The fog had not abated, and she could see the staircase as only a darker shadow. Her foot kicked the first riser.
Be easeful, Oriith said.
“I will.” Moreta’s right hand crept along the wall as she ascended. She seemed to be walking upward into nothing until her lead foot discovered the safety of the next step and the mist churned about her. But Oriith kept murmuring encouragement until Moreta laughed, saying she was only a few steps from her weyr and her bed. For all of that, she nearly missed her step at the landing for the light from her weyr was diminished to a feeble glow.
The weyr was noticeably warmer. The golden dragon’s eyes gleamed as Moreta crossed to caress her, scratching Orlith’s eye ridges. She leaned gratefully against Orlith’s head, thinking that Or—
82 Moreta: Dragonlady of Pern
lith exuded an odor that was a combination of all the best herbs and spices.
You are tired. You must get some sleep now.
“Ordering me about again, huh?” But Moreta was on her way to her sleeping quarters. She pulled off tunic and trousers and, sliding into the furs, arranged them around her shoulders and was very quickly asleep.