This is a part from one of the Pern books. It depicts a queen dragon's flight and the reactions of the riders. If you plan on reading Dragonflight, I suggest not reading this unless you want to because it gives away the first half of the book.
�����"Hath is blooding his kill?" the brown rider asked ominously.
�����"Binth and Orth, too," T'bor blurted out, his eyes bright with the curious fever that seemed to be affecting all the bronze riders.
�����Ramoth stirred restlessly, and everyone paused to watch her intently.
�����"Blood their kill?" Lessa exclaimed, perplexed but knowing that this was strangely significant.
�����"Call in K'net and F'lar," F'nor ordered with more authority than a brown rider should use in the presence of bronzes.
�����R'gul's laugh was unpleasant.
�����"No one knows where they went."
�����D'nol started to protest, but R'gul cut him off with a savage gesture.
�����"You wouldn't dare, R'gul," F'nor said with cold menace.
�����Well, Lessa would dare. Her frantic appeal to Mnementh and Piyanth produced a faint reply. Then there was absolute blackness where Mnementh had been.
�����"She will wake," R'gul was saying, his eyes piercing Lessa's. "She will wake and rise ill-tempered. You must allow her only to blood her kill. I warn you she will resist. If you do not restrain her, she will gorge and cannot fly."
�����"She rises to mate," F'nor snapped, his voice edged with cold and desperate fury.
�����"She rises to mate with whichever bronze can catch her," R'gul continued, his voice exultant.
�����And he means for F'lar not to be here, Lessa realized.
�����"The longer the flight, the better the clutch. And she cannot fly well or high if she is stuffed with heavy meat. She must not gorge. She must be permitted only to blood her kill. Do you understand?"
�����"Yes, R'gul," Lessa said, "I understand. For once I do understand you, all too well. F'lar and K'net are not here." Her voice was shrill. "But Ramoth will never be flown by Hath if I have to take her between."
�����She saw naked fear and shock wipe R'gul's face clear of triumph, and she watched as he got himself under control. A malevolent sneer replaced surprise at her threat. Did he think her defiance was empty?
�����"Good afternoon," said F'lar pleasantly from the entrance. K'net grinned broadly at his side. "Mnementh informs me that the bronzes blood their kills. How kind of you to call us in for the spectacle."
�����Relief temporarily swept her recent antagonism for F'lar out of Lessa's mind. The sight of him, calm, arrogant, mocking, buoyed her.
�����R'gul's eyes darted around the semicircle of bronze riders, trying to pick out who had called in these two. And Lessa knew R'gul hated as well as feared F'lar. She could sense, too, that F'lar had changed. There was nothing passive or indifferent or detached about him now. Instead, there was tense anticipation. F'lar was done with waiting!
�����Ramoth roused, suddenly and completely awake. Her mind was in such a state that Lessa candidly realized F'lar and K'net had arrived none too soon. So intense were Ramoth's hunger pains that Lessa hastened to her head to soothe her. But Ramoth was in no mood for placation.
�����With unexpected agility she rose, making for the ledge. Lessa ran after her, followed by the dragonmen. Ramoth hissed in agitation at the bronzes who hovered near the ledge. They scattered quickly out of her way. Their riders made for the broad stairs that led from the queen's weyr to the Bowl.
�����In a daze Lessa felt F'nor placing her on Canth's neck and urge his dragon quickly after the others to the feeding grounds. Lessa watched, amazed, as Ramoth glided effortlessly and gracefully in over the alarmed, stampeding herd. She struck quickly, seizing her kill by the neck and furling her wings suddenly, dropping down on it, too ravenous to carry it aloft.
�����"Control her!" F'nor gasped, depositing Lessa uncerimoniously to the ground.
�����Ramoth screamed defiance of her Weyrwoman's order. She sloughed her head around, rustling her wings angrily, her eyes blazing opalescent pools of fire. She extended her neck skyward to its full reach, shrilling her insubordination. The harsh echoes reverberated against the walls of the Weyr. All around, the dragons, blue, green, brown, and bronze, extended their wings in mighty sweeps, their answering calls brass thunder in the air.
�����Now indeed must Lessa call on the strength of will she had developed through hungry, vengeful years. Ramoth's wedge-shaped head whipped back and forth; her eyes glowing with incandescent rebellion. This was no amiable, trusting dragon child. This was a violent demon.
�����Across the bloody field Lessa matched wills with the transformed Ramoth. With no hint of weakness, no vestige of fear or thought of defeat, Lessa forced Ramoth to obey. Screeching protest, the golden dragon dropped her head to her kill, her tongue lashing at the inert body, her great jaws opening. Her head wavered over the steaming entrails her claws had ripped out. With a final snarl of reproach, Ramoth fastened her teeth on the thick throat of the buck and sucked the carcass dry.
�����"Hold her," F'nor murmured. Lessa had forgotten him.
�����Ramoth rose, screaming, and with incredible speed landed on a second squealing buck. She made a second attempt to eat from the soft belly of her kill. Again Lessa exerted her authority and won. Shrilling defiance, Ramoth reluctantly blooded again.
�����She did not resist Lessa's orders the third time. The dragon had begun to realize now that irresistible instinct was upon her. She had not known anything but fury until she got the taste of hot blood. Now she knew what she needed: to fly fast, far, and long, away from the Weyr, away from these puny, wingless ones, far in advance of those rutting bronzes.
�����Dragon instinct was limited to here-and-now, with no ability to control or anticipate. Mankind existed in partnership with them to supply wisdom and order, Lessa found herself chanting silently.
�����Without hesitation, Ramoth struck for the fourth time, hissing with greed as she sucked at the beast's throat.
�����Ramoth's skin began to glow. She seemed to enlarge, not with gorging but with luminescence. She raised her bloody head, her tongue forking out to lick her muzzle. She straightened, and simultaneously a hum arose from the bronzes ringing the feeding ground in silent anticipation.
�����With a sudden golden movement Ramoth arched her great back. She sprang into the sky, wings wide. With unbelievable speed she was airborne. After her, in the blink of an eye, seven bronze shapes followed, their mighty wings churning buffets of sand-laden air into the faces of the watching weyrfolk.
�����Her heart in her mouth at the prodigious flight, Lessa felt her soul lifting with Ramoth.
�����"Stay with her," F'nor whispered urgently. "Stay with her. She must not escape your control now."
�����He stepped away from Lessa, back among the folk of the Weyr, who, as one, turned their eyes skyward to the disappearing shining motes of the dragons.
�����Lessa, her mind curiously suspended, retained only enough physical consciousness to realize that she was in fact earthbound.
�����All other senses and feeling were aloft with Ramoth. And she, Ramoth-Lessa, was alive with the limitless power, her wings beating effortlessly to the thin heights, elation surging through her frame, elation and-desire.
�����She sensed rather than saw the great bronze males pursuing her. She was contemptuous of their inefectual efforts. For she was wingfree and unconquerable.
�����She snaked her head under one wing and mocked their puny efforts with shrill taunts. High above them she soared. Suddenly, folding her wings, she plumeted down, delighted to see them veer off in wing-crowding haste to avoid collision.
�����She soared quickly above them again as they labored to make up their lost speed and altitude.
�����So Ramoth flirted leisurely with her lovers, splendid in her newfound freedom, daring the bronze ones to outfly her.
�����One dropped, spent. She crowed her superiority. Soon a second abandoned the chase as she played with them, diving and darting in intricate patterns. Sometimes she was oblivious of their existence, so lost was she in the thrill of flight.
�����When, at last, a little bored, she condescended to glance at her followers, she was vaguely amused to see only three great beasts still pursuing. She recognized Mnementh, Orth, and Hath. All in their prime; worthy, perhaps, of her.
�����She glided down, tantalizing them, amused at their now labrored flights. Hath she couldn't bear. Orth? Now Orth was a fine young beast. She dropped her wings to slide between him and Mnementh.
�����As she swung past Mnementh, he suddenly closed his wings and dropped beside her. Startled, she tried to hover and found her wings fouled with his, his neck winding tightly with hers.
�����Entwined, they fell. Mnementh, calling on hidden reserves of strength, spread his wings to check their downward fall. Outmaneuverd and startled by the terrific speed of their descent, Ramoth, too, exteneded her great wings. And then...
�����Lessa reeled, her hands wildly grabbing out for any support. She seemed to be exploding back into her body, every nerve throbbing.
�����"Don't faint, you fool. Stay with her," F'lar's voice grated in her ear. His arms roughly sustained her.
�����She tried to focus her eyes. She caught a startling glimpse of the walls of her own weyr. She clutched at F'lar, touching bare skin, shaking her head, confused.
�����"Bring her home."
�����"How?" she cried, panting, unable to comprehend what could possibly entice Ramoth from such glory.
�����The pain of stinging blows on her face made her angrily aware of F'lar's disturbing proximity. His eyes were wild, his mouth was distorted.
�����"Think with her. She cannot go between. Stay with her."
�����Trembling at the thought of losing Ramoth between, Lessa sought the dragon, still locked wing to wing with Mnementh.
�����The mating passion of the two dragons at that moment spiraled wide to include Lessa. A tidal wave rising relentlessly from the sea of her soul flooded Lessa. With a longing cry she clung to F'lar. She felt his body rock-firm against hers, his hard arms lifting her up, his mouth fastening mercilessly on hers as she drowned deep in another unexpected flood of desire.
�����"Now! We bring them safely home," he murmured.
Dragonflight, pages 118-124
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Pern and all related names and characters are � and � Anne McCaffrey and DelRey Publishing