[Timeframe: New Year's, evening]

	"Hey, wait up would you?  Your legs are longer than mine!"

	R'mar halted abruptly on the Green and turned around to watch
M'ressan slow to a puffing halt behind him.  He had no real desire for
company right now, but he would never offer his Wingleader anything less
than respect.  Especially in his current state of dishonor with the Wing.

	"Do you need me for something?" R'mar rumbled.

	"Yes, actually," M'ressan grinned as he caught his breath.
"You're reminding me how bad I'm letting myself go.  You're a mighty quick
man for your size!"

	Seeing no need for a response, R'mar waited for M'ressan to
explain himself.

	M'ressan grimanced.  "OK, look, I wanted to know if you were
planning to be at the New Year's feast tonight."

	R'mar was not a man who found needless frivolity particularly
fulfilling.  He had several reasons to be avoiding the New Year
festivities.  In particular, he had other plans for the evening... and he
wanted to be sure that *she* had the option of attending without being in
her way.

	"No."

	"Oh.  Well, that's all right I suppose.  I just really wanted to
see you there."

	"Why?"

	M'ressan shrugged, his smile half-smug, half-apologetic.  "I just
thought it would be a good way to announce your reintroduction into Beta
Wing."

	R'mar skipped a beat.  "But...  I have several days left before my
suspention is complete."

	M'ressan clapped the other man on the shoulder and grinned.  "I've
been running drills since I suspended you, and I'm just going to have to
face the fact that I can't live without you," he said.  "You've served
your time, and I believe you when you say you'll never reject my authority
like that again.  There's no point in pushing this any further."

	R'mar blinked a stood a little taller.  "I will be at the feast,"
he said.

	"I was hoping you'd say that," M'ressan quipped, eyes dancing.
"See you there."

**********

	As dusk fell, the true spendor of Sheltie's efforts began to take
form.  The Great Hall was decked in bright cloth streamers in the colors
of Spring.  The usual gas lamps were offset by decorative paper lanterns,
both inside and all across the center face of the Warren proper.  The dyed
paper filtered light down upon the Warren in all colors.

	And there was food everywhere.  Tables rowed buffet-style with
every delight Sheltie could concoct on one day's notice.  The delicacies
hoarded from tithe during the year sat beside the more common dishes.
There was something for everyone, and no worries about eating too much.

	The night promised to be warm enough, despite the melting snow, so
the doors of the Great Hall were thrown wide.  Wooden panels were placed
over the center Green to extend the dance floor under the sky and the
multicolored lantern light.  The dancers' feet would be protected from the
soft moist ground, and they could dance beneath the stars.  Every
bard-trained Warren resident practiced in a corner of the Hall as the
celebration reached its commencement.  D'glis was among them, and everyone
was conscious that this would be his last performance with the Warrenmates
of his childhood.  If anything, that made everyone more determined to give
the best performance they could.

	"Sheltie has really outdone herself," Christalla breathed as she
looked around.  It was dusk, and the Warrenfolk were just beginning to
drift into the Great Hall.

	"It's wonderful," Evelle agreed.  "I've never seen the Great Hall
so beautiful.  I'll always remember it like this."

	Christalla reached out impulsively and took her hand.  "You can
come back to visit, once you're settled," she said.

	"I know," Evelle replied, squeezing the hand.  "Believe me, I'll
visit as often as I can get away."  Christalla smiled back, looking much
stronger than she had recently.  It wouldn't be often.  They both knew
that.  But it was something.  Evelle was relieved to see that Christalla
was coping at last.

	"Evelle!"

	"Wynn!"

	Evelle dashed out of the Great Hall to throw herself into her
mate's arms.  Christalla shook her head, seeing a younger version of
herself in Keldarra's one-ttime Warrenlady.  She could remember a time
when her romance was fresher, when she had waited anxiously for the next
sight of her new mate.  One of these days, Evelle would find the novelty
of her love with Wynn had faded.  She would no longer need to ache for him
every moment, certain that he would be there when she needed him.  And
that would open the doors to a stronger love she never knew was there.  

	Christalla chuckled to herself.  Ten years?  Yes, she and M'ressan
had been together that long.  Despite-- or because of-- everything they'd
endured together, she had never wanted to look back.

	"I thought you were never going to *get* here," Evelle complained
as the couple walked back into the Dining Hall.

	"Well, I had my last drill with Gamma Wing," Wynn confessed.  "I
didn't want to cut it short."  He looked sad, regretful, but Evelle was
already at work cheering him up.

	After a few pleasantries, Christalla left them at the doors to the
Great Hall.  Evelle wanted to say goodbye to as many of her Warrenmates as
she could personally.  The image of the young woman standing at the
entrance, offering and handshake or embrace to everyone who crossed the
threshold, was one the DragonLady tucked away in a special corner of her
memory.  

	She turned to see D'neor approach her from the other side of the
room.  He was holding a plate piled high with food.  "So how's the party
been so far?" he asked around a mouthful.

	Christalla felt herself stiffening.  She tried to clench her
bandaged hand, which immediately started aching.  "You're late," she said
tartly.

	"Late!" D'neor demanded.  "Who said there was a deadline?  Since
when does anyone have to be at a party 'on time'?"

	"Since he became a Queenrider," Christalla answered coldly, then
swept away.  She slowed as she neared the other side of the Great Hall,
finding that her heart was beating too quickly.  Something about him
always seemed to make her furious.  She glanced back to the entrace to see
Evelle and smiled sadly to herself.  There would be a new order once that
girl was gone, and Christalla wasn't sure that it would ever be anywhere
near as good.

	But perhaps, just perhaps, more would change than just Evelle's
departure.  There was nothing to do but live on and see what happened.

**********

	"Ma-MA!"

	The voice was D'neor's.  So was the hand that grabbed Aylin's arm
and pulled her away from the entrance to the Great Hall.

	"Don't you dare grab me like that, young man!" Aylin flared.  

	D'neor dropped her arm immediately.  "Sorry, Mama.  But what do
you think you're *doing* bring him??"  He gestured to M'tan, who was
looking on with his hands shoved in his pockets, watching silently.  He
was now carrying the air of a martyr with him, which both disturbed and
infuriated D'neor.  "Don't you know what a house arrest is?"

	Aylin fixed her youngest son with a withering look.  "He's under
my custody.  I'm supposed to watch him, and nobody is going to keep me
away from this party.  I'll just have to watch him here.  If anyone has a
problem, they can talk to me about it."

	"*I* have a problem with it!"

	She patted his arm.  "I know you do, dear.  Come on, M'tan."
M'tan nodded without speaking.  Aylin nodded dismissively to D'neor and
walked past him into the Great Hall.  M'tan followed.  

	D'neor was left swearing to himself under the first stars to
twinkle in the fresh night sky.  "...a Queenrider with all this power, and
I *still* can't make her listen!"

	Shrugging in frustration, he follwed them into the Great Hall.
*Somebody* had to keep an eye on M'tan.

***********

	The music began in earnest when night had safely fallen.  At
first, the bards were alone under the stars, simply serendating the night.
Then Warrenfolk who had not yet stuffed themselves to immobility grabbed
partners and drifted out of the Great Hall onto the dance floor.

	Evelle snatched Wynn's arm as the first few notes wafted through
the open doorway and pulled him, protesting all the way, onto the
dancefloor.  Their giggles and murmurred conversation reached Christalla
in bits and pieces.  Christalla looked after them, smiling at all the
younger folk at play.  

	"Feeling your age?"

	Christalla started and turned, nearly colliding with M'ressan's
chest.  He grinned down at her.  She laughed.  "Positively elderly.  Just
being near Evelle makes me feel tired."

	"Well, you can't wear out yet.  You promised me the first dance."
He chuckled.  "I promise to be gentle."

	"Oh, do be gentle," Christalla pleaded teasingly, taking his arm.
"I'm terrified of what you might do to a tiny old woman like me."

	As they stepped onto the dance floor, M'ressan deliberately
brushed Wynn, and they laughed as they disappeared from sight of each
other in the growing throng of dancers.  Christalla felt completely alive,
absorbing the happiness and energy of everyone around her.  It was as if
the weight of everything had simply vanished for the evening.  She beamed
up at M'ressan.

	"Have I mentioned how beautiful you look?" he asked, leaning down
to nip her throat.

	"Oh, don't do here!" Christalla giggled.  "How's Mista?"

	"I'm keeping half a thought on her," M'ressan confessed, "and
she's doing fine.  She's not too thrilled about being lumped in with a
bunch of other kids and adults she doesn't know, but she can touch me,
Alanth, and Kaeryth."

	"She should spend more time with Human children her own age,"
Christalla mused.  "She too much time with Dragons."

	"I know.  We'll see what we can do.  But if you spend even one
minute worrying about her, I'll personally tie you to Alanth and take you
home.  I haven't seen you this carefree in much too long."

	Christalla looked up at his scolding face and twinkling eyes and
couldn't help but laugh.  She buried her face in his chest and sighed
happily.  "I promise not to worry."

	M'ressan pulled her close, and they danced in contented silence
until the music came to a close.  Then he gently led her from the dance
floor and kissed her lightly.  "I think I'm going to do more hobnobbing
now, my love.  I see someone arriving I'd like to talk to."

	"Oh, certainly.  I'm sure I can find *something* to do."
Christalla laughed and squeezed his arm.  They disentangled, and
Christalla wandered off in search of Evelle.

	M'ressan sprinted toward the entrance to the Great Hall, toward
the figure he'd seen in the shadows there.  "Shaelesta!"

	He pulled to a halt where the girl should have been, only to find
her nowhere to be seen.  He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to meet
the eyes of S'brogh, Evelle's brother.  "You just missed her," S'brogh
volunteered with an apologetic shrug.  "I think all the mess of the last
couple of days has her a little paranoid."

	M'ressan sighed.  "Not that I blame her.  Well, thanks.  I'll see
if I can find her later."

	"Sure thing!"  S'brogh grinned and waved.  "I'm going to go find
my sister.  She owes me a dance!"  He disappeared into the darkness.

	M'ressan cast about, and his eye fell on the silver glint of
reflected moonlight. He'd heard stories about someone with silver hair.
If this was the same girl, it was someone he definitely wanted to meet.
He hurried forward to catch up to the slender back moving away from him.
He thought to call her name, but... damn, what WAS her name?

	Just as he reached the silver-haired figure, it halted suddenly.
Unable to stop his forward momentum, M'ressan found himself plummetting
hard into other person.  

	She lurched forward, snapping out a string of nonsense that left
M'ressan feeling completely chastised.  The eyes that turned to glare up
at him were moss-green, the skin exotic and golden.  He was quite sure
he'd never seen anything like her before.

	While he stood staring mutely, she grimaced began again,
pronouncing the syllables precisely.  "Be more careful."

	"I'm really sorry," M'ressan said earnestly.  "This wasn't exactly
the first impression I was trying to make.  You're..."  He wracked his
brain in frustration.  Aedra was the Dragon...  "Elswyth, right?"

	"Yes," the girl replied slowly.  "You were looking for me?"

	"Absolutely.  You've generated quite a reputation for yourself
here.  Simply being a wild newly-joined dragonrider from a land beyond the
wastes would be enough, but you have managed to save M'tan's life since
you arrived a few days ago.  You should have received a much warmer
welcome--"

	"Excuse me," Elswyth interrupted.  "Would you speak more slowly?
I am still... learning."

	"Oh."  M'ressan grimaced.  "I should have realized.  Would you
mind sitting down to talk with me for a little while?"

	Elswyth hesitated.  "I don't see why not, but I don't know who you
are."

	"I'm M'ressan, rider of red Alanth.  Beta Wingleader."

	"Beta... what?"

	M'ressan laughed and rolled his eyes, realizing how much he was
assuming.  He began again, making sure to pronounce clearly and not too
quickly.  "Look, Christalla and Evelle decided to let D'neor handle your
assimilation into Keldarra due to other pressing problems the Warren has
been facing, and I think you've been neglected.  I would like to make sure
that stops."

	He escorted her to one of the tables that had been moved from the
Dining Hall, colorfully decorated for the occassion.

	"One of my roles in the Warren is trainer of the newly-joined," he
explained.  "I would like to begin formal training with you and the other
newcomer, Arden.  Arden's Dragon is a little younger, but you have a lot
ot learn about our culture.  I think we can work something out.  What do
you think?"

[Tag, Jill.  You didn't explicitly *say* that Elswyth collided with C'nis,
so I took some artistic license. <G>]
**********

	The first person M'tan's eyes fell on as he entered the Great Hall
was the one person he wasn't ready to see.

	I shouldn't have happened that way.  She was seated at a corner
table with Kyven, Aylin, and several other Medical Center staffers.  They
were all out of expected line of sight for someone entering the Hall, but
there was something... a glint of light on her hair, that tickled the back
of his mind.  He could see little dark-haired Benna seated beside her,
pushing food around on the plate in front of her and chattering happily.
He wished, with a sudden crushing sense of longing, that he could be close
enough to hear what she said.

	Perhaps there is a certain sixth-sense that long-time lovers
develop toward each other.  M'tan would never have believed in such a
thing, but at that moment Aleta turned, and their eyes met across the
Hall.  It was a glance that almost seemed to expect him to be there, a
look that said paragraphs just as clearly as if she were speaking in his
ear.  Questions that he just wasn't ready to answer yet.

	For a few long seconds, they looked at each other.  Then M'tan,
hit by feelings he didn't know how to express, threw his gaze elsewhere--
anywhere.  He took a step in a random direction, attempting to escape the
wave of confusion and uncertainty, and found himself colliding with Aylin.

	Aylin was thrown into Kershod, the older weaponsmaster who was
following his student Wynn to Jasra Warren, with whom she had been
chatting.  "Love, could you *please* look where you're going?" she
complained.

	"I don't mind too much," Kershod chuckled, giving Aylin a hug.  He
threw M'tan an unreadable glance, one that disturbed him.

	"I'm sorry Mama," M'tan mumbled under his breath.  He turned away
and wandered toward the corner of the Great Hall... the corner farthest
away from Aleta.

	There were eyes on him.  Lots of eyes, and they all reflected
Kershod's same expression.  What was he doing here?  How should he be
treated?  Was he friend and combat leader or murderer?  M'tan felt weak
and buffetted by waves of exclusion.  He should never have let Aylin take
him here.

	"Checkmate??  How did you do that to me!"

	"Well, really, when you moved your Queen here, I knew--"

	M'tan glanced over to find a chessboard, surrounded by a growing
crowd of people.  Raphias Archer was facing off against a kid M'tan didn't
recognize, and he had apparently just lost.  M'tan knew Archer's skill,
and that was no small feat at all.

	"Blast!" the dragonrider beside M'tan grunted.  "I just lost my
primary riding harness.  No way I'm betting against that kid again.
Where'd he learn to play like that!"

	M'tan slipped into the shadows, not wanting to be noticed, and
listened.  Archer groaned and stood up.  "Arden, my boy," he said with a
chuckle.  "You've humiliated me in three straight games.  I'm not sure my
ego can take another.  One of these days, you'll have to teach me some of
those tricks."

	The boy smiled self-consciously.  "Well, maybe sometime," he
agreed.

	"I'm goin' to get me something to eat.  Coming?"

	The kid -- Arden -- flushed at the sudden acceptance.  "Um, sure!"
He stood up and followed the older man away, finding himself swallowed by
a sea of admirers.  M'tan watched them go and sighed to himself.  He
glanced over the vacated chess table, and the pieces still scattered on
the board from the boy's most recent victory.  Arden was most certainly a
gusty player, though that should be clear in the speed with which he had
pocketed Raphias Archer.  The older woodsman prided himself in the speed
of his mind above all things.

	<It's been a long time since I've played chess,> M'tan thought to
himself,  <but I don't miss it half as much...>  Almiron had made him a
game board.  Where was it now?

	Aleta's apartment, of course.

	Suddenly, for no reason he could have explained, M'tan wanted more
than anything to play the game at that moment.  He wondered if he could
slip away from the party to find the game board without being noticed.  As
a test, he stepped out of the shadows and began to walk toward the door of
the Great Hall.  Immediately, he felt dozens of eyes on him.  D'neor
stepped into his line of sight, watching him intently.

	Trying to look casual, he wandered around and retreated to the
corner with the chess board.  The walls of his prison were just as solid
as if they had been made of iron.  He sat down by the chess board and
absently rearranged the pieces, simulating a formation Almiron had shown
him.  You could almost do it with chess pieces... almost.

	"Would you like to play?"

	M'tan looked up to find the boy Arden looking over him.  "I've
never seen anyone play chess like that," Arden observed.  "Can you teach
me?"

	M'tan smiled absently.  "Well, actually, I wasn't playing chess.
Are you interested in learning a new game?"

	"Sure!"  Arden hopped into the seat across from M'tan.  "What sort
of game is it?"
	
	"It's a game from the Southlands, called tahdahk.  A friend taught
it to me."

	"Is it like chess?  How do you play?"

	"Well..."  M'tan pondered, fingering the black pieces in front of
him.  "Imagine that this knight is an archer.  He can--"

	A leather-wrapped package fell to the table in front of him with a
*thud*.  M'tan jumped up, and found himself looking up at his brother.
"D'neor, what-"

	"I didn't get it," D'neor grumbled.  "She did.  Apparently, your
Dragon has been talking."

	M'tan looked down at the table.  It was his leather tahdahk board,
wrapped around the sack of wooden pieces Almiron had carved.  Suddenly, he
found himself fighting against tears.

	<Zareth??>

	Silence.

	Slowly, he sat down again, meeting Arden's anxious eyes.  He
unrolled the tahdahk board.  "All right.  Well, this piece here is the
archer, and he can..."

[Tag, Kurt.  Take your time.  I just thought you might want Arden to have
a chance to get to know someone else.  M'tan's going to be distracted, but
he's not such a bad guy.]
**********

	R'mar was in a gathering of Beta Wing, welcoming him back to
active duty, when Talib informed him that Briana was coming.

	He'd asked his Dragon to keep an eye out for Briana's Starleanna,
just in case Briana decided to make an appearance.  It wasn't right for
her to see him here, but he hadn't wanted to stay completely away after
M'ressan had asked him.  Now he had fulfilled his obligation.  He excused
himself without explanation and strode out of the Great Hall.  He had
little use for parties anyway.

	R'mar felt content as he let the night envelop him.  He was
reinstated in the Wing, and that lifted a heavy weight from his heart.
The Wing was where he belonged.  He was already planning drill patterns
for tomorrow.

	A glint of moonlight against white Dragon hide caught his eye.  He
turned to watch Starleanna land, and saw her rider slip off in shadow.
Briana.  He was drawn nearer, suddenly desperate to catch just one glimpse
of her.  He broke into a run.  Just the sight of the light in her hair
would be enough.  She didn't have to see him.  It would be all right if
she didn't see him.

	He slowed as he reached the entrance to the Great Hall.  Briana
had disappeared inside.  There was no way he could find her without being
seen.  Dispair was a crushing weight on his lungs, leaving him gasping for
breath far beyond the exertion of the brief sprint.  He lingered just
beyond the light of the dancers, wrestling with need and frustration.

	He didn't see the tiny figure barrel out of the Great Hall.  The
collision knocked him back a step from the sheer velocity, knocking the
breath out of him.  He reached out reflexively, choking on his outcry.
His hands grappled with a soft, female figure.  No, it couldn't be.  She
wasn't to see him!  He had sworn never to be in her way....

	Then, in the shadows, she looked up.  R'mar was lost in the depths
of crystal blue eyes.  

	"R'mar..." she whispered.  R'mar just stood there rigidly, unable
to move, unable to say anything.  Everything in his being wanted to make
the hurt in her eyes go away... protect her from all pain.

	Moonlight shimmered in her eyes as the tears spilled over at last,
streaming in little rivulets over the irregular scars that covered her
face.  R'mar felt tears welling in his own eyes, and he fought them
desperately.  He never cried.  

	Then she buried her face in his chest.  "Hold me!" she sobbed into
his riding vest.  "Don't leave me....  I need you...."

	As if a mechanical device triggered by her voice, R'mar's arms
engulfed her.  The sound of her sobs disappeared into his riding vest.
They stood that way in silence for a few long moments, in the shadows away
from the gaity of New Year.

	At last, R'mar's rumbling voice reached Briana's ears.  "Do you
release me from my vow?"

	"Your what?"  Briana's voice was weak, choked over sobs.

	"I gave you my word that I would stay out of your way.  Am I
released?"

	"Yes!  Yes!" she cried quickly.  "Just don't leave me alone."  She
buried herself deeper in his arms, shaking violently.

	He held her tighter.  "You never need to be alone if you don't
want it."  He picked her up then, her scant weight hardly requiring any
effort.  "May I?" he asked.  The respect in his voice was unlike anything
Briana had heard from other dragonriders.  There was something completely
safe about R'mar, a feeling that he held himself utterly under her
command.

	Briana only nodded weakly against his chest and surrendered
herself to him.

	R'mar called Talib, who left an earnest conversation with
Starleanna to return to the Green.  He carried her firmly in his arms as
he mounted.  They flew together to his apartment, high in the topmost tier
of the central Keldarran cliff.  He carried her inside, laid her on the
bed, and sat down beside her.  Briana was so wrapped in her tears and
despair that she barely noticed.

	R'mar waited silently as she cried the last of her tears, daring
to run his fingers through her close-cropped red hair.  They'd had to cut
it to keep it out of her injuries.  It was so much more like Akaya's now.

	<No,> he told himself firmly.  <This is not Akaya.  Akaya is
dead.>  He had failed to protect Akaya.  He looked down at her and swore
he would not fail this time.

	Suddenly, he was aware that the sobs had stopped.  Briana's
red-rimmed blue eyes were staring up at him in wonderment.  R'mar withdrew
his hand from her hair self-consciously, but he could not break their
locked gaze.

	"I will not leave you until you ask me," he said softly.

	"Why are you doing this?" she asked.

	R'mar shook his head.  "Because you need me."

	"But I'm--" she choked and stopped to regain her composure.  "I'm
ugly now.  Wynn kicked me out of the Wing.  I'm ugly and useless and...
and..."  She squeezed her eyes shut against the memory of S'brogh's
horrified face as he looked at her.

	She gasped as R'mar's hand squeezed her shoulder too tightly.  He
immediately loosened his grip, but the throbbing left behind could well
find itself a bruise in the morning.  "You are beautiful and graceful," he
said fiercely.  "I will love you through everything.  Forever."

[NRPG: Tag, Kat <EG>]
**********

	Evelle tapped Christalla's shoulder.  "We have to leave now," she
said regretfully.  "We have a big day tomorrow."

	"You're not staying till dawn to bring in the new Year?"
Christalla asked in surprise.  <Not now.  Don't take her away just yet.>

	Evelle shook her head.  "I'll need my energy tomorrow.  You know
that."

	Christalla sighed.  "I do know.  I'm just making excuses."  She
smiled.  "There's no point in saying I'll miss you."

	Evelle grinned.  "You'll make it just fine without me," she said.

	Christalla echoed the smile.  "Could you wait just a few more
minutes?  There's one thing I wanted to do and never took the time."

	Evelle blinked in surprise.  "Certainly.  So long as it doesn't
take too long."

	Christalla hugged her.  "Thank you.  I'll be right back."  She
hurried away to search for Wynn.  She found him in an intense conversation
with Darlea.  She slipped behind him and laid a hand on his arm.

	"What!"  Surprised, Wynn whirled around too fast, nearly losing
his balance.  "Christalla."

	"I have one last favor to ask you before you leave," Christalla
said, her eyes twinkling.

	Wynn nodded gravely.  "Anything."

	"May I have the last dance?"

	Wynn did a double-take.  "I don't understand."

	"A *dance*, Wynn," Christalla laughed.  "I didn't expect you to
forget so quickly."

	"Well..."  Wynn stammered.  "All right."

	Christalla took Wynn's arm and led the bewildered former
Wingleader onto the dance floor.  She drew his arms around her and pulled
him close.  Wynn reluctantly submitted to the intimacy.

	"I will miss you terribly," Christalla murmurred in his ear.
"You've been a reliable, trusted friend.  I don't have many of those."

	"I'm sorry to be leaving," Wynn admitted uncomfortably.  "But I go
where Evelle goes.  I can't be happy without her."

	"I know that.  I'd never ask you to stay.  But I *will* miss you."

	A moment of silence.  "I'll miss you, too."

	Christalla cuddled closer.  "You're not a bad lover, either."

	Wynn went rigid.  His voice held embarrassment and betrayal when
he spoke.  "Why--!"

	Christalla drew him to a corner of the dance floor and looked up
at him intently.  "You're about to leave, Wynn, and this has been standing
between us for a very long time now.  Far too long.  I trust you and care
about you.  Is desire such a terrible thing to share between friends?"

	Wynn's eyes dropped to the floor.  "I..."

	She stood on her toes and kissed him gently on the cheek.  "Let's
forgive ourselves, our Dragons, and each other.  I don't want you to leave
with that regret standing between us."

	Wynn forced his muscles to relax and smiled tiredly down at her.
"I will try," he said.  "I promise."

	She echoed his smile.  "Thank you."  Then she drew him close
again, and the dance was finished in companionable silence.  She hugged
him as they stepped off the floor and whispered again, "Thank you."

	Wynn laughed, but said nothing more.  He returned the hug, then
separated to rejoin Evelle for the last goodbyes.  The well-wishes were
intense, painful, and joyful.  Christalla hugged Evelle one last time, but
there was nothing more to say.  She waved as Malekith and Alicynth took
them away.  Only to their apartment.  The move was tomorrow, but
Christalla felt that another goodbye would be too much.

	As she was brushing away the last of the tears, she felt
M'ressan's arms snake around her from behind.  "How are you holding up,
lover?" he murmurred in her ear.

	"I'm just fine," she replied.

	"Glad to hear it.  You'll never guess who I found under a rock."

	Christalla turned to find herself facing Shaelesta.  Shae smiled
self-consciously, holding on to S'brogh's hand for support.

	"I finally convinced her to come back," S'brogh volunteered.  He
forced one of his companionable smiles.  He was clearly shaken by
something, and was glancing around the Great Hall for someone.

	"I was just suggesting that Shae and the other newly joined from
the last hatching should be assigned to Wings soon," M'ressan volunteered.
"I'm thinking of having a Wingleader meeting tomorrow to divvy up who
needs what.  Shae here has real promise."

	Christalla shook her head.  She knew M'ressan was seeking to cheer
up Shae, who was admittedly having a hard time of it, but he'd picked a
subject she couldn't help with.  "I'm sure you'll do what's right," she
said kindly.  "I don't know much about combat, myself.  I suppose I would
have if I'd known my parents, though.  My mother was a Flightleader, and
my father was her Flightsecond."

	Something flashed in the back of Shaelesta's eyes just then,
something that caught Christalla's attention.  But when she looked again,
she saw nothing.  "Yes," she added, searching for something to contribute,
"they were pretty well-known in their day.  Ristina and Chalnar."

	She didn't catch Shae's look of shock as she turned back to the
party.


Respectfully Submitted,

Susan Rati
Creator, DragonLands

NRPG: I was trying to come up with a good way to break this up, but I
didn't find any.  I hope you can handle the piecemeal post and all the
tags.