Wilderness - Rolling Plains

From the petrified forest, you emerge onto a stunning landscape, wide open as far as the eye can see. Long grasses sway in the mild breeze that blows constantly here. Far away, a stone outcropping rises up against the horizon.

Warmth sears through the early afternoon Southern air, providing a rather steamy atmosphere to the hunting party. Wind gusts every so often, blowing across the tall grasses and providing a soft whispering noise to the background. All dragon transports have opted to land and unload people, supplies and cargo downwind of the grasslands - there'd be no use scaring off all the game with the scent of predators. Several things have been unloaded already - weapons for use, traps and nets for smaller game to be set up in teh surrounding scrub, containers to carry back cuts of meat and other paraphernalia of the hunt - including several brawny "experts" from the Weyr hunters.

Off in the distance it's easy to see a milling herd of wild herdbeasts, the animals oblivious to the impendign doom gathering at the fringe of the grasslands. There're various sizes of them - some large adults, some older and some young gathered in the center of the group. They're all a mass of swishing tails and moving hooves, even though they're pretty stationary for now in the heat of the day.

Maglinoth is one of the dragons at the fringes, her tiny form laden with supplies being unloaded. Ely herself is standing near the leg of the dainty green, looking grim about this whole venture but determined nontheless. there's an obvious knife strapped to her hip, though she obviously can't be planning to use that to ambush the herdbeasts. She seems to be deep in conversation about strategy with one of the brawny hunters, a bulky middle-aged man with giant chest muscles that strain through his layers of clothing. "Are you sure we can get them to us without anyone getting sharding /trampled/?" Ely's voice cuts through the air and a scowl appears. The man, Bremen, grunts and motions to the scurrying workers, "We'll chase em right to th' trap we have set. Everyone'll be waitin' t'take some down. It's idiot proof." Ely looks skeptical.

Pralius slides down from the neck of one of Fort's blues. He scratches at his neck, then moves over to Ely with a concerned look, "Ely.. .Ma'am… I know we need the fresh meat, but… We're going to stay here where it's safe, right?" His eyes linger out on the herdbeasts, "Those things are bigger than Mags, I swear…"

Having ridden in on one of the other greens, Galina's been occupied with helping the rider pull any lingering supplies off before she ventures over to see if there are others who might need assistance. She comes to an eventual stop near Pralius and Ely, though her gaze remains fixed on the milling herdbeasts over yonder. She's brought her first aid kit — naturally — and fusses a little with the satchel to make sure it's hanging properly. She says nothing, though she greets those nearby with a shallow inclination of her head.

Joan dismounts from one of the many green dragons of Fort. Strapped onto his back is a wherhide quiver with fully loaded with arrows and a beautifully crafted bow, while on his belt he has a extra long dagger attatched to his belt. Walking over to the magnificent green Maglinoth, he overhears Ely and one of the Weyr Hunters going over their plans for today. Hearing Pralius' concern, Joan gives him a reassuring pat on the back. "They might be bigger than Mags, but their no where near as smart as her. You could take out a few of those seperated from the main group without scaring the whole herd." Turning to hunter he overheard to be Bremen, Joan has a serious look to his face. "Where exactly are the traps placed? If you have a map of the area, you can just show me on there. I'm pretty decent with setting traps, so whatever I can do to help I will." he leaves his offer hang for a few moments.

Ely lifts a hand to silence Bremen mid-sentence, turning to frown at Pralius, "Excuse me? Ma'am? What am I? An old auntie now?" She rolls her eyes and smirks, waving a hand in the air, "Just call me Ely and be done with it. I'm not in charge of you. I'm only here to help." Rolling her shoulders, she reaches up to yank her goggles and helmet off, tucking them at her belt before looking more critically at the distant herdbeasts, "I know they seem big, but … eh .. Bremen here assures me that the main hunting party'll consist of the Weyr hunters and it'll be groups of you that'll deal with any stragglers that cut off from the main group." Brushing at a stray bit of amber hair, she glances first at Galina and then at Pralius again, "It'll be good practice for the Sands, actually. Dodging practice." She flashes a wicked sort of grin before turning to look at Joanethen critically, frowning. She doesn't say anything, though, considering it's Bremen who'll answer.

Bremen grunts at his dismissal by the greenrider and looks past her towards Joanethen. He eyes the youngster up and down and his scowl grows more pronounced, "Whatever, youngin'. Leave th' professional work to my crew. You'll be with th' rest o' the candidates n' helpers from the residents t'catch stragglers and bring em down. We'll be orchestratin' th' break-up of the herd." Rolling his massive shoulders, he stumps off and calls out to his group to get ready before motioning to Ely to gather up the other helpers, "Get em in position and ready. There'll be herdbeasts flyin' right in this direction before long." And then he's off with a mass of othre burly, bulky men fanning out to either side of the distant herd.

Pralius nods slowly, "Sorry, Ely… the rules say I gotta call everyone else sir and ma'am." He nods again, relaxing noticeably, "So we won't be interacting with the entire herd then? Good." He glances at Joan, looking slightly put out by the lad's confidence, "Uh… thanks, Joan… I'll… stay behind your rapidly accelerating pointy objects, then." He nods to Ely, "That's likely true… there have been injuries sometimes…" He glances at Bremen, "Tell me where to stand and I'll do my best not to die."

"Of course." Directions heard, acknowledged, and understood, Galina lapses into silence. A slanted sidelong look is given to Joan and one brow quirks upward, but she's silent and otherwise still for now until things really get underway. For now, she's just here. Soon enough, there'll be herdbeast dodging and possible injuries that'll need to be addressed. Perhaps without thinking about it, she just moves along like Pralius' shadow, though she's still quite alert and aware.

Looking at Pralius with a slight shake of his head, Joan just laughs for a bit. "Don't worry, i'm a decent shot." is the only reassurance he gives as he unslings his bow from his back. "Where would you like us to be Ely ma'am?" he asks the green rider politely

Ely drums her fingers along the hilt of her belt knife, breathing out a long sigh through her nose as she watches Bremen stump off. "Great," she says under her breath, glancing over the straggling group of candidates and residents she has under her command now. "Everyone spread out. Get your weapons at the ready. Some of us will try to trip the animals with throwing nets or the like, while others will try to weaken or injure. If you're not sure what the shells to do with something, then try to scare the animals towards the more experienced of us." Straightening up, she waves towards the candidates and starts towards the grasses, picking up a heavy throwing net along the way to go with her belt knife. It's certainly bigger than she is and heavy, though she's able to carry it well enough, "Some of you go to the left and some to the right. Keep your eyes open and ears alert."

Off in the distance it's easy to notice a stirring in the herdbeasts as Bremen and his party get closer. there's a change in their movements to something more restless and wary. Then, with a rush of grass and flashing animal hide, they scatter. A majority of the herd are funneled in one direction, though the hunter's quick tactics split the beasts into smaller groups and then smaller still. There's a steady thudding of hooves against turf as the telltale dust-cloud of an approaching animal or two makes its way towards the fringe and right towards the candidates and residents. It's not long before they break into the open, terrified - a huge, yet obviously laboring old male and a younger, slighter female with a limp that's slowing her down. The male is big enough to be dangerous despite his age and slowness, but his breath comes in heavy pfufs as he charges down the middle lane - right between the set up and waiting ambushers.

Lyana might not have much by the way of weaponry, but there is a curious thing hanging from a stout cord in her right hand. In other times and other places, it might have been called a "bullroarer"—nothing more than a piece of wood in an arrowhead shape, with grooves down both sides in a chevron pattern from base to tip. Up till now, she's been quiet as a student trying to avoid notice in the middle of class. She is clad in dun-colored tunic and pants against the cold, but upon her head for safety's sake, is a knit woolen cap of crimson red, and a scarf about her neck of the same hue. Though she pales with the bull charging right towards them, it is the limping female she sets her sights on. "Joanethen, get ready, I'll try to herd her your way!"

Pralius grabs one of the spears, giving it a look as if it's from another planet. He glances at the separating groups, then goes with Ely's. After all, he trusts her to not let him die. His eyes watch the beasts, but he stays back. He eats the meat, not kills it.

And, of course, Galina's wherever she can possibly be that's furthest from the chaos. She's a healer, for Faranth's sake, not a hunter! And chances are, none of this is meat she'll be eating in any great quantity. But, that's where Bogdan comes in handy. He's not a terribly bulky fellow, but he's quick of foot and even quicker with a slingshot — fitting for the kind of mischief-maker he was in his youth (and still is, in retrospect). Alas, it's not a slingshot he's equipped with, but another device that requires just as much skill: a net with weighted ends. The net is tested and then flung at the feet of the hefty bull, meant to trip the beast up for the others to dispatch of him. It's a tangled, messy thing … but should be efficient enough to do the trick after a fashion. One hopes, anyway. Otherwise, it could be disastrous.

With bow in hand, Joan draws an arrow with a blur of swift motion as him aims towards the limping female herdbeast. He takes a deep breath as he finds his mark. And with an exhalation of breath, he lets it fly towards it's target. As soon as that arrow goes whistling through the air to the female, he draws another arrow as he takes aim at the bull….

Ely strides purposefully through the grass, though she keeps her hands on her throwing net rather than her knife - she's not extremely enamored to killing things even if she /is/ tough. Considering the bull is alreaddy on its way to being tripped, she focuses in on the injured female. Lean forearm muscles straining, she hefts the heavy net and swings it around with a barely audible grunt of effort. It flies, yes, but not too far - it doesn't need to, though. "Stay back. Everyone on your toes! They're most dangerous when they're injured or scared," she calls out, glancing quickly around to be sure all her charges are in view and staying out of trouble. The beastcrafter in her is coming out, anyhow.

With a roar, the mighty bull charges onwards, his huge hooves thudding steadily into the ground with every labored step. Wild-eyed and panicked, he doesn't notice the weighted net that Bogdan tosses in his path and, with a crash, he goes tumbling intot he ground with a mihty thud. Grass is torn up and dirt flies in his landing, but he's completely tangled in the thick ropes. Ely's tossed net catches the female herdbeast on her bad leg and she, too, goes tumbling to the dirt with a squeal of surprise and a cloud of dust. Arrows fly - Joanethen's shots hit true, with one sinking deep in the bull's shoulder and the other sinking into the female's flank. With them immobilized, some of the Weyr's trained hunters come to finish the kills, obviously better able to navigate the thrashing legs and horns than any of the residents or candidates. Soon the job is done and there's only two fresh kills and a lingering haze of dust. Using the nets, the hunters start to drag the carcasses towards the fringe of the grassland.

Ely breathes out a sigh and gestures towards the candidates, "Alright. Now we need all of your help. We need to carve up the meat and get it packaged for the trip back to the Weyr. I hope you can understand how this'll prepare you for riding a dragon?" She might not be a Weyrlingmaster, but she can atleast ask that question. "Get a knife and get cutting."

Pralius freezes for a moment, eyes glazing, then returns to himself just in time to watch beasts fall, the spear shivering in his little fists like a wobbly pencil. He lets it fall to the ground as soon as Ely says they can start butchering. Butchering, at least, he understands. The spear stays where it fell while Pral retrieves a gutting knife and re-joins Ely, "Umm… where do we cut first?" Okay, he's not done it befoer.

"Woo! I did it, Gilly! Look at that! Wham, /pow/!" Bogdan pumps his fists in the air when the bull collides with the ground, then does a bit of a victory dance while the killing is done. It's when it comes time for the butchering that his jubilation ends and he looks, blankly, at the dead animals and then at Galina. He blanches. "Oh. Uh. We … didn't cover animal anatomy." Pause. "Did we?" Galya just quirks a brow at the lad, then moves along to where the others are retrieving their cutting implements. In this, she is apparently fearless — and well-equipped, given that she's not wearing a lick of white today and her clothing leans more toward leather and tawny hues. Throwaway garments, for the most part. Sleeves rolled up, kerchief in place to cover her hair, and a knife in hand, she waits to be directed to which kill needs her particular brand of butchering. "This will not be difficult." Beat. "It will, however, be messy."

Lyana breathes a sigh of relief, the thrumming cry of the bullroarer not needed in this case. She wraps the cord about the wooden part of her noisemaker, and reaches for the lone dagger at her belt. It's plain, the handle and sheath looking to have seen much wear, but the blade is glittering, sharp, and well-cared for when she draws it. To Ely, she nods slowly. "Yes'm, I understand." But what she seems mildly unfamiliar with, by her hesitance even near the fallen female herdbeast, is the art of butchery. "I take it this isn't going to be anything like gutting a fish, is it…"

Joan does not celebrate nor despair when he sees the two stragglers being killed by the hunters. It's a job that needs to be done, a simple transferrance of life. Slinging his bow around on his back again, and takes out his knife. He's had plenty of experience outdoors during his life as a trader and more often than not has he had to go hunting for food. Taking his knife in hand, he goes to the nearest beast and begins to dissect for the valuable pieces of meat.

Ely follows the dragged carcasses back towards the fringe of the grasslands, leading the straggling candidates and residents towards them. Digging around in her pocket, she draws out a hair tie and proceeds to draw her loose amber hair back into a tight runner tail - no use getting it all bloody and gory. She gives Pralius a smirk, "The pointy end goes into the animal, Pral." Inhaling a deep breath, she marches over towards the two carcess and draws her own knife from her thigh sheath, pointing it at the two dead herdbeasts, "Pick one and go at it. What needs to be done first is gutting. Just … cut them open and remove all the squishy innards." She pauses, grimacing a little and motions to a cleared off spot nearby, "They can be set aside. The dragons actually like that kind of thing, so they'll clean it up." She motions again towards the animals, "We'll obviously want the haunches and all, so we can have the legs separated from the ah .. shoulders. And then work on cutting strips of meat from the body." She tries to say this in a clinical fashion, but she can't help but let soem emotion leak into her voice - it's not her favorite task. Still, she moves over to the large male and starts to help out.

Siobhan has, most likely, been here the entire time, accompanying her fellow candidates in their attempts to bring the beasts down. What her actual part was is uncertain, but when the manimals finally go down, the candidate halts her progress and flashes wide grins at Joan and Bogdan. "Where'd you learn to aim like that?" Wrinkling her nose in amusement at Joanethen for his stolid acceptance, Sio tilts her head to listen to Ely, an intelligent flicker in her eyes showing comprehension. "It's definitely useful for learning how cornered 'beasts like those fight, and what you'll have to look for when facing them when it's just you and yours." That much she has learned from a life on the hunt. Abandoning her weapon, the candidate moves towards one of the kills, sliding a solid knife out of its belt-sheath. "It's nothing like gutting a fish," the girl agrees when she nears Lyana, "but it's the same basic principle. Stab the fleshy bits, cut 'em off." Then again, Sio's a beastcrafter, and has likely had to at least learn the right cuts to make. Sidling up to the female, she glances around, gesturing at the animal's stomach. "So, who wants to spill the guts?" Someone's in a strange mood…

Pralius nods, "Okay… that much I can do." A healer's circumspect prevents excessive damage to the hide as Pralius slips his knife up under the beasts chin and begins to slice down the neck. "I never thought I'd be thankful for autopsy class." He's made a point to pick the same beast as Galina. Their work will at least be surgical. He nods to her as the knife reaches the end of his easy reach and enters hers. She can spill the guts. She's the surgeon, after all.

"I will gut the male," is stated flatly by Galina, her hold on the blade shifting slightly. While she's not beastcraft-trained, there are some very basic things all surgeons know — and that's how to make anyone spill their guts. Literally. She takes her position closer to the animal's belly, waiting to take up the incision where Pralius leaves off. After an exploratory bit of pressure is made to determine the hide's depth, she effectively unzips the creature with a slow, deliberate stroke of her knife. Mmmm. INTESTINES. At least she's savvy enough /not/ to cut into the guts. Those are left fully intact, to keep their foulness from tainting the meat. Bogdan, of course, just looks away and fixes his attention on, oh, look, there's Siobhan. "Uh. At the Hall, actually. It's, uh, extra-curr-what-u-lar." Sagenod. A man of technical terms is he.

Lyana shrugs, setting her lips in a grim line. "Let's get this done." There's no fancy flourish, no theatrical, silly moves. Just a quick flash of the dagger, before it sinks into the flesh of the fallen female, just where the throat joins the body. "We'll meet in the middle, Sio? Make quicker work of it." This much, at least, she understands, willing to take on the gruesome task. "So who gets to skin the beast?" Blood wells up in a line, following the path of her blade through flesh. And it only gets better from there. But, suffice it to say, the task is… well in hand. Or on the ground, as the case may be. "Jays…"

Joan leans over the female's flank and with a twisting motion, pulls his arrow free from the beast. Wiping it clean and restoring it to his quiver, Joan looks up to answer Sio's question. "My father taught me. He is a trader and has spent many a night out in the wilderness. So he taught me how to use a bow at an early age." Still facing Sio, he asks "Do you want to skin her?" he asks politely. The sight of the gutting of the herdbeast does not bother Joan. He's hunted and gutted game enough times in the past when ever he was traveling with his father, so it's nothing new to his eyes.

Ely tries to keep her eyes averted from the guts spilling out of both carcasses - she might be Beastcraft trained and a rider, but the sight of that is never an appealing one. Instead, she deftly twists her knife around and starts to work at peeling the hide away from the male herdbeast starting at the nearest foreleg, "If one of your party is deft enough with a knife, they can try to remove the hide. It doesn't have to be neat or clean, but it is preferred no to be in itty bitty pieces. Sometimes we have uses for the hide." Pausing in her work, she reaches forward and yanks hard on the arrow sticking out of the beast's shoulder, letting it release its hold with a sickening noise. She eyes it grimly for a moment before setting it aside and resuming her work. "Not squeamish, are you Pral?" she asks, giving him a smirk from over the giant bulk of herdbeast. A few residents lingering at the fringes soon step forward to collect the entrails and other gooey organs into waiting containers - time to take them where they can be eaten by the waiting dragons or atleast removed from the path of the people trying to work on the carcasses.

Pralius chuckles gently and shakes his head at Ely as the guts spill out, "Not especially so, just don't enjoy it as much as Galina here." Sliding out his own knife since he handed the gutting knife to Galina, he begins to mimic Ely's work on the other foreleg as best he can, "Is there anyway we can keep the hide? Or at least enough of it to make something? I'd kind of like a souvenir."

"Extracurricular?" Siobhan flickers a second smile at Bogdan, willingly distracting the boy. "Which Hall is that?" The girl watches Lyana begin her cut, still chattering away at the boy. "Because that's something I need to look into. I'm more of a 'shoot it until it goes down' kind of girl, but that was a delightful trick." Stooping, legs spread wide, Sio gives Lyana a nod of agreement and works from the other end, easily pegging through the hide. Her line might not be as graceful as the surgeon's over yonger, but the girl knows better than to shred the innards, body twisting at an awkward angle to get to those last few inches. Finally meeting Lyana's cut, Siobhan snorts, blue eyes flashing towards Joanethen. "I always have hated skinning, but… I can manage it, sure. You know where to cut to get the choicest bits of meat from your wilderness escapades then, O Mighty Hunter?" The candidate gestures, as though inviting the boy to explain it to Lyana. She, on the other hand, nods over at Ely, eyes roving the carcass before she finds a good place to start the careful process of cutting the hide away from the actual meat.

This is Galina's element and, while she's in it, she seems … relaxed. Calm. Disturbingly good-natured, even, to the point of not refuting Pralius' words. Elbow-deep in offal, pulling guts out of the beast with both hands — bare hands, of course — and helping to scoop them into the containers. A few organs are vaguely recognizeable and are thusly named under her breath, with gentle palpation on her part to familiarize her with texture and, perhaps, to make a mental comparision between the beast equivalent of the human's own. But, with that soon done, she's grabbing for a towel to clean her arms and hands off, with the sole intention of swapping the gutting knife for another skinning knife to help out with that task. Bogdan, meanwhile, is struggling /not/ to hyperventilate, namely by looking up. Oh. Avians. /Lovely/. "Uh, right, that thing," he squeaks out for Siobhan, reaching up to rub his nose. Cough. Coughcough. "Oh. Uh. Healer. I'm with them," vague motions are made toward Pralius and Galina. Maybe. He's not sure where they are now, since he's not looking. His voice lowers. "I skipped a few classes, but, uh. They were put to good use." Clearly.

Lyana grimaces a little bit as she glances over at Galina's apparent relish of her task, color draining from her face. She mutters softly beneath her breath, "Now I know why I'm a Harper and not a Healer. And shards, can she ever play pool…" The coppery tang of blood on the air pricks at her nose, the odor of the gruesome task at hand likely to cling to her for days—baths or not. Sio's banter, though, seems to cut right through the unpleasantness, and even she can't help but smile. "If it's anything like breaking down a fowl, the parts that are worked the most will be the toughest, right?" At least, she hopes that is the case, with a note of uncertainty in her tone. "Then I'll leave skinning to you and ummm… yeah…" The weyrfolk gathering up the awful offal find themselves with another pair of hands assisting, in short order!

With knife in hand he was already retrieve some of the choice cuts from th herdbeast. "Oh i'm sorry did you say something Sio?" he says with a sly grin on his face as he pulls out several perfectly extracted choice cuts from the beast and places them in a nearby basket. And with that, he gets back to work.

Ely leans forward, the tip of her runnertail falling just over her shoulder in the motion. Still, her hands work deftly, sliding the sharp edge of the blade beneath the skin and easily parting it from the muscle. Somehow she manages to not even cut herself when she glances up at Pralius, smirking, "What. You want to make a hat or something? Shells. You're a bit grotesque. I didn't picture you for the type to want a hunting trophy." She pauses then, hands wrist-deep in bloody nastiness, to peer over her shoulder at the sound of Bogdan's voice. A frown appears and she looks all the more menacing pointing at him with a hand covered in blood and who knows what else, "Candidate. If you're not going to help with the cutting, you can help with other things. Get some towels. Get some containers to put the meat in." She jabs her bloodied hand to the scrub bushes around the area, "Or check the traps for any small game that got trapped?" She narrows her eyes a little, trying to make her command more authoritative, even though she's not an AWLM and is only a Beastcrafting wingrider.

Pralius nods, carefully stripping back the skin to the faschia with the clinical detachment of a healer. The hooves present a certain challenge until he realizes he can just cut around them to release the hide and starts peeling, "Interesting… I think animal hide comes off more easily than human skin…" Yeah, that's an observation the non-healers wanted. He runs one finger along the muscle-binding faschia, then shrugs, returning the task of skinning. He glances up at Ely, then shakes his head, "Oh, no. Nothing like that. I thought I might… try to make a stuffed herdbeast for Darius if I could find a tannercrafter to help me prep the hide…"

Siobhan risks a peek up at poor Bogdan and has to cough to cover her immediate laughter, eyes flying back to the task of working the hide away from flesh and bone. "Healer, huh?" Cut, hack! "What is it that you like to do within your craft, then, that doesn't consist of…" She gestures expansively, but carefully, so as to not cut somebody's ears off. "Well, this?" Curious minds want to know! Publicly, of course, Siobhan cannot condone skiving off lessons, but if the girl /snorts/ and shakes with suppressed laughter, wellll… "Something like that. Toughest, but not necessarily bad. Pretty much anything from shoulder to shanks gets used," Sio says towards Lyana, pointing at the body of the female to demonstrate. "I'll let you know when this is done, alright?" Letting the other candidate help with the offal, Sio gives Bogdan a sympathetic shrugs and moves on, straddling the beast's legs to get a better angle with her knife, and trying really hard not to give herself too many cuts as well. Heh. "Me? I didn't say a thing." Fluttering her eyelashes in a sickly sweet way at Joanethen, Siobhan laughs and shakes her head, letting the boy do his own work.

"I, uh. Uh. Yes, ma'am-" and Bogdan makes the fatal mistake of /looking/ at Ely. See, this is why some healers never really make it all that far in the craft. The sight of blood, the knives, the cutting, and the pointing of bloodied fingers at him when coupled with the heat is enough to make his eyes roll back. He crumples with barely a whimper, one foot twitching just a little bit. Alas, Sio's questions will just have to go unanswered. Galina simply remarks to Pralius, "It may have something to do with the thickness and texture as well." She's slow about what she's doing, her motions made with precision. She's not perfect, but given time and a lot more practice … but, it's then that Bogdan faints and she pauses, lips pressed into a thin, nigh invisible line. "Of course." So much for that. Up she goes, off to get another towel to clean up and to assist with that conked out candidate.

Ely's menacing glare fades into shocked surprise as the candidate promptly collapses in front of her, her mismatched eyes staring fixedly at that twitching foot for am oment. In fact, those bloodied fingers drop just a fraction from their pointing position as a scowl overtakes her features. "Shards," she remarks on the end of a gusty sigh, looking more put out than anything, "I'm not /that/ scary, am I?" Exhaling sharply and sending a stray tendril of amber hair flying, she rapidly wipes her knife clean on some nearby grass before sheathing it with a jerk. Gesturing with gory fingers to some nearby residents, she jerks a thumb at the carcass, "Keep going. I'll help with the fainter." She, too, goes to get a towel - can't help to have gorified hands when Bogdan finally wakes up. Then she's off to help Galina. The work of gutting, cutting and paring down the meat is left to those remaining behind. It's not long before both carcasses are stripped of useful meat and packaged securely and ferried quickly back to Fort for use in the kitchens. More hunting and gathering happens throughout the warm day, leading to quite a haul once the sun sinks in the horizon. There'll be a lot of meat for dinner at Fort tonight.

'The World of Pern(tm)' and 'The Dragonriders of Pern(r)' are copyright to Anne McCaffrey (c) l967, 2000. This is a recorded online session, by permission of the author but generated on PernWorld MUSH for the benefit of people unable to attend.