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White Dragon by Anne McCaffrey. Chapter 19

“Jaxom!” N’ton was anxious.

“Yes, N’ton?” Jaxom dutifully continued to scratch Ruth’s backbone, wondering why Mirrim’s cruel remark did not rankle as it ought. Sexless runt! As he saw N’ton striding toward him, he was aware of a curious sense of relief, of relaxation deep inside him. The memory of those riders, waiting for the Fort green to mate, flashed through his mind. Yes, he’d been relieved then that Ruth had proved disinterested. He could somewhat regret that Ruth would be deprived of that experience; but he was relieved that he would never be called upon to endure it.

“You must have heard her.” There was a tinge of hope in N’ton’s voice that Jaxom hadn’t.

“I heard. Sound carries near water.”

“Blast the girl! Scorch the girl! We were going to explain … then you took the firehead, and now this. The opportunity hasn’t presented itself …” N’ton’s explanations came out in a rush.

“I can live with it. Like Mirrim’s Path, there are other things we can do.”

N’ton’s groan came from his guts. “Jaxom!” His fingers closed tightly on Jaxom’s shoulder, trying in the contact to express his inarticulate regret.

“It’s not your fault, N’ton.”

“Does Ruth comprehend what was said?”

“Ruth comprehends that his back itches.” Even as Jaxom said it, he found it curious that Ruth was not the least bit upset.

There, you have the exact spot. Harder now.

Jaxom could feel the slightly flaky dryness in the otherwise loose and soft hide.

“I think I guessed, N’ton,” Jaxom went on, “that time at Fort Weyr, that something was wrong. I know K’nebel expected Ruth to rise for the green. I thought that Ruth, being born small, maybe would mature later than other dragons do.”

“He’s as mature as he’ll ever be, Jaxom!”

Jaxom was rather touched by the genuine regret in the bronze rider’s voice.

“So? He’s my dragon and I’m his rider. We are together!”

“He’s unique!” N’ton’s verdict was fervent, and he stroked Ruth’s hide with affectionate respect. “So, my young friend, are you!” He gripped Jaxom’s shoulder again, letting the gesture stand for words unsaid. Lioth crooned in the darkness beyond them and Ruth, turning his head toward the bronze dragon, made a courteous response.

Lioth is a fine fellow. His rider is a kind man. They are good friends!

“We are ever your friends,” N’ton said, giving Jaxom’s shoulder a final, almost painful squeeze. “I must get to Wansor. You’re sure you’re all right?”

“Go along, N’ton. I’ll just settle Ruth’s itch!”..

The Fort Weyrleader hesitated one more moment before he pivoted and walked quickly toward his bronze.

“I think I’d better oil that patch, Ruth,” Jaxom said. “I’ve been neglecting you lately.”

Ruth’s head came around, his eyes gleamed more brilliantly blue in the darkness. You never neglect me.

“I have too, or you wouldn’t be patchy!”

There has been much for you to do!

“There’s a fresh pot of oil in the kitchen. Hold tight.”

His eyes accustomed to the tropic darkness, Jaxom made his way to the Hold, found the pot in the kitchen press and trotted back. He was conscious of a weariness, in mind and body. Mirrim was the most awkward person! If he’d let her and Path come … Well, he’d have learned the verdict on Ruth sooner or later. Why wasn’t Ruth upset? Maybe if he had been completely willing for his dragon to experience that part of his personality, Ruth would have matured. Jaxom railed at the fact that they had always been kept from being full dragon and rider: brought up as they were in the Hold, instead of the Weyr where the mating of dragons was an understood and accepted fact of the weyr life. It wasn’t as if Ruth were immune to sexual experience. He was always present when Jaxom had sex.

I love with you and I love you. But my back itches fiercely.

That was clear enough, Jaxom thought as he hurried through the forest to his dragon.

Someone was with Ruth, scratching his back for him. If it was Mirrim … Jaxom strode forward angrily.

Sharra is with me, Ruth told him calmly.

“Sharra?” Swallowing an irrational surge of anger, he acknowledged her presence. “I’ve got the oil. Ruth’s got a bad flaky patch. I’ve been neglecting him.”

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Categories: McCaffrey, Anne
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