Nova enjoyed taking in each recollection of the tamers' first meetings with Merrik and himself, he enjoyed the emotions flowing about the meadow, he enjoyed the positive energy that wove its way between each tamer and dragon. Today had been a beautiful day indeed. Unlike Merrik, Obsidian Nova could move the future from his mind for a precious moment or two and simply enjoy the day for what it was instead of straining his mind in worry of what would come to be. As he neared the group he noticed a familiar presence enter his mind; it was Quaking Sand, the desert dragon. There was deep concern in his mind and he wished to open up to Nova about it. Immediately Nova acknowledged the severity in his tone and accepted his request. 

[i]"Quake, join me on my hunt, would you? We'll discuss today's events in private while we seek out a fair sized elk to replenish the meat stores. If nothing has changed I would know how much you appreciate a hunt. Come, consult with your tamer and meet me in the skies."[/i] He then redirected his tuned thoughts to a wider array and sent a farewell to the minds of all those around him, letting them feel his decision to go hunting so that they would understand his departure without the need to tell them with actual words. He smiled fondly at a few of the young drake nears him and took a few steps away from the table before beating down his mighty black and red wings so as not to disturb the meal with the draft of the force. He soared up over the trees, releasing sparks of black fire into the darkening sky, partly from playful habit, partly because his flare pouch longed to be worked. A dragon needed to breath fire regularly just as a human needs to cough or sneeze daily. The system within his scaled body needed to be kept clear and free of debris or build-up such as dust or bits of prey.

He soared off over the horizon at a casual pace, waiting for Quaking Sands presence to return to his proximity so they could discuss his concerns.

~~~

Merrik sat at his desk, an old black pine piece, covered with scrolls, scripts, quills, and a glass of well aged brandy, the bottle sitting uncapped but a few feet away on the social table (coffee table). He had been working since he arrived back home on figuring out a appropriate training process for the vast variety of tamers that had come into the Order. Each would require individual training, for no man was exactly alike his brother. He knew he would need to concoct a rather large batch of burn heal; new tamers and dragons learning new techniques practically howled for medical assistance requirements. He took a long gulp of the expensive alcohol, savoring the strong, rich taste and stood up. [i]"There is much to be done."[/i] he thought, moving to one of his shelves and drawing back the wooden shutters that protected his rare ingredient collection. Retrieving a large wooden bowl, a worn out pestle, and a collection of miscellaneous herbs, vials, and powders. He cleared a space on the social table and sat down on the couch, starting to arrange the items and prepare the thick paste that could triple the healing time of a burn and remove nearly all the pain of even the worst scalds.