by a lowly crafterchild. Something had better pierce the Oldtimers’ blind parochiality. Yet even they, at a crucial moment in the sensitive awareness of adolescence, had appealed to dragonkind; they endured cold and possible death to fight an endless and mindless enemy. But there was more to living than that initial achievement and that eternal alert. Adolescence was only a step of life, not a career in itself. When one matured, one knew there was more to living.

Then F’nor remembered that he’d not had the chance to mention Brekke’s problem to F’lar. And F’lar would probably have gone back to Benden Weyr by now. F’nor upbraided himself for what was downright interference. Comes from being a Wing-second so long, he thought. You can’t go around meddling in another’s Weyr. T’bor had enough stress. But, by the First Egg, F’nor hated to think of the scenes Kylara would subject Brekke to, if Orth flew Wirenth.

He grew restless with traveling and wasn’t even amused when Canth began to croon soothingly. But when the journey was accomplished, and they were circling down into the late afternoon sun over Southern, he felt no fatigue. A few riders were feeding their beasts in the pasture and he inquired if Canth wished to be fed.

Brekke wants to see you, Canth advised F’nor as he landed neatly in his weyr.

“Probably to scold me,” F’nor said, slapping Canth’s muzzle affectionately. He stood aside watching until the brown settled himself in the warmth of his dusty wallow.

Grall peeked out of the folds of the sling and F’nor transferred her to his shoulder. She squeaked a protest as he strode quickly toward Brekke’s weyrhold and dug her claws into the shoulder pad for balance. She was thinking hungry thoughts.

Brekke was feeding her lizard, Berd, when F’nor entered. She smiled as she heard Grall’s shrill demand, and pushed the bowl of meat toward F’nor.

“I was worried that you might fly between.”

“Canth wouldn’t let me.”

“Canth has sense. How’s the arm?”

“Took no hurt. There wasn’t much to be done.”

“So I hear.” Brekke frowned. “Everything’s askew. I have the oddest sensation…”