Awl that Hide [Rii]

An unassuming smile graced Sebol’s mouth at the clucks he heard above him from where he sat—bent over—at work. He looked up expecting to find Xiro’el attempting to cue Requias into trodding on him, but instead his eyes encountered and swept across a lanky man who was probably just shy of Sebol in height. The smile on his face did not betray his mild disappointment—new people were always fun: His eyes caught the Herder knot on the newcomer's shoulder and he fought down a knowing smile. Certainly he wouldn’t be seeking out the stables so early in his visit otherwise, correct?

The man’s accent gave away his Craft all the more, and Sebol found himself easily slipping back into his own Ruathan Beasthold lilt. “Beautiful indeed, aye” of course there were many days like that here at Dalibor, and the man would discover this all on his own as time passed by, but better to assure him now that it was simply beautiful and not an exceptionally strange day. An’ aye, ‘s harness fer a dragon. Ridin’ straps.” He returned his eyes to the task at hand, determined to finish this last line of holes before being distracted by the possibility of meeting new acquaintances.

Once finished and he had set the awl aside the man offered his hand and his name, both of which Sebol accepted: One with his firm hand to match, and the other with words. “Sebolaren of Ruatha—now Dalibor—Dragon Candidate, ye kin call me Sebol er Seb. Fresh from Beastcrafthall Keroon I wager?”

“Ye’ll be well received inna stables. Plenty o’ Herderfolk, not so many ranked. Glad ye could get th’ wanderlust out by commin here.” better than some other methods of shaking travel dust onto ones boots—such as disappearing during Fall once your dragon was well fledged. Ah well, that was neither here nor there, was it? “Well met indeed, Alennar, an I thank ye kindly: We do take pride in our runnerflesh—and our Dragonriders, as you point out,” the warm smile on his face was genuine and he stood to lay the extra straps across Requias’ flank for measurement.

“Innit much, I only know o’ th’ strapwork from messing about with harnesses. I have a special set o’ take for Requias here, as she’s so well trained, but thas ‘bout as experienced I am with the hides. I figgird t’ get a head start on Weyrlin’ lessons, once I Impress.” He listened to the man’s question as he patted the grey mare appreciatively.

“Unfortunately not, s’my dream t’ train me own Ruathan colt one day, but she’s just a loaner. Great mare, well trained. Dinna figgir it’d be fair t’ bring a new colt here only t’ Impress an’ be busy with me dragon.”

Sebol stared at his own work critically before turning hopeful eyes on the man. “Ye think? Any help ye can be is certain appreciated. I’ll watch th’ joins more close-like. Make sure they’s tight. Wouldn’t want t’ fall off’a me dragon.” A smile lit up his face and he pulled a long strap from around the mare to study the joint in his hands. It would need another layer of stitching, and another layer of hide. Always a chance it could pull apart.

His eyes returned to Alennar as the man spoke, nodding with agreement—he’d have his colt someday as well, when there was time enough to train him right. If anyone knew anything about determination, and work, it was Sebolaren—he could not only see the man’s point of view, but meet it. Perhaps they could train their colts together someday. His eyes lit up at the mention of the mare and he nodded.

“We must go ridin’ o’course. Not many I know ride, an’ most that do have dragons o’ their own. I’d be much pleased t’ meet her acquaintance. Requias could do with the company a’swell.” So this man would be quite valuable as a friend. Fellow Herder to discuss all the animal birthings and unfortunate euthanasia, and a man to ride with.

Sebolaren studied the man carefully as he explained how his straps could be better made and stronger; every hand movement and word was dutifully memorized into little images he could call forth into his mind the next time he needed to recall them: Whether it was to repeat the information, impart it to someone else, or put it to good use. How lucky this Keroonian had come along now of all days; now when he had so many harnesses out for the showing: Both to coax information from him, and to relax him into speaking freely.

He gave the man a bright appreciative smile, “aye, I kin see ye be a good learner as teacher; ye picked up quite o’ bit o’ knowledge I wouldnna mind learnin’ meself when ye have time. O’course I’m sure ye’ll be as busy as Candidates are. Which is t’say only as busy as ye let the work pile up. I tend t’ work fast on me chores. This,” and he waved out to include all of the leather, tools, and where he had been sitting. “All this be private stuff, self-improvin’. This’ll be me second time Standing, an’ I wanna make a better Impression so t’ speak, be better’n happier fer it. So’s I been workin’ hard on all sorts. Scribin’, an Draftin’, and learning t’ knife fight. Hunting shipfish, his smile turned into a mischievious grin. “Awright so mebby t’innit all fer self-improvement, but s’all interestin’.”

He began plucking the harnesses from Requias as he answered the man’s final question, “Have time mos’ evenings, an even now iffin ye be settled enough t’ set out, but can be anytime. Mos’ a’ my chores is in the stables for the birthin’s an just reg’lar handlin’ cause I got so much experience. Plus they kicked me out o’ the kitchens fer bein clumsy and undoin’ most their werk.”

“Know ‘xactly what ye mean, was as lost as a headless wherry when I arrived ‘ere. Still learnin’ but I can impart a bunch o’ what ye’ll need t’start straight off with. People here is more affable than ye’d expect, but I s’pose sharin’ yer mind with a dragon does that.” He grinned well naturedly and then returned the shoulder clap good naturedly—he was honestly feeling more at home with this man than he had in a good while, like a bit of the Ruathan field had stepped into Dalibor and settled down at his feet.

”Plenny t’ see here, I promise!” Once the man walked around the stable Sebol slipped the quick-release on Requias and tossed the line over her neck, chirruping to her; she fell in behind him at a lazy amble; the straps that had been across her body slinging over his shoulder. They seemed to move well. They should all sit a dragonet without fear of chafing. Once they were in the stable proper Sebolaren’s eyes focused on the bay mare. Healthy and strong; he appreciated any man who took care of their beasts—and didn’t spoil them rotten.

”She’s a beaut! Easy t’ sit?” He pulled Requias’ pad and cinchstrap down from her stall door and tacked her quickly, slipping the bitline over her lower jaw and releasing the halter from her head. That done he ground tethered her and took to watching the Keroonian and his mare.

”None taken, o’course—I felt a’like a wherry m’self t’be honest. Uprooted from me life.” His eyes followed the Keroonians with interest as he took down those supple work-ready straps. He’d learn anything from anyone as long as the person showed themselves to be in the knowing of what they taught. It was easy to see that Beastcraft was part of this man’s life as much as the leatherworking: Which pleased Sebolaren to no end.

For the man’s vocal appreciation of his mare, Sebolaren gave him a bright smile—what man proud of his beasts not speak so well of them. He did not doubt her skills over land or field, and in fact looked forward to seeing how she handled himself. Of course he wouldn’t hesitate to speak well of Requias, but somewhere deep inside he still yearned for one to call his own—who he could raise under his own hand, and his own commands.

“Requias belongs t’ a Rider indeed, an I’ve ne’er tried ‘er speed—Imma mite cautious wit’ ‘er, what wit ‘er not bein’ mine an’ all. She’s certain agile an’ far too intelligent fer ‘er own good. Been out plenny ‘o times overnight an’ she’s no werse fer wear. Saved me inna storm as well, from a fallin’ branch. More lik’in a canine than a runner. “ It was true too, she’d ground tie, and guard, and follow him like a proper mutt—and she’d already shown her violent reaction to what she assumed was an attempt to dismount her rider. “Always ready t’ ride,” his smile was bright and he turned back to his grey mare and took up the bitline then ushering her out into the bowl with a soft word.

”Some o’ them have a wild streak yea wide” he spread his palms to capture the sky itself with a silly smile on his face—it was entirely true as well. You could have the most well-mannered beast in all of Pern, but if she got it into her head to play a trick, she would. Luckily Requias seemed to lack the care for jokes and obstinance—he believed she loved serving her rider the most of any work she would do.

He followed the Keroonian’s lead in mounting; though he did not bother to bid his mare stop: Instead he wound his hands deeply into her mane and then hopped once—once and then he bounded to her back like a great feline. His long legs sought the small hollow behind her shoulders, and his calves fit snugly there: Catching him to her body as if they were one. He flashed a bright grin for the man who rode beside him, and then did take the lead—angling them toward the Southern Weyr exit, where those large stone walls stretched away to verdant jungle and sandy beaches. Beyond that the ocean and Western Continent.

”Ne’re can convince some people o’ that. Requias here works as fast as any canine.” He eyed the man with speculation, and then flashed another brilliant smile. “Y’know, been spending much time down ‘pon the beaches a’lookin fer shipfish—mayhap we’ll find some today?” He dropped his seat onto the grey mare’s back and she reacted immediately, arching her neck and prancing with a fire that had come upon her suddenly: She was ready to stretch her legs a little. Sebolaren had not been lying; he had never let her fly loose—but a healthy canter wouldn’t harm her.

Requias lead the way; but only slightly—she enjoyed the company of another runner—being that mostly she was escorted out by dragonets who were tempted to eat her. Those same-said dragonets had grown much larger over the moons and, well; she lacked for company of the ungulate kind. Sebol’s seat was light and he rocked with her, not allowing his delicate areas to bounce uncomfortably off of her back—as much as he loved the easy sway to his hips that accompanied any three-beat.

”Funny tis, we’ve n’er seen a one. Been lookin’ for ‘em—prolly close t’ two seasons now.” He wasn’t exactly sure where the hang-up was with these shipfish; apparently they had to exist—Dolphincrafthall was across the way at Crescent: but they certainly eluded the efforts of himself and his trusty troupe of Weyrlings to find them. ”N’er spent much time inna ocean either; bein’ from Ruatha—but I has friends as what teach me how t’ swim in those rougher waves. Wont like t’get swept out t’sea. Though p’haps then the Shipfish would save me.”

As far as he had heard, they weren’t even supposed to be called ‘shipfish’; that being the uneducated term used by people who couldn’t tell a dolphin from a dragon—but he liked the word. He imagined them leaping alongside a vessel that he himself Captain’d and…well…it was glorious. ”Bunch o’ the Weyrlin’s who Impressed at th’ hatching I didn’t. So’s I knew a good bit o’ them previously.”

He laughed jovially as the man talked; having never actually considered a way to call them. ”Thas’ settled then, ‘ave t’ send me Traderman t’ get us a bell. We kin ring it o’er th’ water strapped t’ one o’ th’ dragonets’s necks.” Seemed like a perfectly acceptable idea to him! He pressed his calf in along Requias’ side and she curved around a tree that might have otherwise scraped him; she would never mean to hurt him—but runnerbeasts weren’t all that great with depth perception and knowing their own size: They couldn’t tack on additional width for their riders.

”T’ be true; they’d miss me at th’ stables—might kill me twice fer bein’ so dim!” Certainly Atenna would, leave her with all the foaling and none of the company; poor love would probably destroy herself with tension and anxiety. Luckily for everyone involved he was far too smart a man to go swimming in the ocean—unlike Xiro’el, he knew that it was no safe place for man. No fins, no thick skin: At least a’dragonback they had membranous wings to keep them aloft. Silly Seacrafters.

”Aye, ‘m hopin it helps t’ get me own, yanno, with th’ experience should be easy fer me t’ care fer him. An aye! More interestin’ than ye’d figger. Th’ dragons’ll ‘ave their personalities. Loud er fun an’ dangerous. Good group t’ get mixed in with” At least it was for him, certainly the Keroonian wouldn’t have much a reason to be traipsing off with dragonhandlers. Maybe though. Perhaps he was less rigid than Tytallen.

”I’m sure would be, not e’eryday they get t’ see a shipfish, we been searchin’ so long, bout forgot what it is we be lookin’ fer anyway.” Wasn’t that the truth? Somehow he had expected shipfish to roam the ocean waters in abundance, yet there had been no sign of one. Of course none of the dragonets would mind the bell—although they might try to eat it, and Tigreath might try to catch it from a great height…perhaps it was best to involve them not at all.

”Act’ly they seem t’be quite happy wit ‘em. Req here’s been out often wit the weyrlings—one o’em even wanted t’ eat ‘er up, not a flinch. But they’s raised in tighter quarters ‘ere than mos’ other Weyrs, what with the island an all. I s’pose it depens on th’ time. Req ‘as been 'round dragons ‘er whole life.” Thank goodness for that as well, else he’d have lost her long ago to a broken leg in her haste to flight from Tigs or Agnith or even Prith, but now—she seemed steadfast, even when in caves with giant lizards.

"O'course, they love t' meet new people." To be truthful, Sebolaren wasn’t entirely certain about introducing his current group of cohorts to the Herderman; having come fresh from Ruatha—there were many things he learned about being a Dragonrider only from his classes, and his friends, and a lot of it wouldn’t be understandable until he Impressed. Not that there weren’t plenty of Weyrfolk who had Dragonmen for friends, but it could cause conflicts. Still—he couldn’t deny anyone admittance to another person; he’d just have to trust all of them to make judgment calls and help the Keroonian understand the way of the Dragonrider’s of Pern.

He nodded and then gave a bright smile, ”G’dan’s Green Prith is as calm as dragons come, especially concerning Weyrlings; that might be one of the better places to start; the Green played guard duty for Requias once.” Far better an idea than Tigreath who would simply want to eat the beast, or even Agnith who would do her best to be Kaydi’s friend—regardless of whether prey animals should be chattered to by large predators.

For a moment, when they broke onto the beach, all Sebol could do was take in the beauty of the world around him. The beauty of the day light across the wide expanse of blue ocean, the lapping of the white-foamed waves upon the white beaches that appeared so pristine. He settled his seat into the grey mare’s back and brought her to a skidding halt, she responded daintily; her hind legs slipped beneath her to bear her weight even as her fore-hooves gained a distance from the sandy soil. He signaled her to swing those limbs sideways and did so, returning them to terra only once she had shifted sideways—giving Sebolaren a much-sought view devoid of the familiarity of her ears.

Aye, never know when a storm’ll brew up.” Sea weather was fickle as a weanling.