“We hope so,” but Sanra didn’t sound confident. “No, we do. You see, Ramoth’s clutch is about to hatch, and Lessa is certain that Brekke could Impress the queen. You see, she can speak to any of the dragons, the way Lessa can, and Grall and Berd are always with her ... Here comes Mirrim.”

Menolly had to admit that Mirrim, who only numbered the same Turns as she did, did assume an officious manner. She could understand that an older woman like Sanra might not take kindly to it Yet Menolly had no fault to find with Mirrim’s ministrations. And she let the girl bustle her off to her cubicle to change the bandages.

“You’ve been on them all day, and I want to be sure no dirt’s in the scabs,” she said, briskly.

Menolly obediently lay on her stomach in the bed and then tentatively suggested that perhaps tomorrow she could change her own bandages and save Mirrim some work.

“Don’t be silly. Feet are very awkward, but you’re not. You should just hear C’tarel complain. He got Threadscored during the last Fall. You’d think he was the only one ever in the world scored. And besides, Manora said I was to take care of you. You’re easy, you don’t moan, groan, complain, and swear like C’tarel. Now, these are healing nicely. In spite of the way it might feel to you. Manora says that feet hurt worse than any part of your body, but hands. That’s why it seems much worse to you, I expect.”

Menolly had no argument and breathed a sigh of relief that the painful session was now over.

“You taught the weyrlings how to make those little boats, didn’t you?”

Menolly flipped over, startled, and wondering if she’d done wrong, but Mirrim was grinning.

“You should have seen the dragons snorting them about the lake.” Mirrim giggled. “Having the grandest time. I haven’t laughed so much in weeks. There you are!” And Mirrim bustled away on some other errand.

The following day Mirrim hovering beside her, Menolly walked slowly and not too painfully through the living cavern and into the main kitchen cavern for the first time.

“Ramoth’s eggs are just about to Hatch,” Mirrim told her as she placed Menolly at one of the worktables along the back side of the huge cave. ‘”There’s nothing wrong with your hands, and well need all the help we can get for the feast ... ”

“And maybe your Brekke will be better?”

“Oh, she’s got to be, Menolly, she’s got to be.” Mirrim scrubbed her hands together anxiously. “If she isn’t, I don’t know what will become of her and F’nor. He cares so much. Manora’s as worried about him as she is about Brekke ... ”