Post by Erica on Aug 16, 2008 16:24:36 GMT -5
On the Mend
By E. A. Weippert
22.12.08, High Reaches Weyr
“C’mon K’leren, you need to get out—get some air!”M’rue’s voice was overly loud and the older bronzerider winced. He had been enjoying the peace and quiet of his weyr, and M’rue’s unscheduled visit had upset his solitude.
“I don’t think so. It’s miserable out and I can’t think of anyplace I’d rather be than here alone with my thoughts and a good bit of wine.” His eyes were piercingly intent as he gave the younger bronzerider a nasty look.
“You see! That’s what I mean K’leren! You have spent too much time alone ever since—“ M’rue broke off suddenly, hoping to avoid causing his friend any further pain.
“Since I lost Elerra is what you were going to say.” K’leren let out a deep sigh and fell back into the soft embrace of his chair. It was torture-- day after day trying to live when his love had been taken from him by the plague. “I guess I should be glad that I’m mostly numb now, when someone mentions her…” He shook his head slowly. “I’d really just like to be alone M’rue.”
“Nope. I’m not going to let you just sit here and mope! There’s a gather being held at Southern Boll today and you’re going with me! It’ll be toasty warm and Mastersinger Luteira will be performing!” M’rue all but grinned when K’leren sat up straighter in his chair and flashed him a look of disbelief.
“Luteira? Really? She has a wonderful range…”
“Yes she does—and she’s there for the gather! So stuff your depression in a sack and let’s go!” With that the younger bronzerider grabbed his friend by the arm and hauled him out of the chair. It had been months that K’leren had been steeped in black moods and dark depression, and M’rue kept hoping something would jolt him out of it. The time when he and Healer Baya had sat suicide watch by his bedside had passed…for the moment.
“Here’s your jacket—“ Taking it from M’rue, K’leren let out a suffering sigh and shrugged.
“Oh, all right. I’ll go already!” K’leren followed his friend out to the ledge. He was surprised to see his bronze gleaming in the sun and ready to go. There was definitely a conspiracy afoot.
“Creseth is already waiting for you.”
“Yeah, I noticed.” With that K’leren strode over to Creseth, his expression softening as the bronze spoke to him.
I just wanted to have some fun. Paziath said that some of Fort’s golds might be there!
Is that what this is all about, you flying flirt? Despite the words there was an underlying love and affection that both dragon and rider were aware of.
Hmmm, maybe. The bronze lowered his head to nuzzle at his rider and K’leren let out a rare laugh.
“Hey now, none of that! You’ll push me off the ledge if you aren’t careful!” Patting Creseth’s muzzle K’leren pulled himself up his straps and settled into his seat atop the bronze’s back. His green eyes met M’rue’s thoughtful gaze.
“I’ll see you there.” With that Creseth pushed off from the ledge and into the air. M’rue watched as the pair circled twice and then disappeared Between.
Are we going to go or not? Paziath’s mental voice was plaintive and the bronzerider grinned. It was probably the thought that Creseth would get to the golds first that had Paziath antsy.
“As soon as you land over here!” He took a deep breath of the cold winter air. It was going to be a great day—He was sure of it! He’d gotten K’leren out of his weyr for a bit of fun, and by all he had heard the gather was going to be well attended!
Paziath landed on the weyrledge and waited impatiently for his rider to mount. In moments they too were airborne and on their way to the gather in the warmer climes of Southern Boll.
Southern Boll Hold, Mid-Afternoon
“I don’t know why I let M’rue talk me into coming. Surrounded by people is not where I want to be!” Muttering under his breath the dragonrider tried to make his way through the maze-like gather.
Struggling to make his way through the crowds of vendors, customers, and inebriated crafters & dragonriders from all over northern Pern, K’leren was quickly finding himself growing more and more irritated. Moving out of the way of a ribbon vendor who was waddling down the isle holding a contraption from which the colorful strands hung, the bronzerider ducked into the narrow space between two booths.
“Shard it all!!” He nearly snarled when he felt something bounce off of his back. “I am so utterly sick of people!” Turning around to find what he had been pelted with K’leren stared down in disgust at a muddy ball of—what was it? Leather? Moldy fabric? It was about the size of a melon and he was none too happy about that. At least a redfruit was small!
Glancing around K’leren tried to spot the inevitable gang of apprentices who made this sort of trouble. It seemed that whenever he attended gathers K’leren ran afoul of bratlings and had to discipline them. However, with no brats in sight he let out a sigh and thought about kicking the rag out of the way.
“Eh. Well that’d be pretty lazy of me.”
He stared down at the unappealing mass. Mostly mud it seemed. “I know I passed a waste bin, and besides, it’ll give me an excuse to leave early… I’m sure that there’s a huge splat of the stuff on the back of my jerkin.” When the air offered no complaint the dragonrider reached down to pick up the ball and nearly dropped it in surprise when a small pair of yellowish-green eyes met his own.
Every instinct K’leren had warned him to be very careful of the creature he held in his hands. Whatever it was it was likely hurt—otherwise it wouldn’t have stuck around after hitting his back. Gently adjusting his hold on the muddy thing he spoke softly, trying to be as reassuring as possible.
“Hello little one….” Using his other hand he smoothed back the muddy globs around the eyes and soon found a pair of torn and mangled ears as well. It was a feline. Not a very healthy looking one, as his beasthealer training from years before told him. The cat was unconcerned with its surroundings. That and the fact that it was unwell enough—or abused enough—to be thrown at a person and not resist was a worrying sign.
“Well, you certainly aren’t in good shape.” As he cleared away more mud and gently began probing the cat’s body he felt knots and bumps that signaled previously broken bones. It made his stomach clench with anger and he gave the feline what he hoped was a non threatening smile.
“Let’s go—“ He paused for a moment, trying to think of the quietest place he could give the cat a going over. The stables were definitely out—they’d be filled to capacity with jockeys, runners and fans trying to get a good look at the beasts they’d be betting on. The Kitchens were out too, since they’d be filled with busy cooks and drudges….Where was there to go?
Looking around at the crowed rows, and bustling people K’leren frowned. It was going to take some finagling, but maybe he could get a small corner of the hold’s infirmary to himself. If he asked nicely, that was. Gently setting the cat down on the ground he peeled off his jerkin and set the cat within it. Wrapping the wherhide about the cat the bronzerider felt more confident about pushing his way through the masses and into the hold proper. Picking it up he began the trek to the main hold and the supplies he needed to see to the cat.
“Where did you find that thing?” Healer Misha’s voice grated on K’leren’s ear and he shrugged as he dipped the cloth into warm water and began washing away the mud and dirt that caked his charge.
“In the square. Someone threw it at me.” There was no humor in the bronzerider’s voice as he continued to clean off the muddy beast on the work bench. After removing most of the mud from the cat K’leren was shocked to see that it was cadaverously thin, and its fur—what there was of it was a dingy smoke color. The slanted eyes had watched him all through the cleaning process-neither caring nor grateful for the attention. Now that it was as clean as a sponge bath could make it, K’leren felt his heart go out to the beast.
“Ain’t much to that one. What are you going to do with it?” Healer Misha’s question was a good one and as he began to probe for unseen wounds K’leren set the question on the burner in the back of his mind.
A sharp hiss escaped the cat’s mouth just as his fingers encountered the hot area of the cat’s leg. The skin was wickedly hot and K’leren frowned. With one hand he soothed the cat and with the other he motioned to the healer.
“I need you to get me some things.” Within a few moments he had the healer scurrying about for the supplies he needed. It was his suspicion that the cat’s forelimb was fractured, and that coupled with obvious starvation had put the feline past all caring. It might not be well, but maybe with some care it had a chance. He hoped. Exploring the wounded area he nodded mentally. Yes, it was a break, and whatever luck was on its side had seen that it was a simple one.
Looking down at the pitiful creature K’leren felt pain rise up inside his heart and he clenched his jaw. Pain. He was letting himself in for pain if he took his care of the cat any further.
“I can’t do this.”
Memories of pain, and loss filled his mind and the bronzerider sighed. He felt the losses in his life so keenly he doubted he could take one more—even if he knew it would be a short time in coming. The cat didn’t have much life left in it and it was likely the combination of broken bones and malnutrition would finish it off despite his efforts.
“I don’t know if I can do this now… I can’t stand to lose another…” Of its own accord his hand reached out to stroke the fur remaining on the cat’s scrawny little head.
“We could just put it out of its misery, you know. You don’t have to go through the bother of splinting it up and all that.” Misha’s voice was filled with puzzlement. He couldn’t figure out what had possessed the dragonrider to pick the thing up in the first place. As his eyes met the green ones of the bronzerider he felt his surety vanish. Coldness filled those eyes a darkness that the healer hoped to avoid seeing in the future.
“No. We can’t.”
There was a veiled anger in the man’s voice and Misha watched as K’leren turned back his attention to the cat and began caring for the wounds that he had found. It was less than a quarter hour when he was finished, the pathetic creature wrapped in layers of bandage, a splint on its right foreleg and salve on the spots where flesh wounds had festered.
“I need one last thing and then I’ll be out of the infirmary, Misha.”
“Anything.” Chagrin and sarcasm laced the healer’s voice. The two had never been friends, simply acquaintances and Misha was making no bones about letting the dragonrider know his welcome was worn thin.
“I need a basket and some furs to line it with.” K’leren shot the healer a grim look. “I want to take the cat back to the weyr with me and I don’t think she can withstand the cold of between without some help.”
Unspoken between both men was the fact that the animal was unlikely to live in any case—warm furs or not.
“Sure. I’ll be back with it in a few moments.” The healer left the room and K’leren found himself regarding the feline where it lay on the worktable.
“Misha’s right when he says there’s not much left to you little one. Still, I have to try.” K’leren thought about all the pain he had gone through and stared at the creature, thinking of the broken bones and sorry state it was in. It too had suffered. At the least he could make its passing a painless one. He hoped.
“Here’s the basket and some furs. I took the liberty of stuffing two warming stones at the bottom of the basket. It’ll probably help a little in between, but I wouldn’t hope for much Bronzerider.” The healer handed over the woven basket and watched as the dragonrider lifted the cat and placed it into the basket. It was well done and with more expertise than the healer would have thought possible from K’leren.
“Thank you for your help Misha. I appreciate it.” With nothing else to say K’leren lifted the basket and carried it with him out of the room and back to the fireheights.
What did you bring me? Creseth’s voice was filled with nearly childlike excitement and K’leren felt a grim smile come to his lips. The cat had remained motionless in the basket and K’leren had misgivings about putting its bedraggled body through the rigors of between.
Nothing for you my friend. Or at least not directly.
What then? Is it a pie? Hope filled the bronze’s mental voice and his rider shook his head. Healer Baya had gotten the bronze hooked on sweets and whenever they went to a gather the bronze took to asking for them.
No. It’s a cat. A wave of curiosity washed over K’leren and he set the basket down on the sandy ground.
What did you get it for? What are you going to do with it? Why isn’t it making noises like Baya’s cat?
Because it’s sick. And has been hurt. The rider patted the dragon on the leg and thought about the best way to attach the basket to the saddle’s packstraps.
Oh. There was a sense of puzzlement coming from the dragon and K’leren gave his friend a reassuring pat on the forepaw.
Its something I need to do. Before I impressed you I was a beast healer, Creseth, and I can’t stand to see it suffering if I don’t have to. Are you about ready to return to High Reaches? The dragon let out a soft snort that sent little puffs of dust swirling around K’leren.
Yes. The Fort Queens were not much fun. And Paziath kept trying to hog all their attention. The plaintive tone of voice made K’leren smile. The bronze wanted desperately to fly a queen but had yet to win a mating flight. Many supposed it was because Creseth was small for a bronze, but K’leren knew that most of the reason was his own reservations, from before he lost Elerra and certainly now that she and the baby had perished in the plague.
Oh, did they remark on your size Creseth? Or was it simply that they were mooning over Paziath too much for you to stomach?
Neither. There were bronzes from Igen and Fort there and they seemed to prefer them. I don’t know why.
“Never try to understand women my friend. You’ll only end up confused.” With those words of advice the bronzerider hooked closed the basket's cover and attached the handle to the packstraps. Climbing up and K’leren buckled himself into the straps.
“Let’s go home Creseth.”
High Reaches Weyr
The frigid cold of Between hit the rider and as Creseth burst out into the air above High Reaches he found himself anxious about the occupant of the basket. Did it live through the shocking cold? Would it survive long enough for him to get it to his weyr?
As the bronze dragon made a quick circle of the weyr and landed on his ledge, K’leren was already unbuckling his straps.
I’m hungry. I’m going to eat. Creseth rumbled as his rider slid down and detached the basket at his side. I will be back. Pushing off the ledge the bronze flew into the air and off toward the valley where the feeding grounds lay.
“Well, let’s see if you made it.” Talking to the closed basket K’leren walked into the weyr and into his quarters. Unshielding the glows about the room he came back to the basket he had set on a low table across from his overstuffed chair.
His heart was beating wildly, and K’leren tried to ignore the feeling of dread that was creeping into his heart. With a trembling hand he unhooked the basket’s lid and was met once more by a pair of yellow-green eyes. They blinked and closed and K’leren felt a wave of joy rush through him. It was alive! It had lived! The cat hadn’t died!
“Well little one, let’s see what I can do to get you settled in here. I suppose I should start with some kind of food for you, and a litter box. You be good.”
Giving the cat a gentle caress on the head the bronzerider hoped it would still be there when he returned from his errands. Staring down at the shabby creature he felt his throat constrict. How could such cruelty exist, and be practiced on something as defenseless as the animal before him?
As the question floated around his mind K’leren made his way to the hall tunnel that connected his weyr to a few other weyrs and down to the stairs that lead down to the rest of the weyr. He would have to pop into the kitchens and beg some broth and meat from Jouvert, but hopefully the headcook wouldn’t mind.
“I just need some heardbeast broth and maybe a few chunks of cooked meat as well?” K’leren found himself standing beside the cook as he was giving orders to his undercooks for the evening meal. K’leren had always liked Jouvert, and felt that his friendliness was returned by the other man.
“Umph. Broth and stew meat? What are you up to K’leren?”
“I picked up a feline at the gather this afternoon at Southern Boll, and it is in pretty poor shape. I figured I could feed it some broth with the meat cut up to a paste.”
“I see.” The cook waved a hand over at one of the undercooks. “Jutta, get the dragonrider a container of the broth from the third heart, and a few of the rarer pieces of the heardbeast on the spit.” He paused for a moment. “And throw in a few of the spiced wherry rolls.” Jutta disappeared with great alacrity her red braids flapping behind her as she ran to do her master’s bidding.
“I wish you the best of luck with it K’leren. If you find you need more to feed it just look for Jutta. I’ll leave instructions that you’re to have whatever you need.” A shout from the far heart claimed the cook’s attention and K’leren found himself waiting for his food stuffs.
“Here you go Ser. Be careful of the jar—it’s hot.” Jutta’s voice held the accent of the Tillek area and her hair was the color of the setting sun. Her work worn hands held out the food to him and K’leren nodded his thanks.
“I appreciate it, and your help.”
“’S’not a problem. Master Jouvert said I’m to give you what’ver need.” Jouvert’s voice rose above the din of the kitchen to call for Jutta and once more the redheaded cook disappeared in the busy area. With his errand completed the bronzerider made his way back to his weyr and the patient waiting for him.
K’leren’s Weyr, Late Evening
K’leren breathed a sigh of relief as he sat back into his chair. The small knot of fear had begun to work itself loose of his heart and hope was gradually making a home there instead. He had spent hours caring for the cat, which was responding well to his attentions. At the moment it was curled up in a low box set at the base of his bed, quiet and in the grip of sleep.
Over the course of two hours he has fed the creature a paste of meat and broth and K’leren had been shocked when the cat began to purr. Not a soft, gentle purr, or even a thready ragged purr, but a loud, rumbly noise! That alone had lifted the man’s spirits and allowed the seed of hope to be planted. After making the cat more comfortable he had settled down into his chair and ate the spiced wherry rolls Jutta gave him. He was tired but worried about resting, concerned about his patient yet knowing there was little else he could do at the moment.
Sleep. I will wake you if she needs help. Creseth’s words tingled through K’leren’s mind and he gave a wry smile. Leave it to the dragon to play babysitter.
You are making yourself tired with worry. You will sleep and I will watch. There was a finality in the bronze’s voice and K’leren smiled, glad for the concern.
Thanks Creseth. Please do wake me—if you sense any kind of need…
I will. Now go to sleep! The dragon was firm and K’leren let out a yawn.
“I’ll have to wash up first, but after that I will.” Rising from the chair he peeled off his pants and grabbed up a towel from a stack. Walking down to the bathing area he shared with the other dragonriders on this weyrlevel, K’leren thought of a nice hot bath and smiled. It was a promise of relaxation after a difficult and emotionally draining day.
K’leren’s Weyr, Late Morning
“So what happened to you yesterday? I didn’t see you at Lutiera’s performance—“ M’rue had pulled on the small bell by the entrance to K’leren’s weyr, having come up along the hallway from the stairs below. As he stepped into the chambers he was surprised to find his friend out of his chair and clutching a bowl of some sort in one hand.
“I left. I found something more interesting to do.” K’leren’s voice was curt but filled with something M’rue hadn’t heard for a long time. Humor?
Coming up along side his friend M'rue watched as a scruffy looking feline cocked its head to look at him. Taken off guard M’rue did a double take and stared at his friend.
“Eh-What are you doing with that thing? It looks like death warmed over.” Curiosity mixed with disgust and dismay in the younger rider’s voice.
K’leren shot his friend an annoyed look before offering a spoonful of food to the cat. A pink tongue lapped up the pasty substance on the spoon in quick time and K’leren smiled. It lit up his face and M’rue was filled with shock.
“It...or rather She, is a cat. And I found her at the gather yesterday….” Motioning for his friend to sit down in his chair K’leren shared with him the story of the day before and the events that led to his adoption of the feline. When he was done K’leren was surprised by the serious expression on M’rue’s face.
“What is it? If you’re thinking about the plague that’s not what the problem was—“
“No, no, it’s not that K’leren. I was thinking you need to find a name for the beastie. All throughout your tale you’ve called her “it” or “she” but never by name. You’ve gone this far—you may as well take that step.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Don’t you? C’mon K’leren. You’ve already let her into your heart. If she lives or dies her having a name isn’t going to make it hurt less. You’ve stepped up—and I think that’s great. Now find a name for her.” M’rue watched as his friend gently caressed the rag-tag cat. It was a heartwarming scene, and one that returned hope to his regard of K’leren. This small action proved that his friend had not entirely died emotionally, and could come back from the abyss of depression that had claimed him since his weyrmate’s death.
“Hmmph.” K’leren bit his lip as his friend’s words rolled around his brain. M’rue had a point, and it was the truth. Losing the cat now would hurt no matter if he named her or not. “Fine then. I’ll name her.”
“What?”
“Hope.” K’leren smiled and reached out to pet the cat again. Hopefully time would heal her wounds and return some fur to her body. If not, he knew he would love her none the less.
“That’s quite fitting!” M’rue was beaming with approval and K’leren frowned at him.
“It’s just a name, don’t get all sappy about it. I swear you’re as bad as Healer Baya sometimes!” The older bronzerider got up and poured some juice into his mug.
“Did you end up taking anyone home with you yesterday? Or was I the only lucky one?”
M’rue laughed at the joke and shook his head. “There were a few possible, but none of them seemed worthwhile.” He paused and rose from the chair. “Speaking of Baya though, I promised her I’d be down there this morning. I’ve got to get going.” He nearly sprinted from the room anxious to tell his healer friend about what he had just learned.
“Eh, figure that Hope.” K’leren gave a half shrug and went back to spoon feeding the cat.
High Reaches Weyr Infirmary
“Are you serious? He did all that?” Baya’s voice was filled with excitement and her expression was one of disbelief and hope. “That is fantastic!”
“I think it’s a good sign, at least. I wouldn’t go overboard Baya…I mean, the cat looks pretty shaky.”
“That doesn’t make a difference, M’rue.” Baya smiled and toyed with the scribing stick in her hand. “What matters is that K’leren took the chance. He knows he can be hurt by this but chose to do it anyway…”
“Well, if you say so.” M’rue shrugged and took a sip of his wine. “You think this is a good thing then?”
“Oh, certainly!” The healer met her friend’s gaze, a wide smile on her face. “It means he’s finally on the mend!” Together the two smiled, glad to know at long last their companion’s emotional wounds were beginning to heal.
THE END
By E. A. Weippert
22.12.08, High Reaches Weyr
“C’mon K’leren, you need to get out—get some air!”M’rue’s voice was overly loud and the older bronzerider winced. He had been enjoying the peace and quiet of his weyr, and M’rue’s unscheduled visit had upset his solitude.
“I don’t think so. It’s miserable out and I can’t think of anyplace I’d rather be than here alone with my thoughts and a good bit of wine.” His eyes were piercingly intent as he gave the younger bronzerider a nasty look.
“You see! That’s what I mean K’leren! You have spent too much time alone ever since—“ M’rue broke off suddenly, hoping to avoid causing his friend any further pain.
“Since I lost Elerra is what you were going to say.” K’leren let out a deep sigh and fell back into the soft embrace of his chair. It was torture-- day after day trying to live when his love had been taken from him by the plague. “I guess I should be glad that I’m mostly numb now, when someone mentions her…” He shook his head slowly. “I’d really just like to be alone M’rue.”
“Nope. I’m not going to let you just sit here and mope! There’s a gather being held at Southern Boll today and you’re going with me! It’ll be toasty warm and Mastersinger Luteira will be performing!” M’rue all but grinned when K’leren sat up straighter in his chair and flashed him a look of disbelief.
“Luteira? Really? She has a wonderful range…”
“Yes she does—and she’s there for the gather! So stuff your depression in a sack and let’s go!” With that the younger bronzerider grabbed his friend by the arm and hauled him out of the chair. It had been months that K’leren had been steeped in black moods and dark depression, and M’rue kept hoping something would jolt him out of it. The time when he and Healer Baya had sat suicide watch by his bedside had passed…for the moment.
“Here’s your jacket—“ Taking it from M’rue, K’leren let out a suffering sigh and shrugged.
“Oh, all right. I’ll go already!” K’leren followed his friend out to the ledge. He was surprised to see his bronze gleaming in the sun and ready to go. There was definitely a conspiracy afoot.
“Creseth is already waiting for you.”
“Yeah, I noticed.” With that K’leren strode over to Creseth, his expression softening as the bronze spoke to him.
I just wanted to have some fun. Paziath said that some of Fort’s golds might be there!
Is that what this is all about, you flying flirt? Despite the words there was an underlying love and affection that both dragon and rider were aware of.
Hmmm, maybe. The bronze lowered his head to nuzzle at his rider and K’leren let out a rare laugh.
“Hey now, none of that! You’ll push me off the ledge if you aren’t careful!” Patting Creseth’s muzzle K’leren pulled himself up his straps and settled into his seat atop the bronze’s back. His green eyes met M’rue’s thoughtful gaze.
“I’ll see you there.” With that Creseth pushed off from the ledge and into the air. M’rue watched as the pair circled twice and then disappeared Between.
Are we going to go or not? Paziath’s mental voice was plaintive and the bronzerider grinned. It was probably the thought that Creseth would get to the golds first that had Paziath antsy.
“As soon as you land over here!” He took a deep breath of the cold winter air. It was going to be a great day—He was sure of it! He’d gotten K’leren out of his weyr for a bit of fun, and by all he had heard the gather was going to be well attended!
Paziath landed on the weyrledge and waited impatiently for his rider to mount. In moments they too were airborne and on their way to the gather in the warmer climes of Southern Boll.
*********
Southern Boll Hold, Mid-Afternoon
“I don’t know why I let M’rue talk me into coming. Surrounded by people is not where I want to be!” Muttering under his breath the dragonrider tried to make his way through the maze-like gather.
Struggling to make his way through the crowds of vendors, customers, and inebriated crafters & dragonriders from all over northern Pern, K’leren was quickly finding himself growing more and more irritated. Moving out of the way of a ribbon vendor who was waddling down the isle holding a contraption from which the colorful strands hung, the bronzerider ducked into the narrow space between two booths.
“Shard it all!!” He nearly snarled when he felt something bounce off of his back. “I am so utterly sick of people!” Turning around to find what he had been pelted with K’leren stared down in disgust at a muddy ball of—what was it? Leather? Moldy fabric? It was about the size of a melon and he was none too happy about that. At least a redfruit was small!
Glancing around K’leren tried to spot the inevitable gang of apprentices who made this sort of trouble. It seemed that whenever he attended gathers K’leren ran afoul of bratlings and had to discipline them. However, with no brats in sight he let out a sigh and thought about kicking the rag out of the way.
“Eh. Well that’d be pretty lazy of me.”
He stared down at the unappealing mass. Mostly mud it seemed. “I know I passed a waste bin, and besides, it’ll give me an excuse to leave early… I’m sure that there’s a huge splat of the stuff on the back of my jerkin.” When the air offered no complaint the dragonrider reached down to pick up the ball and nearly dropped it in surprise when a small pair of yellowish-green eyes met his own.
Every instinct K’leren had warned him to be very careful of the creature he held in his hands. Whatever it was it was likely hurt—otherwise it wouldn’t have stuck around after hitting his back. Gently adjusting his hold on the muddy thing he spoke softly, trying to be as reassuring as possible.
“Hello little one….” Using his other hand he smoothed back the muddy globs around the eyes and soon found a pair of torn and mangled ears as well. It was a feline. Not a very healthy looking one, as his beasthealer training from years before told him. The cat was unconcerned with its surroundings. That and the fact that it was unwell enough—or abused enough—to be thrown at a person and not resist was a worrying sign.
“Well, you certainly aren’t in good shape.” As he cleared away more mud and gently began probing the cat’s body he felt knots and bumps that signaled previously broken bones. It made his stomach clench with anger and he gave the feline what he hoped was a non threatening smile.
“Let’s go—“ He paused for a moment, trying to think of the quietest place he could give the cat a going over. The stables were definitely out—they’d be filled to capacity with jockeys, runners and fans trying to get a good look at the beasts they’d be betting on. The Kitchens were out too, since they’d be filled with busy cooks and drudges….Where was there to go?
Looking around at the crowed rows, and bustling people K’leren frowned. It was going to take some finagling, but maybe he could get a small corner of the hold’s infirmary to himself. If he asked nicely, that was. Gently setting the cat down on the ground he peeled off his jerkin and set the cat within it. Wrapping the wherhide about the cat the bronzerider felt more confident about pushing his way through the masses and into the hold proper. Picking it up he began the trek to the main hold and the supplies he needed to see to the cat.
*********
“Where did you find that thing?” Healer Misha’s voice grated on K’leren’s ear and he shrugged as he dipped the cloth into warm water and began washing away the mud and dirt that caked his charge.
“In the square. Someone threw it at me.” There was no humor in the bronzerider’s voice as he continued to clean off the muddy beast on the work bench. After removing most of the mud from the cat K’leren was shocked to see that it was cadaverously thin, and its fur—what there was of it was a dingy smoke color. The slanted eyes had watched him all through the cleaning process-neither caring nor grateful for the attention. Now that it was as clean as a sponge bath could make it, K’leren felt his heart go out to the beast.
“Ain’t much to that one. What are you going to do with it?” Healer Misha’s question was a good one and as he began to probe for unseen wounds K’leren set the question on the burner in the back of his mind.
A sharp hiss escaped the cat’s mouth just as his fingers encountered the hot area of the cat’s leg. The skin was wickedly hot and K’leren frowned. With one hand he soothed the cat and with the other he motioned to the healer.
“I need you to get me some things.” Within a few moments he had the healer scurrying about for the supplies he needed. It was his suspicion that the cat’s forelimb was fractured, and that coupled with obvious starvation had put the feline past all caring. It might not be well, but maybe with some care it had a chance. He hoped. Exploring the wounded area he nodded mentally. Yes, it was a break, and whatever luck was on its side had seen that it was a simple one.
Looking down at the pitiful creature K’leren felt pain rise up inside his heart and he clenched his jaw. Pain. He was letting himself in for pain if he took his care of the cat any further.
“I can’t do this.”
Memories of pain, and loss filled his mind and the bronzerider sighed. He felt the losses in his life so keenly he doubted he could take one more—even if he knew it would be a short time in coming. The cat didn’t have much life left in it and it was likely the combination of broken bones and malnutrition would finish it off despite his efforts.
“I don’t know if I can do this now… I can’t stand to lose another…” Of its own accord his hand reached out to stroke the fur remaining on the cat’s scrawny little head.
“We could just put it out of its misery, you know. You don’t have to go through the bother of splinting it up and all that.” Misha’s voice was filled with puzzlement. He couldn’t figure out what had possessed the dragonrider to pick the thing up in the first place. As his eyes met the green ones of the bronzerider he felt his surety vanish. Coldness filled those eyes a darkness that the healer hoped to avoid seeing in the future.
“No. We can’t.”
There was a veiled anger in the man’s voice and Misha watched as K’leren turned back his attention to the cat and began caring for the wounds that he had found. It was less than a quarter hour when he was finished, the pathetic creature wrapped in layers of bandage, a splint on its right foreleg and salve on the spots where flesh wounds had festered.
“I need one last thing and then I’ll be out of the infirmary, Misha.”
“Anything.” Chagrin and sarcasm laced the healer’s voice. The two had never been friends, simply acquaintances and Misha was making no bones about letting the dragonrider know his welcome was worn thin.
“I need a basket and some furs to line it with.” K’leren shot the healer a grim look. “I want to take the cat back to the weyr with me and I don’t think she can withstand the cold of between without some help.”
Unspoken between both men was the fact that the animal was unlikely to live in any case—warm furs or not.
“Sure. I’ll be back with it in a few moments.” The healer left the room and K’leren found himself regarding the feline where it lay on the worktable.
“Misha’s right when he says there’s not much left to you little one. Still, I have to try.” K’leren thought about all the pain he had gone through and stared at the creature, thinking of the broken bones and sorry state it was in. It too had suffered. At the least he could make its passing a painless one. He hoped.
“Here’s the basket and some furs. I took the liberty of stuffing two warming stones at the bottom of the basket. It’ll probably help a little in between, but I wouldn’t hope for much Bronzerider.” The healer handed over the woven basket and watched as the dragonrider lifted the cat and placed it into the basket. It was well done and with more expertise than the healer would have thought possible from K’leren.
“Thank you for your help Misha. I appreciate it.” With nothing else to say K’leren lifted the basket and carried it with him out of the room and back to the fireheights.
*********
What did you bring me? Creseth’s voice was filled with nearly childlike excitement and K’leren felt a grim smile come to his lips. The cat had remained motionless in the basket and K’leren had misgivings about putting its bedraggled body through the rigors of between.
Nothing for you my friend. Or at least not directly.
What then? Is it a pie? Hope filled the bronze’s mental voice and his rider shook his head. Healer Baya had gotten the bronze hooked on sweets and whenever they went to a gather the bronze took to asking for them.
No. It’s a cat. A wave of curiosity washed over K’leren and he set the basket down on the sandy ground.
What did you get it for? What are you going to do with it? Why isn’t it making noises like Baya’s cat?
Because it’s sick. And has been hurt. The rider patted the dragon on the leg and thought about the best way to attach the basket to the saddle’s packstraps.
Oh. There was a sense of puzzlement coming from the dragon and K’leren gave his friend a reassuring pat on the forepaw.
Its something I need to do. Before I impressed you I was a beast healer, Creseth, and I can’t stand to see it suffering if I don’t have to. Are you about ready to return to High Reaches? The dragon let out a soft snort that sent little puffs of dust swirling around K’leren.
Yes. The Fort Queens were not much fun. And Paziath kept trying to hog all their attention. The plaintive tone of voice made K’leren smile. The bronze wanted desperately to fly a queen but had yet to win a mating flight. Many supposed it was because Creseth was small for a bronze, but K’leren knew that most of the reason was his own reservations, from before he lost Elerra and certainly now that she and the baby had perished in the plague.
Oh, did they remark on your size Creseth? Or was it simply that they were mooning over Paziath too much for you to stomach?
Neither. There were bronzes from Igen and Fort there and they seemed to prefer them. I don’t know why.
“Never try to understand women my friend. You’ll only end up confused.” With those words of advice the bronzerider hooked closed the basket's cover and attached the handle to the packstraps. Climbing up and K’leren buckled himself into the straps.
“Let’s go home Creseth.”
*********
High Reaches Weyr
The frigid cold of Between hit the rider and as Creseth burst out into the air above High Reaches he found himself anxious about the occupant of the basket. Did it live through the shocking cold? Would it survive long enough for him to get it to his weyr?
As the bronze dragon made a quick circle of the weyr and landed on his ledge, K’leren was already unbuckling his straps.
I’m hungry. I’m going to eat. Creseth rumbled as his rider slid down and detached the basket at his side. I will be back. Pushing off the ledge the bronze flew into the air and off toward the valley where the feeding grounds lay.
“Well, let’s see if you made it.” Talking to the closed basket K’leren walked into the weyr and into his quarters. Unshielding the glows about the room he came back to the basket he had set on a low table across from his overstuffed chair.
His heart was beating wildly, and K’leren tried to ignore the feeling of dread that was creeping into his heart. With a trembling hand he unhooked the basket’s lid and was met once more by a pair of yellow-green eyes. They blinked and closed and K’leren felt a wave of joy rush through him. It was alive! It had lived! The cat hadn’t died!
“Well little one, let’s see what I can do to get you settled in here. I suppose I should start with some kind of food for you, and a litter box. You be good.”
Giving the cat a gentle caress on the head the bronzerider hoped it would still be there when he returned from his errands. Staring down at the shabby creature he felt his throat constrict. How could such cruelty exist, and be practiced on something as defenseless as the animal before him?
As the question floated around his mind K’leren made his way to the hall tunnel that connected his weyr to a few other weyrs and down to the stairs that lead down to the rest of the weyr. He would have to pop into the kitchens and beg some broth and meat from Jouvert, but hopefully the headcook wouldn’t mind.
*********
“I just need some heardbeast broth and maybe a few chunks of cooked meat as well?” K’leren found himself standing beside the cook as he was giving orders to his undercooks for the evening meal. K’leren had always liked Jouvert, and felt that his friendliness was returned by the other man.
“Umph. Broth and stew meat? What are you up to K’leren?”
“I picked up a feline at the gather this afternoon at Southern Boll, and it is in pretty poor shape. I figured I could feed it some broth with the meat cut up to a paste.”
“I see.” The cook waved a hand over at one of the undercooks. “Jutta, get the dragonrider a container of the broth from the third heart, and a few of the rarer pieces of the heardbeast on the spit.” He paused for a moment. “And throw in a few of the spiced wherry rolls.” Jutta disappeared with great alacrity her red braids flapping behind her as she ran to do her master’s bidding.
“I wish you the best of luck with it K’leren. If you find you need more to feed it just look for Jutta. I’ll leave instructions that you’re to have whatever you need.” A shout from the far heart claimed the cook’s attention and K’leren found himself waiting for his food stuffs.
“Here you go Ser. Be careful of the jar—it’s hot.” Jutta’s voice held the accent of the Tillek area and her hair was the color of the setting sun. Her work worn hands held out the food to him and K’leren nodded his thanks.
“I appreciate it, and your help.”
“’S’not a problem. Master Jouvert said I’m to give you what’ver need.” Jouvert’s voice rose above the din of the kitchen to call for Jutta and once more the redheaded cook disappeared in the busy area. With his errand completed the bronzerider made his way back to his weyr and the patient waiting for him.
*********
K’leren’s Weyr, Late Evening
K’leren breathed a sigh of relief as he sat back into his chair. The small knot of fear had begun to work itself loose of his heart and hope was gradually making a home there instead. He had spent hours caring for the cat, which was responding well to his attentions. At the moment it was curled up in a low box set at the base of his bed, quiet and in the grip of sleep.
Over the course of two hours he has fed the creature a paste of meat and broth and K’leren had been shocked when the cat began to purr. Not a soft, gentle purr, or even a thready ragged purr, but a loud, rumbly noise! That alone had lifted the man’s spirits and allowed the seed of hope to be planted. After making the cat more comfortable he had settled down into his chair and ate the spiced wherry rolls Jutta gave him. He was tired but worried about resting, concerned about his patient yet knowing there was little else he could do at the moment.
Sleep. I will wake you if she needs help. Creseth’s words tingled through K’leren’s mind and he gave a wry smile. Leave it to the dragon to play babysitter.
You are making yourself tired with worry. You will sleep and I will watch. There was a finality in the bronze’s voice and K’leren smiled, glad for the concern.
Thanks Creseth. Please do wake me—if you sense any kind of need…
I will. Now go to sleep! The dragon was firm and K’leren let out a yawn.
“I’ll have to wash up first, but after that I will.” Rising from the chair he peeled off his pants and grabbed up a towel from a stack. Walking down to the bathing area he shared with the other dragonriders on this weyrlevel, K’leren thought of a nice hot bath and smiled. It was a promise of relaxation after a difficult and emotionally draining day.
*********
K’leren’s Weyr, Late Morning
“So what happened to you yesterday? I didn’t see you at Lutiera’s performance—“ M’rue had pulled on the small bell by the entrance to K’leren’s weyr, having come up along the hallway from the stairs below. As he stepped into the chambers he was surprised to find his friend out of his chair and clutching a bowl of some sort in one hand.
“I left. I found something more interesting to do.” K’leren’s voice was curt but filled with something M’rue hadn’t heard for a long time. Humor?
Coming up along side his friend M'rue watched as a scruffy looking feline cocked its head to look at him. Taken off guard M’rue did a double take and stared at his friend.
“Eh-What are you doing with that thing? It looks like death warmed over.” Curiosity mixed with disgust and dismay in the younger rider’s voice.
K’leren shot his friend an annoyed look before offering a spoonful of food to the cat. A pink tongue lapped up the pasty substance on the spoon in quick time and K’leren smiled. It lit up his face and M’rue was filled with shock.
“It...or rather She, is a cat. And I found her at the gather yesterday….” Motioning for his friend to sit down in his chair K’leren shared with him the story of the day before and the events that led to his adoption of the feline. When he was done K’leren was surprised by the serious expression on M’rue’s face.
“What is it? If you’re thinking about the plague that’s not what the problem was—“
“No, no, it’s not that K’leren. I was thinking you need to find a name for the beastie. All throughout your tale you’ve called her “it” or “she” but never by name. You’ve gone this far—you may as well take that step.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Don’t you? C’mon K’leren. You’ve already let her into your heart. If she lives or dies her having a name isn’t going to make it hurt less. You’ve stepped up—and I think that’s great. Now find a name for her.” M’rue watched as his friend gently caressed the rag-tag cat. It was a heartwarming scene, and one that returned hope to his regard of K’leren. This small action proved that his friend had not entirely died emotionally, and could come back from the abyss of depression that had claimed him since his weyrmate’s death.
“Hmmph.” K’leren bit his lip as his friend’s words rolled around his brain. M’rue had a point, and it was the truth. Losing the cat now would hurt no matter if he named her or not. “Fine then. I’ll name her.”
“What?”
“Hope.” K’leren smiled and reached out to pet the cat again. Hopefully time would heal her wounds and return some fur to her body. If not, he knew he would love her none the less.
“That’s quite fitting!” M’rue was beaming with approval and K’leren frowned at him.
“It’s just a name, don’t get all sappy about it. I swear you’re as bad as Healer Baya sometimes!” The older bronzerider got up and poured some juice into his mug.
“Did you end up taking anyone home with you yesterday? Or was I the only lucky one?”
M’rue laughed at the joke and shook his head. “There were a few possible, but none of them seemed worthwhile.” He paused and rose from the chair. “Speaking of Baya though, I promised her I’d be down there this morning. I’ve got to get going.” He nearly sprinted from the room anxious to tell his healer friend about what he had just learned.
“Eh, figure that Hope.” K’leren gave a half shrug and went back to spoon feeding the cat.
*********
High Reaches Weyr Infirmary
“Are you serious? He did all that?” Baya’s voice was filled with excitement and her expression was one of disbelief and hope. “That is fantastic!”
“I think it’s a good sign, at least. I wouldn’t go overboard Baya…I mean, the cat looks pretty shaky.”
“That doesn’t make a difference, M’rue.” Baya smiled and toyed with the scribing stick in her hand. “What matters is that K’leren took the chance. He knows he can be hurt by this but chose to do it anyway…”
“Well, if you say so.” M’rue shrugged and took a sip of his wine. “You think this is a good thing then?”
“Oh, certainly!” The healer met her friend’s gaze, a wide smile on her face. “It means he’s finally on the mend!” Together the two smiled, glad to know at long last their companion’s emotional wounds were beginning to heal.
THE END
