>Well, we've got to do SOMETHING with them....< -- The Bowl

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Date Posted: 09:07:17 02/24/05 Thu
Author: S'kar & Raskith, Smoke, Smidge; Gisella, Ren, Tev
Subject: >Well, we've got to do SOMETHING with them....<

S'kar stands in a corner of the Bowl, staring down at three drained herdbeast carcasses. They aren't the queen's, though she and her suitors are flying high above him. No, Raskith and Massath had bitten these animals' throats out, and he and R'ven had drained the blood to add it to porridge already cooking on the hearth, so four newly-hatched watchwhers could eat. It's R'ven's sister who asked, and R'ven helped me prepare the stuff, so why isn't R'ven helping me deal with these? he thinks, a bit grumpily. Yeah, Massath isn't hungry, but neither is Raskith. In fact, the blue dragon is sunning himself nearby, letting a tiny blue firelizard smaller than S'kar's fist clean the blood from his muzzle and claws. Smoke, a bit hungrier than tiny Smidge, is nibbling at one carcass in the company of two other brown firelizards, but they're not making great inroads by any means. Turning towards the woman beside him, the slender, dark man gives her a sheepish smile. "Well, the watchwher hatchlings really needed it. And besides, I'm sure you can cook these up in no time to replace the porridge, right?"

Gisella is not amused. The middle-aged woman, coppery auburn hair caught up in a long braid, gives him a stern look. "I am not cooking those," she states definitively. "They've been lying out in the sun for three hours. Maybe if you'd told me when you'd come pounding in and carried off tomorrow's breakfast...." The Headwoman lets that suggestion trail off meaningfully, raising one eyebrow. "But as it is, they're not fit for human consumption. Feed it to a dragon, but you're not wriggling out of stealing breakfast that easily. When you're done dealing with them, come back to the kitchen and start working, bluerider. That's not negotiable." She might not be the Weyrwoman, but when it comes to matters of the kitchen, Gisella speaks with the unquestionable voice of a god. Any rider who annoys her is going to have to feed him or herself for the next sevenday - and she's actually borne out that threat, just to prove she will. Shaking her head at S'kar, she spins around and stalks off. Two identical brown heads rise to peer after her, and Ren and Tev cheep in unison. She bites back a chuckle. /Go ahead and keep on eating, little ones, at least until a dragon runs you off./ She can live without her little supervisors for half an hour or so.

Sighing dejectedly, S'kar leans back against Raskith's royal blue flank. As he ponders what to do with the dead herdbeasts, something that's been niggling at the back of his mind for a while finally comes clear. /Raskith. Did you talk directly to that wher-handler?/ he asks.

Yes. Raskith sounds faintly concerned as he turns his head towards his rider, earning an angry squeak from Smidge. She had her watchwher call me, but I couldn't speak coherently with the creature. She'll have to work on that with somebody. Massath, probably; she says R'ven is planning to visit her and set up a more stable method of communication. Then something about the tone of S'kar's question dawns on him. Do you mind?

/A little,/ S'kar admits, then rushes to reassure his dragon. /Don't worry; I understand it was an emergency. I just... I don't think you've talked to anyone else before, except R'ven./

Well, she's R'ven's sister. I thought it would be like talking to him. It wasn't, really, Raskith reflects thoughtfully. And I told her not to do it again unless she was hurt. But I liked the watchwher, and since she's R'ven's sister, if she was in trouble and I didn't help R'ven would be sad and Massath would be angry and I didn't want that. You don't want R'ven to be angry, either, he notes accurately.

S'kar laughs. /You're right,/ he agrees. /R'ven's my friend. It's all right for you to talk to Yima and her watchwher,/ he decides. Now, what to do about these herdbeasts?

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