Free Dragon's Kin by Anne McCaffrey

first thing that Kindan saw as he approached the mine entrance was Dask. His heart fell. Dask would never leave Danil unless ordered—or cut off by the cave-in.
    “Where’s Danil, Dask? Where is he?” Kindan asked as he approached. The watch-wher’s flanks were gouged, deep wounds oozing the ichor that was a watch-wher’s blood. He blinked his eyes painfully in the morning light and turned back to the mine entrance. Kindan followed.
    “What happened?” Kindan asked, following the watch-wher.
    Dask turned his head to look at Kindan and gave him the sound for “bad air.”
    “Why didn’t you warn them?” Kindan asked.
    Dask made an annoyed
bleek
and then the sound for
“fast.”
    “It happened too fast?” Kindan repeated. The watch-wher nodded.
    Inside the mine, Kindan could smell gas, sharp and bitter in his throat. It made him cough. The cave-in must have been caused by an explosion of trapped gas, he guessed. It must have been sudden, or Dask would have warned the miners in time.
    The watch-wher trotted ahead in the tunnel, leading the rescue party to the jumbled mass of the cave-in. Before the rest of the party could reach him, he had already started clawing at the barrier, using his head to batter at the loose bits. Men stepped out of the way of the debris that his claws were throwing back. One of the men positioned a wheelbarrow so that it caught the flying rocks and dirt, clearing the ground as other men began to dig next to the watch-wher.
    Now that the miners knew where to work, Kindan tried to get the wounded watch-wher to stop and save his energy. But Dask ignored him, burrowing on despite the ichor that was oozing from his various wounds.
    Hours passed, all the while with Dask digging and the miners carting away the fallen rock. Painfully, they excavated their way through the cave-in.
    “Natalon?” Kindan said, grabbing the miner’s arm. “Let me take Dask back. He’s bleeding.”
    Natalon looked over at the watch-wher. “We need him here now, especially as he seems to know where our men are.”
    “But . . . he could bleed to death,” Kindan cried, tugging at Natalon’s sleeve.
    “Do what you can for him but don’t stop him, lad,” Natalon said. “Your father’s on the other side.”
    Kindan ran all the way back out to where the injury station had been set up. He was surprised to see that the sun was past noon.
    “Please, let me have some bandage rolls, Margit,” he said to the woman who was setting out the supplies.
    “Have they found anyone alive?” she asked, and he had to disappoint her with a negative shake of his head. He knew that her spouse was in his father’s shift.
    “Why would you want bandages then, Kindan?” she asked.
    “Dask was hurt bringing out those he rescued,” he said, gesturing toward the three men being cared for by the camp’s healers.
    “You want my good bandages for the watch-wher?” she demanded, affronted.
    “If he bleeds to death before he finds your mate, it’ll be your fault!”
    “Why, you impertinent little scut!” Margit responded, swiping at him with the towel she had in one hand. He neatly sidestepped and, in doing so, scooped two rolls off the table and raced back to the mine entrance, avoiding the two men who were pushing laden barrels out to be emptied.
    Kindan was panting with exertion when he reached the cave-in site. Splotches of greenish watch-wher ichor were visible in the light from the glows, but Dask continued to claw at the barrier. Kindan pushed in beside Dask, hearing the laboring gasp of the watch-wher’s breath. When a sudden movement caused more dirt and stone to shower the creature, Kindan pushed up beside him and tried to bandage the deep neck wound that was pumping ichor out at much too fast a rate.
    Muttering reassurances, he tried to get the watch-wher to slow down. Dask turned his head slightly, his eyes gleaming with irritation, and hissed at Kindan. Then he turned back to his task with renewed vigor. Ichor