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It was a refrain laden with guilt and pain, haunting their minds until they finally settled on the ground after the long, hard Fall. Ansheth would not be distracted, would not be deterred from his singular goal of being by her side. He fretted, anxiety, and his own injuries, turning his eyes yellow-grey.

We must get those wounds looked at.

Not yet… Myrrath… where is she? The bronze scoured the growing throng of dragonpairs with a frantic gaze. O’dyn sighed, gritting his teeth but keeping his thoughts to himself…

Damn that woman. Damn her…

Not that… well, he hoped it hadn’t been her fault. It was an awful Fall, and she wasn’t reckless… not anymore. She wouldn’t have risked Myrrath unnecessarily. She knew better than that. More than likely some awful gust had caught them… the rest did not bear thinking about. His heart tightened in his chest. He would need to visit Orry and Den, soon, but… but the thought of her being injured… somehow, that scared him too. He did not understand why.

I see them. There, off to the side. O’dyn began long strides, matched by an overeager dragon who could barely restrain himself from leaping.

They were not looking well. Both rider and dragon were unconscious, and O’dyn steeled his heart against the prognosis. Ah- they would recover… He breathed a sigh of relief as another healer began to tend to Ansheth’s own wounds. Mechanically, the one-eyed man lifted a hand to stroke his dragon, soothing him with thoughts of gentle nothingness. They were safe. Look. Everything was going to be okay.

O’dyn’s heart beat a staccato in his chest, and he held his breath against the wash of sympathetic pain as he watched Ada struggle, unconscious, to draw her own. No… There was no way a woman this stubborn would just...

The fear seemed contagious. He sensed Myrrath stirring, felt Ansheth’s own worry heighten, and reached out mentally to soothe him. His legs moved of their own accord, and he found himself looming over the healers, watching impassively, impatiently, to see the woman’s chest rise and fall.

Come on.

Ansheth began to speak, and O’dyn reached out again, this time with a little more strength. Tell her Ada is fine. Tell her she’ll be okay. Comfort her. She must not panic now. She must stay.

O’dyn…

Do it. It might not even be a lie. The healers were working with renewed vigor, stemming from a desperation to save a patient that… well, those were thoughts best left for another day.

My dearest, sweetest Lady Myrrath, your Ada is just… she’s just resting deeply. Fall has worn her out, and she needs as much rest as she can get. Don’t let go of her, don’t let her mind slip away, and we will stay with you. He twined his tail about hers, lowering his head to press his cheek against her face. If he could be her size, if he could be smaller, and bigger, at the same time… embrace her completely, entirely, never let her stray from his protectiveness… everything would be okay.

She began to breathe again. It had been moments, but those moments had stretched into a hellish eternity. She breathed again, laboured and pained, and O’dyn sat beside her, uncaring if he now got in the way. Let the healers fathom the issues; shaffit all. Damned, flaming woman. He took her hand and held it.

“Myrrath, we won’t leave. We’ll be here, waiting for you both to recover. Please take comfort in that.” He wasn’t certain how else to reassure the sweet green, but he trusted Ansheth would. The bronze rumbled slightly, hunkering down lower and spreading a scored wing over his mate.