Evening

Writers: Jane
Date Posted: 18th February 2008

Characters: K'hetah
Description: K'hetah sits of his weyr ledge and thinks about his life.
Location: Dolphin Cove Weyr
Date: month 8, day 23 of Turn 4

K'hetah sat on his weyr ledge, back against the hot rock, the sun baking him (not unpleasantly, for the heat of the day was over) on his right side. At his side was a plain glass bottle and a bread roll filled with cold meat and gravy.

"Just a snack," the Headwoman had said, putting the string-tied parcel in his hands when he was leaving the dining cavern. "Since you seem to think it's too far to come back for supper."

It would have been rude to protest her kindness and concern, and in all honesty he was glad of the parcel once Loeth was asleep and he was alone in his isolation. Ale - one bottle, not enough that anybody would worry about his sitting here, drinking alone - and the bread roll. And pastries. Those delightful ones with the fruit centres and the latticed tops. They came in a variety of flavours every time they were baked for the meals at Dolphin Cove, but he liked the citron ones the best. And in the parcel there had been _three_ citron pastries, suggesting that the Headwoman was not just concerned, but concerned enough to discover his preferences.

Whether she was concerned or just lucky, the three pastries had disappeared without delay, interspersed with long sips of cool ale. Now he was considering the meat and gravy roll. Seriously considering it, though he had had a large meal mid-afternoon after he had stood the Wing down from 'Fall.

"Why not?" He picked up the crusty roll and grinned. It wasn't as if he was having trouble getting into his riding gear. Quite the reverse; he seemed to have been tightening buckles and buttons another notch ever since he arrived at Dolphin Cove and he really had very little to lose. His body shape was determinedly lean, despite his youthful efforts. No amount of dragonriding and firestone sack catching had altered his basic shape; he was long and wiry, like his father was, and like his uncertain childhood memories indicated his grandfather had also been.

Chewing his way inelegantly through the crust of the bread K'hetah gave a mental nod. This was the life he had wanted when he had requested the move. Exotic location, good work, freedom from entanglements. And a Headwoman kindly disposed toward him - or perhaps she was intent on spoiling him? Whichever it was it was a balm for nerves not yet recovered from his last entanglement with a woman. Ylisahn was an attractive woman, warm and friendly, and weyrmated to another woman; she was safe.

Xara, though -

The bronzerider frowned and mentally crossed out an image of the red-head's name with firm lines of an imaginary pen.

No Xara.

Nobody.

Deliberately he looked out over the bay - the cove, he supposed, since it was called 'Dolphin Cove' - and admired the sunset. What a view.
Tropically blue water, clear down to the sand and rocks the formed the floor of the cove. The two headlands framing his view, and then nothing. Out to sea. Sometimes a ship passed by, sometimes a pod of dolphins, though Loeth usually had to point them out to him. But essentially a view out to nothing.

He found it incredibly restful.

And on evenings like this ... With the sun sinking faster and faster toward the western headland. He couldn't believe his luck in having such a spot to sit, let alone the fact that all he had to do when he'd finished watching the sunset was get to his feet and walk along the ledge and into his room. A nice, deep mostly natural cave that kept a fairly even temperature day and night, and the temperature was cool enough that he could get to sleep regardless of the heat outside.

It was a beautiful spot.

And the Wing wasn't bad. Threadfall was similar enough Pern-wide for him to be comfortable in his duty as Wingleader. Deaths and maimings were inevitable, not matter how hard he worked to prevent them. Perhaps one day it would be his own. He could only prepare well and accept what good or bad luck came his way.

He brushed away the drift of crumbs that the bread had deposited on his shirt. Place, duty, solitude.

No matter how often he noticed the other weyrs on the seaward cliffs as Loeth circled toward their own weyr, no matter that occasionally he heard voices or the sounds of other dragons landing, the ragged slopes and shapes of the cliffs meant that he could see none of his neighbours which enabled him to happily ignore their presence. That combined with there being no internal corridors leading to the weyrs on these cliffs he was as isolated as he could be in any Weyr on Pern.

This was, he thought with a sigh of contentment, exactly what he had hoped to find at Dolphin Cove.

A better life.

Last updated on the February 21st 2008

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Evening