Lost and Found (Muta and.... others?)

[reqqy]

"I honestly don't know. But if she's still in a foul temper, yes, it will scare him." That pretty much decided it for Mutasim. He knew there was a chance that Hepaticath wouldn't get pissy, but, even with Savitri's explanation, he still wasn't convinced that the gold just didn't like him because he was him. It would be a lie to say that he hadn't relented a little just because he didn't need Jabari to be in constant hysterics. No, better to convince the firelizard that he needed a nap...Too bad Hrorek wasn't around. That blue could always inspire Jabari's curiosity and give Mutasim a few moments of peace.

He didn't verbally note her discomfort, at least immediately. Though the young man was a tad worried. If her shoulder - or was it her chest - was bothering her and they were only about halfway through with this little trip, it would be getting extremely painful by the time they'd finished. It wasn't like a leg, either. He couldn't offer to help take some of the pain off of it. Not that he would have offered so much as just grabbed her and muttered something about her holding him up. Mutasim didn't help people. Ever. They seemed to like to follow him about like baby ducklings anyway, and he didn't need any more of that nonsense. His other concern was a little more pressing. Muta could take care of himself. Nor was he truly bleeding, no thanks to Jabari. But if Savitri started bleeding, those predators that Mutasim had been fortunate enough never to encounter might get curious. He could handle himself, but it would be ten times more difficult if he had to protect this girl as well.

Not that he'd admit it was protecting her that he was concerned with...

Mutasim snorted. "I'm interesting, huh? Heard that one before. Let me supply some other adjectives. This experience has been aggravating, unsavory, and generally you'd prefer to avoid repeats unless absolutely necessary." The young man practically skipped ahead, clearly pleased with his summary, and vanished behind the trunk of a tree. In a matter of moments he reemerged. Shaking loosened dirt from his arms, he carefully cleaned the whistle with the edge of his tunic, dampening it with the water he always carried in a flask at his hip. When he was satisfied, the candidate handed it back to her. "Should be just as you left it."

His eyes narrowed as he watched her carefully, watched her movement while she took back the object. "You're hurting," he finally said, without preamble. Mutasim had a tendency of being direct when he was actually serious. Which was, ironically, not so very often, despite his rather sullen disposition. "Is this going to be a problem?" The young man searched her eyes. He didn't know how bad off she was. He did know that he would not appreciate lugging the larger girl back to the weyr if she decided to faint on him. In all honesty, he probably outweighed her, though most wouldn't guess it. Nor was he incapable of lifting a fair amount of weight. But considering the distance? No, he'd much rather avoid the whole thing.

[kysseh]

Hepaticath was almost never in a 'foul temper'. This had been an extreme and the only show of such anger that Savitri had seen so far, though she could not seem to accurately explain that. "Not a foul temper. Just a healthy bit of caution. She is very protective of me and will keep a close eye on you until she's sure," she said in an attempt at clarification. It was a poor attempt, but it was the most logical and simple way of explaining it. The gold weyrling was simply possessively protective of Hers, to the point where she was hesitant to trust anyone with Savitri until she was satisfied that no harm was intended. Some she trusted immediately. Others she tended to be more cautious of.

She was startled at his abrupt summary of the experience and found it was not entirely accurate. Aggravating, yes. Interesting, yes. Unsavory.... well, not particularly. Other than his anger over the discussion about his absent friend, he had not been a complete chore to deal with. "Interesting and aggravating. Exasperating, a little. You've at least got sense, so I'd rather be stuck in a room with you than one of those idiot wherrybrains that I had to live with at the barracks," she replied honestly, frowning as he disappeared. Where had he gotten to?! She was momentarily alarmed that he had left, waiting for him to pop out somewhere and scream in an attempt to startle her, and then he reappeared.

And she smiled.

She was not sure where the dirt had come from, but the fact that he took the time to clean it before giving it back made her grateful. She extended her left hand to take it, letting out a quiet sigh of relief as she finally closed her hand around it and retracted the arm. Finally. Its carver was not among the most beloved people in her memories, but the whistle still meant a great deal. The time he had put into it was what mattered, and she had selfishly clung to the whistle, even after he had completely rejected her. Well, he would regret that now.

Savitri opened her mouth to thank him when he made a sudden statement about her state of wellbeing. She grimaced. "Yes. Wounds are a bit sore. Rowing that fast was a bad idea," she admitted, though she blamed herself far more than him. She had been the one to anger him, after all. She met his gaze with as much strength as she could muster. "No, I can make it back. I'm not going to be running, though." She felt no wetness or warmth, so she knew that the wound had not reopened. The fresh scar was just protesting quite loudly, and she was hating it for that. She had too much to do and could not afford the luxury of slowing down. "And no offense meant to your strength, but you could not carry me. I'm sure I'm heavier than you," she added, though she doubted he would be polite enough to offer that option. He did not seem like the type. Being injured and working as hard as she had with Hepaticath had probably taken a little bit of that extra weight off her, but she was still a bit taller and a little on the generous side of average.

[reqqy]

Although Muta raised a brow when Savitri contradicted him, he didn't otherwise react to her comment. There seemed no point in arguing about whether or not Hepaticath was in a 'foul' mood, after all. She either was or she wasn't. What remained true was the fact that Jabari was easily frightened of golds, and if her 'overprotectiveness' manifested in anything remotely like aggressive behavior, the candidate would have a nearly hysterical flit on his hands. He preferred not to go that direction if at all possible. It hurt him. Not in the way that claws or teeth or - well, all the other weapons used against him, organic or otherwise - hurt him, but in an emotional sense. Mutasim usually tucked his emotions away, but he and Jabari were connected, such that the brown didn't have to work to get at the emotions of His. He was already there.

She was just being nice. Or maybe she wasn't, which was worse, because the candidate wanted people to avoid him. Of course, he could always go about removing digits and other appendages. That should about do it. If he wanted to be exiled, that was. It had been interesting enough upon the higher-ups finding out about that kid's ear. Frankly, he was surprised he'd gone this long without doing something like that. Sure, he'd killed, both in self-defense and out of necessity, but neither of those were documented. Nor did he believe people would fault him if they were. Now this incident with the weyrbrat's ear? Yes, that was a matter of going street orphan on him. But Mutasim wasn't about to allow himself to get beaten bloody just because they didn't want him cutting things off idiots. The repercussions hadn't been altogether horrible. Yet.

Well, she confirmed what he already knew, which was just to say that Mutasim was now aware that she was willing to admit that much. How big of her. Muta didn't admit weakness. Well, that wasn't entirely true. He was just rather conniving when he did it. Not with Z'hin, whom he trusted, but with most everyone else, if he was admitting to a weakness? There was some sort of hidden agenda buried there somewhere.

Rowing. Well, he hadn't intended for her to join in. Even uninjured, most females would have been hardpressed to keep up. It wasn't that he had no respect for them - quite the contrary. Just another one of those male/female physical differences. Women's arms were not typically made to compete with men's. He smirked at her comment. She thought she was heavier than him just because she was bigger, huh? That seemed a rather misinformed assumption for a healer to make. Muscle tended to weigh more than other things, and Mutasim had plenty of it, even if it wasn't the bulky kind.

In another circumstance - and probably with a different person - he might have taken her comment as a challenge. The smirk in and of itself conveyed his opinion clearly enough, though, and he merely shrugged. She could believe as she wished. It was no skin off his back. "If you're all right, let's get moving. I'm sure you have other things to do today." Unvoiced was the fact that he had other things to do, though the implication was clear enough in the tone of his voice. Mutasim began to walk back in the direction they'd come, though something inspired him to keep his hands near his daggers. Intuition? Paranoia?

[kysseh]

His smirk was unnerving but the least of Savitri's concerns at the moment. She took the opportunity his silence provided to very gently prod at the wound that ran just a few inches below her right collarbone. Of course, that did put it in a slightly awkward location, but she was less than worried about his scrutiny. He could look all he wanted, frankly. With his attitude and her complete lack of that sort of attraction toward him, it was all the looking he would be getting. Besides, she was a bit more worried about how the wound was holding up, and her gentle, through-the-clothes investigation proved that the wound was not separating or bleeding or doing anything it should not... besides aching angrily in protest. Well, that was to be accepted.

Now his smirk was different, and she just gave him a look of worn-out patience. Yes, he could look smug and arrogant all he wanted, but he still could not carry her, if only because she would be dead weight to spite him for trying. She was perfectly capable of walking, and the exercise was good, though her chest was aching fiercely. Numbweed was most definitely in order. However, she had to get back to the weyr proper first, which meant being his tail again. Lovely. Staring at the back of his head was such an engaging view, after all.

Her back straightened a bit at his tone. Her little brothers used that tone when they were sour about being forced to do something against their will, so it was one she was well familiar with. Well, if he wanted to be that way, she would let him. To a degree, of course. "No, you just want to get rid of me, and I want to slather myself in numbweed," she corrected, moving along after him at as practical a pace as she could easily maintain, surprised that she was not more winded. Hepaticath must have her working far harder than she thought, which made her smile a bit. Silly little gold beast.

"Thank you," she added suddenly and a bit belatedly, sliding the prized and much sought-after whistle into a safe pocket. Shards, but it was good to have it back, even to going through all the effort to get it. She could have gone on about how she appreciated it, its value to her... but what was the point, really? He was disinterested in listening, and she would rather save her energy for walking. Besides, knowledge was power, and she was loathe to give the arrogant boy any leverage. Sure, he could have been far worse about it, but he was not the most pleasant of creatures. Not unpleasant but certainly not very pleasant... an interesting study. She noticed the drift of his hands and wondered, her green eyes narrowing a bit. What the shards was he up to? "What is it?"

[reqqy]

The candidate hardly noticed the girl touching herself, at least in any way that most red-blooded males would. He had been so desensitized to the concept of sex – and especially to nudity – that it would take a lot to bring that to mind. Not once had he ever had a desire – well, that wasn’t entirely true. Apparently wine made the young man capable of accessing the darkest part of himself, a part that would revel in visiting upon someone the same pain and horror he’d endured. But to consider that sexual was a bit off. It was more like dominance and malice. He hadn’t been thinking about breasts then, either.

Very, very good. She’d picked up on the tone that he hadn’t bothered to hide. Amazing how intelligent these weyrlings could be. Should he applaud her? Give her a medal? Oh, the possibilities! In the end, Mutasim settled for a cheeky grin and a shrug. It was truth, so what was he to say? Truly, he found her company rather refreshing. She wasn’t afraid of him, but neither did she follow him about like a lost pup, too stupid or naïve to realize that he was not someone she wanted around. Just the fact that he didn’t mind her as much as most of the others was enough to make him want to push her away, however. No more attachments. He’d learned his lesson. Even when they seemed capable of handling themselves, they weren’t. He was doomed to outlive everyone he befriended.

Surprised at her sudden thanks, a “Your welcome,” passed from between his lips before he could stop it. Sharding conditioning. Still, the uneasiness crowded him. When Savitri voiced her question, he merely shook his head, frowning. How was he supposed to explain to her that he really didn’t know what had him suddenly on edge. It was an instinct that was usually right. Nothing more. In all honesty, he had come to regard it as something that his subconscious had noted and was trying to tell him, but couldn’t quite break through that barrier, leaving only the uneasy feeling.

Very rarely did the feeling just pass.

“I don’t suppose you know how to use a dagger?” he asked her, voice soft. Not a whisper, but certainly not at the normal volume of his naturally quiet voice. It had deepened, too, which seemed rather impossible until it actually happened. That was one of his few traits, after all, that made it clear he’d at least hit puberty. The dirk slid from its sheathe at the small of his back silently. It was kind of hard to figure out how he’d managed to conceal a fourteen-inch-blade back there, but he must have, cause there it was in his hand, held turned against his wrist, the gleam of the metal hidden by the length of his arm. He continued walking at the same pace.

There was definitely something out there this time. He kept on hearing something, sensing something, but it was just at the edge of his range. He couldn’t discern what it was. They needed to keep on moving. If they reacted strangely, whatever it was might decide to make its move. Mutasim knew better than to think that, if something was stalking them, it would allow them to reach the river, though. The candidate was smaller, and he was hoping that would convince any predator to attack the apparently ‘weaker’ creature first. His blood thundered through his limbs. Strangely, he found he liked the familiar sensation.

[kysseh]

Savitri was only mildly annoyed by the grin and shrug he gave her. Apparently, he was not going to disagree with her assessment of the situation, so she just left that be for time being. He did not seem to want to go down that road, and belaboring the point was just a waste of time. Thus, she was surprised by his polite response to her gratitude, though she refused to show it. It was very kind of him to give back the treasured whistle, which her heart ached at the thought of losing forever. She was not sentimental about many things, but that little object was one of them.

The frown on his face, shake of his head... something was very wrong, and she watched him, eyes narrowed with the expectation of trouble. What was he planning... or, no, it wasn't him doing the planning, and he seemed very on edge, which made her instantly cautious. If he was perturbed, then something was wrong. She had recently seen him angry, annoyed, and amused, but this was different. She lacked fighting instincts, but she was no fool, and she instinctively bent in mid-stride to pull the knife from its sheathe in her boot. It wasn't a very long knife, but it was kept very sharp, for cutting Cath's food and for the occasional emergency.

Like this, it would seem.

His soft query was met by a brief second of silence while Savitri thought of an appropriately polite way to answer without being scathing. She did need to learn how to defend herself, and she added that to her ever-growing to-do list. This was ridiculous. "No, but I have a knife that I can do anything with but throw." Well, she could throw it, but the accuracy was... chancy, at best. She caught a glimpse of something and was shocked to see him withdrawing a weapon from... well, where had it been?! She did not want to know and instead opted to go with a back-up plan for escaping in one piece. She recognized her instincts as those of prey caught in a predator's gaze, and she would rather have some assistance and touched immediately on Cath's mind with her request.

The message was relayed with frightening speed, and Cath anxiously reassured Hers that they were not going to be alone, just in case. Savitri faintly heard the beating of wings, and then a nastily familiar voice echoed through her head. You called, goldling? the voice stated rather meanly, and Savitri had never felt more relieved to know that the violent green and Hers were nearby. Tanith had taken an uncomfortable shine to her, and this was one of the rare moments that the weyrling was grateful for it. Still, she did not want to alarm Mutasim with that sudden fact, so she kept quiet and just followed for a moment.

Then she felt she had to speak up. "We're not alone... but we've got help. I'd prefer to get out of here in one piece," she said, her voice quiet and even despite her nervousness. Shard, but she needed some lessons in better defending herself. This was not the Hold anymore, and she needed to toughen up, even if meant sucking up her pride and asking Mutasim. She doubted he would agree, though. "Remember the candidatemaster whose lesson you were late to? They're above us." There's a clearing we can land in nearby. Mine says to keep moving. We can't see much else. And tell that boy that if he uses that /thing/ on you, I will rend him limb from limb. Tanith informed her suddenly, and Savitri opted to not pass along the message that was more promise than threat.

[reqqy]

No. He didn't pause or slow in his pace, though his jaw tightened. No, she couldn't use a dagger. He didn't pause to look at the knife. The young man supposed that the extent of her ability was likely stabbing and slashing, perhaps a tad more accurately with her knowledge as a healer, but that wasn't likely to be enough. Against a human opponent? Possibly. But he was now certain that whatever was after them wasn't human. That meant vicious. That meant instincts honed continually throughout the course of its life. That likely meant speed. And greater strength with almost near certainty, maybe heavier. A mouse could, upon occasion stymie a snake, but that was rare. Only instinctive reaction reliant on extensive, deely-engrained training was likely to be of much use.

Mutasim hated having to play the reactant. That gave the other side a distinct advantage.

Unfortunately, all his senses were picking up right now was a series of seemingly unrelated sounds and impressions. Either their lovely stalker was all over the place, or they had more than one visitor. He tried not to let his apprehension descend into fear. Of all people, the candidate should know the power of numbers. He'd employed that tactic against stronger creatures than himself numerous times when leading the den back in Bitra, where numbers and the need to survive was all they had. It was so easy to overwhelm...No, speculation wasn't helpful. The young man's posture noticeably relaxed, a sign that any of his former followers would have instantly recognized as deadly. He was readying himself.

Jabari took to the air with a flash of wings, responding to Mutasim's need to be able to move. The brown hissed, rising up higher and flitting between the tree limbs, shadowing his Minepet and the 'other'. Savitri's words caused the muscles along the candidate's shoulders to twitch, his head snaking to the side to catch her in his peripherals. Right...She was here, wasn't she? The glance was all he required, his eyes going back to searching his surroundings as he continued through the trees. "Fine," he responded, the tone clipped. Normally he wouldn't have spoken at all, but with his luck she'd just repeat herself, thinking he hadn't heard her.

No, he wasn't angry at her. He just didn't want too much communication clearly going on, because that might provoke whatever it was to attack sooner. If a dragon was on the way, they needed to find open space. That was against his natural instinct. In the open, they could be easier surrounded, and he neither knew how long it would take Tanith to react, nor how many of these things there were. What he was certain of was the fact they were closing. After all this time with no significant events occurring, it seemed strange that something was now hunting them. Was it a scent Savitri chose to wear? Maybe. He didn't know how often she was out this deep in the jungle. For him, it was his normal stomping grounds.

A flash of movement between the tree trunks. The candidate dropped back slightly to flank the goldweyrling, his hand briefly touching her arm as he pointedly increased his pace, urging her to speed up a bit with him. It still bothered him, but...he was fairly certain that trying to take on anything alone was going to get them both killed fairly swiftly. A dragon and a rider might just be enough to turn the tide. It still bothered him, though...what were these things?

[kysseh]

Mutasim's sudden relaxation was frightening, mostly because Savitri would not have thought to relax when they were being so hunted. His flit seemed to be getting wise to the fact of what was happening, at least, and she felt Cath's comforting presence in the back of her mind, reassuring her that Tanith was watching most attentively for what was going around. His tone was... short, at best, but all things considered, that was better than no response at all. He had looked for her as if searching for reassurance, though she doubted he saw her as a form of protection. Safety in numbers, right?

There is a less-used path to your right. Take it. We won't be far, but be quick. Tanith said in a clipped tone, and Savitri sent an appropriately grateful thought via Cath. They would be there as soon as they could, which was not quick enough considering what her peripheral vision was picking up. Oh, she hated being hunted by an unseen opponent. She made a mental note to get some self-defense lessons, perhaps from Mutasim if he could still tolerate her. Even if it was something basic, she needed it desperately, especially with the jungle so dangerous and so close.

When he dropped back and touched her arm, she knew he was very aware that there was something nearby too, and she increased her pace to match him, stepping a little more toward the right to lead him along that path. It was narrower, but she could see more light from that direction. "Trust me," she said quietly, almost beneath her breath. Tanith and Aliscia were that way, and despite the green's small size, she could easily handle two not-very-large teens in addition to her rider. Tanith would be almost insulted if Savitri implied otherwise, in fact.

She heard massive wing-beats and was gratified to know that it was safety close by, her tension easing slightly. A furious growl echoed back to them, followed by a hiss and a high-pitched yelp. She paled a bit, concerned, and then Tanith broadcasted for her and her fellow prey to hear. What /did/ you do to get in this position? Idiot hatchlings. If it weren't for the fact that the healer-turned-weyrling was grateful for the escape, she would have hated the green. The green never missed an opportunity to insult, demean, or aggress.

[reqqy]

Mutasim's eyes flicked to Savitri as she diverted from the course he'd been going, momentary annoyance showing in their depths. Did she think she knew this place better than he did? He had to mentally rein in the aggravation. Tanith was talking to her, after all, and it was probably something he simply didn't know about. Still, he found that, while he wasn't a big fan of leading, being led was still something that rankled. He might have laughed at his own arrogance in a different situation. As it was, he merely frowned at her words and fell into place beside her. He didn't trust anyone. What made her any different? Nothing whatsoever. He just didn't want to end up alone when these things finally made their move. Deadly as Muta was, he couldn't handle something like that. No amount of arrogance could make him believe that lie.

The candidate was more than aware that their pursuers also decided to change course, and now there was no point. No point in pretending they weren't following, or might just go away. His dark eyes flashed, and then he grabbed Savitri's wrist, yanking her forward into a dead run. Mutasim had to adjust his pace to keep from tripping her up, though he was smaller. The boy was fast when he wanted to be. After a few seconds, he released her to leave his hands free, a growl issuing from his throat in warning. Not likely to do much good, but anything that might surprise the hunters or cause them to hesitate could only help at this point. He wasn't going to go down passively. Shards, no.

Something solid bounced off him, causing Muta to trip, though he couldn't make out what it was. A second blade had come into his hand, smaller, and they both crossed before him as he threw himself into the fall, rolling to his feet with a hiss. A few more steps. They crashed through the foliage and out into the open. In pure reaction, he threw his dagger at one of the unclear forms that seemed to be attacking Tanith, whirling before the picture could register to face the predators that pursued them. Subconsciously, he'd placed himself between Savitri and whatever was coming from the trees, the dirk held to one side and out. The candidate bent into his knees, that queer sense of complete relaxation belying the look of intensity in his eyes.

A shadow burst forth, followed by several more, and Mutasim instinctively took a step forward. Then he paused. Blinked. Let out a stream of curses as he aimed an angst-filled kick at the first of the small creatures to reach them. Almost angrily, the candidate sheathed the dirk, its outline once again disappearing beneath the folds of his clothes. Another kick, another squawk, and Mutasim cursed again, a hint of something else behind the word. Wherries! They were running like frightened little girls from sharing wherries! Already the creatures were fading back, angrily hopping about, at the amount of resistance they'd met with.

That was when Mutasim began to laugh.

[kysseh]

Savitri was not surprised to see the annoyance in his eyes, but she did not stop her forward movements, her stronger right arm still holding on to the sharp knife. She was not skilled at fighting, but she was not about to back down. Fear, though present, was not her primary focus. The need to survive, however, was. At least Mutasim was following beside her, though she was startled when he seized her wrist and tugged her along. Despite the ache from her wounds, she picked up the pace as well. Shardit, but he could move!

Once they got moving at a similar pace, he released her, but Sav did not slow a bit. His growl motivated her to move. He was getting upset, and she did not want to fall behind or have that anger turned on her. Judging by the ease with which he moved and handled that weapon, he was not someone to cross. She was startled into realization by his hiss and the sound of tumbling as he tripped over something and rolled right past her. She lengthened her strides, grateful when she burst out of the trees and into the clearing, buoyed by the sight of the snappish green and her rider and a bunch of squawking, hopping avians.

Wait a minute....

She skidded to a halt a few paces into the clearing, watching as Mutasim kicked a few of the creatures in his frustration. She simply let out a biting snarl and swiped at one with her knife. She missed, but it seemed to get the message. Fortunately, she had to do nothing else for Tanith dropped her limp, bloody mouthful of wherry and promptly took a snap at another, hissing when she missed. She shrieked in indignant rage, snapping furiously at any that strayed reach of her mouth, her rider just calmly sitting astride her neck and waiting for the mayhem to end.

Savitri was startled at the fact that one of the wherries was down with a dagger in its head. Had... Mutasim done that? Tanith seemed to be ignoring that wherry and was seeking out another creature to crunch on, two wherry bodies already lying in bloody heaps near the cranky green. She was glad to see that the creatures were retreating, that the area was rapidly becoming more safe. However, she was distracted by Mutasim's laughter and turned to give him a look of utter bemusement. What was-

Oh... well, they were sort of fighting with a load of carnivorous, cannibalistic birds. Perhaps that was the funny issue. "I feel stupid," she admitted, edging closer to Tanith as the green barely missed snapping up another avian.

[reqqy]

"You feel stupid?" he returned, still chuckling. "We called in the fangs over there - " He inclined his head toward the snapping Tanith. " - to save us from a flock of poultry. I should have pulled this in Bitra. The idiots wouldn't have seen a band of orphans as a threat then." It was clear that this bitter humor was the external expression of an internal thought, and not necessarily a response to Savitri. Mutasim was not given to externalizing things. That one statement, however, should be enough to indicate that Muta's characteristic harsh derision was no respecter of persons. He didn't even spare himself its bite. Why had he spoken these thoughts aloud? Perhaps because he felt most comfortable in the jungle. Perhaps it was the fading adrenaline. Probably both. Maybe neither.

At any rate, he hardly seemed to notice that he might have allowed anyone such a glimpse into the inner workings of his mind. No, he simply moved, and without his typical menace radiating outward with every step, Mutasim almost seemed - harmless. He knelt by the stricken wherry. A small frown touched his face. The blade hadn't - quite - taken the wherry through the dead center of its eye. This mildly displeased him. The candidate resolved to get back to practicing every few days instead of just once a week. Yes. Selenitas could even make him start to go a bit soft. He pulled the dagger from the bird's head with economical force. Holding it up, he seemed entirely undisturbed by the tissue that slipped from the blade. "Bird brain, anyone?" he queried, somehow managing to keep his expression neutral.

By this time, Jabari had ventured out into the open, flying in lazy circles a safe distance from Tanith. He let out a screech and plunged, stealing some of the gray matter right off of Muta's dagger. The brown settled onto the candidate's shoulders again, gnawing at his ear before devouring the tissue. "Okay, okay," the young man grumped. He picked off what remained, waiting for his flit to snatch the odd choice of food from his fingers, before carefully cleaning the dagger in the grass. A proper cleaning would have to wait until they got back to the barracks. They...That reminded him.

Rising, the short man-child came up alongside Savitri, though he eyed Tanith's flailings with prudent wariness. She seemed to be enjoying herself, at any rate. Mutasim flashed a humorless smile at the goldweyrling before lifting a hand and calling up to Aliscia. "Thanks! I'm sure you would have saved our lives - if we were actually in danger." Rueful tone, but one that was rather heavy with amusement. "Thanks," he repeated to the green, who looked like she was capable of tearing apart a bronze in five seconds flat given the scars that laced her hide and the ferocity with which she was still attacking these wherries. Mutasim shot a helpless look at Savitri.

[kysseh]

Savitri had to chuckle lightly at his obvious scorn. Either he was feeling ridiculous, or his thoughts were on something else. His mention of Bitra had her tilting her head to one side, obviously curious as to what the story was behind that. He was Northern, then, like Aliscia? Well, the two did share the same sarcastic humor and cynicism, but that was about the limit, that she knew of. Then again, she could be prone to being scathing herself, so that likely wasn't just a trait of those born in the war-torn north. Still, she filed that away for future reference. He seemed... upset by whatever that issue was. All things considered, though, it was not something to press for now.

For now.

She let him fuss over his knife and the wherry, moving closer to Tanith as the green finally stopped her snapping. The green's whirling eyes and tossing head displayed her irritation, but her rider merely offered Savitri a shrug and faint smirk. The goldweyrling returned it in kind. At least she had munched on a few of them. That ought to keep her need for violence satisfied for awhile, or one could hope so. Savitri did not relish finding herself between those jaws anytime soon. "I'm glad I called anyway. Better safe than sorry," she said to both candidate and greenpair, meaning every word of it. Yes, she would rather have played it safe than ended up a meal for a litter of feline cubs or something equally... undesirable.

She cleaned her own knife on the grass--what little there was to clean--and shoved it back into its sheathe in her boot. By the time she straightened, Aliscia was chuckling and shaking her head at the pair of them. "You're welcome. Thank you for the opportunity to have her maul something. She'll be satisfied for a bit," the greenrider said, which her mindmate punctuated with a disdainful snort. "I said 'a bit', Tanny. Shut up." Her expression turned to a smirk at Mutasim's expression, and she beckoned a hand to the two youngsters--and oh, they were young in comparison. She felt positively ancient. "Come on. Tanith can carry us all. It's good to make her work." Tanith looked scandalized at the very thought but stilled her movements and obediently lifted her foreleg, impatiently waiting for the hatchlings to get on so they could go.

Savitri, no stranger to riding the vicious creature, hesitated not even a brief second. Tanith had snapped once, just above her head, to see if she'd flinch. After that, the green had left off intimidating her. No fun in bullying the unresponsive, after all. "By the way..." she said to Muta as she rested a foot on Tanith's leg and swung up behind Aliscia, hissing lightly at the fresh flare of pain. She should have been gentler on those wounds still, for they were offering up fiery protests to her thoughtless actions. "...can you teach me how to use a knife and throw it... for fighting? You're skilled, and for me to learn any of that would be helpful," she finally finished as she settled in behind the greenrider, tightening her grip on the green's neck with her thighs. She was not afraid of hurting the beast. Tanith was as tough as they came. That done, she extended a hand to help the boy up... though more out of courtesy than believing he really needed it. He seemed more than capable. "Aren't you trying to get rid of me? Hurry up," she told him, the mild amusement in her eyes taking the sting out of her words. She was eager to put her feet back on the ground somewhere safe and near her anxious mindmate.

[reqqy]

Mutasim snorted at the 'better safe than sorry,' bit. He'd only heard that half a million times. His mind could only go back to the problems that surely would have arisen out in the open, and his general uncertainty as to whether Tanith would even come close to making up that difference. He preferred closed-in spaces where you couldn't be attacked from too many directions at once. Regardless, it was a moot point now. They were wherries. Muta still could hardly believe that he and Savitri had gotten so worked up over those ridiculous birds. They might be a danger to a babe. Maybe. No, rephrase. He was the one who'd gotten them worked up, him and his overwhelming paranoia. Mutasim couldn't seem to help it, either; his mind always went to the worst-case scenario.

The young man's face broke out into a dark grin at the interplay between Tanith and Aliscia. Ah. It seemed he had found a kindred spirit in Tanith. It was nice to be able to just slaughter something every once in awhile. Wherry wasn't the preferred victim, but it would do well enough. He could at least take pride in that his skills with a knife would suffice for most human combatants. Mutasim hadn't gone completely soft. Dead was dead. He just needed to be sure not to let it slip any more than it already had. Wouldn't do to become less than his reputation. The boy fully intended to be the demon Lyam expected him to be if he ever returned to Bitra. In all honesty, though - no matter how much he wished to bathe his arms in that cretin's blood - Mutasim really was rather content to just let that be and make a life for himself here. It was...nicer...than the north.

Despite the sudden liking he'd taken to Tanith, the candidate eyed the green incredulously. Sure, he'd been carried by a dragon before. Infrequently. But the green didn't seem the sort to really enjoy the extra burden. His hesitation allowed Savitri to climb up first. Well, she didn't eat her, the boy thought to himself, still a tad uneasy. Savitri distracted him from his disquiet with her question. He could have been more circumspect about it, but what was the point, really? Mutasim had been trying to dredge up some interest for awhile now, with rather disappointing results. It was selfish, too. He really just didn't want to be the only one who could handle himself in case something happened. The young man was good, but he sure wasn't invincible, and it wouldn't take long for them to figure out who they needed to remove from the picture.

It hadn't in Bitra.

"I've been trying to get the candidates interested for months now," Muta grumped, before offering up a quirky smile. "No, I wouldn't mind, if only because next time you can protect me from the wherries." Next time? Oh, shells, not another friend. Yet he did nothing to try to break the tie. Apparently he'd been standing there too long, however, because Savitri felt the need to prod him along. He regarded her hand skeptically. It wasn't for show, either, though his indecision didn't lie with Savitri's hand. He was still a bit wary of Tanith's jaws.

In the end, though, he figured being associated with Savitri might spare him a gruesome death by dragon's breath, and if it didn't? Eh, wasn't like he was all that important to anyone. Sure would make things easier on him. Mutasim took the goldweyrling's hand, though he didn't allow her to take much of his weight. It was mostly a gesture of confidence. He scampered up Tanith's leg and settled nimbly behind this girl who'd managed to cause so much trouble over a whistle. "Right. Goal of the day: get rid of Savitri." His nose wrinkled at the back of her head. "You know your life's important when that's your only goal." His eyes skirted over the heads of the two women, and he realized with a mild shock that Aliscia was roughly his own height.

"Attack of the midgets," the boy muttered under his breath with a wry chuckle.

[kysseh]

Despite Mutasim's obvious amusement, the boy--no, man, Savitri corrected herself, for he was too mature to be just a boy--seemed a bit cautious of Tanith. She could scarcely blame him. The green, small as she was, was built like a male for fighting, and she was as dangerous on the ground as she was in the air. Those jaws were lethal, but having been sated with a little wherry blood, they were much less dangerous at the moment. He had nothing to fear. Since she, Savitri, had approved of him enough to be in his company, the goldweyrling knew that Tanith would not take a snap at the boy. At least, not while Savitri was present. The green was smart enough to avoid any real trouble from the newest goldrider and her protective mindmate.

"Well, I'm interested now," she said bluntly in response to his question, returning his smile with a wry one of her own. Well, he seemed to be accepting of her, at least. She did not know why that mattered, but it made her feel better to have him at least tolerating her. Perhaps because she would rather not be against him. Yes, that was a good reason. Better a cautious ally than a vengeful enemy. Shardit, now she was getting stupidly philosophical, and she shoved those thoughts away for later. "Yes, I'll watch over next time. After you teach me and after you meet Cath, of course."

His original indecision of her hand had her give an impatient snort. "Honestly, she won't eat you!" she said in frustration as the boy finally took her hand and made his way up to sit behind her. "Not while I'm here and Aliscia's here, anyway." Yes, she had to add that in. One never could really know what Tanith would do, and Aliscia's snicker reaffirmed that thought. His snark elicited a chuckle from her as she grasped the straps that ran over and around Aliscia's legs and around the green's strong neck. Tanith was a good flier, but Savitri took no chances. "Your life is plenty important. You've got Jabari depending on you, don't you? And what about the idiot candidates who would have no one to keep them in line?"

His mutter did not go unnoticed, and Aliscia gave a rather wicked-sounding laugh, turning just enough to eye both young humans with a distinctly amused expression. "Oh, now you've done it, boy. Better hold onto something," she warned him as Tanith gave a low hiss of protest. She and Hers were not midgets! And this midget will attack you if you insult me or Mine again. Tanith broadcasted for all three humans to hear, the undercurrent of snotty dislike in her mental voice being painfully obvious to anyone with half a brain. That was all the warning the three got before the green threw herself into the air with such violence that even Aliscia held tightly to the straps and Savitri tightened her legs against the green's neck. It took a moment for the green to gain altitude, and then she settled into a level glide, though the whirl of her eyes indicated her dislike. Stupid little humanthing, that male hatchling was, and she would tell him so... once they landed.

[reqqy]

Great. She was talking about Hepaticath again. Mutasim suppressed a groan. Oh, he still fully intended to meet the gold hatchling. Really. It was just...well, with Savitri pressing him, it made him more nervous than he already was. He couldn't shake the feeling that the gold would take one look at him and decide that he was evil incarnate and rend him limb from limb. All right. No. That wasn't really what he thought. Dragons not taught to be violent generally weren't when Theirs wasn't being threatened. Mutasim could, at this moment, admit that his true fear was that he was deficient, and that was why he'd been left Standing so many times. Even though he told himself he no longer hoped for it, that was different than knowing for certain that he simply wasn't good enough. Would Hepaticath be able to tell one way or another? Probably not, but he still couldn't shake the anxious feeling. And, somehow, the thought of Savitri being told that he was some monstrous creature did not appeal to him.

He blinked at the back of the girl's head. Jabari, hearing his name, chirped blissfully, coiling a little tighter around the young man's shoulders. Frankly, Mutasim didn't know why the brown wasn't suffering from muscular atrophy, given how much time he spent just draped around his bonded. He'd mostly been joking, but Savitri's words had him thinking about Jabari and what would happen to the poor firelizard if anything happened to Muta. It was enough to make him vaguely ill. In an effort to throw that feeling off, he forced a chuckle. "The idiot candidates? I suppose they'd either fall flat on their faces, kill themselves over something stupid, or sharding figure out how to walk on their own two feet." He snorted. "In fact, it would probably be best for the weyr if they were forced to fend for themselves for awhile." His light tone indicated he was mostly joking. Mostly.

Then his eyes widened as he felt Tanith's muscles bunching up beneath him. Mutasim had meant to strap himself in, but, as they hadn't seemed to be in a hurry, he hadn't quite gotten around to it yet. Plus it would have involved leaning on Savitri a little, and he would have liked to warn her first. Not because he was intending anything, or even thinking of her in that way, but because such touching always bothered Mutasim, and he didn't want her getting the wrong idea. It was now becoming pretty clear that he probably should have just let her think what she would, because now he had one of two options. Grab on, or throw himself off before Tanith could get high enough that it would be dangerous for him.

Too bad he didn't have much time to think.

"It's not my fault you're all small!" he protested, in a rare show of relative stupidity. Why was Tanith getting so upset over something that was true? Maybe he just found it hard to believe that anyone could react that way when he himself would acknowledge any truth - no matter how painful - without getting violent toward the one who spoke it. Even as he cried out, he clung tightly to Savitri, groping for a strap to cling to, but generally finding that hard to do with the violence of Tanith's ascent. After a few seconds, he just determined to continue clutching at the goldweyrling and apologize later. They were definitely high enough now that falling off would have to fall into the bad category. Certainly, they were now higher than that tree he'd fallen from when F'con and Jackreth buzzed the higher branches and he broke his foot.