I'm a Lumberjack and I'm- NOT OKAY! NOT OKAY! -Complete

[Deleted]

Charin Hold. Well. More like Charin Hold adjacent. One of several lumber camps in the redwood forest surrounding the hold busies itself with its sevenday workload. Foremen bark orders. Lumbermen mark out their sevenday requirements and ready saplings for planting to ensure the forests are ever replenished. "Pern gives of herself as she will, but we always give back." Certainly something the firelizards are appreciative of, even if the rest of the native Pernese fauna were less than hospitable.

Kylori herself found herself in yet another competition with her brother. High up among the branches of the redwoods, she and her brother had made a game in their teens years ago as teens; seeing who could strip the mighty trees to nothing but trunks prior to being felled in order to reduce or prevent collateral damage to the rest of the forest whenever possible. Considering how much time their spent climbing trees prior to starting work, they both grew fast and adept without the use of special climbing gear- though they did still use it. Sharpened spikes on the boots, special gloves with hooks in the palm to grip and claw the bark like a feline availing itself of a predator that didn't have the luxury of climbing a tree.

"Kirin! Coming down!" The last branch creaks and groans; hundreds of pounds of hardwood succumbing to the forces of gravity and freeing itself from the trunk where she'd chopped and sawn three quarters of the way through. "Nothing wasted," she thought to herself.

"Bos! Incoming!" Oh good, her brother was paying attention. Bos isn't though. Kylori reaches into the pouch she keeps slung at her waist for a chunk of bark. "Outta the fucking way Bos!" Her shout is punctuated by the hard throw of the chunk at Bos, pegging him square in the upper back just as the limb frees itself from the trunk. Now he scrambles out of the way.

Kylori swings her way across the trunk while she clambers down from her perch. Truth be told, if it weren't for her slight build, such movement would be nearly impossible. Her gear had been made especially for her and Kirin. Everyone in the logging camp was a minimum of six feet tall, the tallest a towering six-nine and built like an Alehouse to boot. Jak on paper, but if you asked him, you're supposed to say it like 'Yok.' Some weird ancestral thing. Gold hair, burly. Pretty much the wet dream of the few ladies in the camp, considering the kind of personality you had to have to be 'in the business.' And he's the foreman. Anyone had business with the camp, you talked to Jak.

Fifteen feet from the bottom of the tree, disaster struck. The metal supports connecting the claws on the palms of her gloves detached from the bracer harness that kept the gloves on her hands while she climbed. Her left hand came loose, her body swung wide and detached the claws of her right from the bark. Her boots remained attached, causing her to windmill in an effort to bring her body closer to the tree and succeeding only in falling flat backwards. So she did as she always had when she knew she would fall and pulled her head in toward her chest and crossed her arms over her chest. Better to bruise or break a rib than to break an arm or your neck. Thunk! A wheezing cough of air as her breath was ripped away from her by the combination of gravity from a fifteen foot fall and the hard, but thankfully cleared ground beneath her. 

Kirin is at her side in moments; having been far more successful in freeing himself from the tree from a height than she had been. A wheeze and a groan. It hurts to breathe but nothing feels broken. Stars blot her vision. Her head must have hit the ground in the impact. "Ha," she wheezes. "I win."

"Yeah, you win alright. Let's get you checked out." She groans as Kirin wrenches her up from the ground and pulls her arm across his shoulder and helps her back to the main camp where they had an apprentice Healer for patching up scrapes, bruises and other injuries that were common on the job.

[Hiko]

Daltilith had made the decision to try sunbathe as the woodsmen worked, the blue preferring to ignore the irritation of nostalgia that his rider couldn’t help but share as she leaned sat, hands clasped in her lap, waiting on her letters to be confirmed delivered by the young errand boy who’d taken them some minutes before.
If you had taken them yourself, we could be gone by now, Daltilith offered.
I’m not stepping further into a woodcutter camp than need be. I lived that life, I hated that life, I ran from that life. Why would I return, just to play messenger?
The blue snorted and stretched from his place beyond the grove.
“Ma’am?” The young, redheaded boy panted, trying to catch his breath. She grinned at him for it, wondering if he’d run the entire way back.
“Arlos, wasn’t it?” she asked, offering him a drink from the canteen in her small satchel. He gulped down what water was in it and handed it back gratefully.
“Yes, ma’am,” Another round of breaths. “Gemric says he’ll trade with your Pelmin. He’ll write up a contract this sevenday and have it sent to Mavros by the end of the month.”
“Fire lizard or runner to be sent our way?”
“Runner,” Arlos confirmed. “Gemric doesn’t trust lizards not to get lost on their way to anything but a meal.”
“Smart man,” she patted the boy on the shoulder. “Good work, boyo. Now, we’ll be on our way. Give Gemric my thanks.”
“Of course, ma’am!” And then the boy was off once more. She missed having that sort of energy.

Well, best to be back off, she thought, moving to rise from her seat. Standing, she dusted her trousers off in ritual more than necessity and scanned the scene one last time, only to watch a young girl? Boy? A smear of person hit a tree. Soon enough, the girl (she decided, after getting a better look at the rather pretty face) was herded off to a healer tent. Mollin followed, more curious than anything else.
What about not going further into camp? Daltilith asked, laughing in Mollin’s mind.
Aren’t you a Searchdragon? Start Searching.
The blue snorted, then there was a moment of silence between them.
Actually, the dragon hesitated before continuing the thought, There are some interesting minds here.

Well, that was enough to investigate, wasn’t it?

Mollin found her way to the healer’s tent, more and more aware of how similar everything in the camp looked to the smallhold of her youth. Did woodcutters and foresters have no mind for variety? She poked her head into the tent, saw the utter lack of healers at hand, assumed the young woodcutter had been dismissed for the day, and offered the bruised girl (Definitely a girl; look at those eyes!) a beaming smile.
“Sorry, I was passing through - I saw your tumble. Normally, I’d make a joke about you falling for the first dragonrider that visits, but… Either way, are you very hurt?”

@kylori

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Mollin has the... Depending on how you look at it, either great misfortune, or fortune of walking in on Kylori with neither tunic, shirt, or breastbands to cover herself; her chest being wrapped tightly in bandages to stabilize her ribs in the event something cracked in her fall. Kirin whaps the back of his sisters head to keep her quiet, knowing full well what manner of volatile firestone she had ready to go. "Under normal circumstances, she'd tell you that's my job." 

Kylori meanwhile whips her head around at her brother. "You only like spending time in the trees because your head's already in the clouds." A quick frown tugs at Kylori's brow. "What in the name of the Red Star is a Dragonrider doing here anyway?"

Before more can be said however, the tent flap opens to admit the giant of a man that is Jak the Foreman and speaks in a voice with enough bass to rattle bones. "Can I help you, Dragonrider?" His eyes quickly scan over to Kylori being tended by Kirin. Something about the look in his eyes says that there'd be words later.

Hiko

[Hiko]

So, her mouth had run faster than her eyes, in what had to be the first time in her life. There was a fire in the girl’s eyes, and Mollin wondered how much of that had been for her words and how much for the lingering gaze the blue rider could hardly be expected to control. Well.
“Oh,” she grinned, disregarding the decorum entirely. “So I should be trying to see if you’d enjoy a life of dragonrider, rather than your… sister?” Please, she thought, let it be sister and not wife.

“As it happens -” Mollin began, only to be interrupted by the walking statue of a blonde. What did they feed this camp? Her eyes danced at the sound of the blonde man’s voice; the brass in his tone was-
Mollin?
Mmyes?
Didn’t G’rett say not to think stupid things?
Spoilsport.

“You can certainly help me, sir,” she replied, though she denied herself the utter joy at seeing how far she could toe that line of decorum.
Don’t push yourself, the blue commented, feeling her mental shift. Mollin cleared her throat and extended a hand to the man.
“Mollin, of blue Daltilith. We came here on errand from Mavros, but my dragon has found a mind or two that he thinks might be worthy of Search. I would hope you give us the hospitality of staying and talking with some of your people?”
That was impressive. You almost sounded in control of yourself.
Give it time, my love.

@kylori

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Laughter booms out of Jak like a thunderclap. "A Search? Here? We take all sorts out here, Rider Mollin, but Candidates? Are you sure your luck wouldn't be better tried in the Hold Proper?"

Kirin can't help but duck at Jak's laughter and boisterous tone. Kylori on the other hand glares at the foreman. "We're lumberjacks, not morons, Foreman. Just because we never see Riders doesn't mean we can't have any."

Kirin immediately starts sniggering. "Sure you didn't lose your grip and fall on purpose, sis? Trying to Impress the Rider instead of a drago-OW!" Kylori's fist is quickly buried in her brothers ribs. "Hey, I was kidding!"

"Both of you knock it off! Dinner's in half an hour." His eyes pass back to Mollin for a more proper appraisal, his own hand extending to return Mollin's gesture. "Any business with the camp is business with me. You got business with one of these two, then you'll still be dealing with me. Maybe their father if it's one of them you think you're after."

Kirin furrows his brow and shares a look with his sister before looking back at Mollin. "Nah, she's here for Kylori, bossman," to which Kylori immediately glares at her brother; the dagger-eyed stare promising death in the most unpleasant ways.

Hiko

[Hiko]

The very thrum of the large man’s laughter rattled Mollin’s bones. She kept herself composed, merely smiling at the offered hand, and shook it once it was extended her way. Daltilith, for all of his amusement, only chuckled within her mind.
You are restraining yourself.
If you really think there’s a mind worth Impression, I can’t flirt with every gorgeous man that walks by.
Oh, just potential candidates, then? the blue remarked playfully. Mollin grinned despite herself.

“Of course, sir,” Mollin replied evenly, “I will inform you immediately of any potential candidates that I may find.”

Once the foreman had left the tent, she returned her attention to the squabbling siblings - and thank Faranth they were siblings. Mollin offered the pair a genuine smile.
“It's just as well, morons are better for looking at than talking to. And as pretty to look at you both are, I'd rather know there's a mind behind the good looks if I'm going to be making any introductions. Now, would either of you be interested in meeting a dragon?”


@kylori

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Jak gives Mollin's hand a firm squeeze before parting and disappearing, a murmured, "As you will, Dragonrider," echoed in his passing.

Both Kylori and Kirin's eyes shoot up far enough to disappear under their matching crowns of hair. Identical twins be damned if it weren't for the faces that gave them away. It doesn't take long for Kirin to shake his head. "You go. You're already injured and you know Jak is going to bench you until you're healed. You're-"

"Don't you fucking dare say it, Kirin-"
"A liability."

Rather than hitting her brother this time, fury darkens Kylori's face near to black, eyes darkening along with it as her pupils expand. Adrenaline. Uncontrolled. Unrefined. There's real anger there. Why? Understanding finally cools Kylori's rage at her brother. Already her back is turning an ugly shade of red and blue from where she'd hit the ground. "That eager to get rid of me, huh?"

"Nope. Dad never wanted this life for you and you know it. You're the fastest climber we have and you're a damn sight smarter than you let on."

"Could be you, y'know."

"Nah. Trees are one thing. Flying? I'd rather take a walk on the Red Star."

The exchange between the two is quiet on Kylori's part, though her brother seems intent on making sure he's heard by the Rider. "Someone has to make sure dad's okay. You go, Kylori. You're the one the firelizards like playing with. Maybe there's something to that?" With that, Kirin pats his sister's shoulder and offers a polite bow to Mollin. "Maybe next time for me, eh," and with that he slips out of the tent without making another sound, one hand raised and giving a two-fingered 'peace' sign; leaving Kylori in the infirmary alone with the rider. 

She sits in silence for a long moment, arms wrapping around herself as if she's only finally feeling the chill of the tent with the quickly approaching night. "Meet a dragon, huh? They're kinda like great big firelizards, aren't they," she asks as she reaches for her shirt and hide jacket with a wince that comes from having to twist to reach them. For her part, she doesn't hiss with the pain she should obviously be in. Her arms lock up and her face twists in agony as she dresses herself, but she makes nary a sound beyond her strained breath. Strong. Have to be strong to be a rider. That's what they say, right? Have to be strong. Have to be fast. Tears come unbidden to her eyes as she finishes dressing herself, but she herself can't even seem to decide if it's because of her battered ribs or the thought of leaving her family and the only home she's ever known.

Hiko

[Hiko]

The smile soon disappeared from Mollin’s lips as the two siblings did what siblings did best: They hit at each other’s nerves, paining each other in the ways only blood knew. She kept silent while Kirin left, and continued to remain quiet as Kylori pulled herself together, if only for Mollin’s own benefit. It wasn’t so long ago that Mollin felt that same sense of abandonment that was clear in the way Kylori hugged herself, and it was difficult for the blue rider to not offer some sort of condolence. She reached a hand out, then hesitated and shoved it fiercely into the pocket of her riding jacket, frowning.

“You don’t have to, you know,” she offered, turning away once the girl had uncurled herself and began dressing. “Even if you meet him, and he says he thinks you’re a good fit - you don’t have to say yes. You don’t have to leave. You don’t even have to say yes to meeting my Daltilith - but I hope you will.”

Mollin let out a small sigh, glancing back to see if the girl was appropriately attired.
“I’m never any good at this, Searching. I only ever wanted to leave my cothold. I wanted nothing to do with women’s work and I took the first out I saw, but if I’d been given the option to do what you do? I don’t know that I’d have left, either.”

She turned then, and removed her hand from the jacket, extending it out with an open palm, an offering for the girl to take her hand.
“Tell me no, and I’ll walk out of this tent and go find someone else. But tell me yes, and I can offer you a chance at a life you’ve never imagined.”

@kylori

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Kylori remains sitting in silence for a long moment; leafy-green eyes locked on Mollin's face as though she's trying to find some joke in all this. Looking for some way that the 'dragonrider' was anything other than what she was. No. Dreams are borne on the wings of dragons, girl. You come here... Into my home... A quietly seething anger stirs within Kylori's thoughts, the emotion darkening only her eyes as she continues staring at Mollin until she realizes what she's doing.

"The dreams of Pern of borne on the wings of Dragons, Kylori," a memory of her father whispers to her; an old memory of her childhood. Back in the days before work made everything complicated. Before puberty. Before anything resembling the adulthood she'd come to lead up until now. "Every shooting star is a dragon and rider giving themselves to Pern to fight the Thread. Could be anyone, my girl, but it could be you." The tears return and Kylori's shoulders quake as though she's on the verge of a good old-fashioned ugly-cry.

Am I doing the right thing, mom?

Her mouth opens sluggishly, as though glued together with sandpaper and blackstone tar. Her voice little more than a croak as she looks up and gives a decidedly unladilike snort to clear sinuses clogged by tears.

"Yes."

Hiko

[Hiko]

Hand remaining out for the girl to take, Mollin stood and watched Kylori weigh her options. She had never had such concerns in leaving, and had attempted to run more than once to get away from what would have been an unfit life for her. But this girl seemed happy doing what she’d been born into - was it really right of Mollin to try and take that away, based on an initial interest in the girl’s appearance?
Daltilith murmured in her mind. No, it wasn’t just physical attraction. He’d said he’d felt multiple minds within the encampment, and the more she’d been near this girl, the more interested the blue had been with her. That wasn’t a mere excuse, that was a Searchdragon at work.

This was the hard part of Search, more so after stumbling into finding a likely candidate. Perhaps a better rider might have been more prepared for tears and snot. Mollin only considered her own emotional warpath over the Turns. What if this girl proved worthy to Daltilith, only to end up in the same wreck of a mental state that Mollin had been in for over a Turn? Would she be there for the girl, willing to pick up the pieces?

Mollin lowered her hand and led the girl out of the tent, toward the grove where Daltilith had been sunning during their stay. The blue was laying on his side, eyes closed as he enjoyed the warmth of the sun. At their approach, he raised his head a miniscule amount and opened his eyes. Stretching, he rolled onto his sternum and extended his neck so that his muzzle was close enough that Mollin could place a palm on it.
No, she thought, even with whatever pain or heartache her life had brought, Daltilith had been a constant. Even if she were to give up every other connection life had offered, he was worth it.

The blue creeled appeasement, his eyes focused intently on Kylori.
“This is Daltilith,” Mollin introduced, “Dalt, this is Kylori.”
A pleasure, the blue spoke softly to the girl, as if he were concerned he might cause her to fully sob. The blue was just better at this than she ever could be, Mollin thought, a loving smile forming on her lips at the dragon’s sincerity.
“I won’t tell you being a dragonrider is all glory and adventure, as I was told. I won’t tell you that it’s the best life out there. What I will tell you is that I wouldn’t give it up for anything. It’s a hard path, full of pain, but you’ll never be alone, and you’ll never be unloved, and you will always have a home.”


@kylori

[Deleted]

The long walk and lack of conversation out of the camp left Kylori hugging herself with a single arm, squeezing her shoulder as her father had for so many Turns whenever she needed encouragement. It felt right... Saying 'yes.' So why did it hurt? She spent the entirety of the trek to Daltilith's sunning spot stuck inside her own head. She had no questions for the Dragonrider that had come to part her from her family. It doesn't have to be permanent, she thought. When I'm a full rider, I can always come back and visit. She'd been so lost in her own headspace that she hadn't even realize that they'd already arrived; Mollin's introduction passing between her ears and being immediately forgotten as the words were spoken.

Yet it was Daltilith's 'voice' that roused her from the prison her mind had become. "A pleasure," the dragon whispered in her mind. It roused her instantly, and, rather than causing her to sob, she became more alert. Truth be told, she looked alarmed, pupils narrowing to pinpricks at some potential threat she could hear but not see, though she calmed once her awareness brought the fact Mollin was speaking this entire time to her understanding. 

"Any life is hard. Woodcraft is harder than some."

For the briefest of moments, Kylori weighs her options one last time before extending her hand toward Daltilith. Looking to Mollin for permission seems to come to her at the last possible moment. It occurred to her that the dragon had spoken to her in her mind. Had he seen her doubts? Her fear? Does he see my soul?

"May I... uhm... Pet him?"

Hiko

[Hiko]

Despite the tension in their trek, Kylori’s combined interest and inquiry regarding Daltilith caused a small chuckle to escape from Mollin.
“He has his own mind, Kylori. If you want to pet him, just ask him.”
To his rider, the dragon asked privately, Is it all right? She seems indecisive.
How many times do you feel that from me in a day? Mollin asked the blue.
More than enough, he replied. If she is not certain, I do not wish to take her away, though.
Hmm, Mollin intoned, thoughtful. Well, ask her yourself. I did just tell her that you’ve your own mind.

The blue’s multifaceted eyes focused onto his rider for a brief glimpse, and whether it was amusement or annoyance, Mollin wasn’t completely certain. However, the dragon returned his gaze to the girl she’d brought to him, and once more, his voice reached out to Kylori in a softly spoken tone.
You may, he replied. I like having my muzzle patted, and if you wanted to scratch my eye ridges, I wouldn’t say no.

“It takes some getting used to, having another mind in your head, all the time,” Mollin said, wondering how much attention the girl would actually pay her, now that the dragon had spoken up.
“Even things you’d rather keep hidden, the dragon’s always there as a constant companion. It’s not for everyone.”

But I would like you to come, Daltilith added gently. If you want.

@kylori

[Deleted]

Kylori loses any sense of hesitation at Daltilith's insistence that she scratch his eye ridges and gives the same sorts of scratches she'd given the wild firelizards that came to the camp for treats in exchange for pest control. She recoils only slightly when Mollin mentions having another mind in her head all the time. 

"What's it really like? No wherryshit. Dragons aren't supposed to be able to lie." Are they? She had no idea. She was masking her nervousness with bluster as was her traditional wont. She'd already made up her mind. She wasn't going to go back to the camp with her metaphorical tail between her legs. Were she a feline, her tail would be bristling. But no. I think dad hoped for this. Kirin wants this for me... Is this who I'm supposed to be? She took the chill on her shoulder from the cooling air of the shadows as a reassuring sign from her mother. Her own right hand had crossed over her chest to squeeze at her left bicep even as she lavished the magnificent Blue with attention.

Mollin had said that it would be hard. That there'd be pain. In an instant, her mind latched onto those thoughts and she couldn't help her own predatory smile. I can handle pain. I can handle hard. I'll give every bit as good as I get and more. The thrill of challenge warmed her and eased her aching back. And if I win... I won't be alone. There it was. The competition. That drive. Already in her mind she could see herself on dragonback, although because Daltilith is the only Dragon she'd ever seen, she had no other colors for reference.

She finishes her scratching and lays her palm atop Daltilith's muzzle, feeling the warmth of sunwarmed scale and dragonbreath. 

"No... No, I'm good. You say it's going to be hard, but maybe it won't be so bad if I'm not alone." She gently strokes her palm up and down the Blue's muzzle. "I'm afraid because I've always had the camp and my family. I'm just acting the wherry because this is new. And... I haven't been on my own before."

She lets out a long breath and removes her hand from Daltilith's muzzle, turning sharply to face Mollin. "I might look like a child, but I'm a grown woman. I'll do it."

Hiko

[Hiko]

The blue, pleased with the attention, rumbled a low noise in the back of his throat, not unlike a feline’s purr. He leaned into the potential candidate’s touches, enjoying the affection immensely. At her question, and the acknowledgement that a dragon would always be truthful, Daltilith gave huffed a breath at Kylori, the warm air of his nostrils pushing against her hand.
I have always known it. I could not imagine not hearing my Mollin. It was the best answer the dragon could give, and Mollin patted the blue’s face.

“It’s… difficult to describe,” she answered, scrunching her face in a thoughtful expression. “It’s almost like a weight, or a light touch at all times. There’s a little more quiet when he sleeps, but I never don’t feel his presence, as if he’s always in the room, or just out of view.”

When Kylori turned her gaze onto Mollin, the blue rider winced. She had been speaking to the woodcutter as if she were a wide-eyed hopeful, someone more naive than what she likely was. Still, the blue rider grinned back at the ferocity in the candidate’s voice.
“Go home, say your goodbyes, and pack light,” Mollin said, approval in her voice, “And when you're ready, we'll fly.”

@kylori

[Deleted]

    Pack light, she thought. That’ll be easy. She reaches back just enough to press a hand against the side of Daltilith’s muzzle; not so much to steady herself but more to reassure herself that this is actually happening. “I hope the Weyr doesn’t mind big eaters,” she says before she darts off back into the depths of the forest on her way back to her camp and family.

    Go home, say your goodbyes, and pack light. Oh the irony had her giddy enough she could squeal like a turnling. At least, there was an irony that she could sense anyway. She had never truly owned much because she’d never truly needed much. Despite the closeness of the logging camp, everyone there was family. Whatever they needed became a communal pool. Everyone chipped in portions of their earned marks and was purchased whenever supply wagons were sent into the Hold Proper for supplies.

    Not everything though, she thought. No. There was her father’s sketchbook of real paper. She’d also need another set of clothes; a good thing she didn’t own anything frilly and flowery. Her spare set of climbing gloves. Yes. Everything she’d want to keep for herself would fit easily into a knapsack; the remainder volunteered to the camp. Excitement and elation were enough to numb her injuries before, but now it was pure adrenaline as she sprinted through the forest in a blur. Kirin’s going to shit dragon eggs.

    Her suspicions that Kirin would already be going through the camp telling everyone about the Dragonrider that had come for her as she reached its edge and gave the customary ‘Ho the camp!’ to signal her arrival would prove to be accurate. The stone-ringed pit they’d dug into the center of camp for the evening bonfires around which they’d serve and eat dinner, spin tales like drunken harpers, and bond as any family would, had already been filled to the brim with any wastewood that couldn’t go back to the hold. Her brother had gathered everyone, lumberjacks, cotwives, and all. “We honor your sacrifice, Dragonrider,” Kirin and Kyl had gathered them all and led them in speaking. They’d assembled the metaphorical troops, and saluted her with beaming smiles all around.

    What tears she’d been holding back before she finally let loose. It wasn’t the ugly-cry she didn’t want to loose in front of the Dragonrider, so much as joy and appreciation; the knowledge that she likely wouldn’t return for a good many months, if not entire turns. She made her way around the camp like this, receiving hugs and encouragement in equal measure, and no small amount of warning that she’d better do them proud.

    Finally though, she came to the family linked to her by blood. With everything going on, she’d been too choked up to speak for herself and that continued even now as Kyl pulled his daughter into a bear hug and gave her a good squeeze. “Do us proud, Kylori. I know your mother’d be too proud of you for words,” and with that he released her, brushed off and straightened her shirt, and fixed her belt as though he were preparing her to be presented before a Lord Holder.

    When she turned to Kirin, he’d already had her knapsack slung over her shoulder and gave her what she thought was the biggest grin of her life. His free arm swung out to give her what she called the ‘“workin’ man’s handshake,” despite every appearance that it seemed to give everyone an opportunity to arm wrestle. “Here,” he said, slinging the pack from his shoulder and handing it to Kylori. “We packed for you. We knew you’d only pack one extra pair of socks. An’ you got dad’s sketchbook.”

    “How’d you know I’d say yes?”

    “Because you never could back down when you were afraid,” Kirin said in lilting tones and a mischievous grin.

    “Because you can’t say ‘no’ to a challenge, even when you probably should,” Kyl told her with a hand on her shoulder reassuringly.

    “Go on now, Lori. You better write now, y’hear?”

    Kylori took a moment to squeeze each of their hands in turn, saying her thank yous before making her way in the waning sunlight back to Mollin and Daltilith with her biggest smile and elation enough it felt as if the world had been lifted off her shoulders and she’d never known it was there in the first place. And, she noted, the weight that had been on her heart since this Mollin had arrived had been lifted. The feeling made her smile so bright at the pair because, to her, it felt like it was her mothers way of saying, “You did it right, baby girl.”

Hiko