#weyrlings

“We’re gonna be great,” Chojohrnen told Namith, one hand under her elbow to help her over the clump of late-autumn wildflowers tripping her up. She chittered angrily at the flowers, fiercer than any vengeance-ballad refrain Chojohrnen’s gitar could sing out. His heart swelled with pride for her. “You and me, Namith and Chojohrnen.” It should scare him how quickly and completely he loved Namith, how instantly dedicated to her happiness he was, but it didn’t scare him, and it should, and the fact that it didn’t curled up in the back of his mind to fret over later. “Well, it’ll be shorter, I’m supposed to contract my names now…”

Good! Namith said. She shook herself all over, wings flapping hilariously against her sides, and lunged forward again, scent of bloody herdbeast chunks guiding them both towards the barracks. Too long! Like this WALK! Chojohrnen laughed at her, and stepped down hard on another wildflower clump before it could trip her. Unfortunately, her front foot went right into a hole only a half-dragonlength later, sending her sprawling, shrieking. Help! Ch- Ch- Ch’JOH!

“Guess that’s that, huh?” Ch’joh said, gladly shedding his spare syllables as he hauled her up again. “I could carry you,” he offered.