Glinde had enjoyed her stay with Masterhealer Baeris and had been well on her way to becoming a respectable dragonhealer when the second Frenzy Clutch hatched. There were many candidates, and a few surprizes. Of course, Glinde's favorite had been when Nantryth had hatched out of her shell. She was a pale sort of silverish green, and as she grew, the cheetaspots on her hide became more distinct. She had powerful hind legs, and large feet suitable for gripping the earth when she ran. And shells, could she run! Her blue clutch-brother Arlcith was also spotted, and Nantryth was hard pressed to keep up with the little sprinter when he ran - but she never gave up hope that someday she'd win.
It was obvious to the riders of the Frenzy participants that these two had come from Talkinth and Niawith's pairing. Nantryth could fly, and was quite agile -- swift turns her specialty, but she tired easily when airborn. Running was much better. She had a sail-like crest on her head, and a rather equine-like muzzle with strong jaws like her sire. Interestingly, she couldn't chew firestone, rendering her flameless - However, even without the firestone to render her sterile, Nantryth had little interest in mothering a clutch of her own. Glinde didn't see any reason to push the issue. Her dragon was perfectly healthy, and at 25 meters long, she was of normal size for a dragon of her hue. Perhaps Nantryth's firestone disability was a blessing in disguise - since she couldn't flame, it was easier for her Rider to justify being grounded during Fall. A good dragonhealer ought to be out of harms way - and where she could do the most good.
Glinde, Nantryth, Riale and Niawith had just returned from a short yet exhilarating run when the echoed of Ajantith's cry came to them. Other dragons repeated the call, and the weyr's miriad healers scrambled to get supplies out to the bowl. Nantryth lept high, and winked Between from outside the Weyr, coming out of Between to land solidly in the bowl. Glinde dismounted, and stripping of her riding jacket and longsleeved overshirt, began to scrub. The dragons brought the weyrling bronze in, his wounds drippin ichor onto his conveyance. THe healers cut the straps, and carefully took the unconcious rider from the bronze's back. They worked to stabilize him as Glinde looked over the bronze. Clearly, he had been scored badly, both wings fragmented , and his head, neck, back and tail speckled with smaller wounds.
Nantryth stationed herself nose-to-nose with the bronze, forcing the anguished weyrling to calm down. Glinde set three healers to work disinfecting the smaller wounds with redwort, and then smearing on thick numbweed salve to cover the wounds. Glinde worked furiously on his wings, deftly stitching supports along the severely damaged areas after dousing them with redwort and numbweed. Reoiling her hands, Glinde began working on the othe wing.
He's lost a lot of blood. Nantryth said. He Weakens.
Glinde grimaced, working on repairing the young bronze's wing. Shards! How's his rider?
Sleeping. came Nantryth's prompt reply. They think he will survive.
Good. Now to save this dragon. Glinde sent back. "Nantryth; would you mind sharing?"
Not at all. the green said, furling her silvery-green wings. Bring on the needle.
Glinde looke to an idle hand. "Jainly!" she called to the weyrbrat. "Get the big needlethorn, and start drawing ichor from Nantryth."
Jainly snapped to and gathered what he would need. Scrubbing his hands with redwort, and a patch of Nantryth's hide, he began.
Glinde poured another dollop of smooth, thin numbweed onto the shredded wingsail, spreading it carefully with well oiled hands over the fragments, smoothing them into place. This wing had lost about half of the sail, the other just less than 3/4. He would be lucky to fly again. After a few moments, Jainly brought the green ichor to the dragonhealer. Glinde didn't flinch at the sight of her dragon's blood - in fact, she was grateful that she'd impressed such a willing donor.
With the addition of the ichor to replace some of what he'd lost, the bronze seemed more able to cope - and his injuried began to look less raw after a short while.
"Nantryth, now that they're stabilized, just what are their names?" Glinde asked as she washed up.
Gr'fin and Pheonith. the racing green said.
"Gr'fin and Pheonith." Glinde repeated, then called to the healers to see how young Gr'fin was doing. He'd been scored badly, but was expected to recover. Glinde was sure Pheonith would make it at well, and as she was resident here, if he took a turn, she could be at his side in mere moments.
Pheonith's hide healed much faster than his wings, and his rider was well on his way to being healthy again. Glinde checked back on Pheonith, and had given him a second transfusion a few hours later to help him along.
The scar tissue that eventually grew on the bronze was a redder and slightly darker shade, giving his healed hide and healing wings a firey look. He was just bigger than a small brown now, and could grow a few more meters once his wings healed, but only time would tell.
Neither Gr'fin or Pheonith would say what Weyr they'd been at before. They did say they'd been sent to retrieve a fallen Rider. Another had picked up that rider after the visual of supposedly Thread-free space sent the pair into a patch of Thread that would have been the end of them, had it not been for the talents of the Ryslen Weyrfolk -- Glinde and Nantryth in particular.
|Background from Peeling Pixels|