Post by tuathade on Apr 8, 2011 11:40:20 GMT -5
Two days off a sevenday. Rodana made a point of never wasting them. Especially not on an unseasonably warm and pleasant autumn day.
Weyrlings didn't work as hard as the adult riders, of course. Having a needy, constantly hungry, constantly itchy, constantly growing dragon in your head was a full-time job; nobody needed another one. Not too long ago Maeth had been as little as the junior weyrlings were now - littler than most, even. (While the green had a pleasantly rounded look to match Rodana's own, she was not a big girl.) But Maeth was growing quickly, and the older she got, the more time the two of them had to just relax.
Or, more frequently, explore the weyr. The little green had a terrible case of itchy wings. Whenever they had a spare moment, she wanted to be off doing something exciting. Rodana couldn't blame her; formation flying and patrol drills were intensely dull. Don't go fast or you'll wear yourself out too quickly. Don't step out of line or you'll mess up the whole formation. They'd be easier to follow once she and Maeth were proper guards, up in the air together with an actual job to do. But for now, it was good to get the chance for some good old unstructured flying.
Maeth swooped and dove at the water, then plunged in with a tremendous splash, bugling happily in her warm, brassy voice. Rodana laughed, but lingered on the shore. She was a strong swimmer - had to be, after turns on a fishing vessel out on the water - and the day was warm, but not warm enough to make swimming especially comfortable. Maeth's hide could withstand the cold of between someday, but humans were not made of such stern stuff. So she sat down on a grassy dune, with her little flit Grace curled up contentedly on her shoulder, and watched her dragon play.
Weyrlings didn't work as hard as the adult riders, of course. Having a needy, constantly hungry, constantly itchy, constantly growing dragon in your head was a full-time job; nobody needed another one. Not too long ago Maeth had been as little as the junior weyrlings were now - littler than most, even. (While the green had a pleasantly rounded look to match Rodana's own, she was not a big girl.) But Maeth was growing quickly, and the older she got, the more time the two of them had to just relax.
Or, more frequently, explore the weyr. The little green had a terrible case of itchy wings. Whenever they had a spare moment, she wanted to be off doing something exciting. Rodana couldn't blame her; formation flying and patrol drills were intensely dull. Don't go fast or you'll wear yourself out too quickly. Don't step out of line or you'll mess up the whole formation. They'd be easier to follow once she and Maeth were proper guards, up in the air together with an actual job to do. But for now, it was good to get the chance for some good old unstructured flying.
Maeth swooped and dove at the water, then plunged in with a tremendous splash, bugling happily in her warm, brassy voice. Rodana laughed, but lingered on the shore. She was a strong swimmer - had to be, after turns on a fishing vessel out on the water - and the day was warm, but not warm enough to make swimming especially comfortable. Maeth's hide could withstand the cold of between someday, but humans were not made of such stern stuff. So she sat down on a grassy dune, with her little flit Grace curled up contentedly on her shoulder, and watched her dragon play.
