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Date Posted: 10:42:41 08/14/01 Tue
Author: Chava-Sinouth, Sh'muel-Lirth, D'ven-Prosth
Subject: The trio fend off Thread. . .

The green needs no instructions from her rider. Driven by instinct alone, she swoops among the Thread, belching forth spouts of flame to transform the deadly menace to nothing more than harmless black dust. Chava grins with delight, adrenaline pumping madly through her body as Sinouth dodges a clump of Thread, then turns and almost casually burns it to a cinder. She receives a bag of firestone from a weyrling and tips it instantly down Sinouth's throat. As if the momentary delay had never happened, the green is soon back in her element, charring silver 'rain' to nothingness. Even through all of this, the greenrider manages to keep one eye on the rest of the wing, seeing how well they are holding up. They seem to be doing well, so Chava turns back to the immediate task: getting through this Fall, alive.

* * *

Sh'muel's bronze Lirth was just administering a dose of flame to a nearly solid clump of Thread when he received the message: *Numbweed is needed, Lirth. Can you get it for us?* Shay's Lyranth had sent the message. Lirth relays it to his rider, who hesitates for only a split second before giving his bronze the command: ~Break formation.~ Startled, Lirth obeys, first informing Adath, *We must go get numbweed, Adath. We will be back.* Lirth spirals down, alighting near the injured blue. *How much need you, Lyranth?* *As many as you and your rider can carry. Hurry!* Affected by the urgency in the gold's mindvoice, Lirth leaps into the sky, entering between after only several wingbeats. They emerge, and Lirth does not even bother to land before Sh'muel leaps from his neck. The bronzerider strides into the Weyr, immediately spying the necessary buckets. Wrinkling his nose at the smell, Sh'muel takes hold of the buckets, managing to tie five together by their ropes. He hangs two sets on Lirth's frong claws and carries three himself. The bronze is much less graceful about lifting off, due to the extra weight, and his rider feels the strain through their mindlink. Lirth blinks into between and out, just moments before they had left. Sh'muel understands, but doesn't at the same time, and he has no time to consider it anyhow. Lirth carefully sets down his load, landing a bit farther off to let Sh'muel off. The rider carries all five sets—twenty-five buckets in all—to Shay. "Will these do?"

* * *

D'ven spares a glance about at the rest of the wing. They seemed to be all right. Prosth tells him, Do not worry. The blue Rieth will be fine, as will his rider. Lyranth has assured me of that. ~I just hope she's right. . .~ Prosth decides to pay more attention to the clump of Thread headed their way, and a good thing too. As it is, the two are scored heavily. Prosth's brown flanks, his shoulder, his tail. . . all seem about to drop off with pain. In fact, Prosth wishes they would as he enters between. D'ven has time only for a quick grunt before relief comes in the cooling blackness of between. Prosth enters the comforting nothingness, only to find himself amid a swirling morass of dragons, Thread, and flames. Startled, injured, terrified, Prosth re-enters between. D'ven has no time to think, he just shouts to his dragon, ~Do you know where we're GOING??~ before Prosth re-enters the world of sunshine. This time, they are mercifully far from the wings. . . but they are directly in the path of a huge clump of Thread, which advances like the plagues of Egypt. Prosth emits a frightened squeak and finds a reserve of flame, belching out a goodly stream and charring the vanguard, but the rest is still there. ~PROSTH! JUST GET OUTTA—~ but it is too late. The Thread is upon them. Spiralling crazily towards the ground, his wings in shreds, Prosth screeches one last time before he makes his final, one-way trip between.

* * *

Sinouth catches the tail end of Prosth's cry and adds her own quick keen. But now was not the time for mourning. She doesn't tell her rider of Prosth's death, but instead continues flaming Thread as if nothing had happened. Chava, too, hears Prosth's scream, but doesn't realize it is her brother's brown. She is blissfully unaware of the death. But Lirth is more forthright than his clutchmate. Upon hearing Prosth's death keen, he informs Sh'muel, Prosth is dead. Sh'muel freezes as he is administering numbweed to Rieth's body. ~WHAT?? What of D'ven?~ Lirth suddenly realizes his mistake and refuses to say more. Sh'muel's glaring gets no response, so the bronzerider tries to shrug off his worry and continues dabbing numbweed on the blue's Thread-pocked hide.

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