Any multi-chapter story posted before 9/21/16 that is not Eve Black is officially dead.

This story is officially DEAD. I can no longer delude myself into thinking I'll manage to finish it and hope that by making it official I'll stop feeling guilty about not writing in it. I have decided to post what I have of the next chapter just for the hell of it. Continue reading with that in mind and at your own risk.

Thank you for your interest and sincere apologies,

Rai

Chapter Five: Salve-Grass

I'll walk these shores from dawn 'til dusk

And continue on, if I must

I'll stop, perhaps, for the day

But then continue on my wandering way

Ionnae yawned. She had just finished packing her camp and had paused to watch the sunrise. The fire lizards frolicked in the retreating tide. The chased each other and dove after fish in the shallows. Their antics would have been amusing had Ionnae not been so worried.

She wasn't worried about the fire lizards, quite the opposite. She knew they would be fine, no matter how much trouble they got into. And she wasn't worried about being caught out during Threadfall. She had the Fall patterns for the whole of the Southern Continent memorized. Even if that weren't so, she knew every nook and cranny of the coastline between Seven Coves Hold and Cove Weyr like the back of her hand. Finding shelter would be easy enough.

What worried her was the direction the excursion was taking. She had taken off to the west immediately after she left the Gather at Breakwater and gathered up the supplies she'd stashed for her trip beforehand. It would take a sevenday to make the trip from her cove east of Breakwater to the fringes of Seven Coves Hold's lands and back. Therein lay the problem. The trek itself was no bother but the dangerous proximity to the last place Ionnae wanted to be. She sighed. Why did the plants she needed refuse to grow east of Seven Coves?

Ionnae could have bought the plants at Breakwater's last gather but she had decided that she didn't really need it that badly and it was expensive. That wasn't the real reason. She was saving every mark she could get her hands on to buy a new, well made, cooking pot without dipping into her emergency fund.

A cooling breeze blew off the sea. Ionnea sighed and checked that all her camping gear was secured to her pack. Sending out a mental call to her fire lizards, she started off along the shore. Her pace was quick but steady, she knew that she could keep this pace until nightfall if need be. She also knew that she wouldn't need to. She would reach her destination by high noon.

When she spotted the river that marked the east edge Seven Coves Hold's territory, Ionnae cut into the jungle. She stashed her camping gear in a hollow tree and pushed a boulder in front of it to hide it. There was a marshy area a ways inland where the plant she sought grew. It was a redish colored grass with pale blue veins. It could be used to make a potent disinfectant. Though it didn't have the same painkilling abilities as numbweed, it could cure and prevent infection without taking away sensitivity. Since most of the scrapes Ionnae was worried about getting infected were on her hands or feet, areas she didn't want to lose sensitivity, and it was easier to brew up on her own, she preferred it over the more conventional method.

She'd discovered this miracle plant when she still lived west of Seven Cove. Her arm had been mildly threadscored but the wound had gotten dirty. Ionnae knew enough about the healing craft to know that it was infected and she needed to get help before it could spread much. As Ionnae thought back on the incident, she wondered what she must have looked like to the cotholder family she'd asked for help. It was early in her holdless years and she'd no nicer clothing to change into for dealing with other people and she'd just hacked most of her hair off with her belt knife. She must have looked every inch a runaway.

Despite that, they had her taken in, treated her arm, and let her stay for a sevenday to recover. Not only that their oldest daughter, Nettie, had insisted that she give Ionnae a proper haircut and their oldest son, Feyren, had given her her hunting knife.

When she'd left, the cotholder's wife had given her a small jar of the purpleish salve to take and a recipe to take with her along with an open invitation to come back anytime. This was one of the last times that Ionnae accepted a handout, even though, whether the cotholders knew it or not, she had repaid them. She had relocated seven eggs from one of Taleia's clutches to a beach near the cothold. She was sure they'd been found.

The marsh where the salve-grass was prominently found was called Green Marsh. It was located between Seven Coves and one of its cotholds, Green Marsh Cothold, ironically the same cothold that probably saved her arm. Because these two best avoided locations were so close to Green Marsh, Ionnae had to take a roundabout path through the jungle and approach from the south. The only issue with this approach was the possibility of running across felines.

Ionnae shuddered and loosed her hunting knife from its sheath. She'd had a nasty encounter with a solitary feline once. Its pelt had gotten her good money, but it was not an experience she never wished to repeat. She had become well versed in the ways of felines with the help of several acquaintances, Sai among them, and now knew how to best avoid them. With her eyes peeled for signs felines were in the area, Ionnae headed toward the marsh.

The water in the marsh was not even a half-foot deep but Ionnae's feet sank into the muck it concealed nearly to her knees, which made walking difficult. Ionnae had grown used to this though, after turns of visiting Green Marsh for various reasons. As she began to saw at the tall salve-grass with her hunting knife, cutting it just below the waterline, Ionnae noticed how horribly dull the blade was getting. However, the turns-old blade was becoming so woefully thin that Ionnae was almost afraid to hone it. She sighed. She needed a new hunting knife. She knew the reason, though she'd never admit it, she'd held on to it for as long as she had. Feyren had given it to her.

Ionnae took her time with her work, making sure to cut the salve-grass just right before tucking it into the special carry-sack she had brought with her for the occasion. Seven of her fire lizards worked with her, cutting with their teeth and claws. A sudden downdraft startled Ionnae from her work and she was barely able to stop her jaw from dropping as a green dragon landed in the marsh and settled into the muck with a content sound.

Ionnae couldn't help but smile at the blissful seeming dragon. "Feel good?"

The dragon rumbled happily, turning a whirling blue eye toward Ionnae. Yes, it does. Ionnae grinned and went back to cutting grass. The dragon extended her head toward her. What are you doing?

"Cutting a certain kind of grass. It's used to make a medical salve."

Can I help?

"If you wish, madam dragon. Just try not damage the roots."

I am Aironth and I will be careful.

Having a dragon help her cut salve-grass was not what Ionnae had planned on. She hoped that the rumors of dragons having poor memory were true otherwise there would be a dragon rider out there who might know where to find her. She continued working anyway, hoping that the added help would speed things up a bit.

"Seriously, bro, what would she be doing in the marsh?" The voice startled Ionnae, her head jerking up from the clump of salve-grass she was cutting.

"She likes mud for some reason I cannot fathom."

"Can't you call her or something?"

"She says she's helping the 'ocean girl'."

"Ocean girl?"

"That's what Aironth was calling her. Says she smells like salt and—" The voice cut off as the speaker came into view and noticed Ionnae standing nearly waist deep in mucky water with an armload of half-cut salve-grass, "…sea."

Ionnae was frozen in place as they approached, trying to place voices that sounded familiar. She had to stop her jaw from dropping for a second time as realization dawned on her. The older of the young men who entered, obviously Aironth's rider, had a look of recognition in his eyes as well. His eyes drifted from the agitated fire lizards flitting about the area, to the exposed threadscore scar on her arm, before coming to a rest on the hunting knife in her hand.

The younger man, oblivious to this exchange, strode angrily forward. "What are you doing here? You've got no right to—"

Forgetting the young man whose name used to be Feyren, Ionnae rounded on the boy. "This is a marsh, not private property. I've got just as much right to be here as you do and I've got every right to be cutting wild salve-grass." The boy took another stride forward and, in response, Ionnae sung her armload of salve-grass into her bag and with the same motion drew her belt knife from her hip.

"Hey! Ease up! Both of you!" Feyren slogged through the muck to stand between them.

Ionnae spoke up before the boy could. "Aw, come on, Feyren. You weren't above letting me beat sense into your little brother before." During her stay at Green Marsh, one of the cotholder's younger sons, who Ionnae recognized as the boy standing before her and recalled his name to be Petarl, had given her a bouquet of wild flowers and asked her to go to a gather with him. She broke his nose and might have done the same to his arm if Nettie hadn't broken up the one-sided brawl and then scolded Feyren for just watching.

Petarl's eyes widened in surprise but then narrowed again as he studied Ionnae suspiciously. "Do we know you?" Feyren covered his mouth with his hand and appeared to be trying to hold back laughter, no doubt recalling the same incident as Ionnae.

Sheathing her knives and rolling her eyes, Ionnae replied, "Yes, Petarl, you know me because I would know your name and beat sense into you if I didn't." Ionnae decided to ignore the boy, who seemed to be speechless, and turned to Feyren. "So, what should I call you now? Since you're obviously the lovely Aironth here's rider."

Feyren rolled his eyes, "It's F'ren. Is there something I can call you or should I just stick with 'ocean girl'?"

Ionnae paused for a thoughtful moment before grinning and replying, "Laurelle."

F'ren gave her a knowing grin. "I doubt that's your name but I'll pretend I don't know that since it's better than calling you 'ocean girl' or 'lizard girl' or 'threadscore girl'."

Recognition finally dawned on Petarl. "You're the threadscore girl?"

"No duh, dimglow." Ionnae waved her threadscored arm in front of his face.

"Because there are so many people stupid enough to be out during threadfall and get scored." Ionnae grabbed a clump of muck and threw it at F'ren, hitting him square in the chest. F'ren glowered at her before hurling a handful of mud back at her. It sailed just a hair wide and flew past her shoulder. Before Ionnae could retort and escalate the mud war, two fire-lizards, who were not Ionnae's, appeared in the marsh. They darted around the marsh seemingly festinated by Aironth, Ionnae, and her fire-lizards before remembering their mission and hovering in front of F'ren and Petarl, chittering all the while.

"It seems that Nettie wants us back at the cot." F'ren said to Ionnae while Petarl groaned.

"I don't wanna go back yet!"

F'ren now addressed the fire lizards, "Alright, tell Nettie we're on our way back but we're soaked so we're flying straight." He turned to Ionnae. "You coming? I'm sure that Nettie would be delighted to see you again."

Ionnae sighed. She tried, for a moment, to think up a polite way to decline but polite wasn't one of her strong suits. "Oh, well. Why not? I'm due for a haircut anyway." She turned to Aironth. "Well, Aironth? Would you mind if I hitched a ride with your rider and his brother?"

Of course not.

"Well, that settles it." Ionnae said just as F'ren opened his mouth to repeat the dragon's answer. His jaw hung open in shock for a moment and Petarl simply looked confused. "Well? What're you idiots just standing there for? Your sister's going to pitch a fit if you dally too long." She addressed Aironth again. "What do you say that us girls get going and leave the dawdling boys to walk back to the cot on their own?"

Aironth rumbled in the dragon equivalent of a laugh. That wouldn't be very nice.

"No, but them making us late isn't very nice either."

"Alright, alright. We're coming." F'ren shook his head. "This has to be one of the strangest moments of my life."

"Suck it up, dragon-boy, and let's get moving. I've got a schedule to keep."

"Have you ever flown before?"

"Nope."

"That's it." Ionnae slid from the dragon's back the moment her feet touched the ground. "That is it. I apologize, madam Aironth, but I am a dolphin not a dragon." To prove her point she crossed the sand to the water's edge and started washing muck from her legs. Ionnae could hear F'ren and Petarl laughing at her but didn't quite care at the moment. Sheer cliffs and ocean drop-offs were one thing. Flying was a whole other game that she didn't particularly enjoy playing. She looked up and narrowed her eyes at the boys. "Laugh it up boys. I'd like to see either of you climb a sheer cliff face bare-handed."

"Petarl! F'ren!" Before either of the boys could reply to Ionnae, a tall, lean muscled woman strode down the beach from the cot walking with a waddle that said she was heavily pregnant. "Tate and Berry said we had a guest."

F'ren jerked his thumb at Ionnae, who had gone back to trying to clean up. Some of her fire lizards were trying to help, but they really only succeeded in soaking her shorts even farther. "She's not too happy with us right now."

"I dare say she is not!" Ionnae shouted over her shoulder.

"What did you do?" Nettie asked her brothers.

"We laughed at her." Petarl answered as he jumped down from Aironth's back after F'ren. "Apparently she's and ocean girl not a dragon girl."

Ionnae shooed her fire lizards save for Rain, who perched on her shoulder. She glared at Petarl. "Unless you want another broken nose, I suggest you shut it." She had to wave away Silly, who was determined to take a nap on her head.

"Is that who I think it is?" Nettie asked F'ren. Petarl charged Laurelle and shouted about how she was a girl and would never beat him. She scowled at him but lured him deeper into the water. Once there, Petarl tried to slog after her but she moved easily through the water like, as she said earlier, a dolphin.

"If you're thinking the threadscore girl, you'd be right." F'ren told her. "We found her in the marsh, cutting salve-grass. Nearly got into a row with Petarl when we got there."

"And getting into a row with him now." Nettie said as she eyed the pair. Laurelle had just splashed water into Petarl's face and skirted out of his reach before he to do the same. "Their personalities do seem to clash."

"Don't think about getting between them now. My future niece doesn't deserve that."

Nettie raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You have yet to tell me just why you're so convinced the baby's a girl."

F'ren gave her a knowing grin. "Intuition."

"Last time I checked you weren't a woman."

"Talk to M'dor about that."

Nettie's nose wrinkled. "I'd much rather not talk to that man ever again thank you."

F'ren sighed. The meeting between his family and weyrmate had gone anything but well. He wasn't entirely sure what happened. Everybody had been civil one moment but he had left the room for five minutes and when he had returned Nettie and M'dor had loathed each other. Neither they nor the rest of the family would tell him what happened. F'ren had to admit that M'dor could have tried the patience the Masterharper but he had some good qualities underneath. The problem was being around him long enough to find them.

Before F'ren could say anything, Laurelle jogged up to them, three of her fire-lizards flitting about her head and water dripping from her shorts. Petarl was on his butt in the shallows, waving off a few more. "M'dor? As in the sleaze that got wine dumped all over him at Breakwater's last gather M'dor?"

F'ren sighed again. "I take in you were there."

Laurelle smirked. "My fire-lizards might or might not have been the cause of the wine spillage."

F'ren had to laugh despite how pissed the incident had made M'dor. "You mean he hit on you and you didn't break his nose?"

"Who's breaking whose nose?" Petarl finally reached the group, his clothes completely soaked through.

"Nobody." F'ren told him. "Laurelle's fire-lizards made M'dor run into a server at Breakwater's last gather and get wine spilled on him."

Petarl pumped his fist in the air. "Alright! Way to go Laurelle!"