Lori and M'tan were stablized in the Medical Center, and Elswyth
was given a cot to rest and recover.  She, at least, seemed to have no
greater problem than tremendous fatigue.  The Healers did not ask what
caused the problems they were treating.  Their job was to mend the body. 
Let the Queenriders deal with the rest. 

	When he was certain that everything was stablized, Kyven's
thoughts returned to Reetsada.  He'd been pulled from their conversation
all too quickly, and he wanted... *needed* to get back to her.  His
dedication to his field didn't ease the knot of uneasiness that told him
he could well have lost her now, because of the timing. 

	He strode out of the contagious diseases section toward the
waiting room, grabbing his coat as he passed and wrapping it around him. 
His face was set with fierce determination.  No!  He'd come this far with
Ree.  He would not be turned away now. 

	Mila stepped in his path as he approached the main door.  "And 
where might you be going?" she demanded.

	"Home," Kyven retorted, fatigue making him short of temper.  "I've
been up half the night and I'm tired.  Where else?" 

	Mila shook her head.  "Haven't you noticed *anything*?  You're not 
going anywhere."

	"What are you talking about?"

	With an exasperated smile, Mila pulled on his arm, drawing him to 
the window.  "Come, take a look.  *No one* is going anywhere."

	Outside was a whirl of grey and white.  It was impossible to tell
where the windswept snow ended and the white piled landscape began. 
Visibility too low for a Human to find his way home without help.  Wind
too strong for a Dragon to fly steadily, and a teleport was out of the
question. 

	"Did you wonder why no one showed up here after Michel?" Mila
commented.  "I don't know how the poor dear made it out here through the
weather, and it wasn't this bad then.  He was half-dead from cold and
fright when he was found.  He loves his girl very much." 

	"You've got to be kidding," Kyven breathed.  He reached out to 
Aethnod, only to receive the same grim acknowledgement.

	Mila patted his arm comfortingly.  "You should probably put a
blanket or two down on the sofa in your office," she suggested.  "We're
all here for the night now." 

	Kyven looked out dispairingly into the formless grey.  Ree... 
this couldn't be happening to him.  Not now.  In answer, the vicious
winter wind screamed around the building, uncaring.  The sound was muted
by the Med Center's solid, sealed structure, but it sent a chill through 
him nonetheless.

	...The sound of the wind was much more terrifying in M'tan's old
apartment.  There, a green Dragon curled up alone against the cold, and
beyond a red-haired Human paced back and forth, back and forth,
tirelessly, the lamplight making monsters of her shadow. 

**********

	Somewhere in the night, the banshee wind's shrieking slowed and
ceased.  The morning dawned crisp and clear and cheerful, almost laughing
at the fury it succeeded.  As the sun rose, the reflections off the
new-fallen snow was nearly blinding. 

	The Medical Center rose groggily and began some semblance of their
usual morning routine.  The staff peered out the windows to exclaim in
amazement or disgust at the discovery most windows had been snowed over. 
Outside, the snow was at least 3 feet deep, and drifting against the walls
of the stone building.  No one was going home yet.  There would be Dragon
cleanup crews assembled in the morning to melt everything out, but they 
couldn't be expected to make it this far before afternoon.

	Kyven finally fell asleep near dawn and tossed fitfully on his
office couch late into the morning.  Mila checked on him regularly as she
made the rounds in his place.  He was overstressed, she told herself.  
The extra rest would do him good.

	She was walking past the entranceway toward the contagious
diseases section when she heard a muted pounding on the door.  She halted,
listening curiously.  "There shouldn't be anyone out here," she murmurred
aloud.  The knocking answered her, louder this time, insistent. 

	Mila shook her head.  "Well, it can't exactly be the wind," she
concluded.  She strode toward the main door, which had been bolted against
the raging winds of the storm, and unlocked it.  As she swung the large 
door open, a Human figure nearly fell inside.

	"What on Earth...!" Mila exclaimed.  "Aleta??"

	"I was afraid no one would hear me," Aleta panted, pulling her
unkempt red hair out of her eyes.  "Melianth told me that Aethnod didn't 
want to wake Kyven...."

	"Come in out of the cold dear," Mila crooned.  "You look a positive
wreck."  The older Healer looked out of the door to find the snow had been
melted away.  Melianth stood beyond, breathing on the nearby snow to melt
it.  The green Dragon turned concerned brown eyes on Mila, who nodded
respectfully and closed the door. "You're hardly needed here right now,
with Kyven and myself, you know." 

	"I'm not here to help," Aleta corrected, annoyed.  "I'm here to 
see M'tan."

	"Oh!  I thought you two weren't together anymore," Mila said, 
genuinely surprised.  "He's fine, though.  You didn't have to--"

	"Where *is* he?" Aleta demanded impatiently.  Mila had always
gotten on her nerves. 

	"Room 9, Contagious, but you can't see him.  He's sleeping.  I 
left him-- Aleta!" 

	The Wingleader-Healer was already gone, running down the coridoor. 
Mila followed for a few paces, then gave up.  Aleta was a Healer.  She
wouldn't do anything to harm a patient.  Mila just wished she'd do things
more by the book, for Heaven's Sake.  How was a body to know what was 
going on?

	Aleta couldn't even remember how tired she was.  From the moment
Melianth had told her M'tan was injured, all she could think about was
losing him... without having a chance to tell him...  She ran though the
halls, trying desperately to save time.  Every moment seemed another
chance for him to slip away from her forever. 

	She burst into room 9, breathless, and halted cold.  M'tan and
Almiron slept on the cot, wrapped in each other's arms, innocently unaware
of the world.  The picture was peaceful, tender, and it served to solidify
in Aleta's mind what she had to say.

	But what if he laughed at her?  What if he truly didn't love her 
anymore? 

	Would she feel better if she said nothing??

	Aleta shook her head against her fear.  After all, she had 
nothing to lose.  She closed the door to the room behind her and stepped 
forward, gently shaking his shoulder.  "M'tan," she murmurred, "wake up."

	M'tan stirred slowly.  "Almiron... I..."  Then his eyes snapped
open.  "Aleta!"  Suddenly aware of his incriminating position, he
widthdrew.  Almiron awoke unpleasantly. 

	"Aleta!" the younger man echoed, eyes wide.  "I am sorry.  This is
not..." 

	"It's all right," Aleta almost laughed, raising a hand to calm
them.  "I'm sorry to wake you.  I just needed to talk to you, before
anything else has a chance to happen.  I tried to come last night when
Melianth told me, but the storm was so severe..." 

	"How is Benna?" M'tan asked suddenly.  His face was pale from the 
loss of blood, but his eyes were intent. 

	"She's fine.  Aylin was keeping her when the storm hit.  Melianth 
checked with Shatavari this morning, and she's pretty sure everything is 
fine."

	"Pretty *sure*?"

	Aleta grimaced.  "Shatavari isn't the easiest Dragon to
communicate with, but Melianth is fairly sure." 

	M'tan pulled away from Almiron and tried to sit up.  "Aleta, I-"

	"No, M'tan please," she pleaded.  "Please hear me out this once.  
I have a lot to say, and I don't know how much time I have to say it."

	M'tan seemed to deflate.  "All right," he said quietly.  "I'm
listening." 

	Almiron squirmed the rest of the way from M'tan and started to
stand up.  "You two need privacy," he said uncomfortably.  "I will leave
you now." 

	"No, I want you here," Aleta said firmly.  "This concerns you too. 
I don't want *any* more confusion or misunderstanding."  He voice was
fierce, ever a little bitter.  Caught by the force of her emotion, Almiron
sank to a sitting position on the cot beside M'tan. 

	Aleta felt both pairs of eyes on her, waiting, and took a deep
breath to calm herself.  The she turned and paced across the room, not
quite looked at either of them.  "M'tan," she said, "you asked in
Autumn... when you left me... why we had become mates in the first place. 
You thought that if some other Dragon had won Melianth, our relationship
would never have happened."

	She looked back to them, her eyes suddenly vulnerable and very
feminine.  "You have it all wrong, and I guess it's all my fault that you
thought that way.  M'tan... I watched you training on the Green with the
hatchling when I was 16.  I loved you then, but I barely dared to speak to
you.  I didn't know how to make you notice me or how to express my
feelings.  You don't know how many evenings I was at the Dining Hall one
table away, just watching you.  When I finally joined and they gave me my
choice of Wings, I requested Alpha not for Res, but because you were
there.  Then we somehow managed to end up as wingmen and I knew you cared
for me, but it was only as a friend." 

	She stopped, taking a breath.  Her eyes rimmed red with suddenly
suppressed tears.  "When Zareth won Melianth, it was the first chance I
had to make you see me as a woman.  I didn't know how to do it.  I kept
expecting you to turn me away, but you didn't.  I couldn't believe you
really agreed to be my mate.  M'tan, I didn't want you because of the
mating flight.  I thought you could want *me* because of it!" 

	She met his eyes then, and turned away quickly, fighting emotion. 
M'tan just stared in numb astonishment.  "Aleta..." he whispered, "I never
knew..." 

	Aleta recovered her composure and pushed on as if she hadn't heard
him.  "I was a fool," she said viciously, turning the knife of her words
against herself.  "I was afraid to say anything, and assumed that if you
were concerned about anything you'd ask me....  I don't know how you feel
about me now, but if there's any chance you love me still, I want to make
good on all the things I didn't tell you." 

	He hadn't asked her.  All this time he'd just believed, and never
once had he *asked*... 

	Almiron shivered uncomfortably.  "Are you sure you want me here 
to listen to this?" he asked.

	Aleta nodded solemnly.  "There's more," she replied.  "Ever since
Darshan won Melianth, I've been watching you.  You're a wonderful, geniune
person.  I think that's why I never saw the feelings growing between you
and M'tan all this time.  I was too busy wrestling with my own attraction
toward you, one that wouldn't go away." 

	Flabbergasted, Almiron opened his mouth to say something, but she
waved him to silence.  "I'm only a woman," she said, her mouth twisted
with self-depricating irony.  "I can't satisfy any desires M'tan has for
another man.  If M'tan for any reason is willing to take me back, I won't
stand in the way of his relationship with you. 

	"And, if both of you will have me, I would rather it be a triad." 


Respectfully Submitted,

Susan Rati
Administrator, DragonLands

NRPG: Remember that Aleta and M'tan both have no clue that Almiron's gone 
back to Darlea... :>

I have every intention of writing some less fluffy DragonLands stuff to
get the plots rolling again, but this had to go out before Lyn and Kris
wrote me into a corner <G>.  I'm finishing up some posts for a couple of
other units that are holding on me, but I should be able to get back to DL
soon. 

|echo@indy.net : Interactive-Writing Roleplay Masochist, Babylon 5 Fanatic|
| Administrator, DragonLands RPG <http://www.indy.net/~echo/dlands.html>  |
|Asst Director, XFiles RPG <http://www.linux.sfasu.edu/xfiles/xfrpg.html> |
| "May God stand between you and harm in all the empty places where you   |
                must walk."  - Old Egyptian Blessing