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Mirrim had seen Thread before—the dark smudge spreading across the horizon. She was intimately familiar with the sense of dread that sight inspired. But until today she had always experienced it from a distance.
Today, mounted upon green Path, she would fly Thread for the first time.
She was well prepared, was protected by her riding leathers, had practiced every last detail and maneuver until she and Path could have performed them while sleeping. But a nervous exhilaration shivered through her anyway. This was the moment she and Path had worked for ever since Path hatched. This was it! And Mirrim was determined not to disgrace herself or Path today.
She told herself firmly that neither she nor Path would be scored today. They would be vigilant and thorough. They would prove that they belonged here among the fighting dragons, show everyone that a girl could fly Thread with her green dragon.
From Path she sensed eager agreement and anticipation. This was what the green dragon had been born for. She could hardly wait, but she would wait for the signal from their wingleader. Mirrim gave her neck an encouraging pat. It wasn’t much of a reward, but it was all she could offer now. There would be time to celebrate their first flight against Thread later.
All too soon came the signal to advance. Fear swelled within Mirrim at the thought of getting any closer to that horrifying rain. She had seen enough riders and dragons with grievous injuries from Threadscore to know that she and Path must be cautious today, above all else.
Other young riders in the line were more boisterous—more foolhardy. She expected that they would be scored, and only then would they learn. Knowing this, she maintained an awareness of those pairs on the periphery of her focus, so they would not impede Path.
Unbothered by the antics of the young male riders and their dragons, Path’s wings beat strongly. She carried them forward without fear, eager to fulfill a dragon’s purpose—to protect Pern from Thread. Mirrim felt a surge of pride as Path held her place in the formation, just as they had practiced, and curved her neck back around to chew firestone.
Thread was heading inexorably toward them, ready to destroy every living thing it could touch, including them. But even as Mirrim’s heart raced through a heady mix of fear and anticipation, Path faced her task with calm certainty.
I will flame Thread, she reassured Mirrim as she chewed.
Regardless of what some of the boys and men still thought, Path had no doubts and so Mirrim didn’t either. They had trained thoroughly like all the others and Path was as capable as any other dragon, and quicker and more agile even than many of the other greens. Having a girl for a rider would not hinder her at all.
And then there was no more time to think. Thread was not just ahead, but actively upon them!
Falling more quickly than Mirrim had expected, Thread rushed into view only to be charred to ash by Path’s flame. Mirrim’s heart raced; her body threatened to freeze up, she was so afraid. If not for Path’s calm acceptance of everything that was happening, she might have.
But Path… Path was a dream. She flew through the Thread with confidence and unflagging attention, spewing gouts of flame toward any Threads that made it past the flights of dragons soaring overhead.
She dove and twisted, flamed, banked sharply to circle back around to flame again. All with nearly no extra input from Mirrim.
For her part, Mirrim let fear go and focused instead on what needed to be done. Their job was to char the Threads to ash, and to keep their fellow dragons and riders safe, and to not get in the way of more experienced pairs. With Path, it felt only natural. Like they had been doing this for years. More than once she and Path were able to sear Thread to dust before it could score another dragon or rider.
Only toward the end of the Fall, when they were both feeling the weight of fatigue from hours in the air, was Path scored.
It was a minor injury, as Path was quick to reassure her. They had gone between the moment it happened. It would heal in days, rather than weeks, but it was more than enough to dampen Mirrim’s jubilant mood. Fighting Thread was serious work, and she knew she would hear about it afterward now.
Many others were scored far more badly, Path pointed out. I flew well. We flew well.
Mirrim knew that. She had expected, even demanded, no less of herself and her dragon. But she also knew she had much more to prove—and so did Path—than any of the other new riders.
No one bothered her about it while she tended to Path’s injury, at least, but Mirrim was aware of every glance their way, and of the way her thoughts continually soured.
She wished Brekke could be here, or someone else who actually understood and believed in her. Someone who would tell her she’d done well, rather than seeing that one small score as proof that Mirrim and Path were an aberration, inferior to male riders. But that was foolishness. She must stand on her own two feet. She must let her actions and Path’s show their worth. Defensiveness would only show the others that she and Path were lesser than their fellows.
She only wished it was easier to be like Brekke, to stay calm and collected, above the burning indignation.
You are not Brekke, you are you, Path said, reassuring.
And she was right. Brekke would never have wanted to fly a fighting dragon, but Mirrim did. And Mirrim had.
She clung to the realization—she had at last lived out her lifelong dream!—as she joined the other new riders and the weyrlingmaster. Several of her fellows, she realized, would not be joining them for a long time yet because their injuries were too numerous or severe. She and Path had done the best, or nearly so, of their cohort.
Even so, she was shocked to hear the weyrlingmaster berate the boys for not having done so well as a mere girl. He saved his words of reproach, which were far gentler than she had expected, for after the boys had been dismissed. She braced for the worst, but he reminded her only to be careful on those tight turns and to pay attention to her shifting blind spots. And with that, she was dismissed.
“You did better than I expected, girl,” he told her as she turned to leave. “Keep it up and you’ll make us proud after all.”
Mirrim all but ran back to her weyr after that, not wanting any of the others to see just how much those words had affected her—how much it meant to have someone say they even might be proud of her and Path.
They were wrong about us, Path said in her mind. We will show them.
Yes, Mirrim thought back, buoyed by today’s success, yes we will!
She knew it wouldn’t always be easy, but now she had proof: it was possible. A girl could ride a green dragon. She could fly Threadfall and help keep Pern safe. She could be worth something more than just eggs.
She had known all along, but soon so would everyone else. She and Path would show them.