Difference between revisions of "Logs:The Letter I"

Hot Springs, High Reaches Area
Even further north than the Weyr itself, a short flight between crags and over crevasses that even a wing-scarred veteran of Fall might undertake, a cluster of clearings lies low in the shelter of hardy trees and ancient stone. The outer two clearings might have been lost to more stubbly trees Turns ago, if it weren't for the centre-most: a natural pool of warm, softly bubbling water several dragonlengths across, with enough space for perhaps a half-dozen people and their lifemates. Though the air is cold all Turn round, and snowdrifts frequently whiten the ground, the geothermal activity heats the mineral-scented water to such a consistently comfortable heat that it becomes a refuge for those who don't wish to travel further afield to wash their dragons.
Of the clearings that abut the spring, the nearest is only a few steps away, though it's small enough that only a few dragons can lounge at once. A steep trail descends to its substantially larger neighbor, a gravel-strewn crescent with enough space to spread out and enjoy the crisp air and the mountain range's admittedly spectacular views.

Blood swirled into the water, off Lythronath's hide, blood and bits of ligament and flesh, some tufts of hair. A'rist didn't care about the gore. He focused on the browns and golds of his dragon's hide, seeking them out, chasing all the foreign colour and muck away.

Today's hunt hadn't been different, not like when Iesaryth blinked between. With Iesaryth, Lythronath had seemed almost in mourning, at least for a time. He'd been the protector, suddenly, he'd been shaken. When his mother had disappeared, the first hunt had come only when he'd been hungry, the way weyrlings were hungry.

This one had been routine.

A'rist's bronze had keened with the rest, of course, had mourned in the moment, but the truth of it was, Iskiveth wasn't theirs. She was Cadejoth's, and she was Telgar's, but she wasn't theirs.

« Gone. »

Other one. A'rist glided over in the water, to the dragon's other talon. The blood had already rinsed off; it was just the bits now. He started digging.

People had seen Iesaryth go, at least. And maybe they were right, maybe it wasn't lightning, but at least it had been something that had sent her off. That had offed her (he grimaced). Was there anything, with Iskiveth?

Asking Rasavyth was an impulse, the back of his mind. Lythronath gave two throat-clicks before A'rist had even been able to bring it to the front.

Okay, okay, fair point. But there has to be something more than just gold dragons that start with the letter 'I'.

He grimaced again.

Two golds gone. If nothing else, it was strange.

A'rist half-swam around to Lythronath's rear talons, and kept on picking at dead meat.