Murayn sat quietly outside the door of his parents’ weyr, listening to them bickering loudly as they always seemed to do. It was quite annoying for the 14-Turn-old, always hearing his parents arguing about this, that, or the other thing. Currently they were fighting about whether or not he, Murayn, should stand at the upcoming hatching. Fayneth had clutched once again, another wonderful one numbering 30 eggs in total with what would seem four queens, or possibly more because there was one egg that not even Fayneth could decipher. Murayn didn’t see why he wouldn’t be allowed to stand, unless they thought he shoulder be older before Impressing. The entire thing had started when Murayn, on his normal visit to his parents, mentioned candidate numbers and the clutch size. It seemed that it had nudged his parents towards thinking he wanted to stand and so an argument ensued. M’rtagh didn’t want Murayn to stand quite yet and Rayna all but insisted they allow him to stand. Despite being ‘mates for so long, the Weyrleaders had changed none and never seemed to be on the same wave link, but still, when not arguing, they got along simply fine.
       “Murayn!” The lad jumped at his father’s bellow and got to his feet, entering the weyr calmly and approaching his parents, both of which had visibly calmed.
       “Yes father?” Murayn’s voice was calm, but what annoyed M’rtagh was the term ‘father’. Even though M’rtagh liked being a dad, he had never really liked being called father, it sounded much too formal for him.
       “Son, I’ve told you before not to call me father.”
       “Oops, sorry pop. You two done arguing?” Murayn shifted gray eyes between his mum and dad, grinning slightly as his father rolled his eyes and his mother just shook her head.
       “Yes, we’re done arguing. We’ve decided that we’ll let you stand only if Fayneth and/or Ampthrith approve.” Rayna’s voice was calm and she glared at M’rtagh to keep him from adding anything, which he tended to do in such situations. M’rtagh just gave her a look that was clearly read as “what?”. Murayn grinned broadly; resisting the urge to hugs his parents in thanks, pretty positive that both Fayneth and Ampthrith would accept him as a candidate.
       “Thanks mum! Thanks pop!” Murayn couldn’t resist anymore and hugged his parents, receiving a chuckle and a friendly clout in the shoulder from his dad and a hug and bright smile from his mum, who was no taller than Murayn himself. But the lad jumped as eight flits burst, trilling, into the air. He placed two fingers to his lips and whistled sharply, calling his four to him promptly while the other four separated between Rayna and M’rtagh, a blue following the bronze Trouble and a beryl following the opal Mithrim.
       “I still don’t see why you want so many flits!” Rayna’s rather exasperated voice made Murayn grin as he stroked his perched white gold, Fate. Above his head a silver circled swiftly with a bronze perched on his other shoulder and a very tiny garnet was perched atop his head, clutching easily to his thick mass of black hair.
       “I just showed up at the right time is all.” ‘Rayn shrugged, still grinning slightly. “Besides, I did Impress the first white gold flit.”
       “Yes, and Fayneth almost ate her out of jealousy the first time she saw her.” ‘Tagh added with a chuckle.
       “And it didn’t help when you almost called the sweet little deary Fayneth Jr.” Rayna continued, eyes laughing as she stroked the smooth white gold head.
       “Yeah, well Fate fits her better anyway. But I had better get going! I was supposed to hunt with Tiamit! I’ve already kept him waiting!” He gave both his parents a really quick hug and salute before charging out of the weyr, shouting back over his shoulder. “See you tonight!” With that, the boy was gone, flits with him, leaving his parents just shaking their heads at his energy and the fact he always seemed to need to be in two places at once.

       Tiamit waited quite impatiently for his friend on the beaches, having snuck from the headwoman’s watchful eye about an hour ago so that he could make his way through the dense forest and to the shores, the place he always met with Murayn. It wasn’t normal for ‘Rayn to be early, or on time for that matter, but Tiamit didn’t like to be kept waiting. Though he was born at Fort Weyr, his parents had felt that his grandfather was too much of an influence on him and had quickly shipped him off to Sonsa, were the boy would be free of bad influences. But most of the damage was done and there to stay. Tiamit was bossy, arrogant, and was just a down right Bitran, but he still got along with the more energetic and younger-acting Murayn quite well. Tiamit was 14, the same age as Murayn, and born only four months after ‘Rayn, but was currently more heavily built than his best friend. Tiamit held two hunting spears and a belt knife was hanging from his belt at his hip, sharp and ready to use.
       It wasn’t long before Tiamit heard rustling in the bushes and Murayn appeared, a few leaves stuck in his hair and branch dangling from his belt where it had gotten caught.
       “Sorry to keep you waiting ‘Mit! Mum and pop were talking to me.”
       “And arguing yet again, I’m sure.”
       “Of course. But we came here to hunt, not talk!” Rayn snatched a hunting spear from Tiamit’s hand and tested its balance. It was the same one he always used, since Tiamit had stashed the spears so that they could hunt whenever they wanted and not worry about they’re being no spears available. A belt knife hung at Murayn’s hip as well, it was almost identical to Tiamit’s.
       “Did you have to bring your little fan-fair ‘Rayn?!”
       “They come with me everywhere! Besides, they’re almost as good as a canine for tracking things down! Especially wherry!”
       “Oh fine! But if they lose us a single catch they’re not aloud to come along anymore!”
       “What do you have against flits ‘Mit? Your grandfather has two of them, and your mother and father have two a piece, or so you say.” Murayn looked curiously at his friend, whom he had known ever since they were 11. To most, 3 Turns wasn’t a lot, but it was a lot to these boys.
       “I just find them annoying is all. Sure, grandpa’s Sated and Flynt are really good flits, but it took Turns of training to get them to be as good as they are now.”
       “They’re also old now though ‘Mit. Why don’t we just hit the forest though, we’re wasting valuable hunting time.” Without another word to Murayn, Tiamit slunk into the brush, ‘Rayn following him quietly after making sure his flits understood to stay quiet.

       The pair separated after a while, as they always did, knowing they would regroup in about two hours at the same place where they had started. Murayn was silent as he slunk through the dense forest, rattling a bush here and there, but it was never anything hugely loud. At the crack of a twig behind him, ‘Rayn froze and crouched low, spear tucked beneath his arm, but ready to throw should he have to. He also signaled his flits into the trees to wait for his signal. He heard a rustle in the bushes and…a girl appeared before him. He rolled his eyes and stood up, sticking the end of his spear in the ground and leaning against it.
       “And what are you doing out here all by your lonesome miss?” Obviously he hadn’t been noticed, because his voice made the girl, who was no older than himself, jump in surprise.
       “Oh! I was just…ah…exploring. I’m new here, just got searched yesterday. I’m Veria, from Lirta Hold. Who are you and what, might I ask, are you doing with a spear?” Her blue eyes were inquisitive and shone from a carved and well-tanned face framed by bluish-black hair.
       “Nice to meet you miss Veria. I’m Murayn, of Sonsa Weyr. I’m out here hunting, it’s a bit of a hobby for me, and a productive one at that.” He grinned and heard a soft trill, looking up at an interested Fate. He chuckled and motioned for his flits to come down from their treetop perch. Fate landed on his shoulder while Tru, his bronze, landed on his other shoulder, Thrit, his silver, carefully grasping the tip of the spear, and Gem, his garnet, perching on his head. He noticed that Veria had giggled softly at the appearance of the four flits and how they all seemed to have a designated landing space.
       “A pleasure. I really like your flits, especially that little garnet on your head.” She pointed at Gem, who glanced at her with curious blue eyes, making ‘Rayn chuckle. “You must certainly like flits to have four of them.”
       “That’s Gem, just so ya know. And yeah, I do like flits. Next best things to dragons in my opinion. ‘Whers aren’t bad, but you can only have one and once you get a ‘wher, you can’t get a dragon!” He grinned and patted Fate’s head lightly, listening to the girl’s soft laugh.
       “I don’t have any flits, I was just out hunting for a clutch when the search rider showed up.” Veria seemed rather forlorn at the thought and Murayn, being the kind young man he was, knew just how to cheer her up.
       “Well, why don’t you come with me? I almost always end up stumbling over a flit clutch while I’m out hunting. And the company would be nice, as long as you’re good at being quiet.” ‘Rayn’s very boyish grin was cockeyed as he continued to lean heavily against his spear, ears listening for any sounds of wildlife as well as her reply.
       “Oh! That’d be wonderful! Thank you so much! I’ll be very quiet! I promise!” Murayn chuckled at her enthusiasm and sent his flits back into the air with a deft hand signal, glancing up with his gray eyes as they circled quietly above him. He pulled his spear from the ground, where it had sunk in slightly, and motioned for Veria to follow quietly, which she did as they snuck back off.

       The hunting wasn't bad and Murayn ended up killing a nice big buck with one throw of his spear, thankful for his ever-true aim. He was now lugging the beast across his shoulders and Veria was helpfully carrying his spear. Murayn was surprised when Veria didn’t get disgusted upon the killing of the beast, since most girls Murayn had met didn’t like anything to do with blood and/or guts. But they continued to walk, since two hours weren’t quite up yet, and upon catching sight of a clearing ahead, their paces quickened. But as soon as they reached the edge, Murayn froze and took a step back as he spotted Tiamit crouched over…something. He motioned for Veria to stay quiet and he carefully lowered his buck to the ground, trying not to make a sound. With a warning glance at Veria, he crouched low with her beside him, watching and listening to his friend. Tiamit was talking, but there was nobody around! Then loud creels met ‘Rayn’s ears and he sunk back deeper into the brush…there was a wild gold queen and she had a clutch that was hatching! Unlike Murayn, though, Veria dropped the spear and hurried forward, mildly surprising Tiamit, but also making the young man suspicious.
       Murayn rather hoped that Tiamit didn’t know he was watching, but Tiamit seemed to have a sixth sense or something because no matter how quiet he was, Murayn always seemed to be found out. And this was no exception.
       “Get out of those bushes Murayn! You know you can’t hide from me!” Tiamit had shouted without even looking over his shoulder, but Murayn rather hesitantly left the brush. He didn’t need more flits, sure he’d like to have more, but his parents would kill him if he got any more! But it was a loosing battle, not one, but THREE flits half fluttered, half bounced, half walked to him, despite the fact he was a fair distance from the clutch. He groaned silently, but crouched to receive the creatures that had chosen him. There was a silver, a beryl, and a sand. Shards did Murayn have a lot of female flits! Four out of seven now! Murayn dug in his belt pouch and pulled out what was supposed to be his lunch, some cold meatrolls and dried fruit. He distributed the food between the three new mouths, knowing there was nothing he could do but welcome them. He glanced up and saw a pretty gold and a turquoise perched on Veria’s shoulders while two bronzes and a silver took up Tiamit’s shoulders and forearm.
       “At least I’m not the only one to get flits. What are you going to name yours Veria?” He looked up at the girl from the crouch he was in, still feeding his new flits.
       “The gold is going to be Ecstasy and the turquoise is going to be Sean. What are you going to name yours?” As his new flits finished eating, ‘Rayn gathered them in his arms and stood up, allowing them to curl up in his arms.
       “The silver’s going to be Anthro, the beryl’s name will be Pur, and the sand shall be Shor.” He grinned and scratched each flit’s eyeridge as he said their name, receiving a tired trill of agreement. “What about you flits Tiamit? What are you going to call them?” Murayn turned his gray eyes to his best pal, looking between the three regal looking flits.
       “This one,” Tiamit pointed to a very dark bronze, splashes with metallic dark brown and metallic blood red. “Is Rodeo, after my grandfather’s dragon. This one,” he pointed at the silver. “Will be Bleak. And he,” ‘Mit’s rather thin forefinger pointed at the second bronze, who was almost green and looked sickly, but was as healthy as any other. “Will be Ilk.” He nodded firmly in his name choices and stroked the bronze, Ilk, who was perched haughtily on his forearm. ‘Rayn just smiled and listened as Tiamit continued speaking in his rather cool and low voice.
       “So, did you get anything Murayn?” His cool midnight blue eyes glanced into the bushes briefly, catching sight of Murayn’s waiting flit fair.
       “Yeah, I got a nice big buck! Lots of meat on him there is, and just a young’un too!” Tiamit nodded lowly, a rather grim looking frown on his face. “You get anything ‘Mit?”
       “Got a wherry. He ain’t big, but I think he’s got a nice amount of meat on him.” Murayn nodded and then remembered the he hadn’t introduced Veria to Tiamit!
       “Oh! Veria! This is my pal Tiamit! ‘Mit, this is Veria, she just got here yesterday from Lirta Hold.” Tiamit nodded to Veria and slowly extended his hand, gripping Veria’s delicate hand firmly, but it was obvious that when the handshake ended that Tiamit was rather disgusted.
       “It’s a pleasure to met you Tiamit.” Veria’s smile was warm and she didn’t see the distaste in Tiamit’s eyes. Murayn had known Tiamit for three Turns, but still didn’t really know Tiamit! Did he have something against Hold folk? But ‘Rayn just shrugged.
       “Maybe we had better get back, I think or two hour span is about up and if I catch anything else I won’t be able to carry my kills back!” Murayn chuckled and ambled back into the brush. After tucking his snoozing ‘lizardlings into his tunic, he hefted the buck back onto his shoulders and had his older flits carry his spear as he went back out into the clearing to find Tiamit gone. He looking quizzically at Veria, who shrugged.
       “He just disappeared into the brush. He didn’t seem too happy.” Murayn looked in the direction Veria had pointed and shook his head softly.
       “Come on, let’s get back to the Weyr, my parents are probably wondering where I am. The candidates are supposed to be introduced to the clutch today.” An excited light entered Veria’s eyes and there was a spring to her long stride as she and Murayn made their way through the forest and back to the Weyr.

       Murayn, Tiamit, and Veria were all late for the clutch introduction, but at least they got there. While Veria was entranced by the clutch, ‘Rayn cautiously approached his parents, who were standing beside their watching dragons, keeping an eye on the candidates. Anthro, Pur, and Shor were still tucked into his tunic, but he was quite sure his parents would notice them; they both seemed to have very watchful eyes.
       “Hey mum. Hey pop.” Murayn grinned as he looked up at his dad and glanced slightly up at his mom. He was certainly not going to be a short man. M’rtagh chuckled and ruffled his son’s hair.
       “There you are Murayn! Not good form, being late.” While M’rtagh hadn’t noticed the snoozing flits, Rayna had and narrowed her gray eyes at her son.
       “Murayn…are those what I think they are snuggled in your tunic?” She lightly prodded his chest, where Anthro was snuggled warmly atop Pur. M’rtagh then noticed them as well and his eyes widened slightly in surprise and Murayn could even see a spark of anger. Gulping slightly, Murayn put on a rather tentative smile.
       “Depends on what you think they are.”
       “They’re flits aren’t they?! More flits Murayn! You’ll have no more room on your bed if you keep this up! How many does your fair number now?!” Rayna’s voice held clear exasperation with her son while M’rtagh just shook his head and rolled his eyes.
       “Yes mum, they’re flits. I have seven and they came to me! I was hiding quietly in the brush while Veria and Tiamit got some flits from a clutch Tiamit found when Tiamit told me to get out of the brush and these three came over to me! I couldn’t reject them and let them die! You always taught me not to reject anything of draconic ancestry that I receive!” Murayn’s words came out in a jumble he spoke them so quickly and it made both his parents laugh quietly. M’rtagh grabbed his son’s shoulders and gave him a little shake.
       “We ain’t mad Murayn! Just worried that you won’t have time enough for all of them! Especially since you will be standing this clutch!” The grin one M’rtagh’s face was mirrored by Murayn, though there was an elated tinge to the grin Murayn wore.
       “Ampthrith and Fayneth approve?! They’ll let me stand?!” M’rtagh shook him again, chuckling, while Rayna shook her head softly and put a hand on M’rtagh’s forearm.
       “Quit shaking the boy ‘Tagh, you’re going to make him dizzy.” She smiled at her weyrmate and then at her son. “Of course they’ll let you stand. Fayneth approved of you ever since you were born, as did Ampthrith. They have high hopes for you Murayn.” Murayn’s anxious gray eyes met the identical eyes of his mother and he couldn’t resist but giving her a big hug. ‘Rayn hugged his mother so hard that M’rtagh had to all by pry the boy off of her, giving the boy a strong clout in the shoulder, causing him to stumble slightly backwards and rub his arm.
       “Thanks pop, I really needed a bruise on my arm.” Murayn’s voice dripped with sarcasm and he shook his head, eyes rolling slightly.
       “Sorry ‘bout that son, didn’t mean to bruise ya up.” Murayn just laughed at his father’s apology, punching M’rtagh in the shoulder.
       “Think nothin’ ‘bout it pop.” Rayna rolled her eyes, knowing where this was going, and promptly stepped between her child and childish mate.
       “Okay you two, I know where this is going and it always ends up with both of you having bruised up arms, now stop it.” She turned to the Weyrleader. “And you should know better ‘Tagh!” Behind her back, Murayn mockingly copied his mother, stopping abruptly as she glanced at him. As she turned back to ‘Tagh, he did it again and this time got caught because M’rtagh burst out laughing. Murayn, too, was laughing as Rayna rather indignantly glared at her son.
       “You had better not have been mocking me again Murayn!”
       “Me! Mock you mother! Never! I’m insulted!” Rayna wagged a finger in Murayn’s face, eyes narrowed.
       “If I know your father, and if I know you, you were mocking me behind my back and M’rtagh is doing the same thing right now.” Murayn doubled over laughing as Rayna turned on M’rtagh, who had been not only mocking her, but making faces and other such things. “At least I know where he gets it from!”
       “Oh come on mum! Lighten up a bit!”
       “Yeah Rayna, lighten up a bit.” Both son and father were grinning and Rayna finally sighed in defeat.
       “You two are hopeless!”
       “And proud of it!” Murayn and M’rtagh laughed as they spoke in unison, Rayna just rolling her eyes. What had she gotten herself into all those Turns ago? Sometimes she almost regretted the day she finally just gave in and admitted that she adored the Weyrleader and finally was told his feelings and he, hers. But as she looked at her son and the fact that he had turned out so well, and at M’rtagh who was a most wonderful father and was still able to leave time for both her and the Weyr, Rayna could never regret anything.

       About two weeks later Murayn could be found in the candidate’s main room, playing some games with Veria and Tiamit. M’rtagh had taught ‘Rayn a few games to gamble with, so Murayn had taught them to his friends and they were gambling with days and/or weeks of servitude. Murayn was doing good, having already won over a month worth of servitude from Tiamit and almost two weeks worth from Veria.
       “This is no fair! You’ve had more time to learn and practice this game than we have Murayn!” Veria’s voice was both exasperated and slightly angry.
       “Hey! It was you two who wanted to play a game! I just offered a suggestion and you took it up! How ‘bout this? If the clutch starts to hatch while we are still playing, all bets are off and nobody has to serve anybody, deal?”
       “Deal!” Tiamit and Veria spoke in unison and Murayn chuckled as he lay down his bet and watched as Veria and Tiamit did the same, Tiamit raising the bet slightly.
       “I don’t trust you ‘Mit.”
       “You shouldn’t ‘Rayn.” Tiamit wore a sly grin as he looked at his best pal, his flits peeking at his hand from his shoulder and lap.
       “Fine then, I’ll raise you two weeks of service!” Murayn scribbled down his bet on the sheet of paper that was in the middle, used for tallying the bets for each hand. “You in Veria?” Murayn glanced at the girl, who was looking between her cards and the bet amounts.
       “I guess I’m in. I meet your two weeks and raise you four.” She quietly scribbled down her bid, catching Murayn and Tiamit’s surprised looks.
       “Right then, lay down your hands.” Tiamit laid down his hand, followed by Murayn, and lastly Veria. Both boys groaned as they saw Veria’s hand.
       “Shards, shells, and scorch it! She’s good at this!” Veria grinned at Tiamit and circled the tally of that hand, placing her name beside it in small scroll.
       “I’m just a quick learner. Let’s see…oh! Two weeks from Tiamit and four from Murayn, how wonderful is that!” She grinned and pulled in all the cards. As she started to shuffle, a hum rattled the Weyr and Murayn and Tiamit were on their feet in an instant.
       “Veria! The clutch is hatching! All bets are off!” The two boys charged down the boys’ corridor, leaving Veria to quickly tidy up and run to her own quarters to change into her candidate’s robes.

       The trio met up again on the Sands, Tiamit having been the first down with his flits perched on his shoulders and forearm, as was usual. Murayn was second to arrive with his fair of seven and Veria was last to show up with her two. Murayn felt very weighed down, since two flits perched on each shoulder and he also had two on his forearm and one on his head. No wonder why his mother and father hadn’t wanted him having so many flits! The group of three friends stuck together in the loose semicircle around the clutch, watching anxiously, even Tiamit couldn’t keep an anxious and excited glow form his dark eyes. All 30 eggs rattled and rumbled, even the four queen eggs were rumbling between their mother’s forelegs. Murayn figured that there would be two gold queens and two opals, or perhaps one gold and an opal, but was positive that there would be no white gold in this clutch, which was fine with him. He liked the fact that his mother was the rider of the only white gold and largest dragon on Pern while his father rode the second largest dragon on Pern and largest silver. Certainly the dragons from Fayneth and Ampthrith’s clutches were above average in many different ways, including size. There were greens who weren’t only swift, but strong too, and Murayn could even recall a green hatching and growing to be the size of a large brown! But all his thoughts of past clutches were forgotten as he heard a loud bugle and the shatter of an egg.
       Both Tiamit and Murayn were automatically standing on tiptoe to see over and around the 16-Turn-old boy that was standing in front of them. Tiamit snarled and quite carelessly shoved the older boy aside.
       “Out of the way!” He snarled and, once the older fellow was out of the way, could easily see the bronze that was arrogantly strutting along the front lines of the candidates, acting as though he were a general giving his army a pep talk. As Tiamit shoved the other boy aside, its head shot around and it looked straight at Tiamit before barreling through the other candidates, knocking them aside and slashing at a few to get them out of his way more effectively. Finally he stood before Tiamit, who had just become T’mit, and then the pair left, grinning at each other and obviously chuckling about all the candidates who had gotten in the dragon’s way.
       Once the bronze had hatched, it signaled the rest of the clutch to do the same. Left and right eggs hatched, greens, blue, browns, silvers, and bronzes all traversing the throng of candidates, knocking some aside, injuring a few, and then finding Theirs and leaving the Sands. The queen eggs were still shaking, but none of them hatched yet. Veria left the sand with a glorious brown, leaving Murayn standing more or less alone. The queens were starting to hatch and there was still a few more fighting dragons left to hatch. The unidentified egg was rattling, its pure white shell still solid and lacking of cracks, or so it would seem. There was no metallic sheen to that egg, so perhaps it was a white dragon? Murayn doubted it. But he jumped in surprise as the last of the fighting dragons burst free from their prisons and found Theirs, leaving Murayn dragon-less. Had he not Impressed? That was a bit of a bummer for the lad and both his parents saw him standing on the sand with the last of the candidates, mostly girls, around him. The four queen eggs hatched, revealing three opals and a gold, just as Murayn had predicted, and that left just the large white egg remaining.
       Murayn watched it with both bright gray eyes, hoping that it was some sort of male dragon that would Impress him! He hoped it was no new queen or a sand dragon or anything of that sort! It had to be a male dragon! Murayn jumped in surprise as he heard a loud crack, which was obviously coming from the large white egg, and watched as a chunk of shell fell away, following by another, and another, until finally the entire egg had peeled away to reveal not a white dragon, but a silver. He was huge and almost the colour of the moon, with a now very obvious metallic sheen about him, and his eyes swirling a brilliant blue. Murayn was awestruck and watched as the newly hatched silver dipped a bow to Fayneth and Ampthrith, amused rumblings rising in the throats of the King and Queen of Sonsa Weyr as they nodded to their son. Then, with a calm yet rather haughty stride, wings spread slightly, the silver walked away from the shards of his egg and from his parents, eyes looking around at the remaining candidates crucially. It paused for a moment, searching every candidate there, including Murayn, and finally, with a slightly masculine grace, he approached Murayn, head lifted only slightly to look the boy in the eye.
       {Yes, you are Mine and should welcome your Sallowth to Pern.} M’rayn nodded and a slight grin spread on his features as he placed a hand on an extended foreclaw.
       [I welcome you to Pern, Sallowth.] The pair exchanged a nod and then, together, left the hatching sands and a mildly interested M’rtagh and Rayna.

       The Hatching Feast was one to be remembered! But any hatching feast at Sonsa, or any party at Sonsa period, was one to be remembered. Both Masterhealer Rikillian and Masterharper Orillian were seated with the Weyrleaders, chatting away and having a few drinks. Of course, both Rayna and M’rtagh had long ago learned their lessons about drinking and did so sparingly while, naturally, the two Masters had already started in on their normal competition. Neither of the Masters were young anymore either, but parties and wine always drew them from their Halls. Harpers merrily played and sang upon a stage set at one side of the Hall and newly Impressed weyrlings chattered with each other amiably, circulating the names of their dragons and flits if they have them. Off in a poorly lit corner, T’mit, Veria, and M’rayn all sat talking to one another about the hatching and other such things.
       “So what’s your dragon’s name T’mit?” M’rayn asked the question as he tossed chunks of meat into a wide-open and waiting maw.
       “Despoth.” T’mit’s voice was rather gruff as he fed his bronze, tossing chunks to land on the floor before the beast where he devoured them none to neatly.
       “And my brown is Vantith. What’s your dragon’s name Mur-- I mean M’rayn?” M’rayn smiled at Veria, who was also feeding her brown. On the table sat all their flits, eating meatrolls at their own free will and as many of them as they wanted.
       “His names Sallowth.” The silver looked at T’mit and Veria, a loud rumble rising in his throat and he nodded in welcome.
       {I do not trust brother Despoth.}
       [Why not Sallowth?]
       {I just don’t trust him.} M’rayn nodded softly in mild understanding and continued to feed his silver in silence. He heard his name called, though, and looked up. He spotted his father, who was on his feet and all but bellowing over the music and chatter for the boy. With a quiet wave to his friends, M’rayn stood up, grabbing a fresh bucket of meat as he went, and walked over to his father, mother, and the two Masters, Sallowth walking along beside him.
       “Something you want pop?” M’rayn settled himself down beside Master Rikillian after acknowledging him and Orillian with a bow.
       “I wanted to meet your Impressed more than anything.” The Weyrleader’s eyes rested on the quietly watching silver. M’rayn motioned deftly at his dragon, a proud grin on his features.
       “His name is Sallowth.” The silver nodded his head to M’rtagh in a hello, a rumble of approval rising in his throat.
       {I trust these men and woman.}
       [You should. The man with the golden eyes is my father, M’rtagh, rider of Ampthrith. The woman is my mother, Rayna, rider of Fayneth. The man in the green is Masterhealer Rikillian and the man in the blue is Masterharper Orillian.]
       {Please inform them of my approval if they do not already recognize it.}
       [I can and shall do that Sallowth.] M’rayn turned his gray eyes on the silently watched quartet and grinned.
       “Sallowth approves of all of you, though I’m sure you knew that already mother.” He gave Rayna a slightly pointed stare, causing M’rtagh, Rikillian, and Orillian to chuckle.
       “I didn’t think the entire Weyr knew.”
       “Not the entire Weyr, mother of mine, just those who you know the best.” M’rayn grinned and tossed a chunk of meat deftly into the gaping silver maw.
       “Your Sallowth will certainly be a heavy eater.” It was the Masterhealer who had pointed this out, a slightly laughing grin on his aging features. But when M’rayn saw the Masterhealer, and Masterharper for that matter, during a festive event, they always seemed so youthful. But even his father, who was only in his thirties, had a few gray flecks showing up in his thick head of hair. Of course, it was hard to notice unless the Weyrleader tipped his head downwards. Whenever M’rayn pointed out the gray hairs, his mother always told him it was his fault and M’rtagh often agreed.
       “Only for a little while. I think he shall grow quickly and large, perhaps to even rival Ampthrith.” He looked at his father, who nodded ever so slowly, quite obviously thinking about his son’s words.
“Perhaps he shall be bigger than Ampthrith. Ampthrith certainly was not his size upon hatching, but there are dragons who are born large and simply reach full size within a Turn or so, rather than two or three Turns. But you never really know, do you?” M’rtagh grinned at his son, but by the look in his eyes he was still thinking rapidly. Of course, thinking was one thing ‘Tagh had really done a lot of since M’rayn’s birth, and even before it. M’rayn just shook his head softly and continued to feed his dragon; ignoring the fact that he should be feeding himself as well, at least until his mother shoved a plate in his face.
       “You have to eat M’rayn, you can’t focus all of your energy on your dragon. Besides, he can get the meat from the bucket on his own.”
       “But mum! It’ll stain his muzzle red!”
       “Not permanently dear, now eat.” She shoved the plate at him, ignoring M’rayn’s glowering stare. But upon actually looking at the plate, which was piled high with roast wherry and sweet fresh fruits his mouth watered and he was soon diving hungrily into his meal.

       A sevenday after Impressing Sallowth, M’rayn was awoken at about five o’clock in the morning by bugles and shouts and a banging on his door. Shards! Why had he been up partying last night! For the past sevenday, the Weyrlings partied almost around the clock. It just never seemed to end! And now all the Weyrlings were thoroughly exhausted! Not excluding M’rayn and Sallowth. If M’rayn recalled correctly, a few of the older Weyrlings had even gotten themselves drunk and therefore would be waking this morning with a horrible hangover. The Weyrlingmaster, E’zu, despite knowing this, was merciless in his early morning wake up call. M’rayn, being too young to drink, didn’t have a hangover, but he sure was tired. Nonetheless, he drug himself out of bed, drearily changed into his working clothes, woke Sallowth, and then ambled out into the main room, yawning along with all the other Weyrlings. He found T’mit and Veria at the back of the room, both looking bleary-eyed, and joined them.
       “Hey.” Veria’s voice was tired and followed by a loud yawn. M’rayn looked at T’mit and the guy looked past exhausted! As he sniffed the air, he faintly smelt wine, but ignored it. There were several older guys who had to lean on one another to keep from collapsing with exhaustion and/or dizzy spells. T’mit remained silent, not uttering a word to his friend, though M’rayn did reply to Veria.
       “Mornin’. Been a long sevenday, eh?” He grinned slightly, rubbing sleep from his eyes with a yawn.
       “It’ll only get worse! Once training starts we’ll be working all-day and getting up early every morning! It’s going to kill us!” M’rayn chuckled and shook his head softly, placing a hand on Veria’s shoulder.
       “Just think of the pay off though Veria! Think about AFTER the two Turns of hard work!” He gave her a little shake, but stopped as he heard a loud bellow for attention. He turned around, a hand rested on Sallowth’s slightly extended wing, as he listened to the Weyrlingmaster.
       “Well, you all are looking quite bright and chipper this morning, ain’t ya?” There was laughter in the Weyrlingmaster’s eyes, but his grimace was even more visible. “This is what you get for spending a sevenday partying! From now on I suggest you get to bed as quickly as you can in the evenings so that you can be up at about this time every morning and actually know the difference between a wall and an open ledge!” M’rayn almost cringed at the man’s tone of voice, since it was more harsh than M’rtagh’s was. Then again, when M’rtagh was mad…
       “Kid! The silver rider in the back!” M’rayn blinked, he had actually dozed off, and looked up at the Weyrlingmaster, who was yelling at him. “Do you find this boring boy?”
       “No sir! My apologies sir! I was just…ah…tired sir.” The entire group of Weyrlings was watching and then the Weyrlingmaster broke into a chuckle.
       “Now there’s a boy who knows how to get himself out of trouble! You’re off the hook this time…ah…”
       “M’rayn sir, and my silver is Sallowth.”
       “You’re off the hook M’rayn, however I would like to speak with you quickly after lessons today.” M’rayn just nodded and continued to listen to the Weyrlingmaster talk away about duty and responsibility and all of that other stuff, making sure he didn’t doze off again.

       Lessons seemed to take forever that day, or at least the lecture part of it. But by the time the Weyrlingmaster was done talking, M’rayn was able to recite every single rule and duty by heart without faltering or problem. Once they had gone out to the bowl for the oiling and bathing lesson, M’rayn was wide awake and listening intently on how to properly wash and oil a dragon. Of course, the old lecture on having to keep your dragon’s hide oiled bored him, since his father had been telling him the same thing for several Turns, starting when M’rayn had gotten his first firelizard. But, as M’rtagh always said, “You can never know too much about anything.” So M’rayn just listened and, when it came time, made sure he did everything properly. As class ended, he watched as Veria and T’mit returned to the barracks, but he made his way over to the Weyrlingmaster, who was standing beside his bronze.
       “You wanted to see me ‘Master E’zu?” His voice wasn’t tentative, but it held a certain amount of respect. His flits were perched on and around Sallowth, who was standing back a bit and watching calmly as His spoke to the Weyrlingmaster.
       “Ah! M’rayn! Good on you for remembering lad. I have a special request from the Weyrleaders that you are to keep track of Sallowth’s growth and food intake for a while. Now don’t ask my why or for how long. I don’t know how long you’re going to have to do it for, but I’d guess at least a couple of months. As for why…they mentioned something about rapid growth and injury.” M’rayn nodded and listened. He had forgotten about that. Rapid growth in any living creature could cause weaknesses in joints and bones, and you certainly didn’t need or want a dragon with bad joints and bone structure.
       “Thank you for telling me Weyrlingmaster, and I shall do just that. Am I dismissed sir?” He dipped a slight bow, a grin spreading on the ‘Master’s face.
       “Yes, you may go.” M’rayn smiled and walked off, his flits and dragon going with him.

       As the first ray of Rukbat’s light hit his face, M’rayn woke up and, after blinking a few times, he leapt out of bed with a huge grin on his face. After all but throwing off the light fabric pants he slept in, he changed rapidly into a rather new working outfit, complete with riding jacket. The riding jacket would be necessary for today, because since all the dragonets were a Turn old today, they would be starting to fly! His gray eyes glistened and, rather than actually putting on the flight jacket, he draped it over his shoulders and started waking his dragon, which had proven to be almost a chore for the past Turn. And, truthfully, he certainly couldn’t tackle the Turn old Sallowth, who was probably bigger than the gold Weyrling.
       [Sallowth…] M’rayn mentally poked the dragon, standing about six feet from the stone-hewn bed. [Get up Sallowth…wakey, wakey sleepy silver…] M’rayn watched as the dragon snorted and turned from his stomach to his side, facing away from his rider. Once Sallowth had shifted, M’rayn silently approached and, prodding the dragon on the neck ridge, spoke again. [Come on Sallowth…get up…you won’t get any happy hatching days if you don’t get up…] Nothing happened. Heaving a fake sigh and blowing his bangs off of his forehead, M’rayn crossed his arms and grinned slightly. One…two…three…[GET UP SALLOWTH!] In one fluent motion, Sallowth was sitting on his haunches and had picked M’rayn up in his foreclaws, lifting him off the ground with a draconic rumble in his throat.
       {You know you shouldn’t yell at me to get me up. And what was that you said about happy hatching day? Did you get me something?} The silver was holding M’rayn by his legs, the boy dangling upside down and looking up at the silver head.
       [If you put me down I’ll go get your gift.]
       {Oh goody! A gift!} Sallowth promptly dropped His, M’rayn glad for his hunter’s reflexes as he somersaulted back onto his feet so as not to hit his head on the stone floor. But he shook his head and, taking his sweet time, ambled back into his sleeping quarters. Slowly and carefully he pulled a rather large package from his trunk and hefted it into his dragon’s sleeping area, where the silver anxiously waited.
       {What is it Mine?! What is it?!}
       [Open it and find out!] M’rayn pointed at a string that was holding the wrapping on the gift and watched as Sallowth plucked at it with his talon, cutting it cleanly. There sat a brand new harness. Not just any harness either! It was black and made of thick, strong leather straps. It was fully adjustable, which M’rayn had requested since he’d like to be able to use it on Sallowth for quite a while.
       {Oh! A harness! Put it on me! Put it on me!} Sallowth was all but bouncing, but after a few words, he had calmed down enough for M’rayn to sling it onto his back. M’rayn did up the straps, watching their tightness, since they had already been taught all about harnessing their dragons, and stepping back to admire the black leather on the pale silver hide.
       [Now that’s what I call handsome Sal.]
       {Ooo! This is the best gift I’ve ever got! Next to you, of course, M’rayn.} The pair chuckled and M’rayn watched as his seven flits suddenly came swooping in, landing on Sallowth’s head and shoulder, clutching the harness straps for stability. Just then, M’rayn heard the Weyrlingmaster’s shout and, since they were all set, made his way out into the main room. The group of nine was first in and so they decided to talk shortly with the Weyrlingmaster.
       “Good day ‘Master E--T’vinn!” M’rayn stared, rather wide-eyed, at his father’s best friend, Wingsecond, and Weyrsecond! “What are you doing here?!” There was an obvious twinkle of laughter in T’vinn’s eyes, but M’rayn wanted answers.
       “Don’t be so surprised M’rayn. E’zu isn’t feeling like himself so I volunteered to handle lessons until he’s feeling better. Don’t you worry though, it’s not like I’ll embarrass you or anything, at least not on purpose.” He grinned and punched M’rayn’s arm just before the other Weyrlings started to enter the main room. A few didn’t really seem to notice that E’zu was not teaching the lesson that day, but T’mit and Veria certainly did as they join M’rayn, who was remaining rather close to the front of the room. T’mit nudged M’rayn with his elbow, speaking from the corner of his mouth.
       “Who’s that ‘Rayn?”
       “Don’t you recognize the Weyrsecond T’mit? That’s T’vinn.” T’mit nodded slowly and then moved off to lean against the wall, obviously speaking with his bronze. Veria, though, remained with M’rayn and waited and listened as T’vinn started to speak.
       “Well, in case you don’t already know me, I’m T’vinn and I’ll be teaching this lesson and perhaps a few more over the next couple of days. Firstly, I’d like to wish all your dragons a happy first hatching day!” He applauded and it seemed that several of the Weyrlings had forgotten that it was their dragon’s hatching day. “And, secondly, I’d like to inform you all, or at least those of you who didn’t already know,” He glanced at M’rayn as he said this, “that we shall be doing our first flying lesson today! For this lesson you will all be paired up, I’m aware you already have partners, but we want dragons of similar size flying together, and then, two at a time, you’ll fly one dragonlength and return.” He smiled at the excited chatter that had risen, pausing for a moment to allow it to die away.
       “Now, I’m informed that you all know how to harness your dragons, so could you please do so now. If your harnesses are in your quarters, please retrieve them.” He watched as the majority of the Weyrlings went to get their harnesses and it was then that he saw a larger number of the present people had already harnessed their dragons. It took about ten minutes for all the dragons to be harnessed and ready for their first flight.
       “Now, has E’zu done hovering with you?” He looked around at the watching faces and finally his eyes landed on M’rayn. “M’rayn! Tell me what E’zu has done with you so far involving flight and preparation there of.” M’rayn was taken by surprise and paused for a moment, making sure he had remembered everything.
       “Ah…we were taught how to harness, our dragons hovered without a rider, and the dragons did a small flight on their own.” T’vinn nodded and smiled in thanks, giving the young silver rider a quick salute before turning back to the rest.
       “Thank you. So E’zu has covered almost everything except for hovering and flying with a rider. Has he done mounting?” He looked around and everybody nodded, so he continued again. “Ok then, I want you all to mount up. But please don’t do so until I come to you, that way I can make sure you’re doing it correctly.” He then started to walk around the room, correcting a few mistakes here and there. M’rayn waited impatiently and he ended up being the last one to mount, doing so perfectly, of course, and receiving a satisfied smile from T’vinn.
       “That was excellent! Now, we’re going to move out onto the ledge, which should be more than ample space for a short hover and glide before we fly.” A cheer rang out from the Weyrlings and their dragons ambled after the Weyrlingmaster, their strides rather awkward, yet graceful. Sallowth hissed at his brothers and sisters, even the young queens, and moved out to the front of the group, glaring back icily at the other dragons. He would be first to get off the ground with his rider! M’rayn grinned and slapped the pale metallic neck, catching T’vinn’s rather amused, yet angry, gaze, but simply shrugging. Once the entire group had gathered, T’vinn went about, pairing the Weyrlings up.
       “…Bl’ryth and Veria. B’sig and R’car. M’rayn and T’mit.” Those were the last three pairs called and M’rayn glanced at T’mit’s Despoth, rather skeptical in the fact that Despoth wasn’t nearly as large as Sallowth. Perhaps T’vinn paired them up simply because they were friends? M’rayn shrugged, but his eyes turned raptly to T’vinn as he started speaking again.
       “Ok, now you all have partners and, with your partners, you shall hover and then glide until you’re about a yard from the edge. There you’ll land and then hover and glide back. Any questions?” He looked around and, seeing no hands raised, said the first partners. “Ok, first to go will be T’mit and M’rayn.” M’rayn silently roared with pleasure and sat tall and proud as Sallowth’s wings beat on either side of him. He could feel the surge of muscles and then an almost weightless sensation. As he looked down, he and Sallowth were about three feet off the stone ledge. M’rayn gave a whoop and glanced at T’mit, who was hovering alongside him. As they exchanged a nod, the bronze and silver glided forward with a quick sweep of their wings, carefully watching the ledge.
       [This is great Sallowth! We shall be the greatest fliers in Pern’s history!]
       {Or at least Pern today.} M’rayn grinned as Sallowth back-winged slightly to slow the glide and then landed almost exactly one yard from the edge, Despoth landing just slightly ahead of him, making the silver snort and glare at his brother. M’rayn just chuckled and slapped his dragon’s neck while he turned around and became airborne once more with a few deft sweeps of his wings. They glided back to the group, landing smartly and watching as T’mit landed beside them again, slightly ahead once more. Sallowth growled at his brother, eyes flashing red, and it helped none that he was ignored.
       [Don’t worry about it Sal, I was the first Weyrling to ride my dragon!]
       {Yes you were, and you did so wonderfully!}
       [It really scorches me how we can only fly one dragonlength though.]
       {Only T’vinn says one dragonlength, I say two or three.}
       [Sallowth! You’re not going to disobey orders are you?!]
       {Who said I couldn’t? They restricted the riders, not the dragons.} A sly draconic grin spread on Sallowth’s maw and it made M’rayn’s eyebrows shoot up in interest. Sure, if he let Sallowth fly farther it would be he, M’rayn, who got in trouble, not Sallowth.
       It felt like forever before all the gliding and hovering was done, but as M’rayn lay on his dragon’s neck, he watched T’vinn and waited as the man stood silently, arms crossed on his chest and eyes laughing. He would keep them in suspense forever! Would he? Of course he would! T’vinn just loved to torture the Weyrlings in such ways. But, finally, after what seemed an eternity to M’rayn, the man spoke.
       “Wonderful gliding, all of you. And now, the moment you’ve all been eagerly, and impatiently,” he added, looking at M’rayn for a moment, “waiting for. It is time for the next generation of dragons and their riders to stretch their wings and soar. Two at a time once again and we’ll go in backwards order, only ONE dragonlength!” He turned a pointed look on M’rayn, who just rolled his eyes and put on the always-useful innocent look, making T’vinn just roll his eyes in return. “Bl’ryth and Veria, you first.” M’rayn watched excitedly as Veria, on her brown, ambled out onto the ledge and launched into the air and watched as they flew the one dragonlength, marked by a hovering green and its rider who had volunteered, before turning around and coming back. M’rayn sighed as Veria returned, an elated grin on her face as she rejoined the pack and, rather than watching the others fly, lay against her dragon’s neck, obviously trying to breath again.
       Finally, it was time for M’rayn and T’mit to take to the air. Sallowth glared at Despoth, giving the bronze a warning glare and then, with an almighty uncurling of taught haunch muscles, sprung into the air, his wings spread wide and beating powerfully. With one stroke, they had forward momentum. M’rayn looked down, far below, at the forest and beaches, eyes glistening and an elated grin on his own features. Unlike most, M’rayn was breathing, just barely so. It was power! Being in the skies was power! His gray eyes wandered backwards to see Despoth almost struggling to catch up with his swifter silver brother, making M’rayn laugh and unable to taunt T’mit.
       “That bronze is just a tad slow, eh T’mit!” M’rayn laughed and leaned against Sallowth’s neck, listening as T’mit’s curses reached his ears and they approached the hovering green.
       {Hold on Mine.} M’rayn gripped the riding straps as Sallowth banked off sharply to the side, swooped around the green and bugled his defiance as he rose higher in the sky, wing beats speeding up, but still powerful. The silver showed no signs of strain or tire, and M’rayn was insane with the feeling of power and freedom flight gave him. He lifted a fist above his head, whooping and smacking Sallowth’s shoulder with his free hand, trusting the riding straps that were newly made.
       {You like?}
       [No! I love! I adore! I own!] M’rayn leaned forward as they reached almost two dragonlengths from the ledge and Sallowth spun sharply on his wingtip. It was exhilarating! Adrenaline pumping! M’rayn, upon turning, saw T’mit coming after him, a determined look on his face as though he wished to out-do M’rayn and Sallowth. It was obvious, though, that Despoth was showing signs of tire already.
       “T’mit! Go back! Despoth can’t handle it!” It was obvious by the spark in T’mit’s eye that the young man didn’t care; despite the fact his dragon’s wing beats were labored. M’rayn watched just as T’vinn mounted Jeveth and took off, Veria followed closely behind, fear and determination on her own face.
       [We have to help them Sallowth! I know you don’t like your brother, but we have to help them!]        {I shall Mine.} Sallowth soared forward, and bugled loudly, eyes locked on Despoth, whose eyes swirled softly with pain and stress. {Turn back Despoth! Ignore Yours and turn back! For your own sake turn back!} Sallowth bugled urgently and came to hover right in front of Despoth, giving the bronze two choices, to turn around, or dodge and keep flying until he drops, which it seemed T’mit wouldn’t mind. But Despoth stopped; hovering slowly before Sallowth and the silver promptly extended his neck to help support his brother as T’vinn soon arrived, moving beneath the struggling young bronze to hold him up, T’vinn carefully leaning flat against his dragon’s neck. M’rayn caught a hard glare from T’vinn and headed swiftly back, nodding at Veria to return to the ledge with him. He landed and watched as T’vinn brought T’mit and Despoth back.

       “Not only did you exceed the set distance by a full dragonlength, but you endangered the life of T’mit and his dragon!” M’rayn cringed as his mother’s very angry shout swept over him, suppressing the urge to cover his ears at the near deafening bellow. He looked quickly at his father and saw the livid anger on his face and the set in his jaw, along with the telltale golden flame in his eyes. He just waited for the Weyrleader to land a blow, but, instead, the Weyrwoman continued.
       “You could’ve injured Sallowth! And Despoth could’ve been badly injured or killed! We do not need to be losing bronze riders!” M’rayn set his eyes firmly; though it was obvious his mother’s shouting was causing him to recoil inwardly.
       “I flew farther because I knew Sallowth could do it! He knew he could do it! Despoth just followed him! I yelled at T’mit to turn him around and he didn’t listen! And it was very obvious that T’mit was the one endangering his own dragon! It wasn’t me!” His own eyes were dark and sparking dangerously, but it died as his father, who had been sitting before, clutching the arms of his chair in fury, rose quickly to his feet, voice resounding as a bellow.
       “If you hadn’t flown farther T’mit and Despoth never would’ve followed! And I don’t care how sharding oversized your Sallowth is, you fly no further than told!” He slammed a fist into the palm of his opposite hand in another way to vent his anger besides yelling loud enough for the entire island to hear. “You are a silver rider and should act like one! You follow orders! And unless you start following the orders of your Weyrlingmaster, you shant be flying!” M’rayn face spread with shock, mouth opened slightly and eyes narrowing. As he spoke, his voice shook with his own rage, having easily inherited a temper from both his parents.
       “And what is there to stop me from flying?! Weights shall not be encumbering Sallowth and myself! There is no way you can keep us out of the air!” He lifted a hand above his head, balled into a fist with knuckles white from his tightly clenched fingers. His voice sounded much like that of his father’s did, but hadn’t quite matured yet. M’rayn saw Rayna open her mouth to speak, but M’rtagh beat her to the moment.
       “No physical weight shall be put on you or Sallowth! But you at least shall be laden with responsibilities and duties! And you shall still attend your lessons and fly when the lessons call for it, but no flying between lessons unless you are instructed to practice!” M’rtagh finished by slamming his fist into the palm of the opposite hand again and crunching it down as though he were trying to kill something. Finally, Rayna got another word in.
       “And don’t you worry! We are now getting detailed lists of what each lesson shall consist of and if it says small amounts of practice and we see you out for hours… “ Her voice was at such a low pitch it made M’rayn quiver slightly, but he grimaced and, saluting quickly and sharply, he turned on his heel and departed without even a backwards glance at his mother and father.

       M’rayn certainly did not like the fact he had been piled high with kitchen duty, scrolls, and many other things on top of his Weyrling lessons. But, lucky for him, the next Turn and all the hard work passed quickly. Before he knew it, Graduation rolled around and it was time for him to throw off his chains and become a fully-fledged Dragonrider! Quietly, yet excitedly, he dressed in his quarters, hair still damp from his quick, yet thorough, bath. He had already laid out his Gather outfit, which consisted of a pure white shirt, a brand new firestone gray tunic, a pair of slightly heavy black pants, and a pair of firestone gray boots that reached his knees and hugged his calves. He listened quietly for dragon wings but, hearing none, leisurely went about changing from his robe to his outfit, six flits watching him in silence, since Pur was down on the shores, tending to her first clutch. Once he finished changing, M’rayn finished off his ensemble with the addition of a rather heavy silver chain around his neck, grinning at the way it complemented the very light silver trim of his tunic and boots. He turned to his watching flits and listened to the trills, nods, and bugles of approval.
       “Thank you, thank you.” He bowed to the fair, grinning broadly with laughter in his dark eyes, before strolling out to Sallowth, who lay glistening almost blindingly on his stone hewn bed. With that same grin on his features, he watched as Sallowth lifted his head regally and crooned in his own approval.
       {I am glad to see my rider has taste in clothes as well.}
       [What can you expect? I get my fashion sense from both my parents. But, are you ready to take me down to the ‘Hall Sal?]
       {When was I ever NOT ready Mine?} Sallowth rose in a very fluid motion and ambled out onto the ledge with His beside him and the fair of flits coming to alight wherever they could, with Fate staking claim on his right shoulder with bronze, Tru, taking up his left. The other four took up perches around the ledge, waiting for Theirs to mount up and take off. With the help of a raised silver foreleg, M’rayn mounted the large silver and settled himself deep into the space between the last two neck ridges, smacking Sallowth heartily on the neck.
       “Let’s go Sal.” The silver nodded his wedge-shaped head and launched himself from the ledge and into the open air with great ease, followed by six bugling and trilling flits. M’rayn grinned and sat high on the neck, a whoop released from his lungs, disappearing as it was swept away from his lips and onto the breeze. But all too soon, the flight had ended, Sallowth landed smartly on the ledge nearest the dining hall, dipping his shoulder to aid His in dismount. M’rayn sighed softly and swung off of his dragon with great ease, landed smartly and without difficulty.
       [Thanks for the ride Sallowth.]
       {It truly was nothing Mine.}
       [Oh don’t you worry your great silver mind about it Sal, we’ll be flying everywhere once I get my knots.]
       {Sounds wonderful, I’d like to check out the Southern Weyr sometime.}
       [Maybe…my mum and pop don’t like the Weyrleaders there, but I guess we can check it out some time.]
       {Wonderful! But I am off to sunbathe, I’ll see you later on tonight, these parties tend to last hours so I’m told.} M’rayn chuckled and slapped the smooth silver hide before watching Sallowth sweep back into the air. The young man stood for a moment, watching his dragon soar off towards the beaches, noting his size and skill. Certainly Sallowth was at least close to the size of his sire. But ‘Rayn shrugged it off and made his way into the dining hall, his flits following him closely.
       His hair had dried during the short flight and was now thick and glistening bright and untainted black in the lights of candles and glows galore. He was taken by surprise as, upon his entrance, he was hugged and received a huge kiss on the cheek. He blushed slightly as Veria’s very excited voice reached his ears.
       “I can’t believe it ‘Rayn! We’re graduating! Oh I just can’t wait!” Then she calmed quite suddenly and looked around with her bright and glistening eyes. M’rayn took that moment to figure out that she was wearing a very pretty blue dress that reached her ankles and made her look as though she rode a queen rather than a brown. M’rayn watched her and lifted his eyebrows slightly at the tone she used upon speaking once more. “Where’s T’mit? I would’ve thought he’d be here by now. Or that he’d’ve come with you.” M’rayn couldn’t stop a bark of laughter and shrugged softly in a way of mild apology.
       “Ever since our first flying lesson, T’mit and I have become like night and day. We never see each other and it seems as soon as I disappear, he shows up.” M’rayn just shrugged and then spotted his parents and quickly excused himself from Veria’s company, striding over quickly and watching as his parents rose as though he out-ranked them, huge grins on their faces and pride in their eyes. M’rayn now had to look down at his mother, but still had to look up into the glistening gold eyes of his father. Before he could even say hello, his father and pulled him into a bone-crushing hug, nearly knocking the wind out of him with a hefty pat on the back, which made M’rayn wince.
       “Sorry about that lad, guess I’m a little too proud.” ‘Tagh chuckled softly and customarily punched M’rayn in the shoulder, though perhaps a little softer than usual. Rayna, however, gave M’rayn a quick and gentle hug, her eyes filled with pride and a warm smile on her features.
       “We’re both proud. All those extra chores probably weren’t necessary, but I think it’ll probably help you in the long run anyway.” M’rayn chuckled and hugged his mum in return.
       ”It wasn’t all that bad really. I was always tired, though, and it did get difficult at times, but I think I pulled through it like any child of M’rtagh and Rayna should.” He smirked slightly and was glad to hear his mother and father laugh at the statement. It was just then that M’rayn happened to look down properly at his mother, head tipped, and he noticed a slight bulge of her belly. “Hey mum, are you expecting?” The shocked look on Rayna’s face that became slightly aggravated as she turned on M’rtagh, made M’rayn chuckle as he seated himself beside his mother.
       “You said I hadn’t gained an inch ‘Tagh?!” Rayna’s eyes were narrowed, but the Weyrleader’s were slightly wide and he recoiled from his mate, smiling tentatively.
       “It’s not all that noticeable dear, we just have a very observant son.” Rayna narrowed her eyes further, but then just rolled her eyes and shook her head.
       “You know what? For once, I’m not going to argue with you, at least not here any way. But don’t you keep lying to me, M’rtagh.”        “Yes Rayna. Faranth I can tell you’re a mother.” This comment also received a glare, but at M’rayn’s hearty guffaw, Rayna decided not to push it and instead summoned a skin of wine. She watched as M’rtagh poured her out a glass and that Graduation of many Turns ago flashed through her mind and made her shudder slightly, but she sipped the rich white drink with a smile, having learned her lesson long ago. She glanced at M’rayn, who was sitting quietly, yet awkwardly, in his seat. She smiled and touched his shoulder with a gentle hand. He started slightly, but then smiled, taking a moment to actually realize what his parents were wearing. Rayna was wearing a gorgeous silvery dress that went about half-way down her calves, paired with some medium-heeled shoes and a very simple necklace with a small, but very attractive, blue stone. M’rayn was able to note a light ting of blue in the dress and smiled. His father was wearing his traditional black tunic and pants, white shirt, and black boots. Rather than silver trim, though, he had a very deep metallic blue trim on his tunic and boots, helping him to nicely match Rayna, but only subtly.
       “A penny for your thoughts dear.” Rayna’s voice was soft and ‘Rayn just smiled at her, eyes sparkling briefly.
       “It’s nothing mum, I’m just a bit anxious is all. I’ve been waiting two Turns for this is all and now I’m suddenly very nervous about it.” M’rtagh chuckled and reached over to pat ‘Rayn on the shoulder, eyes laughing softly as he watched his son and recalled his own graduation, or at least what he could recall of it.
       “Everybody gets nervous at their graduation M’rayn, don’t worry about it. Enjoy yourself, we’ll be announcing the wing listings soon enough.” M’rayn nodded and smiled, pouring himself a mug of fresh steaming klah and taking a swig out of it, which helped him to smooth over his nerves and start to banter back and forth with his mother and father, as well as the Masterhealer and Masterharper when they showed up.
       It wasn’t until about an hour later that all thirty Weyrlings had gathered and the Weyrsecond, Wingleaders, Wingseconds, Wingthirds, and Weyrlingmaster had arrived. But M’rayn watched as Rayna and M’rtagh exchanged nods and stood up, gracefully making their way to the stage, silencing the quick little practice ditty the Harpers had started up. M’rtagh’s voice lifted high as he called on the attention of all gathered, a grin on his features and a merry light in his eyes.
       “Your attention please! It is now time for us to assign you Weyrlings your wings and positions! I shall say here and now that a new wing or two shall be formed! But the ‘leaders of said wings shall be last announced. So, I would like to ask you all to turn your attention to the lovely Weyrwoman Rayna so that she can start us off.” M’rtagh bowed slightly and took a step back, a hand stretched towards Rayna, who had barely stopped a faint blush.
       “Thank you Weyrleader M’rtagh. Now, first I would like to congratulate each and every one of you! You all did marvelously and your Weyrlingmaster commends you! Speaking of which, Master E’zu, would you like to come up and say a few words?” He eyes fluttered towards the bronzerider and she smiled warmly.
       “Thank you Weyrwoman, but I’m sure I’d just be repetitive Please, carry on.” He nodded and continued to sit back and listen, sipping from a goblet of sweet red wine.
       “Thank you anyway Master E’zu. And now for the announcement of wing positions, which I’m sure all of you are very excited about. But, I shall start by announcing those of you who shall be joining the Bright Flame Wing.” Once that line was finished, M’rayn tuned out everything but his own name, Veria’s name, and T’mit’s name, since he wasn’t interested in what positions the others achieved. By the time all of the current wings and their new recruits were spoken, T’mit had achieved a wingrider position in the Silver Flame Wing, so would be following M’rtagh in ‘Fall, and Veria was flying under T’vinn. M’rayn gulped slightly and closed his eyes as his father spoke again.
       “Well, those are the listings for the current wings. But, as you may have noticed, the large majority of you still don’t have a wing assignment and that’s because we are instating two new wings to Sonsa Weyr! Firstly I would like to announce the Swift Flame Wing! Its Wingleader shall be…Ro’ick!” M’rtagh than listed the other wingriders, M’rayn barely listening and holding his breath once his father was done listing that wing’s riders. “And, the newest wing of Sonsa Weyr shall be the Pride Flame Wing led by…M’rayn!” M’rayn had a hug grin on his face as he left the Masterhealer and ‘Harper and hurried onto the platform to accept his shoulder knots, salute the Weyrleaders, and shake hands as well. He was asked to stand at the back of the platform with Ro’ick while M’rtagh and Rayna called his wing. Once his entire wing was listed, his ‘second and ‘third assigned, and all other formalities taken care of, M’rayn and Ro’ick were both asked to step back up. M’rayn listened quietly, yet proudly, as Rayna spoke.
       “Congratulations to both of you boys. Is there anything you would like to say right now to those of you that you shall be leading through fog, ‘Fall, and fire?” Ro’ick stepped up and said a few words; M’rayn doing the same thing once the bronzerider was done.
       “Mostly I would like to thank the Weyrleaders for this opportunity and I shall promise to be fair, yet diligent! I say, let’s show those older riders that youth is just as good as age!” He lifted a fist above his head and, much to his surprise, several cheers, mostly those of the riders in his wing, rose into the air quite loudly and was soon joined by many others. M’rtagh chuckled, but Rayna soon silenced the cheers and her mate’s soft laughter.
       “Thank you M’rayn, you and Ro’ick may now leave the platform.” Her eyes followed the young boys and then turned back to the crowd. “We thank all of you for your attention and, now, back to the festivities! Harpers! Let’s hear some music!” She and M’rtagh left the platform and the Harpers were promptly back on stage and playing very quick and lively tunes, the Weyrlings and attending riders starting to dance across the clear area which was designated as the dance floor. M’rayn just sat with Veria, the two Masters, who were into their typical drinking contest again, and his parents, chatting quietly every now and then and dancing a couple of times with Veria and a few other girls.

       M’rayn was amazed by just how quickly the next few Turns past and, before he knew it, it had been five Turns since he graduated. His black hair was thick and pure black and her gray eyes were bright, yet serious all the time. Sallowth had grown to about equal Ampthrith in size and M’rayn had turned out to be a wonderful Wingleader. Currently, M’rayn was drilling his wing sharply as usual.
       “Step formation!” Quickly the formation was executed perfectly and they flew a bit in that way before M’rayn gave the signal for the typical forward-facing “V”. M’rayn had grown into quite the young man and was constantly told he had inherited his father’s good looks, though would always modestly say that he didn’t look nearly as good as his pop. After a few more quick formation drills, he grinned and gave the signal for dispersal and watched as his wingriders soared off to their respective weyrs and the bowl. With a light grin of satisfaction, M’rayn directed Sallowth back to their weyr.
       {It was another good drill Mine.}        [Our wing is a good bunch and consist of some of Sonsa’s best fliers.]        {They are the best fliers because they have the best ‘leader.}        [Thanks Sallowth.] M’rayn smiled as the silver landed smartly on their ledge and he dismounted after unhooking his riding straps and ambled into his sleeping quarters to have a quick bath and then, perhaps, he’d go off for a fly.
       {I’d like to go to Southern again, the hunting is supposedly very good right now.}
       [I’ll think about it Sal.] M’rayn swept into his bathing room and, removing his clothes, all but leapt into the bathing pool with a deep chuckle and promptly dipped himself beneath the surface to soak his face and hair. Once that was done, he grabbed up a handful of sweetsand and rubbed it vigorously into his thick hair, getting rid of anything that could possibly sully his perfect black mop.
       {If there’s one thing you’d hate to have ruined, it’s your hair.}        [Hey, my dad kept his hair nice and black, so I can do the same thing.] M’rayn chuckled and dunked his head beneath the water again before starting to scrub some caked on numbweed and oil away. Thread had fallen two days ago and both M’rayn and Sallowth had gotten lucky, returning with only a few miniscule ‘scores. Unfortunately, his seven flits returned ‘scored nicely, but nothing too serious. Nonetheless, flits were very difficult to oil and put numbweed on while in pain or excited, and he hadn’t bathed since after the ‘Fall, since he hadn’t had the chance. Veria seemed to be a very good flier in fall, with her Vantith, but T’mit and his Despoth did not seem at all lucky and had returned from the last ‘Fall heavily ‘scored and was currently under the care of the Healers and dosed almost constantly on fellis to keep him both from fighting and the pain of his many ‘scores. But M’rayn felt no pity for the man and so pushed all thoughts of him to the back of his mind and finished his bath quickly before rising and wrapping a towel tightly around his waist before leaving the bathing room.
       {Are you sure you want to walk around like that?}        [It’s not like I’m going to go waltzing around the Weyr like this Sal, I’m just wandering around my weyr like this.]        {I’d still be a little nervous about doing that, what if somebody came a-visiting?}        [Than I stumble as quickly as I can back into the bathing room and change so quickly that I do up my tunic incorrectly.] ‘Rayn grinned and chuckled softly as he wandered around and plucked a few pieces of clothes from here and there around his weyr. Sure, he was a Wingleader, but that didn’t mean he was organized. More often than not, his clothes were strewn across the room, on chairs, tables, and trunks, without a care in the world. Once he had gathered up what he figured would suit his needs, he pulled on his shirt and then his pants, followed by his tunic and boots. There, no unexpected visitors. But then he heard a little giggle and became curious, yet embarrassed, not sure if the sound was because somebody had been watching him. Slowly, he crept towards Sallowth and peered through the doorway that separated the silver’s sleeping quarters and M’rayn’s. There he saw his little sister, giggling as Sallowth gently blew on her face, ruffling her hair, and then very carefully nuzzled her stomach, obviously his way of tickling her. ‘Rayn chuckled and shook his head, stepping out of his sleeping quarters and scooping the little four-Turn-old up into his arms. “Now what are you doing here missy? I thought you were off in the Bowl with all the other kids.” He tickled her stomach with a chuckle, having taken a great liking to his little sister, who was currently in a fit of giggles and trying to force M’rayn’s hand away from her tummy.
       “I comes to see Fate ‘n Gem-Gem ‘n Pur ‘n-”
       “Okay missy Nara, you came to see the flits. Just give me a minute and I’ll call them.” M’rayn chuckled at his little sister’s fascination with the miniature dragons and wondered if she’d ever have as many as he did. But he summoned his fair of seven and all of them appeared, trilling and swooping down on Nara, nuzzling her and coiling their tails about her arms and, gently, her neck. She was giggling again, but M’rayn got the flits to settle down, which they quickly did, and then set Nara back on the ground.
       “If you’d like to, Nara, you can take the bunch with you down to the bowl. They love water fights and such.”
       “Oh! Really big bwother?!” As he nodded, she jumped up and down a couple of times before giving him a big hug (which happened to be more or less around his calves) and then hurried from his weyr, calling the fair of flits to follow, which they promptly did.
       “Just watch their ‘scores Nara!” He shouted behind her, shaking his head softly. He loved having a little sister, and she was always so much fun. Sometimes he wondered if he’d ever have a little brother, though he rather doubted it. He chuckled and patted Sallowth muzzle fondly.
       {I like Nara; she’s kind and very fun.}        [It’s rather amusing to see a dragon your size tickling her.]        {Yes, but she enjoys it. And her laughter makes me feel very happy.} ‘Rayn chuckled and glanced out onto the ledge at the open air that surrounded it.
       [Perhaps we should go on a little trip?]
       {To Southern?!} Sallowth asked anxiously.
       [To Southern my friend. Just inform Fayneth and Rayna where we’re going and then we shall be off!] M’rayn grinned and hurried to grab his flight jacket, which he quickly shrugged into and did up tight before joining Sallowth on the ledge and vaulting easily up onto the neck ridge and strapping himself to the slick silver neck.
       {Ready?}
       [Ready as always Sallowth. Let’s get going!] Sallowth nodded and swept into the skies with a parting bugle before he disappeared to the cool of between.

       As they reappeared into Southern’s warmth, M’rayn was quickly shedding his riding jacket because the heat would quickly get to him, since it was even more intense than the temperatures of Sonsa. As his gray eyes did a sweep of the area, he spotted many dragons and their riders out sunning, and that included a couple of golds and opals too. Of course, they had had a clutch here at about the same time Fayneth’s had hatched and they probably even had a clutch now for all M’rayn knew, though he rather doubted it. With a light shrug, he sent Sallowth down to the bowl in hopes of perhaps finding the Weyrleaders, or the Weyrsecond would be even better, to ask their permission to be in the Weyr and the nearby shores and forest. His shoulder knots were made clear, showing his rank and home Weyr and, as he dismounted, his eyes scanned for anybody who could perhaps help him. But it seemed that the Bowl had been deserted. But he sighed and shrugged, sending Sallowth off to a nearby ledge and allowing himself to enter Southern Weyr’s tunnels.
       It seemed very quiet, but he did spot a few riders in the corridors that smiled and waved and/or saluted in welcome. Obviously, not all of Southern was as cold as its Weyrleaders. It was hard for M’rayn to believe that Naphim and M’kar still led it, but then again, perhaps M’kar’s Istariath just wins the Flights for the power? He shrugged though and walked on, trying to find his way to either the dining hall or lower caverns, perhaps the headwoman could direct him. Or maybe if he could find the Weyrsecond he could get directions around the Weyr and permission to actually be on the premises.
       {I found the Weyrsecond’s dragon, though I can’t seem to locate Istariath anywhere.}
       [Could you, perhaps, bespeak the Weyrsecond’s dragon.]
       {I think that he’s rather busy, as is his rider.}
       [What are they doing? Drills?]
       {The Weyrsecond is with his mate.}
       [Is his dragon busy?]
       {His dragon is swimming.}
       [What about his mate’s dragon? Actually, can you give me some sharding names?!]
       {The Weyrsecond is B’kar and B’kar’s dragon is silver Ninehlunth. His mate is Tiphin and her dragon is brown Supremeth.} M’rayn had to pause for a moment, shaking his head slightly. Then again, Veria was currently involved with a male brownrider, so it wasn’t too strange.
       [Can you please ask Ninehlunth to ask His if we can stick around for a few hours?]
       {I can try, but I think B’kar might be a little busy.} M’rayn rolled his eyes, snorting softly as he leaned against the wall. Of course, Thread had recently fallen here, so everybody was taking a break, so he shouldn’t be too surprised. {B’kar says we can stick around and tells us not to disturb him again or else he’ll see we’re chased off.} Both M’rayn and Sallowth had a chuckle about that and then M’rayn made his way back out of the Weyr, heading to the bowl. Just as he reappeared in the sunlight, however, he heard a bugle shatter the still air and his eyes shot to the sky to see a gold swooping down to the feeding grounds. He had arrived just in time for a Flight.
       {Chase?}
       [Of course.] Sallowth joined the bronzes and silvers that perched on the ledges around the feeding grounds, humming and ready to sweep into the air as soon as the young gold did. M’rayn moved to stand among the anxious watching riders that surrounded the young rider of the gold. Four drained herdbeasts later, the gold was in the skies and chased by seven or so silvers and bronzes. Sallowth was quickly ahead of the rest, wing sweeps easy and strong, crooning to the gold, trying to perhaps trick her into dropping back a bit. But it didn’t work and instead a taunting bugle resounded through the air and the gold soared forward, followed closely by a determined bronze who all but knocked Sallowth from the skies. Before another dragon could get past him, which happened to be a silver, Sallowth bugled and swept forward, eyes swirling red. He bugled a warning to the bronze that flew before him and shot a deadly glare back at the followers. If looks could kill, the handful of dragons behind him would’ve dropped dead then and there.
       M’rayn silently urged his dragon forward, only one man standing between him and the young woman that they were after. M’rayn-Sallowth would prove to be the greatest! Sallowth bugled again and, with another sweep of his broad wings, was right alongside the bronze. He snorted; silver would always conquer over bronze! Ignore the fact that a bronze led both Fort Weyr and Southern Weyr and that was very true. Sallowth and the other bronze exchanged glares and almost missed the next maneuver the gold decided to pull off. She suddenly angled upwards, not drastically, but it was enough to almost throw the silently fighting silver and bronze off balance. They barely were able to follow and two silvers had swept ahead of them in the process. Sallowth bugled in mild frustration and swiftly dodged around one of the silvers, coming up above the other quit quickly. Sallowth crooned once more to the gold, who tauntingly bugled back and turned sharply to the left. This time, Sallowth made the turn perfectly and almost gained time, now ahead of the others once more and slightly above the level of the golden queen.
       Not yet, thought M’rayn, wait. A long Flight means a better clutch. These thoughts were his own personal thoughts and weren’t transmitted to Sallowth. Yes, M’rayn was consumed by the Flight, but he still had a hold on a tiny bit of his own mind, though slowly his grip was slipping and soon it would be gone altogether. Obviously the gold was unhappy that Sallowth was gaining on her, because she feinted to the right and then turned sharply on her left wingtip, Sallowth bugling at being tricked and swiftly flying to catch up with the dragons who hadn’t gone right. He was the greatest dragon on Pern! He deserved the golden treasure they were after! It was then that M’rayn lost that tiny grip he had had on his mind and Sallowth swept forward, all but knocking the other dragons aside to get to the queen. She would be HIS queen!
       M’rayn had been shoved to the back of the group and was now fighting his way back through it, snarling and sneering at every rider he pushed by. There was no stopping Sallowth now, whether it was time or not, Sallowth was going to go for the gold. And M’rayn was not in the right mind to stop him. Sallowth bugled again, calling out to the three dragons that flew between him and the queen, warning them of his approach. None of them seemed to care though, and this didn’t settle well even with the Flight consumed Sallowth. He angled upwards slightly and was soon flying just slightly above the others, snorting down to them. He crooned again to the queen, M’rayn moving ever closer to the girl below and, as Sallowth lowered himself to fly alongside the queen, M’rayn was right behind her. Then Sallowth twined his pale silver neck with that of gold, M’rayn wrapping his arms around the junior Weyrwoman, and falling with his dragon.

       M’rayn awoke several hours later, late that evening to be exact. There was really nothing to wake him up, but he was just no longer tired. The darkness in the weyr allowed him to fully open his dark gray eyes and look around, the weight on his arm going unnoticed for the moment. This wasn’t his weyr, that much he knew. Hmm…his mind was rather foggy, but as the weight on his arm registered, his eyes moved to look at the young woman that was curled up against him, head cradled on his arm with her arm draped over his waist. That’s when he remembered; there had been a Flight. He was still at Southern and would have to explain to M’rtagh and Rayna what had kept him, but that shouldn’t be a big deal. The one thing that made M’rayn uncomfortable was the fact that this woman had no idea who he was and visa versa. She would wake up in a total stranger’s arms and most likely end up giving him a smack…unless…he grinned as a thought hit him and he gently hugged the young woman, brushing some brunette hair away from her face, as well as his own, since it seemed to be everywhere. She was pretty, though that could easily be the understatement of the Pass. But M’rayn jut sighed ever so softly and gently rested his chin against the top of her head, closing his eyes, but not sleeping.
       It was an hour or two later when the girl finally woke, and her first reaction was more or less typical of an a woman after Flight, whereas she snuggled a little bit closer to M’rayn and kissed his neck, still half asleep. As she tucked her head against his neck, however, her eyes flew open and she was propped on an elbow with a hand swinging for M’rayn’s face in the time it takes a dragon to go between. But, M’rayn was ready and he caught her hand almost deftly, pinning her other arm with a firm hand while he gently forced her back to the bed with a grin.
       “Now, now, that’s not very nice. You shouldn’t hit strangers, so I shall introduce myself. I am M’rayn and my dragon is the silver, Sallowth. You turn.” It was obvious that the woman didn’t want to speak to him, but as he put on that same flit-eye expression his father often used, she caved.
       “Fine! I’m Makipha, rider of the gold, Mallenth.” She all but spat it at him, though that wasn’t necessary as she actually spat in his face. Though it was rather disgusting, M’rayn didn’t wipe it away, since he currently had the upper hand.
       “Good morning then, Makipha.” He grinned and leaned down to kiss her, though she turned her head and he ended up kissing her cheek. He seemed disappointed, but Makipha did not care. Instead, she wrestled one of her arms free and belted him upside the head, making his head spin. Wow! She was stronger than she looked!
       “Get out of my weyr! I know you don’t live here at Southern and for all I know you’re one of those Sonsa babies! NOW GET OUT!” M’rayn was startled by her shouting and quite insulted by her words on Sonsa, but got off of her and out of bed, stumbling into his pants while she continued to rant and rave. “GET THE SHELL OUT!” M’rayn was just pulling on his shirt when he noticed the fact that she had not only sat up, but didn’t seem to notice that she wasn’t clothed in anyway, and so was giving him a very interesting view. He paused and stared for a moment, an interested smile quirking his features rather cutely. But as Makipha realized he was staring at her, she scooped a tunic up off the floor on her side of the bed and shrugged into it, pulling it closed before her. But this just made M’rayn chuckle.
       “What the shell is so funny you silverrider suck?!” M’rayn ignored her insult and softly shook his head. “GET OUT!”
       “I’m afraid I can’t go until I have my tunic, and you happen to be wearing it.”
       “Nah uh! This is mine!”
       “Lets see…my tunic has an internally patched ripe across the back, which is done badly mind you, pock marks on the shoulders, padding in the shoulders, and several tears across the front.” He grinned as she looked at the tunic and grimaced, pulling it off and throwing it at him, watching as it struck him in the head.
       “Take your sharding tunic and get out!” M’rayn grinned and planted the image of Makipha, her face red with both embarrassment and anger, still uncovered, in his mind, knowing he’d want to see such images every now and then.
       “I’m going, but I shall return when your Mallenth clutches, you have my word as a silverrider of Sonsa.” He grinned and swept out of the sleeping quarters just in time to miss a lovely vase that was thrown at him and shattered against the wall.
       [Come on Sal, we have to go.]
       {But Mine! I want to stay with Mallenth!}
       [Sorry, but M’rtagh and Rayna will be wondering where we are. Besides, we’ll be back as soon as your Mallenth clutches.] Sallowth nodded sadly and coiled his neck around that of Mallenth, crooning rather sadly as he pulled away.
       {I shall talk to you as often as I can love.}
       (It sounds wonderful Sallowth. I shall inform you as to when I clutch.)
       {Thanks.} After Sallowth gave Mallenth an affectionate nudge, he and His made their way out, onto the ledge, and M’rayn mounted up. Sallowth swiftly took off, keening at having to leave his mate behind, and disappeared between.

       Makipha watched M’rayn leave and snarled as the thrown vase missed his big head. What a dimglow! And a Bitran too! Why had it been him and his Sallowth to catch Mallenth and herself?! Why couldn’t it have been that…ah…what was his name again?! Makipha had M’rayn on the brain right now and it annoyed her more than seeing those sharding flit-eyes! She pulled herself out of bed and made her way into the bathing room.
        “Stupid men…Sonsa…can’t believe a Sonsa suck caught my Mallenth…”
       {Don’t be so mean to them Mine, I rather like Sallowth, and M’rayn doesn’t seem too bad.}
        [They’re from Sonsa! If mother and father find out they could easily banish me! Or worse! They could send me to Sonsa to live with that wherry-brained Bitran of a silverrider suck!] Makipha had slipped into the bath and was trying to scrub away the lingering masculine scent that seemed to have become stuck to her. Scorch it! She scrubbed so hard she almost rubbed herself raw! As much as the masculine scent appealed to her, she certainly didn’t want that of M’rayn lingering over her. That man! He was a dimglow, and a Bitran, and…
       {And cute, and cuddly, and amusing, and-}
        [Shut up! He’s not any of those!]
       {Oops! I thought you were thinking about Sallowth. M’rayn is handsome, and smart, and strong, and cute, and cuddly, and warm, and charming, and-}
        [I said SHUT UP!] Makipha snarled and started to scrub at her hair with the sweetsand, having removed as much of the smell of M’rayn she could without actually rubbing her skin off. She said it once and she’d say it again, stupid men! As Mallenth started listing off traits of Sallowth’s that appealed to her, Makipha simply shut out her dragon and pulled herself from the bath, cringing slightly as the cool air swept against her slightly scratched and rather pale flesh. She grumbled quietly as she wrapped a towel around herself and then coiled another towel about her long brunette hair. Sharding mother made her wear her hair long! Makipha didn’t like long hair when she had to go and fight Thread, it was very annoying, but if she cut her hair short she was very sure her mother would be anything but pleased. Even her father wanted her to keep her hair long!
       {Oh! And Sallowth is ever so handsome! Oops, I said that three times…he’s witty! I didn’t say that yet! Oh and he’s just so protective! Oh! I said that twice now! Hmm…}
       [Will you just shut up about Sallowth! I want to forget both the silver and his dead-beat rider!]
       {Just because you don’t like M’rayn and Sallowth doesn’t mean I have to hate them!}
       [Then talk to yourself and do it while I’m asleep instead of torturing me with it!] Makipha snorted in a most unladylike way and changed into a shirt that she found laying around on the floor and a pair of loose pants. She was still tired and perhaps some sleep would drive away all thoughts of what’s-his-face. Once changed, she leapt back into bed, pulled the covered over her and automatically pushed them away. Man smell! She grumbled and just huddled up into a ball, making sure her head was on the pillow she had used…wait…she had used M’rayn’s arm as a pillow. She cuddled up on the bed in a tight ball, no pillow or furs, and slowly fell asleep. But her sleep wasn’t what she had hoped it would be.

       M’rayn grinned mildly as Sallowth and himself reappeared above Sonsa Weyr’s Star Stone, Sallowth announcing himself to the watchdragon.
       {Our parents are worried.}
        [Then we must go put their fears to rest. Where are they?]
       {Our weyr, apparently M’rtagh has nearly paced a hole in the floor.} M’rayn chuckled and Sallowth circled downwards, landing smartly on his ledge with M’rayn dismounted a mere second later, barely able to say hello before M’rtagh had him in one of those bone-crushing hugs with Rayna joining in and making it a family hug.
        “Can’t-breath-“ He was released, catching his breath and rubbing his ribs lightly as he removed his flight jacket and tossed it carelessly into the corner to land atop the trunk where Sallowth’s harness was kept. Currently the trunk was empty, but M’rayn went about removing the harness while his parents questioned him.
        “Where have you been?! We expected you back long ago?! We thought you were only going for some hunting?!” It was his mother’s rather frantic voice that rambled out the questions and made M’rayn chuckle, giving her a light pat on the shoulder.
        “Calm down mum, Sallowth and I were just unexpectedly delayed.”
        “Couldn’t you have had Sallowth tell us you were going to be back later?!”
        “Mum! Settle down! I’m here in one piece, Sallowth is fine, and there’s no harm done!”
        “Then explain that lovely purple bruise on your face lad?” M’rtagh’s voice was slightly gruff as he prodded the bruise, making M’rayn wince.
        “That was caused by the unexpected delay.” M’rayn finished removing Sallowth’s harness and, pulling his jacket off the trunk, kicked open the trunk and threw it in, he’d oil it later, and then placed his jacket back on the trunk again, leaning against the heavy piece of furniture while he watched his parents.
        “Okay, now exactly what was this delay?” M’rtagh’s arms were crossed over his chest and he seemed very curious. He hadn’t seen his soon with many bruises, and this one being on his face and seeming quite fresh interested him greatly.
        “Nothing big, just a little scuffle with a rider at Southern.”
        “Who was this rider? What caused the scuffle? And give me names lad!” M’rayn shook his head softly.
        “Shards pop, I’m 21, cut me some slack.”
        “I wish to know as well M’rayn. What happened at Southern?” Rayna’s voice was rather cool and it almost made M’rayn shudder.
        “Oh fine then! I arrived about five minutes before a gold went into Flight! Sallowth chased and it ended up that Sallowth caught her. Is that good enough?”
        “I said names boy, and that doesn’t explain your bruise.” M’rtagh was silently laughing you could see it in his eyes, and M’rayn sighed softly. Sharding parents, poking into his personal life. The image of Makipha flashed in his find and he grinned.
        “Her name’s Makipha and her dragon is Mallenth. She wasn’t at all pleased when she woke up beside me and so she gave me a nice black-and-blue mark.” ‘Rayn shrugged softly, gingerly feeling the bruise which would easily just get worse as the night went by. M’rtagh was chuckling softly, though it as continually getting louder. Rayna quite obviously wanted to deal with the bruise and was displeased at M’rtagh for laughing at it.
        “And what, might I ask, did you do to get yourself slapped upside the head?” Rayna’s voice was soft, loud enough to be heard, and she jammed her elbow into ‘Tagh’s side, making the Weyrleader fall silent quite quickly, one hand on his side.
        “Hmm…I believe I had just asked her what her name was? Or was it after I tried kissing her? One of the two.” M’rayn shrugged again, shrugging carelessly out of his tunic and running a hand through his messy hair. He figured they had really had some fun during that Flight, but it’s not like he really remembered. The only image he was of the embarrassed and angry Makipha, which was more than enough to make him blank out the world around him for a moment until he felt somebody smack his shoulder, it was Rayna.
        “M’rayn! Listen to me!”
        “Hmm?” Rayna rolled her eyes and gave him a light smack on the opposite cheek, just hard enough to make him pay attention.
        “As I was saying! If it was for the first reason it was not justified, however the second reason could easily justify a smack!” As M’rayn opened his mouth to justify his daydreaming, Rayna placed a hand over his mouth and glared. “I don’t want to hear a word! I don’t want to know who or what you were daydreaming about! Just get some sleep!” Rayna spun and headed towards the door, glancing over her shoulder at her mate.
        “I’ll be there in a minute love.” M’rtagh winked and Rayna grinned softly, leaving the room swiftly. M’rtagh approached his son, giving him a light clout on the shoulder and grinning broadly.
        “I understand completely m’boy. Obviously you’ll probably be daydreaming a lot, just try not to do so during drills and ‘Fall.” M’rtagh winked and M’rayn grinned, nodding softly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, you mother’s waiting.”
        “Go get her tiger.” M’rayn grinned as they exchanged a wink and then his father swiftly left, leaving M’rayn alone with his dragon, all his flits having long ago returned to the Weyr and fallen asleep scattered around his weyr.
        [Well, that went well.]
       {It sure did. I agree with M’rtagh though, don’t daydream during ‘Fall or drills, cause that could cause some problems.}
        [And I don’t want you constantly talking to Mallenth! That could prove even more dangerous!]
       {All right, I get your point. But I say we take Rayna’s advice and get some sleep.}
        [I couldn’t agree more.] M’rayn got up off the trunk and grabbed his discarded tunic and pulled off his shirt as he meandered into his sleeping quarters, tossing both tunic and shirt into the corner where all his dirty clothes lay. Then he shed his pants, pulled on a pair of shorts, and leapt into bed, pulling the furs snuggly over him. He rather wished Makipha were there, he had liked having his arms around her and her hair against his face. Oh well, he still had his thoughts. M’rayn fell asleep to the image of Makipha, watching as she suddenly came alive in his dreams. M’rayn slept very peacefully.

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