Tears flowed freely but unnoticed down Inna’s cheeks as each pain filled moan or trumpeted scream of an injured rider or dragon broke her heart a little more. She pushed her self harder, seeking ruthlessly to end the suffering of those she tended.<br/><br/>Hatred and despair rose in her chest bitterly; filling her mouth with the taste of bile. It seemed endless. The more she treated, the more there were to treat. Thread, that vile, loathsome substance, wounded faster then she could heal.<br/>Seeing the face of a young rider that would forever bear the scars of this first encounter provoked her into making a vow that she would find a way to erase the scars on not only the young girl but all the riders and their dragons.<br/><br/>Time has ceased to move for the besieged young healer; a monotony of shouted instructions and agonized screams. She assumed the others helping felt much as she did and imagined the riders even more so. She feared Taleea would split herself in two; she was a blue blur at the edges of Inna’s sight, flitting about, crooning her sympathy as she healed what injuries she could. However, she was but one little dragonette facing a large number of grievous injuries.<br/><br/>Hearing Sari’s voice, she looked up from the wing she had just finished sewing back together and ran her eyes over her. She signed gratefully at spotting no injuries. Without thinking about her actions or the fact that she was covered in the blood of rider and dragon alike; Inna rose to her feet and wrapped her arms about the other female in a hug.<br/><br/>“Thank the shards! Another pair of hands!” she whispered. “I am glad you were not hurt. Stepping back, she looked around; there was so much that needed doing. “Hand me thing as I call for them; I am wasting time having to search for them myself,”<br/><br/>This first threadfall was an unknown factor in that she hadn’t known what numbers of assistants would be needed; she would not be caught so ill prepared again. “Thank you for coming to help,” she said softly, moving to the next in line; a young bronze whose foreleg she hoped to save.<br/>