The clouds were heavy, even as high up as this weyr was. Nothing was visible beyond the swirling mist, rain filtering down and occasionally splashing through the narrow slits in Nalaski's little garden space. She still hadn't done anything with it, because…

because.

She stared at the empty pots and the broken bench and sighed, unable to gather the energy to do anything but stare.

Prymith's sleepy thoughts reached out towards her, and Nalaski shivered at the coolness in her beloved's mind. She'd been worried at the shift in her dragon's mental tones - away from the bright warmth of a spring dawn to the cooler, damp tones - but everything seemed okay otherwise? Perhaps this was just…who she was. Nalaski let herself drift in those cool thoughts, breathing in the mental freshness of summer finally relaxing its grip.

She was a farmer's daughter. She well knew how the seasons turned, and she recognized that in her dragon, now that the blinding brightness of a spring's dawn was past.

There was suddenly more to Prymith than she had realized.

She crept through the tunnels to the ledge where her green rested. She seemed thinner today than she had a sevenday ago, her verdant hues fading ever so slightly and taking on more hints of red and orange. Her greens deeper, darker, more damp and lomy. Or perhaps that was all in her imagination as the clouds briefly parted and she could see the brilliant autumn foliage far, far below.

She didn't dare disturb her slumbering green, and instead she sat on the damp ledge, tucking her knees to her chin and staring out across the expanse of sky as the clouds folded in once more, enveloping her world.

She'd failed.

Absolutely and utterly failed.

She hadn't even been able to untie the bags of firestone from Prymith's straps.

She'd been so afraid.

Not for herself, oddly enough, but for Prymith. She just couldn't fathom something bad happening to her green, and it had been her fear, her terror, that had caused them to falter and fail, and Prymith to return to the ground, utterly confused and hurt.

Thank Faranth for a dragon's memory. Prymith hadn't remembered her rider's utter failure in the morning. Had been the same as she'd always been. If a little thinner. A little cooler. A little more lethargic in the morning.

But otherwise the same.

The AWLM had had some words with her. Some more training. More drills. More practice untying the firestone bags - as if that was really the problem.

She shuddered. She'd have to go back. It was her life. Her purpose, now, to go back. Again and again. To fight, and probably die, and Prymith too.

She hadn't really thought any of this through when she'd accepted that rider's offer of Search, what seemed like an eternity ago.

She crept out to where Prymith was curled up in the mist and drizzle, and snuggled in against her belly, letting the green's wing shelter and warm her. The green smelled like autumn - like the harvest, like plants dying back, like the earth taking a pause, preparing to take a rest.

She would rest. Things would look brighter in the morning.