They are a golden and bronze dragon. They are part of the very first flock of dragons to be born. They weren’t the very first to hatch but they became the natural leaders of the group. Together with their riders they became the very first weyrleader and weyrwoman ever in all of Pern.
The account of how they grew, so naive yet so wise is enticing and tender. How both rider and dragon discover bit by bit how to interact with each other, how to trust each other, how to work more truly as one. The consternation at finding that Faranth could not breathe fire but Carenath could. The salvage protectiveness and worry that elicits Sorka’s birthing pains on Faranth is one of the sweetest parts. As if the dragon didn’t care that it was a natural process, all she understood was that her rider was in pain and nothing was being done to soothe her.
Then the terror of discovering the mysterious workings of going between and back without panicking. The grieving that comes from loosing one of them precisely because of that error. But convincing themselves, nonetheless, that the trust they have for their partners is the key to survive, the key to successfully accomplish the maneuver.
I think the description of that first generation’s evolution, is not about the technological achievement but more a lesson on trust and mutual supportive development. Dragons learn as much as humans. Humans depend on dragons as they on humans for survival. It is the beauty of a perfect symbiotic relationship, in which both parts may act separately at times but in the most primal form become one, one thought, one body, one heart.
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