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Grains of Fear, Wings of Fate

Writers: KC
Date Posted: 12th September 2025

Characters: K'daen
Description: Jossenth’s clutch hatches
Location: Dolphin Cove Weyr
Date: month 10, day 15 of Turn 12


Notes:

~*~

Kaedin had been listening to the rain since before dawn, counting beats against the stone like a metronome to keep his chest from tightening. Warm, steady, endless; it should’ve soothed him. It almost did. Then, beneath the patter, the other sound began; soft at first, then rising through the Weyr’s bones until it was in his teeth: the tell-tale hum.

His hands went cold.

Kaedin stood very still in the dim of his quarters, staring at the neatly folded Candidate whites waiting on the chair. The first tremor shivered through his fingers and, before the edges could close in, he reached for the pouch. The drawstring rasped; cool grains slid against his palm"older than any one Hatching, gathered piece by piece, Hatching after Hatching. He squeezed until his knuckles ached, until the breath he pulled in actually reached the bottom of his lungs.

“In"two"three"four. Out"two"three"four.”

The hum swelled. His pulse steadied. He tucked the pouch beneath his shirt, against his sternum where the weight could remind him he could endure this, too, then pulled on the uniform with careful, practiced motions. Wash. Boots. Knot straight. One last breath at the threshold, and he went to the Sands.

---

The heat comes up through Kaedin’s boots like it always does, like it did last time and the time before that, until the hum and the rain and the crowd all smear into one steady throb at the back of his skull. Another green goes barreling past into someone’s arms. A blue collides, then croons apologies to his. Names bloom like fireworks around him from the mouths of new wyerlings - Hallisenth, Mdorith, Yemorth, Dovannath, Akariath - each one a tug in his ribs that feels a little too much like being left behind.

He keeps breathing slow in, slower out; but the air sticks anyway. He can feel the shape of the old thought forming, mean and familiar: Not this time. Not you. Not ever. He fixes his eyes on a crackled eggshell instead of the hope in anyone else’s face.

Something heavy and dark moves to his left. A bronze shakes himself free. A brown brushes him and goes, and Kaedin tells himself to look anywhere but there, to move, to be useful if someone stumbles, anything to keep the edges of panic from closing in...

}: This is getting frustrating, Kaedin. :{ The voice arrives like the first good rain after drought, dry humor sliding over warm certainty. The big brown is suddenly there, really there, eyes whirling straight into him. }: My name is Zarenth, I know you’ll help, won’t you? Just until my wings dry. Then I’ll be fine! :{

The world narrows to one point. The panic breaks like surf on rock. The pressure that had been threatening his chest snapped and for the first time in a long time Kaedin felt actual relief.

Kaedin dropped to his knees before he knew he’d moved, hands coming up with a dragonhealer’s reflex and a believer’s reverence. “Zarenth,” he said, his voice only slightly shaking. He pressed his forehead to damp, warm muzzle and laughs - half-sob, half-joy- because of course the brown sounds annoyed at being kept waiting. “I’ve got you. I’m here.”

Hunger rushed across the new bond, bright and immediate; beneath it, the ache of drying wings and a dozen tiny discomforts his hands are suddenly desperate to fix. He runs a quick check along a sticky wingsail edge, intact, then rises, one hand still steadied at Zarenth’s jaw as if he’s done this all his life. “Food first,” he promised, a grin breaking through like sunlight after storm. “Then we’ll sort the rest.”

Zarenth leaned in, possessive and pleased, and the Sands hot, humming, endless, become just another path they would walk together.

Last updated on the September 18th 2025


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All references to worlds and characters based on Anne McCaffrey's fiction are © Anne McCaffrey 1967, 2013, all rights reserved, and used by permission of the author. The Dragonriders of Pern© is registered U.S. Patent and Trademark Office, by Anne McCaffrey, used here with permission. Use or reproduction without a license is strictly prohibited.