The Mrreow gave another whimper of pain as her flanks heaved again and she pushed out a third baby.
Tazith, Xhinna called, picturing what she wanted even as she told the others, “Get back!”
She pushed Taria behind her and pulled her own knife even as Tazith leapt into the air and spun quickly, slamming his tail smack into the middle of one of the trunks that formed the cage. Then she forced her way through the gap and crouched, knife poised in front of her.
The Mrreow lifted its head and growled low, but it couldn’t move to defend itself as yet another contraction started the delivery of a fourth baby. The contractions pushed the baby Mrreow halfway out before the mother gave one last moan, her eyes closed.
“I think she’s dead,” W’vin said, coming through the gap just behind Xhinna. “Look, she’s not breathing.”
“Cut the babies out of their sacks,” Taria pleaded. W’vin glanced at Xhinna. With a sigh, she moved forward and knelt by the nearest Mrreow, knife still at the ready. She cut its sack and then turned to the next even as the first started a gentle mewing sound.
“I’ll get the last,” W’vin said, kneeling and gently pulling the last baby from its mother. Deftly, he split the sack and freed the baby within. It, too, made a small whimpering mew and began thrusting its head fitfully against the brown rider’s hands, as though searching for a teat.
“We’ve put a double door on the cage, kept the lid off, and someone’s with them most every day,” Xhinna told K’dan and X’lerin at the end of a sevenday. She frowned as she added, “Taria’s named hers Razz.”
“And what do you think?”
Xhinna shrugged, looking off into the distance to gather her thoughts. “I think that it’s too early to tell,” she admitted. Her voice hardened as she added, “Part of me just wants to kill them now or, maybe, let them go back into the wild but—if they attack the hatchlings!”
“The hatchlings are safe up here, aren’t they?”
“They are,” Xhinna agreed reluctantly. “And Taria is convinced that the scent of our Mrreows might keep other Mrreows away from us.”
“I suppose that’s possible,” X’lerin said. K’dan nodded in agreement.
“Looking after them is going to take away from other work,” Xhinna said.
“As long as no one shirks their duties, I won’t complain,” X’lerin said.
“J’keran hates them,” Xhinna said.
“That’s almost reason enough alone to keep them,” K’dan said sardonically. X’lerin gave the harper a surprised look and K’dan added, “Your brown rider has been making noises about how poorly the weyrlings are being trained.”
“I assume you put him in his place,” X’lerin replied crisply.
“Actually, I couldn’t think of a single word to say.”
“A speechless harper!”
K’dan leaned closer to the bronze rider. “I’m starting to get worried about how the younger riders are reacting to him.”
“And you?” X’lerin said, glancing at Xhinna.
“I’m just a blue rider,” Xhinna protested.
“Oh, stop that!” K’dan snapped at her. “There’s no rider on Pern who is ‘just’ anything, least of all you.”
Xhinna’s eyes widened.
“Do you think Fiona chooses her friends lightly?” K’dan continued. “Or that she’d leave her children—our children—with just anyone?”
“No,” Xhinna said in a small voice.
“K’dan, please don’t break her,” X’lerin spoke up.
K’dan’s fierce expression crumpled and he reached a hand toward the blue rider. “Sorry,” he said. “It’s just that I will not have you tearing yourself down.”
“He’s right,” X’lerin said, looking at her. “There will be plenty who look at your Impression as a mistake and will question your right to ride a blue. So it’s up to you, blue rider, to show them how wrong they are. This”—he spread his hands out to encompass all the Weyr—“is a great start.”
“But if I hadn’t come here—”
“If you hadn’t come here, back in time, where would you have gone?” X’lerin interjected. “You knew you couldn’t jump back to Telgar or our time, and you saw Thread falling. Where would you go?”
Xhinna shrugged, but said nothing.
“Xhinna, you will be wrong many times in your life,” K’dan told her patiently. “But when you make a decision, stick to it. So far all your decisions have been good ones.”
“And understand this, Xhinna,” X’lerin added, “it’s a foolish wingleader who doesn’t listen to all his—” He winked at her. “—or her riders.”
“A blue could never lead a wing!” Xhinna exclaimed.
“Why?” K’dan glanced at X’lerin. “Just because it’s never been done, blue rider, doesn’t mean that it can’t be done.” He shook his head ruefully. “After all our Turns with Fiona, we should both know that by now!”
Despite all their efforts, one of the Meeyus—as Jirana had insisted upon calling the baby Mrreows—sickened over the next sevenday. It died in the young girl’s arms and she was beside herself with grief. She had become something of a prime advocate for the baby Mrreows and somehow had homed in on Xhinna’s antipathy; the blue rider often found herself at loggerheads with the younger girl, who had only ten Turns but seemed to treat Xhinna more like an uppity older sister than the person in charge of their safety.
And then there was Taria. Not only did she seem more intent on the Meeyus and their survival than on finding a suitable place for Coranth’s imminent clutch, but it also seemed that watching the baby Mrreows as they grew and made their—admittedly, cute—baby noises was arousing a desire for something else in the green rider. Something that Xhinna could never give her: children.
That Taria was passionate for and delighted by children was something that Xhinna had known and acknowledged since they’d first met. Indeed, Xhinna shared that love—she enjoyed snuggling with the small twins, cheering on the efforts of toddlers, the looks of awe she’d get from the older children. She wanted a child of her own someday—maybe more than one—and when the time was right, she’d have one.
But the time wasn’t right. No more than the time was right for Taria.
And yet—
Xhinna frowned as she recalled the number of times she’d heard Taria’s delightful laugh punctuating the speech of some deep-voiced male. Sometimes it was R’ney, other times W’vin, and even J’keran.
Well, she thought, mentally rubbing her hands to shake off her line of thinking, this isn’t getting anything done.
Tazith veered eastward, leaving the burnt plateau and the Meeyus’ cage behind as they continued their search for a safe Hatching Ground for Coranth. They reached the coastline and she waved as she passed over Colfet’s ship. It was nothing more than a wide dugout with a small sail, but the seaman had a crew in training and was working with a small group to build another hull. They’d gotten much better at fishing and had been returning decent catches of brightfish and the prized redfish.
Xhinna considered for a moment whether it would make sense to establish trade once more with the Northern Continent, but shelved the idea for later as she had Tazith turn due south to follow the shoreline.
Here and there were sandy patches, but none that looked large enough to accommodate Coranth and an entire clutch of eggs—or defensible.
Perhaps a small island? Something not too far away but nice and sandy, lying in the warm sun? She decided to try that later, if nothing turned up in her current search.
They flew on for several hours, until Tazith grew tired and Xhinna’s eyes were dry and irritated from squinting too long. With a headache pounding behind her eyes, she had Tazith take them back to the Weyr.