There's a clump falling through there! Atarikath told her rider, who signaled to the other queens that they were going after it. She aimed her flamethrower and watched as the flame withered away into harmless black dust.
Clumsy riders, that shouldn't have been there, Zulyeva sighed as she cleaned off the nozzle of her HNO3 tank and readied it to throw again if needed.
They're lucky we're down here, Atarikath agreed as she watched for any more stray threads. They're doing pretty well today though.
It all happened in a flash: Atarikath alerted her to another clump, another gold went after it, and then Zulyeva felt a searing pain in her arm. Atarikath screamed and winked between, trying to freeze the threads eating into her rider.
When they popped out of between a few handspans above the weyrbowl floor, Zulyeva slid off her dragon, demanding numbweed and a bucket of cold water. Atarikath stood over her watchfully, snarling at anyone who came too close and wasn't a healer.
Zulyeva had drowned the threads in water and slathered numbweed on her wound by the time that the Weyrhealer got there. Gerall gently took the healing supplies away. "There are other healers to do that, Zulyeva," he reminded her as she was lifted up, put on a stretcher and carried into the infirmary.
Atarikath tried to follow but found, much to her annoyance, that the door to the infirmary was too small. She would have broken it down had Zulyeva not told her to stay outside.
But I want to be in there with you! Atarikath protested as she sat down outside of the infirmary, trying to peer inside.
I'll be back with you soon enough, Atty, don't worry, Zulyeva tried to calm the gold. You got me between and back to the weyr before it could do much damage, they're just cleaning it up and stitching me back together.
Gerall, in truth, wanted to keep her in the infirmary. "I can take care of myself very well," she reminded him. "I am still a healer even though I ride a dragon." Atarikath punctuated this with a roar of defiance. "And if I don't get back to my weyr with that dragon, she's going to break down the door."
Gerall grimaced. "Alright, but don't think you'll get a shred of pity from me if it gets infected and we have to amputate it!"
Zulyeva smiled sweetly as she gathered a few supplies before assuring him she would manage just fine and running out to Atarikath, who greeted her with queenly dignity, almost making Zulyeva drop her supplies as the jr.weyrwoman tried to hold back her laughter.
A few days later, unfortunately, the wound did become infected, and, though her arm did not have to be amputated, Zulyeva and Atarikath were grounded until both infection and the resulting fever had passed.
I'm sorry for grounding us, Atty, Zulyeva apologised between shivering and before sweating or any other lovely symptom of her fever could set in. I should have stayed.
I don't mind that much, really, Atarikath replied. I'd give up a lifetime of fighting Thread if I had to to be with you.
