Please Just Take Them

Writers: Noli
Date Posted: 29th June 2025

Characters: N'tur, Arvania
Description: N'tur receives an unexpected thank-you for helping out a hold girl.
Location: Elsewhere on Pern
Date: month 9, day 14 of Turn 12

N'tur watched the female runnerbeast cantering around the crude roundpen carefully, searching for any sign of lingering lameness in the mare’s gait. She was running easily, her reach good and her footfalls even, with no hint of favoring the right hind leg that had still shown a trace of limp a sevenday ago. The muscles in her hindquarters rippled with each stride. Her tail flowed freely with no sign of clamping. Her ears were perked, outer one facing forward and inner trained on the encouraging voice that was coming from the center of the pen. There were no indicators of pain or distress in the runnerbeast.

The owner of the voice, a young girl of around 16 Turns, called gently for a halt. The mare obliged, head swinging towards the girl. The girl approached, giving the mare an affectionate pat and a piece of redfruit from her pocket. Then she looked hopefully to where N'tur was leaning casually on the fence.

“She looks good,” he called as he swung between the rails and approached the pair. “I think she's ready to accept a rider again whenever you want.” Stopping at the runner's shoulder, he kept soothing hands on her side and spoke softly as he made his way back to the previously offending rear appendage. Sliding his hand down, he gave the hock a gentle squeeze, and was satisfied when the mare didn't flinch from the pressure. He straightened and smiled across the beast’s back to her owner.

“Thank you, N'tur. I can't tell you how much I appreciate your help,” The girl was beaming, eyes bright. “I really was so worried that she wouldn't heal up completely. Thank you. You're amazing, truly.”

“Of course, Vay. Don't even mention it.” N'tur tried not to blush at her enthusiasm and praise. As he watched the girl lead her runnerbeast out the makeshift gate to the long low caves that served as a stable, he thought back over the previous month and the visits he had made to his current location over it.

When he had first happened upon the tiny cothold, it had been entirely by accident. He and Graileth had been on one of their regular restday excursions, exploring a previously unknown-to-them section of beach along the western side of the southern continent, in what they assumed to be an uninhabited region below the last major peninsula proximal to Vista Point Weyr. They were cruising at a low altitude just enjoying the view when suddenly, Graileth had turned his massive head inland and told N'tur, }: We are needed.:{

As man and dragon had adjusted their course to track south, N'tur caught sight of the problem Graileth had sensed: a bay runnerbeast, hind leg caught firmly in a tangle of thorned vines, and a young girl at her head trying desperately to keep the animal from thrashing.

**Stay downwind, old boy. Put me down far enough away that the runner doesn't detect you,** N'tur warned his brown. Hurt runnerbeasts, no matter how well-trained, were always terrified of dragons. N'tur did not want the beast trampling her rider in a fear-crazed rear if it spotted Graileth.

After dismounting, he had approached and asked the girl if he could assist her. Though she had looked suspicious, she had accepted the offer, as she could not both hold the mare’s head and cut the vines that entrapped her leg simultaneously. N'tur, beasthealer training kicking in, had gently and efficiently done the latter as the white-eyed runner had strained to watch him, her flanks quivering with pain and nervousness.

When the mare was finally free, she had leapt forward, her rider quickly stepping sideways and using gentle pressure on the rope halter to swing the beast around and check any plans of another headlong flight. The injury to the rear leg was obvious. The girl's suspicion gradually faded from her expression as the brownrider helped her calm the terrified animal with soft touches and gentle croons.

By the time N'tur had assisted the girl with getting the runnerbeast back to the stable, the single click taking nearly a candlemark due to the slow pace and frequent rests that the mare’s lameness necessitated, they were chatting like old friends.

“I've got some numbweed, but I'm worried about infection,” the girl (who had revealed her name to be Arvaynia, or Vay for short) said worriedly.

“Once she's settled in, I'll take Graileth to fetch some redwort from the Weyr,” N'tur promised. The gratitude in the look that Vay had shot him was almost palpable.

Over the next four sevendays, N'tur had returned several times, bringing supplies and checking on the mare's healing progress. Vay had insisted that her father, recently widowed and struggling to bring in sufficient marks to feed his family of six children, would never authorize a real beasthealer to care for the runnerbeast's treatment. So N'tur had reached back on his previous experience as a beasthealer apprentice and combined it with dragonhealing wound management knowledge to assist as best he could.

Now, as Vay returned to the roundpen, he was grateful it appeared to have been enough.

“I'm very glad she's healed up so nicely. You did a great job caring for her, Vay.” N'tur reached out, a final jar of soothing ointment in his hand. “I'd keep rubbing it down after each exercise routine for the next sevenday, especially after you start riding again. Just to ensure the strain from the weight doesn't cause any reemerging pain.”

Vay accepted the jar gratefully. “I don't know how to thank you. I couldn't imagine not being able to ride her again. It's the only time I feel close to Ma.” And the girl's eyes misted slightly, remembering the candlemarks she and her now-deceased mother had spent training and working the young runner before she had passed.

“I'm happy to have been able to help,” N’tur answered honestly. “I miss working with runners. So it was a mutually beneficial arrangement.” And he gave Vay a quick, gentle hug.

“Well. I know you said you didn't want anything by way of payment,” and the girl beckoned for him to follow her the short distance to the hold proper, “But I have something for you.” And before N'tur could protest, she disappeared inside.

When she re-emerged, she was holding a thick bundle. It appeared to be a heavy wild feline fur, rudely tanned but thick, and inside was a simple clay jar that was almost too hot to touch. N'tur looked at her questioning.

“I found them yesterday. They've still got awhile to hatch.” Vay said shyly, offering the bundle to N'tur.

“Flit eggs?” N'tur made the connection, and quickly stepped back, his hands raised in protest. “Vay, I can't take those. Your Da can sell them, you'll get plenty of marks for them.” His conscience wouldn't allow him to take food from this struggling family.

“N'tur, please, you have to take them. It was a clutch of twelve, and I'm pretty sure it was a gold. I kept the largest seven to give to Da. But I _need_ you to take these. I can't…” her voice trailed off, and N'tur could see the tears threatening to return. “I have to give you something. For Ma. Please.”

Slowly, hesitantly, N'tur accepted the gift. He could feel the heat of the jar through the fur. Searching Vay's upturned face with questioning eyes, N'tur realized that the kindest thing he could do was to take the eggs. “Thank you, Vay. It means a lot. I'll treasure them.” And from her brilliant smile, N'tur knew he had done the right thing.

Last updated on the July 15th 2025

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Please Just Take Them