Fly The River Wild

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Her flights would be longer if she bothered to blood, but the dappled green was never given to such trivial technicalities. Bad enough that her usual placid pleasantness would shift into a full on raging flood of hormones, add blooding to the mix … the Weyr would probably never be the same. Still, green flights are as inevitable as the tide, and Ystwyth proves to be no exception. In the time between her and her rider's arrival at Western, she's been settling in, getting to know the skies and the air currents, and knowing when and where to dodge.

Because all too soon, Yswyth was taking to the skies right above Western — and NOT leaving the airspace. Why take to sea after all, when it was sooo much more fun to play chicken with the watchrider and flitter and flutter in acrobatics above the Weyr itself? But it was short, it was fast and it was over almost before anyone had a chance to get to the guest weyr.

But at least some people managed to make it. And the winner? None other than blue Yiskatiresiath.

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