Hours of fighting had passed, and the bronze pair easily lasted through the entirety of it. On their way back to the Weyr, they flew over the green fields and forests surrounding High Reaches Hold instead of instantly jumping between, surveying what they had risked their lives to protect. That this would be here tomorrow was their reward. Upon sighting the spires of home, Yisketh flew up towards the feathery clouds and began a long, deep glide that lasted many leisurely minutes and yet brought them gracefully to their own ledge.
As they landed, man and beast both let out a triumphant crow. What could be more worth celebrating than the knowledge that they and their fellows had prevailed in this fight? There would always be some losses to Thread, but by and large, life would continue with relative normalcy, thanks to the dragons and their riders.
K'ienn dismounted without waiting for Yisketh to lower his shoulder, the only visible sign of his exhaustion a slight stumble as his feet hit the ground. He trailed his palm along the bronze's neck as he walked toward their weyr entrance, pausing to gaze into Yisketh's whirling blue eye. Well done, were his simple words. The emotions around them were powerful… such pride in him, such approval, such love... and weariness. Yisketh pressed his face into the man's hand, then watched K'ienn's back until he disappeared into the weyr to take a well-deserved rest.
Yisketh too was tired, but his mind was fully awake; he felt as if something still needed to be done. Perhaps it was the sky, blue and still full of daylight. He paced along the ledge, debating what he might do until he was ready to sleep. Certainly some greens would be rising soon, but though he had the desire, his strength was sapped from the battle. He didn't feel much like socializing, either. Lately, his attempts at such had not been all too successful.
He went to the edge of the platform and looked down into the weyrbowl. There were dozens of dragons below, if not hundreds. Feeding, bathing, talking, playing, in pairs and groups of all sizes. He wished that he could be among them.
His eyes moved upward, toward a certain weyr. There was a time he had sunned himself upon that ledge, sprawled out in easy comfort beside the glistening golden body of his mate. He fondly recalled her shyness, eyes whirling yellow-green when she caught him staring at her, and then the blue -- and an unexpected splash of violet -- trickling back into them when he spoke loving words to her. She was so beautiful.
Then, there she was! Her wings spread wide, she descended from the skies. Her golden hide shimmered in the sunlight as she alighted and graciously knelt to allow her rider to dismount. He knew the gold would be just as tired as he was, but she remained on her feet, turning to regard the goings-on below. Neck arched, eyes whirling peaceful colors, she looked every bit the queen she was.
He hadn't expected to fall in love with her. No more than his rider expected to fall in love with hers. But they had.
Yisketh was still gazing toward her ledge when he heard a grotesque howl that made his ichor run cold. The scarred skin around his left eye seemed to tighten until he could barely hold it open. He almost wished it was gone so he wouldn't have to see what came next.
A blue dragon, a squat-looking thing covered in unseemly scars, landed on the gold's ledge. He tucked his frayed wings and warbled a greeting, which was warmly returned. They lay down, their shoulders touching and tails already twining together. Of all the lesser dragons she could have chosen instead of Yisketh... instead of any other bronze who could be worthy of her... it had to be that blue.
He groaned softly, suddenly feeling as if he'd eaten something rancid. K'ienn had urged him on, of course, but it was a mistake on his own part to first chase Fianth merely because his rival desired her. He couldn't have known she would be so enchanting once he got to know her. He couldn't have known he'd fall for her. He would have gladly shared her ledge forever... but Yisketh couldn't blame her for ejecting him.
The sight of Krahsujunth nuzzling the golden one brought a sudden sting of rage. Yisketh spread his wings and dropped from his ledge, as if to physically escape it. He leveled out and flew toward the feeding pens. Part of him knew that he and Fianth could have lasted longer, maybe even until the end, had K'ienn not spoiled things with Olliah. When they were banished from the goldrider's weyr, Yisketh was truly angry with his rider for the very first time. He took aim at a small hoofed beast and slammed into it with all four feet, crushing it instantly beneath him. Human politics were so foolish. Better to live like the dragons, to follow a natural hierarchy without striving to rise above one's station, and to embrace that species-wide drive to defeat the one common enemy to all life. The warm taste of the meat was good as he fed with savage slashes of teeth and jaws.
But now, Fianth, too, had stepped outside of that natural hierarchy in choosing a blue to be her mate.
Twin shrieks momentarily distracted Yisketh from his tumultuous thoughts as he took down two does at once. With an anguished snarl, he gutted them both and fed like one possessed.
My rider has asked me to suggest that perhaps you've had enough, a brown blandly informed him. The bronze's head instantly came up, teeth snapping in the direction of the now-startled brown. He wanted to be left alone. He didn't want to be alone. He felt like the world was spinning around him.
He had to get away.
Yisketh lurched upward, flinging aside the half-eaten carcasses as he rose. He was so very tired, but he couldn't stay one moment longer. He took to the sky, gave one last pained glance toward Fianth's ledge, and disappeared Between.
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What will be the fate of our tragic hero? The story continues here...