Enough is Enough (3)
Dragonsfall Weyr
Amber Hills Hold
Vintner Hall
Healer Hall
Hidden Meadows
Dolphin Cove Weyr
Dolphin Hall
Emerald Falls Hold
Harper Hall
Printer Hall
Green Valley Hold
Leeward Lagoon Hold
Barrier Lake Weyr
Sunstone Seahold
Citrus Bay Hold
Writers: Kane
Date Posted: 20th March 2026
Characters: S'kawa, S'neik, N'amsa
Description: Naskamek’s freedom is in peril
Location: Dragonsfall Weyr
Date: month 1, day 16 of Turn 13
S’kawa’s weyr was quieter than the Bowl below. Bleyda and Benjo chirped from their niche above the door as they heard the brothers in the inner corridor beyond.
Lathlani arrived first, then Sanneik, dragging Naskamek by the collar.
“I can walk,” Naskamek snapped, twisting free and straightening his shirt with furious dignity.
“Walking involves moving. You weren’t,” Sanneik said. He shifted his weight, arms folding across his chest. Naskamek tried to meet his father’s gaze with defiant boldness, but it wavered under the quiet scrutiny.
Finally S’kawa spoke.
“You startled a draft runner.”
Naskamek opened his mouth immediately. “It was just-”
S’kawa lifted one finger.
The boy stopped.
“It nearly crushed a drudge’s foot,” S’kawa continued evenly. “You climbed a supply wagon you were told not to climb. You fired a weapon where people and animals were working.”
Naskamek scowled. “It’s a slingshot.”
S’kawa studied him for a moment, the stubborn set of his jaw, the quick defiance, the quicker mind already searching for angles, excuses, for a way out. Too clever too young, and not enough sense.
“It’s still a weapon. What am I supposed to do with you?” S’kawa asked, but the question was purely rhetorical.
He knew where it came from, and while he was far from an absent father to his sons, his style of parenting pushed them towards self-sufficiency early. It had worked with Sanneik, his eldest had taken that freedom and shaped it into discipline. Lathlani had had a few false starts, and a tougher time walking off the Sands empty handed each time, but the boy was disciplined in his own manner. A senior apprentice. He might even walk the tables this year if he applied himself enough. S'kawa's hopes were paternally high.
Naskamek…
Naskamek...
Naskamek took every inch and went looking for more.
He wasn’t mean-spirited. There was no ill intent to the boy. Not that. He didn’t set out to do harm. He simply didn’t consider the cost of what he did. Everything was a test, a challenge, something to prove himself against.
And maybe S’kawa had let that run too far. The limits had been there but perhaps… maybe too faint. Or set too late.
He could see it now, the way the boy stood his ground even here, in the face of consequences that should have given him pause.
S’kawa exhaled slowly through his nose, but it was Lathlani who spoke first, his voice tight with something he was trying to keep in check. “There’s eggs on the Sands.”
Sanneik huffed quietly from where he stood. “Come on, he’s not old enough.”
“I’m almost twelve,” Naskamek shot back immediately.
“Almost isn’t twelve.”
S’kawa didn’t interrupt. He let it play out, watching the way they circled each other. Sanneik was steady, Lathlani tense but more often than not stepping in as mediator, Naskamek pushing, always pushing.
Almost twelve.
Close enough to think himself grown but not close enough to understand what that even meant.
S’kawa straightened slightly, the shift enough to pull their attention without raising his voice.
“Enough.”
The squabbling stopped and silence followed.
His gaze settled on Naskamek, steady and direct.
“You’re old enough to know better,” he said. “And old enough to take responsibility for your actions.”
The boy held his look, stubbornness flickering, but he didn’t argue.
S’kawa let the pause stretch a moment longer before continuing.
“If you want to stand on those Sands, you’ll do it properly. No pushing. No shortcuts. You wait like everyone else. You’re not a Candidate till you turn twelve.”
His tone didn’t rise. It didn’t need to.
“And if I hear about another incident,” he added, calm as stone, “you won’t be apprenticing here at the Weyr.”
That got Naskamek’s attention, his mouth formed a little stunned ‘o’. The ultimate punishment. No guarantee of being brought back to the Weyr for a Hatching.
S’kawa’s expression didn’t change.
“I’ll ship you to a Hall,” he said. “And you can test your cleverness there.”
Naskamek’s jaw tightened. He said nothing but his mind was furiously busy, measuring, calculating. His birthing day was in two sevendays. Less? How long since Chioneth clutched? He fiercely hoped those dragonets wouldn't come out early. One of them was his. With the supreme conviction and confidence of a child, he just knew it.
His life was over if they didn’t.
They _would_ wait.
“Understood?”
After a dubiously muttered ‘yes’ from Naskamek, Sanneik clapped his younger brother on the shoulder with unhelpful enthusiasm.
“Look on the bright side,” he said. “If every craft throws you out, the guards will still take you.”
Naskamek narrowed his eyes.
“Why?”
Sanneik grinned.
“We always need a good pin cushion.”
Naskamek kicked him in the shin.
Last updated on the April 5th 2026