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Violet's new braces for her ankles were very handsome, in Tairn's opinion. They were made of gleaming black leather that matched his scales (and also, with considerably less poetry, his leather saddle and the jackets that the riders usually wore for flying).
She had mentioned testing them out in the small space of her room, making adjustments to how snug the straps were tightened. Some walking in the corridors of the War College, also.
So far as Tairn had been told, this was his rider's first use of these braces while walking outside. The ground of the flight field, dented by hard landings and torn by dragon claws, might be what was to blame.
Violet was nearing him when ankles gave out, despite the braces. She staggered.
Her expression set, Violet lurched to Tairn. She put out a hand to lean, heavily, on his extended foreleg. "This is probably..." She spoke with harsh intakes of breath between each word. Switching to the silent communication of their bond, she said: Probably not worse than if I wasn't wearing these.
If Violet considered the braces at fault, Tairn would happily tear them to pieces for her. He told her as much with a growl.
"I'm going to get a cane. If I dislike the first one I try you can snap it for me."