She also worried about her fire lizards now she wasn’t able to forage for them. But the first evening when Beauty reappeared, her little eyes darting about the chamber to be sure Menolly was alone, there was nothing of hunger in her manner. She daintily accepted the morsels that Menolly had carefully saved from her supper. Rocky and Diver appeared just as she was drifting off to sleep. However, they promptly curled themselves up to sleep against the small of her back, which they wouldn’t have done if they’d been hungry.

They were gone the nest morning, but Beauty lingered, stroking her head against Menolly’s cheek until she heard footsteps in the corridor. Menolly shooed her away, telling her to stay with the others.

“I know it’s boring to stay abed,” Mirrim agreed the third morning with a weary sigh that told Menolly Mirrim would gladly have swapped places, “but it’s kept you out of Lessa’s way. Since the ... well,” and Mirrim censored what she’d been about to say. “With Ramoth broody over those eggs, we’re all treading hot sands until they Hatch, so it’s better you’re here.”

“There must be something I can do, now that I’m better. I’m good with my hands ... ” and then Menolly, too, halted uncertainly.

“You could help Sanra with the little ones if you would. Can you tell any stories?”

“Yes, I ... ” and Menolly all but blurted out what she’d done at the Sea Hold,” ... can at least keep them amused.”

Weyrbred children were not like Hold children, Menolly discovered: they were more active physically, possessed of insatiable curiosity for every detail she cared to tell them about fishing and sailing. It was only when she taught them to fashion tiny boats of sticks and wide root leaves and sent them off to sail the skiffs in the Weyr lake that she had any rest the first morning.

In the afternoon, she amused the younger ones by recounting how T’gran had rescued her. Thread was not as automatically horrifying to Weyr children as it would be to Holders, and they were far more interested in her running and rescue than in what she was running from. Unconsciously she fell into a rhyming pattern and caught herself up sharply just before she’d conceived a tune. The children didn’t seem to notice fortunately, and then it was time to peel tubers for the evening meal.

It was difficult to subdue that little tune as she worked. Really it had exactly the cadence of her running stride ...

“Oh!”

“Did you cut yourself?” asked Sanra from the other side of the table.