He stared hard at the purple blotch on the horizon that was the Weyr, as if he himself could somehow bridge the gap with his thoughts. But the frenzy on the beach was attracting attention from another source. Wild wherries, the carrion eaters of Pern, instinctively flocked to the shore, their wings making an ominous line of v’s in the southern sky. The vanguard was already beating to a height, preparing to dive at the unprotected weak fledglings. Every nerve in F’nor’s body yearned to go to their rescue, but Canth repeated his warning. F’nor would jeopardize his fragile rapport with the little queen if he moved. Or, F’nor realized, if he communicated his agitation to her. He closed his eyes. He couldn’t watch.

The first shriek of pain vibrated through his body as well as the little lizard’s. She darted into the folds of his arm sling, trembling against his ribs. Despite himself, F’nor opened his eyes. But the wherries had not stooped yet, though they circled lower and lower with rapacious speed. The fledglings were voraciously attacking each other. He shuddered and the little queen rattled her pinions, uttering a delicate fluting sound of distress.

“You’re safe with me. Far safer with me. Nothing can harm you with me,” F’nor told her repeatedly, and Canth crooned reassurance in harmony with that litany.

The strident shriek of the wherries as they plunged suddenly changed to their piercing wail of terror. F’nor glanced up, away from the carnage on the beach, to see a green dragon in the sky, belching flame, scattering the avian hunters. The green hovered, several lengths above the beach, her head extended downward. She was riderless.

Just then, F’nor saw three figures, charging, sliding, slipping down the high sand dune, heading as straight as possible toward the many-winged mass of cannibals. Although they looked as if they’d carom right into the middle, they somehow managed to stop.

Brekke said she has alerted as many as she could, Canth told him.

“Brekke? Why’d you call her? She’s got enough to do.”

She is the best one, Canth replied, ignoring F’nor’s reprimand.

“Are they too late?” F’nor glanced anxiously at the sky and at the dune, willing more men to arrive.

Brekke was wading toward the struggling hatchlings now, her hands extended. The other two were following her example. Who had she brought? Why hadn’t she got more riders? They’d know instantly how to approach the beasts.

Two more dragons appeared in the sky, circled and landed with dizzying speed right on the beach, their riders racing in to help. The skyborne green flamed off the insistent wherries, bugling to her fellows to help her.

Brekke has one. And the girl. So does the boy but the beast is hurt. Brekke says that many are dead.