F’lox put and arm out to keep himself from running past the door and used it to swing himself into the room. T’sga was toppled onto his buttocks, wincing and tearing up in pain from his cheek-which was already turning an angry red-and the jarring of his arm. He stood in the doorway to the empty barracks Lyrra had cornered the younger rider in somehow and stared for a few beats. Lyrra was hovering over the bronze rider threateningly. Fen himself was having a problem processing this. Greens just didn’t attach bronzes. NO dragonrider attacked another rider. They’d been told that repeatedly as they’d had their fight training as weyrlings.
“Lyrra!” he barked, startling both her and the boy on the ground. Outside the bellows of protest from the dragons involved faded. Someone would be here soon to sort out what had happened. “What in the name of the First Egg do you think you’re doing?” He reached her and clamped a hand to her bicep, tightening it when she tried to take a step back. He took the time to offer T’sga a hand up and ran his eyes over the boy. He didn’t look much worse for wear, but he’d be heading back to get his arm looked at again without a doubt.