Tenna sighed softly to herself. Three days? She’d be fully recovered by then and have to run on. She really did want to get the extra stitches for her first Cross. A Gather, even one at Fort, was not as important as upgrading herself. Well, nearly. It wasn’t as if this was the last Gather she’d ever have a chance to attend even if it was the first for her at the First Hold on Pern.
This was home station for two girls. Rosa had a cap of very tight dark curls and a pert face with mischievous eyes. Spacia, with long blonde hair tied back, runner-wise, had a more dignified way about her although she kept up a wickedly bantering conversation with the younger male runners among others there. Then there was an informal concert for Tenna, some of the newer songs that the Harper Hall was airing. Rosa led, Spacia adding an alto line while three of the other runners joined in, one with a little whistle and the others with their voices. The evening became quite enjoyable, especially as either Grolly or Torlo kept filling Tenna’s wine glass.
Rosa and Spacia helped her up the stairs, one on either side of her, with the excuse that the bandages mustn’t loosen. They chattered about what they intended to wear to the Gather and who they hoped to dance with.
‘We’re on line tomorrow,’ Rosa said as they got her to her bed, ‘so we’ll probably be off before you get down. Those poultices ought to do the trick.’
They both wished her a good night’s sleep. Her head was spinning as she lay down, but pleasantly, and she drifted into sleep very quickly.
Torlo arrived with a tray of food just as she was waking up.
‘Not as sore today?’
‘Not all over but my leg . . .’ She pulled the quilt back so he could see.
‘Hmmm. Need more on that one. Went in at an angle. I’m calling Beveny.’
‘Oh, really . . . I’d rather . . . Surely Penda knows what the healer made up for me…’
‘She does but we want the healer to speak about your injuries to Lord Groghe.’
Tenna was dismayed now. A runner didn’t go to the Lord Holder without real cause for complaint and her injuries were not that serious.
‘Now, see here, young runner,’ and Torlo waggled a finger at her, ‘I’m station master and I say we take this to the Lord Holder on account of it shouldna happened at all.’
Beveny recommended a long soak in the tub and provided her with an astringent to use in the water.
‘I’ll leave more poultice with Penda. We want that final sliver out. See . . .’ and he pointed to the thin, almost invisible hairs of the sticklebush which had come from the arm puncture. ‘We want another of these fellows on the pad, not in you.’
Two more had also erupted from the puncture wounds and he carefully covered all three pads with glass slides which he tied together.
‘Soak at least an hour, Tenna,’ he told her. ‘You’re to take it very handy today, too. Don’t want that sliver to work any further down in your flesh.’
She shuddered at the thought of an evil-looking hair loose in her body.
‘Don’t worry. It’ll be out by evening,’ Beveny said, grinning reassuringly. ‘And you’ll be dancing with us.’
‘Oh, I’ll have to run on as soon as I’m able,’ she said earnestly.
Beveny’s grin broadened. ‘What? And do me out of my dance with you?’ Then his expression turned professional. ‘I can’t release you as fit to run yet, you know. I’d want to see those puncture marks healing. Especially in the shin where just the dirt and dust of a run could be imbedded and cause a repeat infection. The wounds may seem,’ and he emphasized the word, ‘insignificant but I’ve tended a lot of runners and I know the hazards of the trace.’
‘Oh,’ Tenna said meekly.
‘Right. Oh!’ And he grinned again, pressing her shoulder with a kindly squeeze. ‘You will make your first Cross. Now rest. You runners are a breed apart, you know.’