The elderly herdbeasts are clustered in a ragged group in the lee of a shelter set up for fodder. Wind howls along the fenceline, whistling in the hollows of posts and over stones. It's not cold enough to make the intermittent precipitiation into sleet, thank the stars, but it's plenty miserable. T'ral is perched on a rock, limbs drawn in under a strangely light-seeming poncho over his flight leathers. The better to blanket with and shed rain, you see. Esanth is no where to be seen, but the grown, but still young dragon's mind is abuzz with excitement for his charges. Distant machinery thrums underfoot, shivering up through the soles of the feet, his excitement nearly physically tangible, « Miss Kaiyth, yer up. » T'ral gives Niyati a go-ahead nod. They'd been over this in the barracks, the blessedly dry barracks, Kaiyth would choose a beast and dispatch it however seemed most appropriate. Instinct tended to serve them well, and the mind pictures of other elder dragons. Esanth's feed is a steady pulse of light that is felt more than sensed over the impossible distances of the Void. A wall of small, sharp rain droplets sweeps across the training grounds, causing the herdbeasts to low and shift miserably.

Niyati glances over at Kaiyth and grins. "She's been thinking of nothing but this for days," she explains as the little green launches herself into the air and circles the pens to eye the animals. "But I apologize beforehand for the mess she's going to make." There's humor in the Weyrling's voice and she tilts her head up to watch her lifemate. « I won't make a mess! » Of course, she'll have to get hold of an animal in order to make said mess and her first attempt is anything BUT graceful. The panicked animals manage to shift away from her to press against the sides of their enclosure and the green grumbles. Don't they know they're supposed to stay still?

T'ral's response is a quiet huff of air issued from his nose, "Won't be the first mess out there. It's a good thing we get all this rain." To wash the blood and smell away. Good for the herdbeasts' mental stability, in any case. One 'beast, a cantankerous old toothy thing, all lean knobby hipbones and biting teeth, nips the shoulders of another that jostles into it. That 'beast kicks and wheels, running a couple paces.

Voices raised in laughter and comraderie at a shared meal echoing down the passageways from the galley fall silent, expectant, « Good speed. Trim up as you strike so you can pivot when they dart. » And they almost always dart. « Remember. Eeeeeeasy does it. »

Niyati pulls her hood further over her head- not that it makes any real difference- and chuckles. "Less of a clean up at the very least." She considers the animals for a moment and then picks one out to concentrate on. Kaiyth makes another pass, this time hitting the mark… more or less. She's hit that 'graceful in the air, all legs on the ground' stage and instead of snatching up the herdbeast to snap its neck, she grabs the head with one taloned paw- which DOES do the job- while trying to stop herself with the other three. The result is a stumble, slide, and one dragon firmly on her backside using an elderly herdbeast as a cushion. «…it's the herdbeast's fault.» Because of course it is.

T'ral sits up as Kaiyth makes her second strike and, he winces, "Good. Good strike. It was quick." Not textbook. But for a first kill, plenty adequate, if such a thing can be said. Panicked bawing sends the remaining herdbeasts scattering away, kicking and calling as they flee for less threatened shelter. Better to be wet and cold than dead. Of the flattened cushion, Esanth offers a thrumming stutter, « Herdbeast schnitzel. Delicious. »

At the very least, Kaiyth makes quick work of eating the animal she killed on purpose, though she does play with the thing's head for a few seconds before looking at the second animal and inspecting it. «Do you want some?» She has manners, after all. Not enough to keep her from rolling the head from her purposefull kill off to the side, but at least she offered.

Niyati covers her eyes with her hand before that hand goes to her mouth to stifle the laughter there. "She may have scarred the rest for life," she manages before going on to work on that not laughing out loud thing. "We're working on her landings. She's gotten some height and it's not been kind to her, but at least she's not tangling up like a newborn runner."

« Eyeballs are a favorite. » Like caviar, little tautly squishy globes of deliciousness. « Toss it. » Esanth is perched, sphinx-like above the pens and to the side.

T'ral's wince is easing, "I hope they're as scarred as they're going to get." Living in this proximty to the weyrling dragons. Subjected to their first attempts at hunting. He shifts on his perch, dark eyes blinking to shed rain that's blown in with a windshift. The poncho rustles quietly as he settles, shedding water in silvery drops. "Landings are the hardest bit. Have you tried totally arresting downward momentum and dropping into a crouch?" He shifts his study of the feasting green, FORMERLY feasting green, "Wow, that was fast!" Nothing slow about Kaiyth, "Uh," where was he, "Oh. It's more strenuous on the wings, but it doesn't require the same coordination on the ground."

"She doesn't take her time when it comes to eating. She says it leaves a mess otherwise." Niyati does take a quiet moment to chastise her dragon, who then promptly ignores her. "I'll give it a try. I'm sure she'll grow out of it once she's gotten her full height on. At least I hope." Because it's getting really hard to not laugh and hurt her dragon's feelings. Kaiyth has lost interest in the humans for the moment in favor of going at the second kill a little more slowly. «Oh, you're right. It IS good.» She may flatten ALL of her kills now. Joy.

"So long as she's chewing sufficiently it's fine." T'ral had just worked with N'tael and Tlazotezath, and where Kaiyth devoured her kills, Tlazotezath reveled in them. And, yes, it was significantly more messy. The young weyrlingmaster shivers as a bit of cold air skirls in under the edge of his poncho, disturbing the warm cocoon of air. "Likely. She's unlikely to hurt herself. Though," T'ral tongues a rough spot on the back of his bicuspid, "You can chip teeth on a rough landing. When you start flying together we'll be working on landings a lot." They'll be sick of landings. And awesome at them. « It's good to have done it yourself, hm? »

"I honestly don't know how she manages it but she's never choked, not even a little." Niyati's gaze goes to T'ral and she gives a half grin before wiping the water away from her face. "Maybe I should fashion some sort of soft-bit for Weyrlings." Of course the action allows an exchange of air and the warmth she'd managed is completely gone now. "You just don't think of cold when you think of Southern." At least SHE didn't. Kaiyth doesn't appear to be getting through the second kill as quickly as the first and she finally just gives up. «It tastes much better when it's fresh, but there is more of it than I have space for.» Looks like there's going to be some carcass for this weyrling to clean up.

Carcass? Nope. Esanth can help. « Mind if I join you, Miss Kaiyth? » He's picked up on how her pace is slowing and, eh, he ate a day or two ago, but he's a bit peckish. "She does. You're lucky." BOY IS SHE. Thicktail ain't fun for nobody. "You'd probably make a pretty penny at that, I know some riders who've padded their straps." Unaware the Esanth is offering to be the cleanup crew, T'ral hops off of his perch, silver drops flinging from his poncho and boots squelching in the muddy grass. He goes to the shed where the carcass rendering tools are (big shears and saws and a very stained wheelbarrow) and is about to open it when Esanth rises up from his perch, water streaming off the grown dragon in silver falls.

«Please do!» Kaiyth settles away from the remainder of the herdbeast and makes use of the rain in order to clean her talons. "I've seen some of the… less fortunate pairs," Niyati says with a wrinkle of her nose. "I'm half tempted to double pad. Kaiyth's turns don't look like they're anything to be ill prepared for. Maybe I should just make up a bunch of them for our group to see if they work properly. I imagine not being destracted by cracked or broken teeth would be at least a little beneficial." At this point, she's given up on not getting soaked through and shakes the water from her poncho before settling it back against her sodden clothes. "At least I'm used to cutting up meat… Or not."

Esanth lands in the pens in a wing-assisted bound down from the rocks. The herdbeasts, wet, bedraggled and pathetic press further away at the entry of yet ANOTHER predator to the too-small enclosure. Truly, an enclosure ten times, a hundred times larger would be too small to flee from Pern's most fearsome apex predator. « Thank you, Miss. Good kills. » He rumbles as he flomps down beside her and sets to on whatever she's left of the carcass. It's mostly skin and bony bits, but Esanth is nearly as proud to eat his weyrling's kill as if it'd been his own. "Oh, well. Or that. Thanks, pal." Esanth whuffs, nose buried in the belly cavity of the herdbeast carcass. "I'll clear your work assignments to give you time to make some pads. I can think of," he ticks off a half-dozen fingers, "At least eight pairs who would be indebted to you."

Niyati nods. "I'll get to work as soon as I gather up the materials." Apparently she's quite looking forward to the change in work. I wonder if I could make it so that it fits onto the riding helmet…" Kaiyth couldn't look more proud of herself and if a dragon could grin, she'd be doing it. «Thank you!» A smug look goes toward her rider but she doesn't let it linger. Instead, as soon as the rest of the herdbeast is gone she stretches her wings and then takes to the air again. "I think she's ready for sleep…" Pity the rider of the dragon who never does things at a relaxed pace. To Esanth, the weyrling gives a grateful nod. "Thank you."

"I'll make sure you have what you need." Nothing but the best for T'ral's weyrlings! Esanth's answer is contented crunching, bones, yum. MARROW! Crunch, crunch, crunch. With dozens of weyrlings to train, Esanth is gonna get FAT. To his rider, « Not a chance. » Esanth was entirely too athletic for dozens of scrabs to… URP. The blue dragon yawps a great belch. To Kaiyth, « Remember that, it's part of how to flame. » Belching. TOTALLY. He rumbles at Niyati's thanks, heavily jawed head making short work. He surges to his feet, shedding water again and fans his wings, fixing T'ral with a look. T'ral gives the dragon a 'who? me?' look and shrugs. "Full belly'll do that. Good work, she's coming along nicely. Go on inside and get dry and get me a list of what you'll need by chow tonight." The tone makes the statement a dismissal and T'ral issues a sharp salute before hoping the fence and clambering up onto Esanth's straps, the two waiting until Niyati is well away before they launch into the sky in a vast spray of scattered droplets.