Gerey's Search

"...and your sewing supplies." The soft thump of a box landing on a mound of haphazardly folded clothes snapped Gerey out of his daydream. "You never know when you might need them."

With a dramatic sigh, Gerey stood. "The entire planet doesn't need to know I sew. I'm going to be a candidate, not the Weyr tailor." He hefted the box of supplies out of the pile and returned it to the desk.

His sister, Eclyei, furrowed her brows with concern. "But if your robe tears on Hatching day..."

"I honestly don't think the dragons are going to care."

"...or someone else's! Gerey, you'll need friends, being away from home for so long."

"I need the essentials." Gerey rummaged through his bag, removing several articles of clothing and two hefty jars of herbal medicines. "They're going to think I'm some kind of... herb addict, Eclyei."

"For your condition," she pointed out.

"I haven't needed this medicine since I was little," he returned, plunking the jars next to the sewing supplies. "I swear, Ec, I stop breathing one time-"

"Three in one night."

"I rounded to the nearest ten." His throat chose the worst possible moment to tickle; Gerey coughed as quietly as he could into his sleeve.

Annoyingly vigilant as ever, Eclyei strode over to the desk and opened one of the jars. "Lift up your shirt."

"I choked on spit."

"Gerey."

Begrudgingly, he let Eclyei apply the ointment to his upper chest. The scent of camphor and menthol assaulted his nostrils. He wouldn't admit it to Eclyei's face, but the smell soothed him in an odd way.

"If I take a small jar, will you get off my back about the clothes?"

Eclyei put the lid back on the jar. "You have to be prepared for anything, Gerey."

"For what? Intestinal armageddon?" Gerey gestured toward the heap of clothes on the floor. "None of the other candidates are going to have this many pairs of underwear!"

"You never know."

Gerey felt his face growing hot with frustration. "I appreciate this, Ec, really, but-" He paused to inhale. "I'm not a baby. And if we don't hurry up with this packing the Searchriders are probably going to leave without me."

Eclyei's face fell a little. "I just want you to be safe," she said, more softly than before.

He rolled his eyes. "They're trusting me to bond a dragon. I think that qualifies me to pack my own stuff."

Finally, his sister relented. "I'll get you a smaller jar. For the herbal rub, I mean." She looked at her feet. "I'll be right back."

When she had left the room, Gerey slumped on his cot, utterly exhausted from the interaction. Eclyei acted out of love, but she was underestimating him. Hadn't she been a young candidate once too? And really, who needed thirty-two pairs of underwear to stand for a clutch? Gerey was pretty sure he didn't even own thirty-two pairs of underwear. He eyed the clothing pile suspiciously, trying not to imagine where the surplus pairs had come from.

He clicked his tongue, and Thimble raised her head to look at him. Another click, and she flew to curl around his shoulders. Gerey scratched the green firelizard's chin, evoking a happy rumbling sound from her throat.

"I'll bring one Thimble," he muttered, smirking at his own pun as he regarded the sewing kit. "Wouldn't leave home without this one."

When Eclyei returned, Gerey was rummaging through the sewing box. "Something ripped?"

"No," Gerey replied. "Just downsizing for the trip."

His sister lit up immediately and beamed at him with pride. Gerey wanted to shrink into the floor.

"Not to do project work!" He picked out two spools - one of black thread and one of white - and waved them at his sister. "Just enough to mend anything that rips. Maybe the dragons do care who's put together and who's not. But I'm not about to do the Weyr's embroidery while I'm there."

"You're so good at it, though."

He shoved the spools of thread into the little drawstring bag and closed it. "I'll do more when I get back."

"Good," she said, ruffling his hair - he hated when people did that - and smiling proudly. "Now, about the underwear-"

Gerey flicked his eyes out the window, trying to gauge the time of day by the length of the shadows outside. He couldn't see his Searchdragon from here, nor the rest of the team, but he knew they were waiting while he wasted time arguing about the pros and cons of packing extra with his sister. Thimble sensed his unease and shifted on his shoulders, rumbling deeply in an attempt to soothe him.

Isla's Searchriders had better be patient, he thought to himself, then turned back toward his sister.