Five months.

One, two, three.

Four, five months.

They'd been together for five short months, enough time that the sensation of sharing everything was still so raw and new that R'ose awoke each day looking forward to being. To existing, to going out and trying new things and seeing the same people over and over with new ideas. To getting up and going to lessons and proving to everyone that just because the hide that colored his dragon wasn't brown or bronze- that she was a she instead of the so coveted he that High Reaches loved.

To having thoughts that made sense.

One, two.

Everything was in disarray, his thoughts scrambling as his dragon watched the skies. To the Thread, to the beasts that flamed and launched Between. To the smell of ash and burning flesh and the trickles of soot that fell like a snow or a thick rain. To the screaming when someone died, they always died, to the fear that clung to the back of his throat as he forced it out of his mind. He'd never let her know he was terrified of the day they'd do that together.

She was so small, would always be small. He was thankful since cleaning her and cleaning up after her was easy, but a small green meant less stamina, less power.

She couldn't fly a full Threadfall and he'd be thankful for that, but with what shame? That he wouldn't have to risk her life the entire time, that they could relax and take it easy after a run? Maybe he should feel guilty but he doesn't, instead he just thinks about how maybe, just maybe, they'd prove to everyone that Sahrawith was just as good as any dragon out there.

The first to lessons, the last to leave - walking the drills when no one was around. R'ose honestly hated being so obedient and Sahrawith could tell, probably. The chaffing of rules against his back and shoulders as he did everything he could to prevent someone from saying anything about her. He didn't care if words hit him - people could choke on eggs for all it mattered when it came to insults - but Sahrawith must be protected. He would never, never let anyone say anything bad about her so long as he could help it.

Four, five. Six soon, and then rising and -

The idea of flights, of the lust that would overcome both him and the dragon that snored beside him had R'ose angry. He could forgive the others for their actions during flights, it was simply him being stubborn when he said he didn't - how could anyone be blamed for what instinct does? That was the only thing he begrudged his lifemate for, even if she didn't fully understand what all of that meant. She'd watched others rise, had commented on how lovely she'd be in the sky soon - but the act of it? Of how he'd feel?

It was disgusting and terrifying and -

He'd seen how his friends had looked at him when he'd Impressed green. All of those who'd called for metalliacs to come to their sides, who were still currently standing alone on the sands. Their looks of lumping him in with all the other male greenriders, a sort of position and title that hung over him like a bad smell.

R'ose wasn't having it, he'd come out of all of this smelling amazing and showing everyone that this Weyr, his home - just! Again his thoughts, jumbled and a mess. Anger and frustration and - Sahrawith's dreams held nothing to soothe and calm and she rested, he stared.

Soon they would fly, take to the skies together and be boned and bloodied. The last clutch that had come up had lost someone - there was no one among the group that R'ose wanted to see gone. Too many that Sahrawith would mourn over and he just - why was he thinking this so late in the night, with the heat of the evening pushing him like a wet blanket?

At least when she was asleep his thoughts were his own, as disjointed as they were. He loved her, he regretted nothing about her - each moment was the best moment of his life and yet sometimes? At the back of his mind, he saw the faces on the sands.

But then he could walk away from them, a small green at his side, and rest.

Finally, rest.