There was still some fuss about Pax Wintergreen and his remaining on the hard turf.  He was sitting up at least but it seemed likely that this fall might get the better of him.  Pax Wintergreen had struck Madam Hooch as a senstive, kindly lad and that this might have some tears.

As Mairead flew over and dismounted (so deftly), Madam Hooch took a moment to consult her old patina'd pocket watch.  It told her that the attention span of 11 and 12 year olds had been nearly spent. What with the fifteen minutes of warm-up, then getting down here to the Mallow Moss, and twenty more minutes of falling - they'd be out of time before they knew it.  There was dinner at six as well.

Tweeeet!

After signalling for attention, Hooch let the silver whistle drop to her chest and stood hands on hips.  There were a few extra falls, and there was still a huddle around Pax, but she had their attention.

"Well done.  Quite satisfactory the lot of you.  That's all for today.  Up the hill and stow your brooms properly.  Once that's done, you're all free to go for dinner.  But don't think that I won't drag each and every one of you back out here if I find that broom closet in disarray."

A couple of giggles, but they knew she meant business.

"Wintergreen," she called over.  "Will you walk or be carried this evening?"

Pax gave Mairead a sideways, ever so slightly scrutinising look. She was offering him advice? Trying to help? So maybe... she didn't hate his guts after what happened back in their first herbology class? Cautiously optimistic, he gave her a faint smile, shifting his expression into one that somewhat resembled gratitude. That didn't mean he wanted to take her advice, though. He didn't want to 'let the fall win', whatever that meant, of course, but he didn't want his side to start hurting more than it already did either. He realised though, that he'd have to suck it up. Mairead sounded like she knew what she was talking about; she was probably right. If he didn't keep moving he'd get all stiff and the pain would end up taking longer to go away. So he took a bracing breath, rolled himself onto his non-aching side, and pushed himself into a sitting position. He even managed to keep himself from grimacing too much.

He was saved from having to get back on the broom (or weaseling out of getting back on the broom, for that matter) by Madam Hooch's whistle. This was probably the first time Pax was glad to see the end of a flying lesson. The feeling of foolishness wasn't quite over yet though; when the flying instructor called over to him, he felt his face warm a little. Gingerly, he pushed himself the rest of the way to his feet. He only stumbled a little bit. As he had suspected, he didn't seem to be afflicted by anything worse than some impressive bruising. 'I think I'll walk, Madam Hooch,' he called back to her. 'Thanks for the offer though!' he added, attempting to save a little face. He gave Eirene and Mairead a reprise of his lopsided,  embarrassed grin, murmured a self-conscious, 'Um, thanks,' then tentatively shuffled off to collect his stray broom.

As students dissipate, Madam Hooch finally mounts her broom and glides slowly and smoothly along with them up the hill.  With only one rough fall, this year's Flying Class Falling Day was the least gorey so far.  Perhaps it was an omen of clear skies to come.

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