[Statistics] [Hydee] [Mossyth] [Discoveries] [Relative Love] [Of Babies] [Full Circle]

Leena sighed and lay her head back on the feather pillow, twisting her index finger absently in the light covering. Her eyes were red and slightly puffy, her nails bitten to rough stubs, and her cheekbones showing through a once rounded face. It was all over now, she told herself again. All over. Never again would she have to go through the pain of seeing both her parents, as well as her older sister ... die. There. She said it. They were dead.

Her eyes stung at the thought of being alone, but she squinted them shut, refusing the exhausting emotions access to the outside world. She turned over abruptly, burying her face in the pillow and thinking hard. The Healer had said it was some sort of contagious ... somethingorother. He had prescribed some strong-smelling herbs, handed her a jar of crushed fellis, then left as fast as possible.

What if she’d caught it? What if she were next? Morbid thoughts bounced around her head, adding to the steady throbbing behind her ears. She knew that she shouldn’t give in, but it just seemed to easy. Get some of the left-over herbs, mix them in some cold klah, and swallow. The Healer had said they could be dangerous if not taken in small amounts.

But her whole being screamed out to her, _NO!_ Don’t give in! it ordered. You have too much to do. But nothing seemed as important as sleep just then, and she finally allowed herself to collapse into distorted dreams of her parents faces twisted in agony, her sister drifting in and out of delirium ... and an unknown face. Her dream-mind paused to examine the masculine face that was somehow familiar, something about it seemed ... but then it was gone.

The Harper woke, her brows knitted, beads of perspiration running down her temples. She would normally dismiss her dreams like an irritating insect, but this seemed ... different somehow.

Leena sat up, suddenly having a strong compulsion to go through the boxes in the storage room. Her parents had both had an aversion to throwing anything away, and so had built an extra room adjoining their sleeping chamber in which to keep 30 turns of marriage in wooden crates. She knew it must be done, and it seemed she was the only one left to do it.

She rose, her young face eerily illuminated by the moonlight, erasing any trace of the emerging crinkles at the corners of her eyes and the worry creases carelessly etched across her forehead. The weather had been dry for the past sevenday and the air in the weyr was cool and crisp, smelling of musk and the night. Bare feet padded soundlessly to the small door beside the now empty double bed and Leena paused, her hand outstretched, surprised to see the tremble in her fingers.

She angrily brushed them through her dark auburn hair, took a deep breath, then forced herself to pull at the slightly sticky doorjamb. It squeaked hideously, then exploded outwards, revealing pitch black corner into which the wan beams filtered, illuminating the throng of perturbed dust particles. A small draw-string pendulum hung on the left and Leena reached out and tugged on it, causing a dim light to flicker on inside the inky blackness.

Some part of her groaned at the time it would take to sort through the vast amount of memoirs from two lifetimes, but the part that seemed to have taken control revelled in the look, the smell, the feel of the lives and the mystery contained within these simply constructed containers. Suddenly it all overwhelmed her. How well did she really know her parents? They had never really spoken of their lives before children, dragonriders, the Weyr. What had they been like as children?

And so Leena began to learn.

In the first box, she learnt about her mother’s long-forgotten hobby. She sewed. Dozens of crocheted dolls of all shapes and sizes; tiny jumpers, scarves, socks, never worn; small square tapestries depicting a major event in her life - her Impression, her mating ceremony, the birth of her children - or merely her impression of a flower she liked the look of. The young Harper run still-trembling fingers over the knuckled material, almost choking on the smell of stale wool and half-disintegrated leather.

In the second box, she learnt about the day her parents met. The correspondence they kept through their firelizards when her father was sent to another Weyr for a time. The love-letters that made her eyes mist up with all the lost romanticism. She had always seen her parents as close friends. Nothing more. There was never any kissing, hugging, even holding hands - at least where she could see. Never any open affection aside from the occasional meaningful look when they thought no one was watching. She almost wept for that loss. They hadn’t lived the lives their love demanded, and so had died, one after the other, without so much as a goodbye kiss. Taking a deep breath, Leena forced herself onwards.

In the third box, she found what she had been unwittingly searching for. This box, smaller than the others, contained a baby-size blue knitted cap, a red ribbon, and a rough sketch of a child, no more than a few months old.

Her heart caught. It was him! The face she’d seen in her dream. She had no idea how she knew that. Perhaps the shape of the ears, or the depth of those brown eyes, but if she’d been right about one thing in her life, this was it.

But what was it doing locked away in a box?

A sketch of a child, mementos held dear to someone’s heart. Her mother, perhaps? Or her father? It seemed too sentimental for either of them, but in the short space it had taken for the sun to rise, Leena had discovered more about the two people than nineteen turns of knowing them personally. Why couldn’t they be sentimental too?

She took a deep breath, not quite knowing how to take all of this in. Perhaps she needed to take a break, go get something to eat. The thought of food made her feel quite queasy, and she decided against that idea.

Chestnut brown eyes surveyed the damage. Two boxes lay open to the world, their contents sprawled over the bedspread. One sat before her, a simple painting in her hands, round chestnut eyes staring innocently back at her.

She blinked and looked again, squinting as if staring into the rising sun itself. Her knees cracked ominously as she rose too fast and sprinted to the small mirror on her mother’s bedside table. She looked at her reflection, dark rings colouring pallid cheeks, then back at the portrait. There could be no mistake. This child was somehow related to her...

The Harper sat on the edge of the bed and glared harder at the babe, catching something in the reflection of the mirror. In small, neat letters at the top edge of the aged surface was, ‘Never forget, my son.’ Leena didn’t recognise the handwriting at first, but as her eyes moved lower, her breath caught. Scrawled at the bottom in faded ink was very clearly her mother’s hand.

‘Celestian, 1 month.’

Leena leaned back against the wooden headboard of her late parents’ double bed and closed her eyes. What was going on? Who was Celestian and why was he in his mother’s memoirs?

But she knew the answer. He was her son. Once. What had happened to him? Perhaps he had died, she suggested, hoping a little guiltily that was the case. For if the infant had been fostered - or even taken, it was not unheard of - then she was not alone.

Suddenly the Harper blinked. She must find this Celestian, tell him of their parents’, and sister’s death. But where would he be? She acknowledged that she probably knew what he looked like, via that strangely prophetic dream, but she could hardly wander through the Weyr checking every male face in the vicinity. What if he’d been transferred?

Setting the picture on the bedspread, Leena mentally compiled a list of all the things she knew about this man.

For one, his name - but that would have changed if he Impressed. What he looked like, or at least his face. She made a mental note to ask her Artist friend to draw an image of the face in her dream. His age, roughly 30, maybe a little less.

She paused. “Hmm, not much to go on, Lee,” she told herself disapprovingly. What was she thinking? She’d never be able to find this man. If he was still around. After all, weyrlings get lost /between/, children fall off ledges ... “Stop being so sharding morbid!” she scolded herself firmly. 

She had to get out, away from the memory of her deceased family members - and begin to search for the one still living. Slipping the baby’s portrait gently into a sleeve she kept just for that purpose, she grabbed her leather satchel and raced outside, squinting against the sun reflected off a clouded pure white sky. Heading towards the small weyr of her fellow Artist friend, she thought about how she would explain all this without sounding too loopy.

The short woman held up a hand to stop Leena’s explanation. “Hold it there, Lee.” She paused, looking dubiously at her friend. “Are you serious?” she asked finally.

Leena looked towards the ceiling, searching for some other way to explain herself. After a moment she looked back down to her friend. “I’m almost afraid to say this, but yes. Triella, I’ve never been more serious in all my life.”

Two dark brown eyes looked searchingly into Leena’s. Triella was a slightly built woman, in her mid twenties, with striking features. Her skin was pale, slightly freckled across her nose and cheekbones, her eyes a very dark brown, and her long, slightly wavy hair almost black. She held out a delicately-boned hand and placed it dramatically on her friend’s forehead, checking for a temperature.

“Stop that!” the younger woman scolded, starting to get annoyed. “Please, Elle you have to help me. Even,” she added as Triella opened her mouth to object, “if you think I’m crazy, or delusional, or whatever. Please.”

Triella groaned and leaned back in the worn blue sofa, closing her eyes. “I don’t know why I’m doing this, but alr...oof!”

Before she had finished the sentence a rather excited Leena had jumped on top of her and was hugging her ferociously. “Thankyou, you don’t know what this means to me!!” she cried, a little surprised at the intensity of her emotions herself. Why was she so happy? It was only a picture, after all. She knew it was just a tiny step towards making Celestian a tangible person, but a step all the same.

Triella went to gather her artist’s equipment, consisting of various hard and soft charcoals, a piece of thin, almost white hide, a horizontal wooden easel, and a small block of yellowish resin. Charcoal in hand, tongue stuck slightly out of the left corner of her mouth, the woman began to sketch in large arcs, ending with sketchy lines, smaller circles, and black smudges. As Leena watched in fascination, the face that appeared to be seared in her brain began to make itself known beneath Triella’s rapidly moving extremity.

A soft knocking was followed by a muffled “Come in.”

Leena pushed through and closed the door behind her, turning to face the Assistant Headwoman with a friendly smile. Khajara seemed a nice enough person, although the Harper had never had dealings with her before.

“Good morning,” the older woman said, smiling back at Leena. “What can I do for you?” She had a pile of hides as high as her chin on the desk, but they didn’t seem to be bothering her. Ordinarily Lee would have offered to come back later, but she felt that this had to be taken care of as soon as possible.

She got straight to business. “My parents died recently,” she began, pushing down the small knot that appeared in her throat every time she mentioned them. “And after they did, I discovered that they had a son before I was born.” She pulled out the sketch of the infant and handed it to Khajara, who looked at it briefly. “It is written on the back of that portrait that the baby’s name was Celestian,” she continue, watching intently for any reaction from the woman opposite her. “He would probably be around 30 turns now, and I ... I obtained this sketch of what he looks like at the moment.” This elicited a startled glance from Khajara.

“If I may ask, have you met with this Celestian?”

Leena shook her head, no. “If you’re going to ask how I know what he looks like as an adult... you’re not going to believe me, but I saw him in a dream.”

Khajara arched one chestnut eyebrow but didn’t pursue the question. After a moment of silence, she finally asked, “Is it that you wish to find him? Is that why you’ve come here, armed with a portrait?” She sounded a little irritated.

The Harper hesitated. “I apologise, it may have been foolish of me, but...I thought you might recognise him, is all.”

“Why would I recognise him any more than the Kitchen drudges, or a random greenrider?”

Leena winced at the harsh words, causing Khajara to breathe out slowly, rubbing her hands over her face. She wondered what could have caused such a dramatic change of character in such a short time.

“I’m sorry. I’ve had a lot on my plate right now, I suppose it must be getting to me.” She managed to smile wanly at the younger woman. “No, I don’t recognise the name or the face. If he is still in the weyr, and came from a dragonrider family?” Leena nodded. “Then the likelihood is he Impressed and is off fighting Thread somewhere. Perhaps you can ask the Weyrleader. He would know better than I.”

“Thankyou,” Leena said honestly, although she could not keep the disappointment from showing on her very expressive face. She rose from the wooden stool and headed for the door, but stopped when Khajara spoke once more.

“Would you let me know what happens?” she asked, a little shyly.

Leena smiled and nodded. “Sure thing.”

The door closed behind her, and Leena hesitated only a moment before heading up towards the Weyrleader’s office.

M'kellen's office door stood open, as always. He caught sight of someone there and called for them to come in.

Leena smiled at M'kellen and entered, heading for the wooden chair situated before his desk. She decided it would probably be best to describe her situation, leaving out the rather unbelievable dreams and other inexplicable happenings, and so began. "I recently discovered that my parents fostered their first child, a boy of the name Celestian." She watched carefully for any reaction, but the Weyrleader just looked politely interested. "Anyway, I found a sketch of him drawn recently-" hey, she could embellish a little couldn't she? "-and was wondering if you recognised him. I thought it rather likely that he would have Impressed." She handed the likeness to the man and waited for his response.

"N-no. I'm sorry." He studied the drawing again for a long moment, then handed it back. "I'm sorry. I'm pretty sure I haven't seen him in any of the Weyrs I've had dealing with but -," he grinned, "I admit I am much better at recognising women."

Leena sighed, more than a little disappointed. "Thankyou anyway, Weyrleader." She started to walk away, then paused and faced him once more, a curious expression on her face. "You haven't served at Ridge Crest, have you?" It was about the only other option she could think of.

"No. But my brother's there. The Weyrlingmaster, J'lerren. Ask him."

“Thanks, I might just do that.” With a smile in M’kellen’s direction, she turned, leaving the door open behind her as the Weyrleader requested.

The Harper turned the corner, frowning slightly in thought. Celestian wasn’t at Dark Ridge, that was pretty much definite. Not at the Weyrs M’kellen’s served at, but we don’t know about Ridge Crest. Maybe...It was a possibility.

The smells from the evening meal wafted in her direction and she almost fell over as a wave of hunger hit her. She realised belatedly that she hadn’t eaten all day, and altered her course slightly to pass by for something to quiet her stomach.

Leena was in a decidedly bad mood.

Two failed attempts to find Celestian, plus when she had been walking to the Dining area for supper, a child had raced past splattering her with mud. Sitting on the hard wooden bench next to a rather rowdy customer, caked in mud, and tired after a busy day, was not exactly her idea of a good time.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” the aforementioned fellow asked with a unnecessary pat on her thigh.

The woman grimaced openly and pried his slightly greasy fingers off her pants, glaring at the oily marks left behind. “Nothing, thankyou,” she said peremptorily, shuffling as far as she could towards the edge of the bench.

He leered at her and leaned a little closer, his breath stinking of ale and tobacco. “How ‘bout we go up to my place and we can fix you all up nice and proper, eh baby?”

She shuddered and rose hastily, just missing another grab at her flesh and left the Hall, arms crossed, auburn hair flying behind her. And she didn’t stop until she reached home and slammed the door behind her.

“Why must this always happen to me?” she wailed to no one in particular.

“Mrowr,” a small orange feline complained vociferously.

Leena glanced down and blinked at the animal, which appeared to be all skin and bones. “Where did you come from?” she asked it, receiving another hungry cry in response. “You want something to eat?”

It boldly slunk up to her and rubbed it’s striped golden flank along her calf.

Leena smiled, wondering once more how the kitten managed to break into the weyr, but rather glad for it’s sudden appearance. She bent and picked it up by the belly, frowning at the lack of padding around it’s ribcage and took it tosmall cache she kept of snack-foods, searching for something it ... she paused and peeked underneath ... he could eat.

Feeding the tiny, very hungry mouth tiny bits of the meatroll she’d uncovered, the Harper moved to the old sofa and relaxed into the familiar cushions, sighing deeply. What a day.

“Looks like I’ll be keeping you on for a while,” she told the kitten, assuming that if someone nearby had lost a little orange feline she would hear about it and could then return him. “But for now, what shall I call you?” Her mind had been so occupied by one name for the last two days that only one name came to her as she thought. “No,” she shook her head. “That wouldn’t do. Well,” she conceded after a pause, “I suppose I could call you ... Celen or something.” The feline perked up at the sound and his wet little nose touched her chin. She smiled. “Celen it is, then.”

He purred loudly at her and licked his chops before nuzzling around her chest for more to eat. She grinned at his antics. “Sorry, babe, that's all I have,” she murmured before drifting into dream-filled slumber.

She was running. Why, or from what, she couldn’t tell, but she was not afraid. Perhaps running towards something, or someone. The ground seemed to roll away beneath her faster than was possible and suddenly her legs morphed into wings and her arms were held tightly by her side. She felt the wind rush past her sleek form, felt the power of flight.

Below her tiny figures worked in fields, or mines, or sat around a picnic mat talking and laughing. She wanted to join them, but knew she couldn’t. They didn’t want her now she could fly, and there was no way to go down.

Suddenly she was afraid. She wanted to go down, but the wind carried her higher and higher. No control. The power was an illusion, all surreal, and she couldn’t stop it.

She tried the pinching of the arm, but realised it was futile. Her arms were still plastered against her sides. She couldn’t get out. She knew it was a dream, but couldn’t get out...

Suddenly a face appeared before her. It was somehow a mixture of two or more faces, both animal and human, but she immediately recognised two. Her brother, Celestian, and the newfound feline, Celen.

The rushing wind stilled. The heightening fear dissipated. The ground slowly reappeared, closer and closer, until she landed on her feet. Her body returned to the good old Leena she knew, and she looked around in search of the man who had saved her, but he was gone. Strangely, she wasn’t sad.

She felt a warm hand on her shoulder and spun to see the face of her mother, a gentle smile of her familiar face. “Welcome home, honey,” was all she said.

Leena’s eyes snapped open, aware of the sensation of tiny claws kneading her thigh. “Ouch, Celen, stop that,” she scolded as she sat up and disentangled the tiny feline from her pants. She stroked him absently as she mulled over the strange dream, trying to figure out what it meant.

The last time the then unknown Celestian had appeared in her dream it had given her the compulsion to search through her parents belongings and discover that she did, indeed, have a brother. What now? Nothing seemed to be amiss, aside from the fact that she felt like she hadn’t eaten for a month.

Celen mewed piteously, breaking her from her thoughts. She smiled slightly, absently scratching his head. “Come on,” she told the little feline. “I suppose we should go get some food.”

She rose, taking Celen with her, and headed for the door, a little surprised at the darkness outside. How long had she slept? She dawdled along towards the Dining Hall, smiling as Celen wound his way around her shoulders and eventually perched there happily, his tail wrapped tightly around her neck. She realised she was extremely glad for his company, however sharp his little claws were. Perhaps he’d bring her some luck in finding his namesake. The thought brought her hope, and without realising, her step bounced a little more and she smiled, feeling like a resting dragon had just been lifted off her shoulders.

}:You are hungry,:{ green Farasanth told her rider a little worriedly. }:Why have you not gone to the Dining Hall?:{

Tayira shrugged absently and picked at the arm of her favourite padded chair.

A soft rumbling came from the green’s quarters and Tayira sighed, rose and approached. “I’m sorry, Fara. I’ve been kind of distracted lately.”

There was a pause while Farasanth considered her words carefully. Her rider had recently separated from her weyrmate of almost ten turns and her 6 turn old daughter had opted to live with him. Of course she could visit, but it wasn’t the same. She’d been one half of a couple for so long it was strange and scary to suddenly be all alone. }:You still have me, rider mine. I will never leave.:{

The woman smiled. “Thanks. It’s good to hear that.”

She was usually a very cheerful person, and it showed in her face, even when she wasn’t smiling, but when she did, it seemed her entire physique brightened. Small crinkles had developed in the corners of her bright blue eyes, full lips opened slightly, shoulders lifted, head tilted back. She had been quite attractive in her youth and now, at what she considered the ripe old age of 32, she had that well-matured and radiant look of one who retained her inner-strength and -beauty well beyond the usual span. Her dark blonde hair was cropped short in an almost boyish style, her eyelashes, a shade or two darker, framing ageless sky-blue eyes. She was of average height and build, perhaps a little less curvaceous than she would have liked, but she made it up with personality...usually.

She sighed. She must have been the most miserable companion for Fara of late. **No wonder Lyrala wanted to live with her daddy.**

}:You need to eat,:{ Farasanth stated firmly, in a final desperate attempt to get her rider of the subject most depressing her at the moment.

The woman nodded finally and smiled wanly at her dragon. “Thanks for still loving me, Fara.”

The green didn’t think it necessary to reply to such an obvious statement, so merely hmphed and headed out to the ledge.

The Dining Hall was absolutely packed. Leena murmured to herself that she should have waited until after the rush, but her rather vociferous stomach indicated otherwise.

Celen, to her surprise, appeared to be enjoying the noisy crowd. Most young felines she’d known had been terrified of vast numbers of anything, whether it be dragons or trundlebugs. She certainly had picked up an interesting character in this little animal, hadn’t she?

The Harper joined the queue behind a woman slightly taller than herself with short blonde hair and took a deep breath, trying in vain to calm her stomach. Maybe she was sick. The thought hit her along with a million other emotions, most of which revolved around fear. Sick? Like her family? No, impossible, she was just hungry.

It turned out that she was just hungry, and as she chowed into the thick meaty soup she cursed her over-active imagination. She seemed always to be overreacting to the simplest of occurrences. Like the blonde woman who had been in front of her, for example. She looked kind of sad, and Leena had a sudden overwhelming compulsion to put an arm around her. She probably just broke a nail or something, Lee, calm down.

The older woman, however, seemed determined to make Leena’s life miserable, as she sat down next to her. The compulsion grew into a full-fledged obsession and she had to forcibly remove herself to the opposite side of the table, complaining lamely that the view was better from that side.

Just when she was feeling better, Celen took it into his own hands. Springing painfully from her shoulder, he landed smack bang in the middle of the blonde woman’s dinner.

“Oh shards, I am so sorry!” Leena cried as she retrieved the wayward kitten and attempted to wipe him off with her napkin. He seemed to be doing a good enough job of it himself, however, since it _was_ a meat broth, and so she plopped him on the bench beside her and tended to her companion. “Are you alright?” she asked falteringly.

Tayira managed a weak smile. “I’ll survive,” she replied, dabbing at her top. “it’s only a bit of broth, after all.”

“No.” Leena shook her head and tried to meet the older woman’s eyes. “I didn’t mean that. You seem a little ... sad?”  

The greenrider blinked at that, then slowly nodded. Part of her brain told her to shut up and move somewhere where no one would bother her, but the majority ordered her to stay put. Without knowing why, she explained what had happened, down to every detail. She even surprised herself with some comments about how she felt that even she hadn’t realised. It was like someone else was speaking through her, telling of what they had seen her feel. “And here I am,” she concluded with a dry smile, “with meat broth all over my top. The perfect end, eh?”

Leena grinned at her at bit sheepishly, instantly liking her. “Sorry again about that.”

Tayira shook her head, dismissing it. After a pause, and held out a clean-wiped hand. “Tayira, rider of green Farasanth. Nice to meet you.”

Leena smiled. “Leena, Journeywoman Harper. Likewise.” They both paused, smiling into each other’s eyes, until the Harper broke the silence. “If you don’t mind me asking, why don’t you go stay with some family for a while? They always help ... helped me when I was feeling down.”

The greenrider frowned a little at the past tense, but didn’t push it. “I suppose,” she concede, nodding slowly. “I have a foster brother who lives at Ridge Crest who always helps me out.” She smiled at the thought. “Last time my ex-weyrmate and I had troubles I went over to C’stian’s place and after a day or so, I felt so much better.” She looked up, startled to see her new friend’s face as pale as snow. “Shards, are you alright?” she asked worriedly. “What happened?”

Leena had been listening as Tayira had talked, but when she’d mentioned her foster brother ... C’stian. Could it be? It seemed she’d had a few too many coincidences in the past few days; That dream about Celestian, then finding the baby-box, coming home to find Celen patiently waiting, having that dream where she’d been flying without control, then the very same kitten had forced her to find this woman, who could be Celestian foster sister?

It suddenly dawned on her that she’d had very little control over what had been happening. Like in the dream. A shiver ran down her spine. Too weird.

“Are you alright?” Tayira’s voice repeated.

She blinked and looked up at her, feeling the blood rush back into her veins. Slowly, she shook her head and searched around the knapsack she’d brought along on impulse. Pulling out the sketching Triella had done for her, she laid it before Tayira and watched her eyes widen in surprise.

“That’s C’stian! Where did you get this?” she asked, her voice slightly shrill.

Leena took a deep breath. “I saw him in a dream.”

The greenrider’s eyes narrowed. “Pardon?”

“I saw him in a dream,” she repeated slowly, holding up a hand before Tayira could object. “You told me your story, now let me tell you mine.” And so she relayed the rather unbelievable events of the past two days, including the strange but very strong feelings she experienced at various intervals. When she finished, the greenrider’s eyes looking surprised more than dubious. “Do you believe me?” she inquired after a moment of silence from both parties.

Slowly, Tayira nodded, eliciting a thankful glance from Leena. After a moment, the greenrider rose and turned, taking her bowl back to the pile near the kitchen. Leena blinked. Where was she going? “Wait!”

“What?” the older woman asked, turning. “Aren’t you coming?”

Leena stared at her a moment. “Coming where?”

Tayira’s lips twitched. “Why, to see C’stian of course.”

No way. To see C’stian? And she said it like it was the most casual thing in Pern. To see C’stian, of course. “Hey,” she raced up to join her new friend ... and foster-sister once removed? “I can’t meet him like this,” she confided, indicating her tired-looking attire.

Tayira grinned mischievously. “Very well. Will tomorrow do?”

Leena sighed in relief. “Much better, thankyou Tayira.”

With a laugh, the greenrider clapped a rather stunned Leena on the shoulder before disappearing into the slightly thinning thrall.

“Did you hear that, Celen?” Leena asked the tiny orange feline as she held him up above her head. “Of course you did! You orchestrated it all, didn’t you? What are you, the great Faranth reincarnated or something?” she laughed as she swung him around her head and ended up cuddling him tightly to her chest.

He mewed in protest.

“Oh, sorry, babe.” But she wasn’t really. She wanted to cuddle him so hard, to thank him for finding her brother. Her brother. It still sent tingles of pleasure down her spine. She had a brother! She wasn’t alone any more.

Celen mewed once more, pointing out very clearly that she had him too.

Leena grinned at him. “I know.”

“You most definitely are _not_ going!” C’stian said in his most commanding voice, hands set firmly on his hips.

Hydee glared at him, her leaf-green eyes searing at his steadily-chipping cool reserve. “You cannot tell me what to do, C’stian. You are not my mother!”

The brownrider immediately shot back something he regretted the moment it popped out of his mouth. “No, I’m not!” he yelled. “But even she couldn’t control such a stubborn, selfish woman!” **Uhoh**

The greenrider’s eyes betrayed shock, the hurt, then anger. Oh man was she angry. It was the first major fight they’d had, and about such a silly thing, too. Hydee wanted to fly across to Dark Ridge where her parents lived, to visit them one last time before the baby was born. C’stian claimed that she had left it too late and shouldn’t be flying anywhere in such an ... extended condition. Extended being an understatement. In her opinion, she was carrying the biggest human baby in the history of Pern, but in fact she was still reasonably small. By her estimation, she had about a month left until she was due, and the various check-ups they’d had with dolphins had informed her infallibly that the baby was small for it’s age.

Hydee slowly backed away from her adversary, her eyes glinting dangerously.

The brownrider took a step towards, her whispering ‘sorry, so sorry’ over and over inaudibly, but she _so_ didn’t care. At that moment he was the last person she wanted to see. She was hurt, she was female, and she was pregnant. There were three very good reasons not to mess with her. If he had any sense at all, he would just back off and let things settle down for a bit. Of course, men seldom had much sense at all.

“My love, please, can we just...”

“No.”

“I’ll do what we...”

“No.”

“Hydee, we have to...”

“No!”

“I can see you’re not going to...” This time he stopped on his own accord. Finally, he grew a brain and turned slowly, mouthing a final ‘sorry’ and disappeared out of the door.

The greenrider lowered her bulk onto the sofa and took several deep, calming breaths like the midwife had taught her. She and C’stian had attended several classes on the procedures of pregnancy, from conception right up to the actual birth. They had been told time and time again to avoid raising stress levels, especially during the last trimester. That included staying away from some foods, long trips, whether by dragon or otherwise, and especially strenuous argument - much like the one she’d just been involved in. Easier said than done, she supposed.

Forcing herself to calm down, she managed to convince herself that the sharp pain in her abdomen a moment ago had been just indigestion, or a particularly strong kick. But when it happened again, she started to panic. It couldn’t be now, it was much too early!

}:What is wrong?:{ Mossyth asked, sensing her rider’s distress.

Hydee waited for the pain to pass before replying. **I’m not sure. I think the baby’s making herself known. Painfully.**

The green’s panic rose, but she blocked it from her rider almost immediately. }:Shall I call the midwife?:{ she asked worriedly.

**Maybe it was just a really strong kick...** she began as the pain seemed to have passed, but stopped mid-thought as it started again, nodding at her dragon desperately. **Yes, get ... midwife.** This was not good. Why had she sent C’stian away? Her own, dear, loving, gentle C’stian. She had to get him...

“Hydee? Hydee, where are you?” the aforementioned brownrider’s voice sounded very worried.

The woman thanked Faranth for dragons. “In here!” she called, breathing deeply.

A head appeared around the corner, the expression it wore wavering between fear of being yelled at and worry for his weyrmate. Finally worry won and he raced to Hydee’s side, kneeling down and grasping her hand tightly. “Are you alright?”

The greenrider smiled at him as the last remnants of the pain dissipated. “I’ll survive. I think she wants to say hello,” she added with a glance towards her belly.

C’stian looked at her, his face etched with worry. “Hydee, she’s not due yet.” Men always seemed to like stating the obvious.

“I know, love, but I suppose she knows when to come visit.” She didn’t mention the fact that it was probably the fight that brought it on prematurely, but noticed the realisation flicker across the brownrider’s features.

“Hydee? C’stian? Where are ye?” the matronly voice of their assigned midwife, Kellie, called from the open door to the weyr.

“In here!” they called simultaneously, then smiled at each other, both immensely thankful that the animosity of earlier had been spent.

The thin, pinched-looking woman seemed a vast contrast to her thick drawl and deep motherly voice, but she was a nice enough woman, and seemed honestly concerned with Hydee’s early progress.

After a long string of direct questions which were immediately given direct answers, Kellie frowned. “Are ye pulling me leg, dear?” she asked suddenly.

Hydee’s eyebrows shot into her hairline. “What? Am I ... no I most certainly am not! I was in pain! I think I had two, maybe three contractions...” She stopped, seeing what Kellie was getting at. “I ... uh ... suppose they’ve stopped now.”

The Healer nodded and sighed. “Ye’ve been under a bit o’ stress have ye?”

“Um, you could say that,” the greenrider answered, looking at C’stian a little guiltily.

Kellie sat back on her heels and crossed her hands over her knees. “Ye’ve just experienced what we call a false labour. Since ye’ve only got aboot a month left, I’m going ta say ye’ll have ta get used to yer bed real fast.”

Hydee frowned. “I’m not sure I follow.”

“Yer confined to yer bed for the remainder o’ yer pregnancy,” she stated in very clear terms.

“OK, now you’re kidding me, I can’t stay in bed for a month! For one I have to fight Thread at least three times between now and then!”

The healer shook her head firmly. “Nay, ye will not. I’ll speak to Serena if I must, but this is no’ negotiable.”

Hydee glared. “That’s not fair.”

Kellie gave her a levelling look. “Would ye rather I let ye fly out on yer draggin there and go into labour again, while up i’ the sky somewhere? I think not, dear. Next time, it will be fer real.”

The greenrider suddenly saw where she was coming from. If they were fighting Thread and she had a contraction, it would interfere with both her and Mossy’s concentration and they could be hit. It could mean both their deaths, just because she was stubborn. “Alright,” she said slowly. “But I can’t stay in bed all day every day. Can I say I’ll stay around the weyr? Compromise?” She was pushing it, she knew it, but she also knew she wouldn’t be any better off crazy with boredom.

Kellie paused for a moment, the nodded. “A’right, but fer the next week ye must remain bedridden. After that ye can wander around yer room as much as ye like. Deal?”

“Deal.” She grinned suddenly. “You’re harder to barter with than a poor stall-holder!”

That elicited a smile from the midwife, and she patted Hydee’s arm firmly. “Ye get ta bed noo. Ye’ll help her, won’t ye, lad?” she asked the brownrider standing beside her.

C’stian nodded, immediately bending to take Hydee’s arm, lifting her bulk and putting an arm around her shoulders as she stood.

“I’m not an invalid, you know,” Hydee whispered as he gingerly led her across the room.

“I know,” he shot back in a mumble.” But we’ll never get her off our backs if we don’t pretend to go along with this.”

They both heard a soft chuckle behind them, and suspected Kellie heard their conversation, but she didn’t say anything, and when the looked back, she was gone.

“What a strange woman,” C’stian murmured as he tucked his weyrmate into their double bed.

Hydee smiled up at him and affectionately patted his cheek. “If she makes you all soft and lovable and doing my every bidding, she can be as strange as she likes,” she said in all seriousness.

The brownrider had to laugh at that. “You wish,” he winked at her.

}:Farasanth approaches,:{ Feyeth informed his rider a little curiously.

C’stian raised an eyebrow at this, immediately trying to think of what he could have forgotten this time. The last unannounced visit he received from his foster sister he had forgotten her birthingday. **Ask her what her rider wants, Fey.**

The brown paused as he relayed the question to Tayira’s green. }:She says she has a visitor for you,:{ he replied finally.

A visitor? Who could that...There was a knock. Well, they’d soon find out.

“Coming,” he called as he rose from his work with a grunt. His riding straps had been getting worse for wear lately and so he had been saving a few marks for a new set. They chafed, however, and needed a good oiling before they could be useable. He opened the door and tried to look surprised.

“Sis! What are you doing here?” he asked after giving her a brief hug.

She rolled her eyes and walked past him into the weyr. “You know why I’m here, Fara told me that Fey asked.”

C’stian smiled sheepishly. “True. But I don't know who your visitor is, yet.” The young woman, whom he judged to be about twenty, was attractive, with thick dark auburn hair and deep chestnut eyes, much like his own. She was of a little less than average height, and slim, but without the toned muscle that came with turns of arduous training and dragonriding.

Tayira returned to her friend and put an arm around her shoulder, drawing her forward slightly. She could feel a slight tremble in the younger woman’s muscle, and gave the shoulder a comforting squeeze. After a rather dramatic pause, Tayira said simply, “C’stian, meet your sister, Leena.”

The brownrider blinked. “Pardon?” he asked, extremely confused.

Leena took a step forward. “I’m your sister, C’stian. Your real sister, I mean.”

C’stian stared at her, open-mouthed. His real sister? From his birth family that he never knew? Oh boy. **Is she telling the truth, Fey?** he asked, stumped.

The brown shrugged mentally. }:How am I supposed to know. Ask you yourself.:{ Why was it that dragons were never particularly helpful when you wanted them to be?

“Are you ... How do you ... I mean, you’re ...” Words quite obviously failed him.

Leena actually managed to smile at him. “I know what you mean,” she said dryly. “When I first realised I was a little shocked myself.” Before he could stutter any further, she held up a hand and reached into her satchel, pulling out the two drawings she had of him. First the sketch of the infant. “I found this is my ... our mother’s things.” She was about to continue, telling him of their parents’ deaths, but this time it was her that words failed. “And I ... this is going to sound ridiculous ... but I saw you in a dream. Your face at least. And I had a friend draw this for me.” She handed over the second hide, which C’stian received mutely.

After a lengthy examination of both likenesses, he raised his eyes to hers and slowly shook his head. “I don’t know what to say. This is happening kinda fast ... Oh man, you wanna sit down? I’m sorry, I guess I forgot my manners in the light of ... all this.” He led them over to the sofa and sat on the chair opposite, the pictures still in his slightly trembling hands. After a long silence, he finally looked back up, but this time he was smiling. “I have a sister,” he said slowly.

Tayira felt a curious mixture of emotions flit across her face, happiness for both C’stian and Leena, jealousy of Leena’s position, one that she and her sister had filled for almost thirty turns, and finally worry. Now that C’stian had found his real family, would he leave her?

The brownrider always could read his foster-sister like a book. “You understand that I have a family now,” he said to Leena, although his words were half-directed to Tayira. “And I could never leave them.” He smiled briefly. “But hey, two families never hurt anyone, did they?”

Leena grinned at him, so overcome with happiness at finding him - and finding him so likeable, too - that she almost forgot what she had to tell him. Almost. “C’stian, there’s something else you should know.”

He laughed. “More? Shards, what a day!”

“It’s not good,” she said quickly, determined to get it out.

“Alright. If I need to know, then please tell me. I want to know all about you - and my parents! Do I have any other siblings?” The thought of a brother tempted him. He’d only ever had sisters, and, nice as they are, they’re hard to play rough sports with, or talk about girls with.

Leena took a deep breath. “That’s what it’s about. The reason I was going through our parent’s things was to clear out the space, perhaps get to know them better, even if it is too late.” C’stian looked at her intently, a horrible thought forming in his mind. “C’stian, they were such wonderful people. They helped everyone, and never thought of themselves...”

“Woah. Were? Leena, what are you saying? Our parents are...”

She nodded, her eyes tearing up all over again.

The brownrider slowly shook his head in disbelief. “I learn about them after it’s too late. By Faranth, couldn’t you have found me earlier? When they were still...” The anger he felt dissipated almost instantly. He couldn’t be angry towards a sister he’d just discovered. “How?” he asked instead.

“Some unpronounceable disease. Same one that killed our sister, C’stian.”

And still the blows kept coming. He had a sister, and she was gone too? “That’s not fair,” he whispered, surprised at the moisture developing in the corners of his eyes.

“I know it’s not,” the young woman agreed. “But we can’t help it.” She paused. “I thought I was the only one left, but I can see I’m not. Please say you’ll accept me as a sister, even without all the rest of the family. By myself.”

The rider looked up, his eyebrows raised. “What a strange thing to say,” he commented. “Of course I accept you! Leena, you’re my sister, my blood, and nothing’s ever going to change that!” He leaned over and threw his arms around her, closing his eyes as she did the same.

It was a good thing he did, because Tayira was looking exceedingly sorry for herself. “You’re my sister, my blood, and nothing’s ever going to change that,” he’d said. **Well, I’m not his blood,** she thought glumly. **Does that mean I’m only his pretend sister? Only a temporary replacement until the real thing comes along?** She convinced herself to be happy she’d brought Leena to see her brother, but in some completely selfish part of her brain, she regretted it. She wanted him back.

The brownrider had talked with his two sisters - one blood, one foster but both a part of his heart - most of the afternoon and into the night. They dined together, told stories of their childhoods and their respective families. Tayira didn’t look too happy about the entire situation at first, but after a good firm talking to from C’stian, she felt a lot better. No one is entirely secure, and the greenrider had never been particularly self-confident either. Once she had been assured that her foster-brother still loved her and wanted to be in her family, her spirits rose palpably.

They agreed that Leena would stay in C’stian’s weyr, in the small spare room they used mainly for storage, and after a brief cleaning-out of the place, she settled in.

“You’re sure this is alright?” she asked for the millionth time that night.

“No, you know what? I’ve changed my mind. You’ll have to sleep out on the ledge tonight,” he said, deadpan.

She paused a moment before grinning. “You’re incorrigible!”

The brownrider laughed. “Well so are you! Trust me, it’s alright. In fact, I’m glad you’re staying here. It’ll give us a chance to get to know each other better, right?”

“Right,” she smiled fondly at him. “It’s strange,” she continued, laying her head back against the headboard of the bed. “I feel like I’ve known you all my life, but never met you.”

C’stian sighed, smiling. “I know what you mean. G’night, Sis.”

“G’night, Bro.” He winked at her, then closed the door behind him as he exited. **I like the sound of that,** she thought as she dropped off to sleep.

C’stian tiptoed into his own bedroom where Hydee was sleeping soundly. The greenrider had discovered that the best way to pass the long hours in the bed in which she was confined was to sleep, and so sleep she had done. Practically all day in fact. She’d missed evening meal, which worried him a little, but he’d make sure she rose early enough to get a hearty breakfast the next morning. **Can’t have you wasting away, now can we?** he thought, then grinned wryly as he saw her bulk outlined in the gleaming moonlight.

He gingerly sat on the edge of the bed and started to remove his clothing with as little sound as possible, but couldn’t help smiling when he heard her sigh.

“Is that you, love?” a very sleepy sounded voice inquired.

C’stian reach over to plant a kiss on her lips. “No, it’s the boogey-man come to get you,” he whispered enticingly. Shards she was beautiful in the moonlight.

She grinned, reached her arms out to wrap them around his neck and pulled him in for a passionate kiss. “Mm,” she murmured after they reluctantly parted. “You kiss better than my weyrmate!”

“Hey!” C’stian sounded injured, but the wide grin he sported assured Hydee that his fragile ego was still in tact. He finished removing his clothes, then slipped under the covers, wrapping his body around Hydee’s.

“Ooh! You’re freezing!” the greenrider yelped, trying to scuffle away. “Get those ice-blocks of feet away from me, C’stian!”

He chuckled but merely pulled her closer and soon the warmth of the bed and it’s previously single occupant warmed them both.

“C’stian,” Hydee asked after a while, her voice calm again.

“Hmm?”

“Who were you talking to before?”

“My sisters, love,” he said simply. Hey, it was the truth!

“They both came out?” the greenrider asked, a little surprised. “Why, is anything wrong?”

C’stian paused, choosing his words carefully. “Tayira wanted to introduce me to my real sister, Hydee. My blood sister.”

Hydee held her breath for a long moment then turned to head to see his face looking down at her in the moonlight. “What?”

“Her name’s Leena. Apparently she dreamed about me after ... after our parents died.”

Hydee bit her lip. “Oh, love, I’m so sorry. You didn’t even get to know them.”

“On the contrary, my dear,” he said, snuggling a little closer. “Leena told me just about everything she knew about them, and I feel like I did know them. They were a lot like my foster parents, really.” He paused. “I like her.”

“Well good. It wouldn’t do if you didn't like your sister, now would it?” Hydee asked, trying to sound cheerful. Her mind was reeling, but she wouldn’t let her weyrmate know that.

C’stian kissed her neck gently. “Thankyou for being so understanding, my love.”

She smiled, letting herself enjoy the tender nuzzling. Since her belly had grown so big they’d not been as ... intimate as she was used to, but it seemed these quiet moments made up for it. “I love you,” she said quietly.

C’stian made an unintelligible sound that _could_ have been “I love you too”, but it was a little muffled by the fact that his mouth was otherwise occupied.

Hydee chuckled and turned her head to receive his kiss, all thought of sisters lost in her passion-fogged mind.

“So, where to today?” C’stian asked his sister as soon as he got home for duties. He’d promised her that as soon as he’d finished his duties he and Feyeth would give her the guided tour of Ridge Crest Weyr, but yesterday he had taken longer than expected to finish, and they’d only fitted a portion of the huge Weyr in.

Leena rugged absently on an earlobe thoughtfully. “Could we go along the coast a bit? I never really had time to take off to go see the ocean when I was at Dark Ridge. Besides,” she added with a mischievous grin. “I’ve never washed a dragon before.”

}:Ooh I like that idea,:{ Feyeth put in rather enthusiastically.

C’stian chuckled. “The coast it is, then.”

They gathered together a few meatrolls and some klah for a small picnic, a couple of towels in case they didn’t have time to dry off in the sun, and some makeshift swimmers. After consolation of a rather annoyed Hydee, they mounted up, Leena holding onto C’stian’s waist from behind, and took off.

It was a short flight to the coast, just a few minutes, and C’stian asked Fey to fly slowly so he could point out various aspects of the Weyr to his passenger. “The infirmary’s to your left,” he began, deciding it was worth knowing if anything happened during her stay. “And we’re just passing the entrance to the Hatching Grounds,” he pointed towards the right where a large cavern could be seen through a vast opening in the cliff.

“I know,” Leena said, sounding a little sad.

The brownrider glanced behind him curiously to catch a glimpse of a reflective look on the young woman’s face, but it disappeared as soon as she saw him looking at her. “I was Searched a few turns back,” she said in way of explanation. “I didn’t Impress ... um, obviously.” She smiled at him a little wryly.

“We’re not all made to be dragonriders, Lee,” C’stian commented quietly.

Leena smiled as he used her nickname and held on to his waist tighter. It was what her friends called her, and she felt that they were already closer than friends. Siblings often are.

Feyeth spiralled downwards as they approached the long stretch of clean white sand that made way for the ocean, which looked particularly brilliant today. Small white caps skipped along the top of the sparkling deep-blue water, thrashing at the sand futilely with a hiss. A few birds soared above the surface, dipping occasionally and rising once more with a small fish held writhing in sharp talons.

“Nice, huh?” the brownrider asked as Feyeth landed neatly.

Leena grinned and surveyed the view with wide, appreciative eyes. “That’s a bit of an understatement,” she said absently, smiling broadly.

C’stian dismounted, then held up a hand for Leena to do the same. As soon as they had relieved the brown of the riding gear, he headed straight for the calmly undulating water and managed to submerge with minimal fuss.

“Shall we scrub first, or eat?” C’stian asked the woman standing beside her.

Leena tucked the wildly flying auburn hair behind her ears and breathed in the sun-warmed air. “Definitely scrub,” she said after a thoughtful pause. Although it was breezy, it was still very hot.

}:Oh, I like her a lot,:{ Feyeth conveyed enthusiastically as they stripped into appropriate getting-wet clothes and waded in towards the dripping dragon.

**Hush, you,** C’stian replied, grinning to himself.

The brownrider showed his sister how to use the gritty sand to get between claws, in crevices and over every inch of velvety hide, and they watched with some amusement as his brown Cedar attempted to join in.

“That’s a first,” C’stian commented with a chuckle. “He hates getting wet!”

}:It’s about time that excuse for a flit put in some work,:{ Fey added with a nod.

C’stian conveyed the brown’s comment to Leena, watching with a laugh as Cedar heard.

~~ Picture of Feyeth washing himself! ~~ he sent with indignation and immediately stopped scrubbing.

Feyeth actually looked a little disappointed.

They managed to wear the day out just talking, drowsing on the hot sand and swimming, and C’stian was somewhat startled when he realised it was nearly dusk.

“We should probably get back to the weyr,” Leena said, rising and brushing herself free of the sticky sand particles. “Hydee will be livid when she hears of what a good time we’ve had today,” she added with a mischievous grin.

C’stian winced. “Maybe we should postpone any day-long outings until she can come out with us,” he reasoned. “I’d rather still be living when my child is born, if you take my meaning.”

Leena laughed, and started to bend down to gather up the remains of their picnic when she was suddenly overcome with an agonising dizzy-spell. “Oooh,” she exclaimed, standing upright and wobbling rather alarmingly.

“Lee, what’s wrong? You alright?” C’stian asked, standing suddenly and holding onto her elbow to steady her.

She paused a moment, eyes closed, then opened them to look at him. “I think so. I guess I stood up too fast or something,” she explained with a wan smile, but her heart was palpitating twenty-to-the-dozen. Less than a week before her mother had complained of terrible dizzy-spells, and not long after that, her father had joined in. This did not bode well.

C’stian had taken his sister straight back to the weyr after she had complained of more dizzy-spells as they were riding home. Ordinarily he’d assume she was afraid of heights, it happened often enough, but on the way to the coast she had leaned and pointed with such joy it verged on carelessness. She’d claimed, with a feigned smile, that she probably just needed sleep, and so had headed straight for her room with a slightly unsteady step.

One thought bounced around his brain almost painfully. **What if she’s got what our parents had?** He hadn’t asked too many questions about whatever they’d had, since it seemed to be a painful topic for the girl, and she didn’t know much about it anyway. Maybe it was time to find out more about it. In the morning, he’d ask her specific questions. If it started with dizziness, for example.

“C’stian? What’s wrong, love?” Hydee asked, placing a hand on his shoulder.

He spun and almost forgot about the whole thing when he saw her out of bed. “What are you doing, Hydee? You have to stay in bed!” His voice sounded almost panicked at the thought that she was standing on her own, which only made the greenrider worry even more.

“I’m allowed to get up to relieve myself, C’stian,” she said delicately, then raised a hand to his cheek. “My love, what is it? You look like your dragon’s just gone /between/ or something.”

The brownrider closed his eyes and allowed himself to focus completely on the warm hand cupping his face. “Just over-worrying, I expect.”

Hydee waited patiently for an explanation.

“I told you about my parents’ deaths?” he hesitantly continued. “That it was some disease?”

She nodded.

“Well, Leena hasn’t been feeling well, I saw it in her eyes, and just before we left the beach she suddenly got really dizzy. I mean more than just your average dizzy-spell. She really looked unwell.”

Hydee reached out and smoothed prominent worry-lines from her weyrmate’s forehead. “I think you’re looking into this too much. Just because her parents were sick, doesn’t mean she is too. It may not have even been contagious.”

He shook his head pathetically. “It must have been. She said her father and older sister got it after her mother, so they must have caught it from her. Oh, Hydee, what if she dies?” he choked suddenly. “I can’t lose her, I only just found her!”

The greenrider put her arms around him and pulled him close, swaying softly, a little alarmed to see him on the verge of tears. He wasn’t usually the kind of man who expressed his emotions too overtly. She relaxed a little as he calmed and put his arms around her in reflex, immensely comforted by Hydee’s mere presence. Finally he pulled back and looked her in the eye. “If she gets sick, we’ll have to take her to the Healer Hall. We can’t risk hurting you or the baby, alright?”

Hydee nodded. “Or you,” she added. “I can’t do this without you, you understand that, don’t you? C’stian, I love you so much.”

“I know, I do too. I don’t want anything to happen to any of us.”

Hydee paused, a little hesitant. “Maybe,” she began haltingly, unsure what his reaction would be. “Maybe we should take her down there now, just to make sure. I mean as long as you don’t mind...” he ended a little lamely.

The brownrider swallowed, hating the idea of sending her off to be dealt with by someone else. He dearly wanted to look after her, show her how much he cared, but he knew the wise thing to do was as Hydee said. He nodded slowly. “You’re right. Should I wake her?”

“You’ll have to. If you and Fey will take her down and make sure she’s alright, I’ll see about getting us something to eat,” she mused, suddenly liking the fact that her midwife, Kellie, had organised for one of the drudges to bring down her meals since she wasn’t allowed out. She had thought it preposterous to be treated like the child she carried, but right now it didn’t seem like a bad idea.

C’stian nodded and headed for the small room where Leena slept fitfully, asking Fey at the same time to head out to the ledge and await them. As he entered, he caught his breath, for in the few hours since he’d last seen her, the Harper’s face had been drained of all colour, even her hair seemed dull. Her eyelids flickered restlessly and she murmured something unintelligible, lost in the all-concealing fog of her dreams.

“Leena,” C’stian said, shaking her arm slightly, alarmed at how clammy it felt. “Leena, are you there?” It was a strange thing to say, but he realised he knew what it meant when it appeared that Leena was, in fact, not there. She did not respond, her eyes did not open, and the fitful murmurs did not cease.

A little afraid for himself, C’stian nevertheless reached over and lifted her surprisingly light body over his shoulder gently, heading out to Feyeth with a worried look in Hydee direction. She took an unconscious step backwards when she saw Leena’s state and wondered belatedly if the disease remained behind in the place or if it left with the victim. The small room was to be the new nursery.

C’stian paced worriedly near the entrance to the Healer Hall for the third day in a row, waiting for the Apprentice he’d ask to come back with any news about Leena’s condition. He hadn’t slept much recently, his mind going through innumerable situations, some in which his newly-discovered sister lived, half in which she died, but none of them very appealing. He dearly wished she would be okay, but in some corner of his mind, pushed out of the way with such ferocity it scared him, he knew she wouldn’t. Something was very wrong.

Finally the young apprentice returned with a last pensive look behind him.

“I was inquiring about the condition of Leena, admitted three nights ago,” he reminded the gangly-looking boy.

He nodded and dutifully reported that there had been no change.

C’stian thanked the boy and turned to head back to the waiting Feyeth. He needed something to occupy his mind, and physical labour usually worked best. The brownrider’s assignments this sevenday had been general repairs around the Weyr and he had been specifically asked to take care of a number of chairs in the Dining Hall that had been damaged in a recent minor brawl, and the thought of taking all his frustration out on innocent chairs sounded wonderful.

When he returned home that evening, hot, sweaty, exhausted, and with a number of sore fingers, he wasn’t in much of a better mood.

Hydee looked his sorry form over with a frown. “C’stian, you are going to kill yourself if you continue like this,” she scolded, her hand absently massaging her aching lower back.

The brownrider sighed hugely and collapsed on the sofa, leaning his head back. “I’m sorry, love, but I don’t know of any other way to get my mind off things.” He looked up at her with tired eyes. “I guess I’m a little stressed, is all.”

“A little stressed?” Hydee echoed. “My love, if you were any more stressed you’d be a wooden plank!” She demonstrated by poking his shoulders with a finger and getting no give in the usually relaxed muscles. He winced, prompting her to wiggle around to get a sufficient angle to gain access to both shoulders. Her deft fingers began kneading into the rock-solid areas of shoulder, neck and upper-back, eliciting a pleasured groan from her weyrmate.

“Shards you’re good at that, Hyd,” he mumbled, having not felt as good for days. After a good ten minutes, C’stian’s fogged brain began to register that the relaxing massage was a surprisingly sensual experience, and immediately alerted his libido. He grinned and mischievously captured a hand, beginning to nibble on the slightly puffy fingers. Hydee groaned all day long about water retention, but at that moment, he couldn’t have cared less.

“My love,” she whispered, her breath very close to his ear, “Don’t you want your massage?”

He chuckled, feeling at once extremely relaxed. “Who says a massage has to be on my shoulders?” he asked cheekily, receiving an answering chuckle from Hydee. He tilted his head back to receive the kiss she planted on his lips, swivelling around somewhat to cup her head on both sides, reeling from the sensation of her lips on his. Why was it that you missed such a simple thing as a kiss so much when you didn’t have it?

Hydee’s hand ran down to unbutton the top few studs of his cotton work-shirt and began a trail of tiny kisses down his chest...

}:Hydee, you are needed at the Healer Hall immediately,:{ Mossyth interrupted, sounding a more than little worried. Hydee pulled back from a slightly disappointed-looking C’stian, but saw his eyes unfocus as Feyeth relayed the same message.

**Why, what’s wrong?** she asked, sitting back in a more comfortable position. However much she loved snuggling, it made it very difficult when there was a huge growth on your stomach.

There was a pause as the green asked for information. }:The woman who is staying with you has worsened,:{ she relayed.

Hydee’s heart dropped into her ankles. Leena. She glanced at C’stian and saw his face drain of blood. Without a word, they rose and rushed to Mossyth, who was the nearer, both mounted, and flew hastily down to the Healer Hall.

The Apprentice C’stian had spoken to earlier that day was waiting somewhat impatiently at the entrance and as they approached he visibly sighed with relief. “This way, please.”

The couple followed the boy around a corner, past a number of patients with varying degrees of sickness apparent. They headed for a small door which led to a separate ward, apparently for the contagious or extremely bad.

Hydee hesitated before entering. “Maybe I should wait out here,” she said, worried for the baby.

Her weyrmate nodded. “I’ll go and see what’s happening and tell you as soon as I know something.” He kissed her briefly then the door opened and he disappeared within.

The greenrider paced in front of the door impatiently, wondering what was taking C’stian so long, and increasingly aware of a dull ache in her lower back. Finally a girl had the good sense to bring a chair for her to sit in and she did so with a grateful smile.

A moment longer and C’stian exited, closing the door behind him and leaning on it heavily before approaching Hydee. He crouched at her side forlornly, the look on his face telling her better than words what had happened. “My love,” she said simply, cradling his head in her lap as he wept openly.

It seemed the couple weren’t the only ones reacting to the stress-filled night, for quite without notice, Hydee’s stomach recoiled in pain. She drew in a sharp breath and clutched C’stian’s arm a little too tightly.

The brownrider looked up, his tear-stained face confused, then worried. **Not two in one night, please.** But this time it could not be false. Hydee was going into labour.

C’stian pushed any sadness he felt over the death of his sister into the back of his mind and concentrated on the task at hand. Hydee was going into labour. He gave her hand a squeeze, which she returned strongly, then raced over to find a Healer - which wasn’t really hard, considering they were already in the Healer Hall.

An older woman followed him back to where his weyrmate was sitting, her face relaxed now the contraction had passed. “It’s too early,” she stammered. “Too early, not yet, not for another two sevendays yet!”

“It’s alright now, dear, babies are born at this time quite often. It’s nothing to be worried about,” the Healer spoke softly, having an instantly calming effect on the panic-stricken woman.

“Where’s Kellie?” she asked, looking around desperately for the familiar midwife.

The Healer on hand hiked her up and put an arm around her waist. “We’ve sent out an apprentice to find her for you, now don’t you be worrying your pretty head, everything will be just fine.” OK, so you can go too far with the assurances.

Hydee glared at her but she didn’t seem to notice, just lifted the very pregnant woman, with a burly-looking man’s help, onto a nearby bed, shoving off the neatly folded pillow and sheets just in time for another contraction to grip Hydee’s abdomen for a few terrifying moments. They seemed to last forever, but weren’t too close together, so she knew she shouldn’t be worrying.

Out of nowhere, Kellie appeared by her side, holding her hand and telling her to breathe, the way she’d learnt in the lessons. Hydee nodded, thankful for the woman’s presence, and began the practiced huffing breathing technique.

Hours passed, days it felt like, but C’stian was informed by a strained Feyeth that it was just after midnight.

**What’s wrong?** the rider asked, reacting to too many things at once.

The brown hesitated. }:Mossyth is trying not to let Hydee know that she is very worried, afraid even, and it is hard for her. I do not like to see my mate - or yours - in pain,:{ he finally admitted.

C’stian took a deep breath and told the brown to hang on, it wouldn’t be much longer. He hoped.

In fact, less than an hour later after repeated ‘Don’t push!’s from Kellie, there was finally an affirmation. “On the next contraction,” she said, carefully examining the extent of the dilation, “I want you to push. Hard.”

Hydee nodded weakly, her face sopping and her hair hanging dankly around her face. “Will she be ok after all this?” she asked, ignoring her physical pain.

Kellie paused, making Hydee’s heart flutter in sudden panic, but then reassured her with a firm pat on the arm. “I’m sure she’ll be perfect. Babies are surprisingly strong, even at this age.”

The greenrider nodded wordlessly and let her head fall back on the pillow, taking deep breaths as she prepared for the final onslaught. And then it was there. She had never experienced anything like it, the sensation of her something that had been a part of her for long being squeezed out was not pleasant, and extremely painful, but as she heard the hearty wails, it was all worth it.

“Hydee, you did it!” C’stian cried, his tears now of joy.

Kellie looked up at the new parents, her face glowing. “Congratulations,” she announced. “You have a beautiful baby daughter.”

The greenrider started sobbing and laughing at the same time, asking if she could hold her baby. Kellie held up a hand as she finished tying off the umbilical chord then briefly cleaned most of the birthing fluid off the impudently wailing infant. Wrapping her in a soft blanket, she carefully laid her in Hydee’s waiting arms.

“Oh look, C’stian, she’s got your eyes,” she whispered as she gently kissed the tiny baby’s head. She was very small and fragile looking, but you couldn’t tell from the racket. The slightly odd-shaped head was covered in a very dark brown, almost black, fuzz and she did indeed have C’stian’s deep chestnut eyes, which were scrunched up as she bawled her indignation at being removed from the warmth of her mother’s womb. Tiny fists were clenched tightly, tiny mouth opened as wide as it could get and tiny feet kicking at the air.

The brownrider looked down at his daughter with utter bewilderment. How could he have created something so perfect? But there she was, perfect. He reached out a finger and watched in fascination as it was gripped with surprising strength, smiling unconditionally.

Kellie smiled at their reactions. She would never get tired of that look when parents first lay eyes on their child. “She looks hungry,” she said as Hydee glanced up at her questioningly.

The greenrider obediently offered a breast and blinked in surprise at the sensation of a tiny mouth pulling on her nipple. She sighed happily as silence fell over them and stared into C’stian’s slightly reflective eyes. “What are you thinking?” she asked, still smiling.

He looked back at her, his eyes thoughtful. “I was thinking ... I know we’ve already thought of names, but ... do you think we could name her for Leena?”

Hydee thought about that. It seemed a remarkably good idea. “I don’t see why not,” she considered. Without warning a name popped into her head and fell from her mouth before she could do anything about it. “Caitlee.”

C’stian smiled blissfully. “Caitlee.”

After contacting their wingleaders, Hydee and C’stian took the day to rest and be with little Caitlee. The Healers allowed them to take her up to their weyr, after detailed instruction on various items and orders to come down at any time if something happened.

Hydee held the baby’s tiny head against her shoulder, her entire body smiling, and headed out to where they had told Mossyth to meet them. The green was waiting, her wedge-shaped head curving around anxiously in her efforts to make sure her rider was alright. Hydee grinned as she approached.

}:You are alright,:{ the green said, relieved.

**I sure am,** the new mother replied, her eyes sparkling. **Would you like to meet Caitlee?**

The green didn’t even have to answer that for as soon as they were close enough she stretched her neck as far as it would go and snuffled the new arrival noisily. Hydee looked a little alarmed, but Caitlee merely stared at the huge dragon with utter bewilderment and, to the rider’s surprise, reached out with puffy fingers to grab at a nostril.

“Oh, she’s a dragonrider alright,” C’stian said as he followed a few steps behind. “Will you look at that!”

**She likes you,** Hydee said, sounding a little awed.

Mossyth backed away and snorted softly. }:You expected anything else?:{

C’stian mounted first then held down his arms for Caitlee to be passed up.

“Careful of the head,” Hydee warned him, receiving a levelling look in return.

“I went to the classes too, remember?” he asked as he straightened up and cradled his daughter in his arms, drinking her in and yet not able to get enough.

Hydee climbed up after him a little unsteadily, not quite used to having a relatively flat stomach so suddenly. There was still a small bulge but Kellie told her it was completely normal and would disappear in a few days. She recommended light exercise as soon as she felt up to it to get her body back to the way it’s used to being, and Hydee liked the sound of that very much. Action was something she’d been denied during the last month of so of the pregnancy.

Mossyth took off, making extra care to make it smooth, then flew slowly up to their weyr, landing just as smoothly.

**Well done, Mossy,** Hydee complemented the dragon.

The green preened a little. }:We must all take care of Caitlee. Even me.:{ Hydee started a little as the green used her new baby’s name. She was usually quite firm about not referring to people other than Hydee by name: She hardly even used C’stian’s name, always ‘Feyeth’s rider’.

They entered and quickly set up a makeshift nursery in the corner of their own room, deciding against their chosen nursery to be safe. Neither wanted to take any risks, however small.

“We’ll have to find her some toys,” C’stian murmured as he poked at her chest with a silly grin on his face.

“Clothes first. And blankets,” Hydee amended logically, laughing at the crestfallen expression on C’stian’s face. “Then toys.”

The brownrider grudgingly agreed and left the baby for a moment, making sure she was on her back, to fold Hydee in a dragon hug. “By Faranth, Hydee, look what we did?” he sighed. Then his eyes took on a completely different look. “My, I’d almost forgotten how good you look without a baby clinging to your stomach,” he purred.

Hydee chuckled and looked at her untoned, still water-retaining figure. “What, this? You just wait a few sevendays. I’ll give you something to look at, my love!”

C’stian took the opportunity to take control of Hydee’s lips for a long, impassioned moment, before regretfully admitting, “We’re not going to have much time to ourselves from now on, you know.”

The woman smiled mischievously. “We’d better make the most of it while she’s—“ she checked “—sleeping, huh?

“My point exactly.” He lifted her still solid figure and plonked her rather unceremoniously on the bed, eliciting an “umph” and a flat look as Hydee landed on her backside, but he merely laughed and kissed her again, deeper this time. His hands, working of their own accord, began to unbutton her blouse, recalling the last time they’d gotten this far - and the interruption from their dragons. Nothing to interrupt them now, he thought ... just as a petulant wail rose from the nearby cot.

They stopped mid-kiss. “I suppose we’d better get used to this,” Hydee said, smiling wryly. “But you know what? Right now, that doesn’t bother me a bit.”

“I’m sure we’ll feel differently after a few months of it,” the brownrider added as his weyrmate rose to attend their distressed daughter.

Hydee lifted her, tapping her tightly-wrapped buttocks with a grimace. She took her to the low table assigned for the task and began the first changing. “You know,” she said thoughtfully as she replaced the old with the new. “We should think about what we’re going to do about fostering.”

C’stian snapped to attention, “I thought we agreed to try to get around that.”

She nodded. “I know, but I don’t understand how we’ll manage. We’re both riders, we don’t have time to raise children, however much I know we’d love to. If we _are_ going to foster her we’ll need to go talk to the Headwoman, see who’d be willing to take her. On the other hand we could ask around and see what the deal is with a live-in nanny-type person.”

“You know what?” the brownrider asked thoughtfully. “I think I may have a solution.”

“Be right back,” C’stian informed a rather startled Hydee before racing out of the weyr, leaving the door slightly ajar behind him.

“What’s your daddy up to?” she asked Caitlee, who gurgled in response. Before she could find out, however, C’stian rushed back in as fast as he’d left, a huge grin on his face. Hydee looked at him suspiciously.

“Done,” he said as if that explained everything.

“Done? What’s done?”

The brownrider looked at his weyrmate as she’d gone mad. “Have you even been here for the past candlemark?” he asked her, eyes wide with mock-surprise. Then he grinned and explained himself a _little_ better. “You remember how we were speculating about next door’s sudden quiet?”

Hydee nodded. “They always seemed to have children there and then there weren’t any. What has that got to do with anything?”

“Well,” he continued, “It turns out that the woman who lives there, Leilira, has been a full-time foster mother to a whole heap of kids, but their real mother suddenly turned up to take them back and so she’s left with a weyr and no family to take care of.”

A suspicion began to form in the greenrider’s mind. “Go on”, she urged slowly.

C’stian took a breath. “The point is, I just asked her if she’d be willing to foster Caitlee, and she said yes.” He stopped, waiting for Hydee’s reaction.

She blinked, not quite sure how to take this, then turned away, Caitlee still cuddled in her embrace.

“Hydee? You alright, sweetie?” C’stian asked, a little confused. When she didn’t reply, he felt he had to say something. “I thought it’d be good because we can still see her whenever we like cuz she’s so close, and when we have to fight or drill, she’ll have a family to take care of her.”

The greenrider was silent a moment longer, and when she spoke, she didn’t turn to face him. “When you found out you were fostered, how did you feel?” she asked suddenly.

C’stian blinked, caught off guard. “Well, I suppose I was curious as to why my parents gave me up, but it wasn’t like a big secret. I knew I was fostered even when I was really little. Why?”

She turned. “I don’t want Caitlee to grow up thinking we didn’t love her, C’stian. If we foster her, we’ll only be the part-time parents. Leilira will be her mother.”

The brownrider shook his head, understanding now. “That’s not true, love. Being a dragonrider is a full-time job, and so’s being a mother. You can’t do both, everyone knows that. So will she. Besides, we’ll still be her parents. I want to keep it that way. I’ll talk to Leilira, come to some sort of arrangement. We can take her on days off, restdays, things like that. A lot dragonriders who have children never see them again. We’ll be different.”

Hydee looked up at him, the faintest hint of a smile around her lips. “Thanks, C’stian. That means a lot to me.”

C’stian almost sighed with relief. He hated seeing his weyrmate melancholy and reflective. He put his arms around her, with Caitlee in between them, and gently kissed her forehead. “Let’s not think about it just yet. I’ll confirm with Leilira, and then we get at least a few sevendays with our daughter until she gets to go next door.”

The greenrider looked at the baby, huge chestnut orbs staring straight back at her. “You’re going to be such a lucky little girl, Caitlee,” she told her, rubbing their noses together. “Loved by all you meet.”

C’stian sighed happily. “And especially Mama and Daddy.”