Kemp’s mind was in disarray. The young dragon rider had just barely survived let alone stayed conscious enough to not only comprehend the words that had been spoken to him but also the have presence of mind enough to ask his own question.

“Wh…wh..e..n..? The question came more as a gasp as his body realized that he had not take a breath for what three? Five minutes? The extreme cold of BETWEEN was bad enough when the dragons moved to a different location in Pern but it was worse during the travel between times.  There was no sense or feeling in the void other than the extreme cold that bit into bone and marrow and often left the  riders breathless.  Which is why most held their breaths as if plunging into an abyssal cold bath. 

Even the most experienced of riders only went between time with a clear image, a sort of mental coordinates they relayed to their dragons.  Even when this was attempted, it was no more than days, or a few years.  In dire circumstances a decade.  Only once, had an attempt to go back 400 years almost caused the death of a famous Weyr woman. None had in fact traveled forward in time. Most considered this feat to be next to impossible but solely because it had never been attempted. 

The young pair would have looked ghastly to any onlooker.  The dragon would have appeared more dull maroon than its usual caramel brown. They multi-faceted eyes would have been dull and with a shade of flashing sickly yellow. The boy would have seem no better. His face would be pale and clammy. Sweat would permeate his brow and his eyes would have a yellowish tint as if his liver was failing. The skin would hang from his bones as if a horrible tailor had all but thrown it on his slender frame. 

The whole ordeal of it all was plainly too much.  Kemp could do little else other than look at the pair who stood before them, a small girl perhaps 13? And a dragonet but he could not gather more information as his mind, finally protesting the ordeal, was shutting down. His face went blank and his eyes stared into space as he slumped forward on his mount and began to slide off.

Oroth, ever a loyal dragon, all but threw himself on the ground to prevent any injury to his rider. He too had suffered the great strain and lost consciousness as his bulk hit the ground. Both rider and dragon lay there on the sandy floor of the weyr. Neither would wake up for a couple of weeks….if ever.