Anakumath had laid a fine and healthy clutch, and Amalteia had observed the Hatching with the same quiet wonder that she always did. The terrible injury suffered by one of the young men had been heartbreaking, and it had been compounded by the heartbreaking screams and sobs of his companion. The timing couldn't have been worse, as one of the baby blues had reacted to his lifemate's distress and rushed over to her side. Such grief could threaten both the new rider and her young dragon, and the old rider could only grip where her blouse rested over her heart with worry.
The Weyrlingmaster and his assistants had worked quickly, as had the Healers to help the poor pair back onto their feet. The boy had been sent away so his injuries could be better treated, but Amalteia still quietly worried over the pair in her mind.
And what will they do if you go to speak to them? Threaten to stripe your behind? Harpiath pointed out waspishly, and Amalteia thought fondly that her beloved would gladly welcome the chance to assert herself should anyone dare try such a thing. Still, her golden dear had a point, even if she'd put things a little roughly. Though Harpiath's wing joints ached fiercely in the cold, she insisted on making the short flight to the lake where the young pair in question were currently.
Harpiath landed a respectable distance away, not wishing to buffet the younglings with her wings. Her gaze was fierce as she studied them, but she had never been the best at being gentle. Amalteia carefully slipped from her neck, patting the old dragon's leg in appreciation. "Good evening." She greeted, her lined face breaking into a smile at once as she looked them over. Yes, they certainly seemed much more comfortable than they had, though scarcely any time had passed at all.
"I hope Harpiath and I aren't bothering," The old woman continued, "We've been meaning to check in on the two of you. I'm Amaltiea."
