Don't Fear, My Darling (Semith's Run)

[Zen]

Cabarath was in the middle of the pack. He certainly wasn’t first, but he wasn’t last, either. He heard the river before he even recognized that it was such. But it didn’t take him long to figure out what she wanted him to do. With one long stride, the golden queen jumped the river with ease and landed soundly on the other side. A brown skidded face first into the water, allowing a torrent of water to splash all around him and muss up the other Chaser’s chances of jumping across. Cabarath swerved out of the way of the stream of water and quickly surveyed his circumstances. There! Right diagonal to where he was going to jump in about five minutes, there was a small clearing in the trees that a green could land in. It was perfect for a gray.

The stream was too wide for Cabarath to just jump it—if he did, he’d end up with his hind quarters and tail submerged in the cool, icy liquid. That would not be good. It didn’t help that it was already raining. Oh well. This was why he’d made himself go through the wing exercises. Why else? He flexed his wings, ready to take off, and then jumped from the sandy, but also rocky shore. His leap, as was expected, didn’t take him as far as he’d wanted. Therefore, unfurling his wings and pushing down violently with them, he was able to not only travel across the stream but not get wet at all.

Cabarath skidded to a halt on the other side, easily maintaining his balance with his flared wings. But he was safely across the stream, which had seemed a huge task for someone so small. Either way, he was across and he was easily the better for being so. It wasn’t that hard to see how not having wings would be a horror; Cabarath would probably die without them. Somehow, though, Semith had survived. And Semith was Running for the second time.

T’ron did not like the rain. While Cabarath not only reveled in the rain but in the fact that he was chasing, T’ron was only talking sweetly and standing in the rain because Cabarath’s lust told him he should. He also didn’t like that his gray was chasing his mother, but with only one queen (the opal had yet to rise and everyone was certainly waiting with baited breath), Cabarath felt compelled to force His into a higher standing. As such, T’ron wound up in this position, most certainly alone in his doubts that a gold would ever choose a gray in the first place. But she had chosen Mordanth, a blue… so T’ron wondered if such a thing could happen at all.

T’ron overheard Leshta saying that T’di would not win twice. It saddened him to hear that; the two were good at ‘leading’ the ‘Weyr’ together. But things would never turn out the same, of course. Semith was like that. T’ron pushed his wet hair out of his face and felt the water pour out of it in short waves. Great, he grumbled silently as another wave of lust pushed through him, just please say that we go inside for the end.

[giftwrapped]

Kith wasn't thinking as he chased after Semith. There was nothing at all in the dragon's mind except chase and, faranth willing, catch and he wanted Semith as much as he had wanted anything in his life. Perhaps it was simply because Semith was a queen and Kith a blue, but whatever the case, the impossible strength of Semith's call was to Kith nearly as strong as the drive to Impress had been those decades ago. Dragons forgot many things - most things - but that was not one of them. The longer he ran, the less he remembered things like the pain in his legs (aching, impossibly sore; he would not be well tomorrow and Lanakirene would chide him) and the irritation of the rain and the assorted scrapes and bruises the trees inflicted on him.

Because all that mattered was gold. Her scent was strong in his nostrils, and as Semith approached and leaped the river, Kith barely even thought. Instead, he plunged. There would have been no way for him to clear the leap straight across, and so the little blue, without stopping, dropped straight into the river, wings spread for balance and buoyancy; he had no idea of the depth, or the current. It was a terrible idea in hindsight, and he had just enough time to realize that before his entire world momentarily shattered in a splash of ice-cold water.

Lanakirene reached out cheerfully for the attractive brownrider she remembered quite well from Kitath's Flight. Neither of them had won, but the afternoon had been quite satisfying nonetheless. Her fingers grazed J'ne's arm, her expression one of triumphant amusement, and then she jolted back, swearing explosively. "Kith! Fardling shards the river is cold!"

Fardling shards the river is cold!

Dragon shouted in unison with rider as Kith, momentarily swept off his feet by current, surged forward, foreclaws finding purchase on the opposite bank and allowing him to scrabble up. He had lost time, a great deal of time, had lost distance. He barely noticed the grey dragonet - no, a dragon now, though Kith still saw the grey as barely more than a youngling - ahead of him as he ferociously shook water from his wings and darted off again. He could guess where Semith had gone; the rain was dulling scents, but she had slowed, and a flash through the trees let him know. So let Cabarath charge in the direct path Semith had taken, but Kith was going to go a different way.

He hoped it was a shortcut; the small blue had all but forgotten most of his wing drills, but even after he had stopped flying in wings he had never stopped Chasing greens, and the sinuous patterns of females aiming to shake males off the track could be predicted. He hoped Semith would keep on the track she had been following, because if he turned here and ducked through these bushes - augh, shards, brambles! - here, then he might be lucky enough to close most of the distance between the two of them.

Semith was young, and perhaps predictable. But he had not chased a gold before. It could be different.


Semith, my dear, you're leading us a merry chase! What a clever challenge, that river was!

[Lesa]

Most would consider it bad that Ansyth was thinking at a time like this. A Chase was not a time to be thinking, yet here he was doing so, thinking deep thoughts. Oh, alright, they weren't too deep. Mostly they were about him having so much fun. It had been a long time since he had fun.

The brown wasn't doing particularly well in moving, not for lack of trying. There was a reason he was called a "rock", he was built like a boulder, or a guard all covered in armor, solid. It was he, not Kith, that helped the injured golds and bronzes back at Fort, supporting their weight with his body as they limped along, strengthening hurt wings or legs. He was practically the size of a bronze. Made moving through the trees all the harder. However, - ow, tree branch! - he did have slight practice with running like this.

He'd done it with Desayunath, the navy-blue dragon lithe and squirming through the trees while he moved harsher behind. They'd had to hide many times, to maintain their rider's covers of Healer and Harper or father and son or whatever they were using as disguise that sevenday. Ansyth had gotten good at moving his bulk through forests. Such maneuvers hadn't been done since Desayunath and R'sey died, not long enough to get fully sloppy in his movements, but it was hard for him not to see Kith as Desay and try to call out to the blue. His fellow healerdragon wouldn't take it the same way as Desay had, he was certain.

So the brown kept his mouth shut and leapt the river, not tossing back the sly comment he would have to his clutch-brother. Instead he turned his head and his mind back to the joyful creature ahead of them, gentle Semith. She'd given him a chance few had. A chance to reclaim the part of himself that ran through forests, that quipped and joked and rumbled with draconic laughter. Lovely Semith, you come up with the greatest games! The truth colored the brown's assured voice. It was the greatest, it was epic, it was amazing, and a heck of a lot of fun, even as he leapt one boulder and shoved off a tree, scoring a line brief pain across his flank from a tree branch.

C'fael kept himself slightly out of Ansyth's thoughts, taking a moment to mentally tally the amount of chasers compared to the amount of redwort, numbweed and bandages they had on easy hand. Could be close for the bandages, but it wouldn't take much to dig through the storage crates and find more. No serious injuries so far, that was the important thing.
"Knots matter naught here, La," C'fael quipped, swaying on his feet as Ansyth ducked a low-hanging branch and dove headfirst into a thornbush, ignoring his rider's curse at the scratches to come. He was having fun!

[tuathade]

He was tiring. Not so much as the blues - and the grey must be exhausted by now, he suspected - but Normandith was not built for ground work. His compact build made it easier for him to dart between the trees deftly, but even with that his flanks and wings were scored with little scrapes from where the trees came too close on either side. And shorter legs meant he took several strides to Semith's one.

Still, full of adrenaline and excitement, Normandith didn't even feel the hot lines of pain tracing along his body, nor the ache of protesting muscles unused to this kind of sustained strenuous activity. He pushed himself harder, harder, harder - for the queen, for J'ne, for the thrill of the chase and the wondrous sensation of speed.

When the river came into view, he simply had no time to slow down or alter his course. Too much momentum, too much dragon moving at too high a speed. No use fighting it: Normandith gathered his powerful haunches under himself, strides coming low and fast now, one, two - now - and he was in the air, leaping like a runnerbeast. Instinct told him to unfurl his wings to help with the jump, but intellect kept them pressed tightly to his sides: the brown clearly could see the tight-knit trees on the other bank, just waiting to catch any outspread length of wingsail. The brown's forelegs hit solid bank, his hindlegs splashing into the water, but one last shove with his hindquarters brought him free of the current and surging into the trees after the gold.

Semith! Normandith's mindvoice was merry with laughter, surging forward with a new burst of speed as his eyes whirled brilliant blue-violet. That was quite the leap! But it looks as though not all of us are so lightfooted as you, my queen. He didn't bother turning his head to look, but he could hear the splashing of some of his competitors. She was slowing, waiting for them to catch up. Normandith didn't intend to give the others the opportunity. Darting forward, the brown angled directly for Semith, plunging through the deep underbrush with fierce abandon now, goal in sight -

He'd forgotten all about the riding straps.

With a sudden jerk of pressure across his chest, and a strangled shrill of pain and alarm, the brown did not so much stop as he was dragged to a halt, clotheslined by his own harness. A sturdy branch was caught under one of the straps, and the force of the brown's run was so great that he'd half-brought the tree down on top of himself, exposing roots clumped with clods of damp earth. Temporarily addled by confusion and the aftereffects of Flightlust, Normandith thrashed wings and tail uselessly as he futilely attempted to free himself.

Not only was the brown thoroughly out of the running, he was likely to foul any competitor who stumbled across him in his current state.

J'ne grinned cheerily as Lanakirene approached her, leaning willingly into the brief touch... then jerked back with a startled yelp almost at the same time that the dragonhealer swore aloud. "Shardit, Normandith!" Rubbing her aching shoulders in sympathy for her dragon's plight, she sighed. He'd sort himself out. She could feel that Normandith wasn't seriously hurt, just bruised; nothing truly broken but his dignity. "Well, that's me out," she said lightly, no trace of harshness or bitterness in the words - just mild exasperation at her dragon's unlucky streak.

[nozomi]

"I know he won't catch her a second time." T'di smiled anyway, feverish and bright. "But he chases her because I adore you, Lesh, and you need good things. And happiness. And you're lovely, so we chase you to show you that, instead of just make jokes over some klah and plot on how to irritate Warden."

The bluerider grabbed her attention one last time, and took up Leshta's hand for a quick kiss to the young woman's fingers. "So you're lovely, and happy, and that's all I want." Touching her, the object of his current desire, was too much for the redhead. He released his best friend and hopped back. T'di shook his head with enough force to muss his hair entirely up, and he shifted away from leshta. Mordanth would not win. No need to remain so close, when she was happy and he wouldn't have to protect her. Lesh could protect herself.

She was happy, and T'di was happy with that. With no reason to be scared, he had no reason to be, well, worried. He sank back against the wall of her hut, head thunking back against it. He hummed pleasently in his throat, all thoughts of worry and words gone when Mordanth jumped the river - or tried to.

Mordanth spoke no more, even with His knowing how futile the chase was. Semith liked the group! She wanted to have her friends! Give the Queen what he wanted. The small dragon plunged into the river and, unlike his fellow blue, did not find much to grasp on until he felt near frozen to the bone. Mordanth leapt ashore, shaking himself off and off once again, after that glint of blue. They were ahead of him! So far ahead of him!

Not the brown but -

Oh well -

Mordanth ran, silent, breathing deep, and ignored His.

[lithle]

"I do so love plotting to irritate the Warden, though." The comment to T'di was of the light, easy sort oft tossed back and forth between the two friends. The hungry purr to her voice was somewhat less expected. Well, expected at a time like this. Hardly Leshta's usual dry tone. Still, she was smiling, and it was clear enough that the smile was genuine, even if it was as much Semith's as her own.

When the man backed away, she almost retreated with him, liking that closeness and needing someone close to her. The rain on her skin was barely there, was less real than the scratch of branches, the splash of a river, that sharp, cold shock of it brushing her, no, Semith's tail.

She shook herself, turned her face up to the rain again. Tried to remember where she was and who was around her. There were some in the group she did not want Semith to allow to win. She had to remember that, had to let Semith know that. Important.

And somehow, so far away.

Semith had slowed her speedy, joyous run upon reaching the other side of the river. She didn't want to lose her chasers and she knew enough to know that they'd have a harder time navigating it than she. She twisted through the trees, a flickering golden shadow, still bleeding slightly and shining with lust and with rain. Her eyes were almost all violet now, only touches of that happy, playful blue remaining.

But she was still Semith. This was still her game, these chasers still her friends.

My friends! Don't let the river stop you. Catch me! She called, her voice eager, playful, encouraging.

She was aware of them behind them, as each made their way across the river. She could sense that one, Normandith, was growing especially close. Her tail twitched, inviting. Mayhap she would like to get to know that particular brown better. But his riding straps caught and she heard the sound of his hurt.

She was Semith. Sweet natured, gentle, innocent. She did not like pain. It tugged at her, instinct fighting kindness so that she was suddenly confused, still running, but only just, a touch of worried yellow now in her gaze.

She had to pick. She had to pick now, so that the others could help him. And they were all growing close, though some lagged after their adventures in the river.

She thought of Mordanth, her sweet Mordanth. But he was furthest from her, just then. And he would do as she asked. Ansyth had run well, and his words were sweet. Cabarath was quick and agile, he had impressed her. Trusith had been a joyous presence in her mind. But there was pressure from Hers there, vague and unsettling. Trusith was not a good choice, though she could not understand it.

And Kith, Kith who was growing near to her now, having taken a separate path to close the distance. Kith who wasn't busy with patrols and lessons, who had his duties, but had time for her when she asked it. Who would have time after, when she was with the eggs.

Kith.

She cut toward him, away from her other friends, feeling no guilt because it'd been a game and they'd all had fun! But now, someone was tangled, and the game had to end.

Thank you friends! It was a good game! Help Normandith now. Kith! Stay with me.