Zala had always been considered exotically beautiful. Even as a tiny child, everyone could tell that her platinum white hair against her rich brown skin would set her apart no matter what her personality or skills might bring. Her busy family, wealthy and talented in trade with ties to the Healer's guild, maintained its ties when they were brought to this time and place. The Weyr valued the skills that her father had, he was an exceptional public speaker - a trait that has certainly been inherited by all his children, not just the eldest sons.

Zade, Zullor, Leda, Dezu and Zala. Children of Zelda and Raolo. Only the first three learned to read with any proficiency, after that Zelda was too busy with her youngest and her sister's two. Their aunt had fallen ill and died shortly after Zala was born. Though her cousins too were raised nearby, Zala never quite formed much of an attachment to them. She resented, even from an early age, that they were more important to her mother, than she was.

But Zala learned quickly that she would go farther with her family if she remained aloof, politely distant. Eventually, of course, she began to believe herself. Always concerned about insulting someone - never do that! - but also with impressing Raolo. Zala is at least as intelligent as she pretends to be, but knows she will have to learn to read and write properly if she is to impress anyone outside her family.

This has been put on the back burner, while Zala learned about dragons. When she was thirteen, a wing of dragons came through on Thread patrol burning the dangerous strands brightly out of the air. One of them, a blue of small size, had been scored on the way in and was forced to land. He had blipped between shortly but continued fighting until it was obvious that any further flight would damage the dragon's wing sail beyond repair. In too much pain to send himself between - even permanently - the blue huddled near Delta Hold's entrance and howled. His rider had collapsed with the weight of his dragon's pain. Zala and several others rushed to help, but she was left standing in awe of the dragon himself.

Perhaps it was that moment when she was Searched, as she gently called out to the dragon to distract him from his pain. The wingsail would mend, she promised him. As piles of salve were brought to the dragon - as much as they had nearby in the human Healer's dens - his fear and pain subsided. His angry red-swirling eyes tamed into orange and finally into a tinted violet of acceptance mingled with memory. Zala watched and helped where she could, as the local tailors and one or two stronger willed Ladies added their skills with heavy threads to sew the wounds.

"It would heal better, I'm afraid," Zala said with a bit of hesitation in her voice, "If the wound were opened first. It is cauterized, isn't it?"

Stunned, some shocked, a couple angrily tried to argue, but the Healer assented. Otherwise the wing would scar terribly - opening the remaining large Threadscore marks with a knife, they continued sewing and binding.

"You've a gift, there," Said the rider, pale with pain. "You'd make any Weyr run more smoothly. I hope you Impress well." So she was Searched. The blue nudged her as well, not speaking to her - perhaps to spare her the pain he still felt - but purring gently in thanks.

Zala did not hear dragon voices, but sometimes she wished she could. How better to get acquainted with the wings, the tail, their limbs? She could count on one finger the number of books the Hold had on dragon healing - not that she could read it anyway. Some day. She would learn. She would conquer the pain and the injuries. Dragons would thank her.

That would surely impress her father.

***

Sedona was a good place to learn, it was an active, hearty Weyr. She took lessons from P'gil and D'maran, and dedicated herself to the tasks of helping with wounded or sick dragons. But she was also up for candidate classes - where she was plopped down with a tutor to help her learn to read. She'd never be very good at it, but then the only things she knew she'd need were going to be dragon-related. Medicines, instructions, yes.

The hatching was late, so it was with a weary trudge to her step that she dragged herself down to the hatching sands with the others. She waited it out, a bronze hatched and was followed by two blues. And Lavrenc impressed one of them! She was so happy for him, she almost missed the gold that came from her shell shortly after.

Like the others on the sands, she fervently wished for a gold to want her. But this one... no, it was not for her! The gold made it perfectly clear that the only one she wanted was Penny there, and the other girls withdrew the moment they saw the impression.

A handfull of other eggs hatched in short order, including a fine brown and several blues and greens. One of the greens made a line directly to Zala, her mind insistant and demanding.

Feed me now, Zala! Think about those icky wounds later!

Zala's delighted giggle was almost the only thing she could get out, though as they passed the records keeper, she blurted out, "Rilendeith!"

***

Over the course of their training it became obvious that Rilendeith was not a show-off, though she wasn't shy either. She balked however, at both chewing firestone and going up against Thread. Even though Zala pleaded with the green, she begged... But finally the dragon healers asserted that if she wasn't going to be of use in a fighting wing, when they returned to Dragonhope it was certain there would be a place for her healing skills off the combat wings. With great relief, Ril dedicated herself to Zala's tasks, those icky wounds became her focus. She could spot an injured dragon from a mile away, she claimed.

Her claims were substantiated, when one of the weyrling wings experienced their first Threadfall. She was not to fly until needed, but the moment that she noticed one of the other greens sustain a wound, she bolted with Zala clinging for dear life, into the skies. Zala could assess the wound on the wing, and commanded them to return back to the Weyr immediately, not just head between to seal the score. It would be weeks before the wing sail on the green healed fully, but thankfully due to their quick efforts, she'd be able to strongly fly once more.

Zala was given a spot in the Queen's wing, not only because she was a dragon healer, but because the green never once took a bite of firestone. It would be likely that some lucky brown or blue (more likely brown, given Ril's predisposition toward them) would have a clutch of his own with her.