Kemp made his way to the doorway of the wooden hut or long house that housed the riders of the new dragonets. He was up and awake before even the first rays of the sunlight appeared. His excitement at the life that he now led made it hard for him to keep his eyes closed.

Sleep is necessary for a healthy body and sharp mind Came the even matter-of-fact voice of his brown Oroth via their mental communication.

Though only a few weeks old, the brown was already the size of a farm horse in height and twice that in wing span. Kemp smiled as he exited the building and turned left towards the clearing that housed the dragonets. Unlike the Weyrs he had read about and seen in the North, the South did not house their dragons in bowl shaped weyrs dotted with ledges and caves. Here, the buildings were much more simple and easy to repair after an earth quake or fire.

Kemp, skirted the edge of the clearing, making sure not to make too much noise by foot or mind. While dragons tended to communicate or talk only to their assigned riders, it was not uncommon that too strong an emotion could translate as a sort of white noise or annoying pitch to other dragons. Unfortunately for the young boy, his excitement levels were always at its peak. Many of the dragonets shifted away from the boy, low murmur or rumbles escaping their throats as the slight uncomfortable “loud” emotions of the boy disturbed their sleep.

Not all creatures look forward to the dawn. It would be best to designate a meeting place away from the nesting area if this is to become a daily occurrence. Oroth remarked making a hissing sound as he let out his air in what Kemp took for an exasperated sigh.

“you are right. Lets do that. For now, lets head to the salted fish barrels, we can grab you a snack while I wash and put oil on you. You grow so fast its hard to keep up with the peeling. Can't have you bursting a seam when we finally go between.” The boy was whispering but his sheer glee could not be hiden and his voice reached a high pitch that caused many a dragonet to grumble.

Come, before you make me the target of sour eyes and vicious talk. Retorted Oroth, as the brown dragon allowed the boy to climb on him. The pair was not ready for long flight yet but they figured that riding the dragon like an awkward horse would train the brown to familiarize himself with the boy’s weight. Both headed to the river, passing from the still moonlit clearing along a wide path towards the store houses.

Lyda Cumela loved the idea of flying. One day, she dreamed that she would be able to ride her dragonet across the red sky. She'd dive through clouds and feel the wind on her face. And she'd be able to say that she was truly a dragonrider, just like her father, the Weyr master. One day, she would fight amongst her father and rid her family of her family's enemies. That would be the day she could be proud that she had succeeded her father's wishes.
But that was not today. Today, she was only 13 and her dragonnet was barely larger than a cow.
Today, all she could do was pet her dragonnet, whose name was Fran. Fran was a young female dragonnet who had just hatched weeks ago.
"Fran, Fran, Fran," whispered Lyda. "One day we will do battle in the clouds, but until that day comes, our only goal will be to grow. My father's enemies can wait."
"I'm afraid not," telepathed Fran. "I hear dragonsong coming from the east."
"What of it?" said Lyda.
"They are not our dragons," said Fran. "It is an invasion force."
This shocked Lyda. "Today?"
"We must go," said Fran.
Suddenly, the horn of the Weyr sounded. All the dragons nearby (and their dragonriders) grew alert. "An invasion force!" yelled the ranks of dragonmen.
"Quickly. We must hide," said Fran. "We must allow the adults to do their duty."
Lyda followed Fran as they headed into the Weyr. Everywhere, adult dragons drew battle harnesses and began stretching their wings for the coming battle. Lyda saw her father, who was arranging a quartet of his most trusted guardsmen (and their dragons) in preparation for the coming battle.
"Father!" said Lyda.
"Not now, Lyda!" said her father. "Get inside, and don't come out until the horn is sounded!"
"Yes, father!"
Lyda and her dragonet scurried into the Weyr. She wanted to be just like her father one day, but today was not the day. She admired her father, but at the same time, she couldn't help but feel fear despite her father's bravery. As leader of the Weyr, her father would be the first target of the enemy dragonriders.
The enemy... she hated them. They were led by this man named Bryo, who wanted control of all northern Weyrs. An ambitious evil man - someone Lyda was told again and again never to involve herself with when it came time for her to pick a mate. She wanted to kill this Bryo, but she was too small to do it.
She looked her hands. They were still a child's hands.
One day, she promised herself. One day, I will put Bryo out of his misery, and my father and all the other Weyrmasters will have peace.

The two figures were stark against the predawn background of the southern hemisphere. The forests and the rivers, valleys and deltas, all beautiful and Kemp could not wait until he saw it from aloft, on the wind and wing of his brown.

It will still be a few months before I am able to carry you on my back and soar on the wind. Oroth announced completely aware of the dreams the young man of 17 was perusing in his mind. “yeah I know, but one can dream right?”

I will never understand this need for humans to live in the past or think about the future.. Oroth rumbled a slight annoyance. “One of the banes and pleasures of being a human I guess.” Kemp lovingly caressed his dragon. Pernese dragons were not equipped to remember all but the most common of ideas as a 10 year old child nor think abstractly and wonder about the future. For all their intellect, they were still animals and worried more about the present survival than anything else.

They reached the the store houses, the weyr folk in charge of the feeding and maintenance of the weyr were already up, knowing that once the dragons and their riders started to stir, it would be a race against the clock. Kemp hailed the older gentleman called Armon. “Good morn Armon, is it ok if I take a few fish to feed Oroth? I want to get a jump on getting him washed and oiled up before the river gets too full of the others” Armon was a no nonsense individual. The older man shrugged. “Do as ye please lad, my only reason for beign is to provide vittles for you and the others.”

Kemp smiled as he put about 10 big fish on the bag he was carrying. He had learned quickly to always have a fish or two available as Oroth tended to become irritable on an empty stomach. “I truly appreciate all you do. If or when Thread makes its return to Pern, our dragons will fly stronger thanks your efforts.”

“Ah git, I got job to do” The older man fussed but there was a slight smile on his face. Kemp obediently remounted Oroth and led him towards the river to begin the same routine that had been taught to all werylings in taking care of their Dragonets after hatching. You feed, wash off the dead skin, and oil them to ensure the new skin remains strong. This would prevent the skin to be brittle and cause injury when dragons teleport ed via the extreme void known as BETWEEN.

“I cant wait, from what I have read, going BETWEEN requires merely a strong mental visualization of the prospective target. I have studied many a scroll and tapestry and could almost bet I can help you picture and arrive on any point in Pern” He gave Oroth a fish as the dragon snorted what could have been a derisive exclamation. “You don’t belive me? I was a traveling Harper I will have you know. Me and my master visited may holds and weyrs in the north. As a mater of fact, I wish I we could go right now to Benden Weyr in the north. One of the greatest weyr in history due to Lessa…” His mind started to imagine the volcanic bowl that housed the weyr and the many perches and doted with caves that made the habitations of both dragons and riders, the great lake in the middle and the lower habitations of the weyr forlk which took care of the weyr. He was so lost in thought that he was not aware that this was being relayed to Oroth.

Kemp’s desire to visit the weyr was so strong that Oroth took it as a command. The next thing that Kemp knew was that there as an extreme cold surrounding him. A blackness void of any sound and light engulfed the pair. The shock caused Kemp to loose his highly detailed image of Benden weyr which in turn confused Oroth. This was almost a death sentence as it was not unknown for dragons to never come back from BETWEEN.

We cannot stay here, concentrate! The loud thought startled him and the lack of air was causing Kemp to loose consciousness. Desperately his mind tried to recreate the image of the bowl and the habitations but he was fading fast. Thankfully, Oroth was keen enough to take the image and use it to emerge from BETWEEN. The pair materialized amid a frantic scene. Dragons were taking flight, trumpets were shouting, people running back and forth. The last thing Kemp saw before he faded into darkness was a small girl and a dragonet looking after an ascending figure of a strong looking dragon rider.

The young pair had learned the hard way that BETWEEN could not only take you WHERE you wanted to go but WHEN too….

"Get inside, Lyda!" said her father, who then climbed onto his dragon. Together, her father and her father's dragon shot into the air at a speed that awed Lyda. His four guardsmen did the same thing. Not before long, all five dragons had already fallen into rank with all the other dragons of the Weyr in the sky. All her father's dragonmen and their dragons formed a formation, which was a 80-dragon arrowhead that faced the incoming enemy dragons that were still far far away. Her father led this arrowhead at the tip.

"Your father told us to get inside, Lyda," said Franth, Lyda's dragonnet.

"But I want to watch," said Lyda. "They are so far away. He won't even know."

"He will know when you are killed," said Franth.

"Oh, why fear? My father will win this battle. Bryo's dragons will never reach you and me. We will watch," said Lyda.

"If that is your choice," said Franth.

Together, Franth and Lyda stared into the red sky as the battle unfolded. Her father's dragons were so far away, yet Lyda had amazing eyes. She could see everything that happened.

As she watched, she couldn't help but feel entranced in the battle and its outcome. Her fate rested on her father's battle skills. If he lost, she would die. If he won, she would live, and Bryo's men would die. She wanted so desperately for her father's dragonmen to win this battle in the name of all the people in her weyr. Bryo, the man who wanted to kill her father, would show no mercy to those who rebelled against Bryo. Bryo would kill everyone even if they surrendered, as an example to all who opposed Bryo. Her father had to win.

And so, she watched. Lyda reminded herself that there was nothing else she could do. She was a child. She could only watch. And learn. As the two groups of opposing dragonmen reached firing distance of each other, Lyda tried to suck in every detail. She made several observations.

As the two opposing dragon forces intermeshed, Lyda made her first observation: it was easier to kill while chasing a dragon who moved in a parallel direction, so head to head intersection battles were frequent. Her second observation was that the accuracy of each dragon's fire was a big component to a dragon surviving. Her third observation was that: anywhere it happened, double teaming made it much more likely for a side to win. Her fourth observation was that speed was the most critical factor that led to a dragon's survival. If a dragon could not fly fast enough, it would get double teamed. And if it could move fast enough, it could double team an opposing side's dragon. Her fifth observation was that morale was a big factor. Her father's dragons had incredible morale, because they were fighting for their lives and the lives of their comrades and their families in the Weyr who they protected. The enemy's dragons - Bryo's dragons - did not have this morale advantage, and so they were much less willing to risk their lives to win this battle. Instead, they were much more likely to flee when things looked bad.

The entire battle took twenty minutes to finish. By the time it came to a close - even though Bryo's side had more dragons - it was Bryo's dragons who fled in retreat. her father had won!

Lyda screamed in elation. Her father had won! Her vision was so accurate that not only could she tell that her father, who led the spearhead, had lived, but that each of his closest guardsmen had lived as well. Everyone she cared about had lived! Most of all, she had learned. Her father - so brave - had won. This sent shivers of admiration up her spine. Better yet, Bryo's men had lost. Lyda was one step closer to seeing Bryo's downfall.

Yet she knew Bryo would come back with even more dragons - and more, and more. Bryo had so many henchmen - men who followed Bryo out of fear, or was it tyrannical loyalty to Bryo's evil charisma?

The war was not over, but at least Lyda would live another week or month before the next invasion occurred.

That was when she noticed something very odd. Another teenager was here too, but Lyda had never seen him before. He was a stranger to her weyr. Who was he? Why was he here? How did he get here? This teenager gazed at her curiously, and so did she. Both this mysterious teenager and his dragonnet were out of place, as if they didn't belong here or, for that matter, this time.

"Who are you?" asked Lyda. "Why are you here?"

Kemp’s mind was in disarray. The young dragon rider had just barely survived let alone stayed conscious enough to not only comprehend the words that had been spoken to him but also the have presence of mind enough to ask his own question.

“Wh…wh..e..n..? The question came more as a gasp as his body realized that he had not take a breath for what three? Five minutes? The extreme cold of BETWEEN was bad enough when the dragons moved to a different location in Pern but it was worse during the travel between times. There was no sense or feeling in the void other than the extreme cold that bit into bone and marrow and often left the riders breathless. Which is why most held their breaths as if plunging into an abyssal cold bath.

Even the most experienced of riders only went between time with a clear image, a sort of mental coordinates they relayed to their dragons. Even when this was attempted, it was no more than days, or a few years. In dire circumstances a decade. Only once, had an attempt to go back 400 years almost caused the death of a famous Weyr woman. None had in fact traveled forward in time. Most considered this feat to be next to impossible but solely because it had never been attempted.

The young pair would have looked ghastly to any onlooker. The dragon would have appeared more dull maroon than its usual caramel brown. They multi-faceted eyes would have been dull and with a shade of flashing sickly yellow. The boy would have seem no better. His face would be pale and clammy. Sweat would permeate his brow and his eyes would have a yellowish tint as if his liver was failing. The skin would hang from his bones as if a horrible tailor had all but thrown it on his slender frame.

The whole ordeal of it all was plainly too much. Kemp could do little else other than look at the pair who stood before them, a small girl perhaps 13? And a dragonet but he could not gather more information as his mind, finally protesting the ordeal, was shutting down. His face went blank and his eyes stared into space as he slumped forward on his mount and began to slide off.

Oroth, ever a loyal dragon, all but threw himself on the ground to prevent any injury to his rider. He too had suffered the great strain and lost consciousness as his bulk hit the ground. Both rider and dragon lay there on the sandy floor of the weyr. Neither would wake up for a couple of weeks….if ever.