"That. Is. A. Rat." The woman said, disdainful and unapproving. Shad...No, not Shadow anymore. He was Carys now. Carys frowned despite his resolve to be polite to these 'weyrfolk' as they called themselves. He clutched Spider protectively away from the woman, and shook his head.
"Yes. This. Is. A. Rat." He didn't like the way everyone said "rat" as if it were a bad thing. More friendly little creatures he couldn't imagine, and up until a sevenday ago, he'd only known them as his friends...and his food. He also didn't mean to mock the woman's tone, but apperantly she didn't know that. She screeched at him about insubordinant behaviour (which Carys didn't understand), and how the candidates thought they could get away with anything; even bringing rats into the Weyr as pets. Carys understood that at least. This whole candidate thing was strange to him, too different from the rest of his life. The massive dragons seemed all too intrusive, barging in on one's mind, and their overall arrogant and lordly presence unnerved Shado....Carys.
But to explain why, one would have to go back into Carys's past, back when he had been Carys the first time, and then become the Shadow he'd always known.
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His first memory wasn't really of the deep caves at all, but of a warm, bright, place with a woman he called "mother". This "mother" wasn't a real image in his mind, but rather a warm feeling of love and strength. Of all his memories, "mother" was his favourite and most comforting one.
He was too young to notice how sick "mother" was, how her headaches bothered her so much, and how she would cry so much. He was only three then....and when "mother" suddenly disappeared, and he was left all alone. He did not remember his "father", a miner, taking him deep into the tunnels, and leaving him there to die.
He didn't even remember the cave in, or his first encounter with the rats. That was when he was five, old enough to know to find food and water in an emergency. Food, was obviously the rat, water..well, the man who put him here hadn't exactly planned on the underground spring, or, for that matter, the rats' tunnels leading up to the surface.
He was Carys then, for at least a turn after being trapped down there, and at least a turn before he became "shadow". He found the tunnels right off, but figured up there was as good as down here-and down here there was at least pleasant company.
The rats didn't bite him, rather, they treated his existance as they would another one of their own: they just accepted it. They would crawl on him sometimes, curl up with him at night, use bits of his torn clothing to put into their nests, ect. They also willingly gave up members of their ranks for feeding this human. He needed nourishment, like they did, and he picked off the old, the weak, the undesirable from their numbers. He was more of a help than a burden, and his strange mouth noises were fun to listen too.
Time passed, he discovered how to get in and out of the caverns through the tunnels the rats had made. He made them larger, more accomadating to his ever growing frame, and took his first few steps in two turns into the outside world.
Even at night the very brightness of the place was blinding, and he felt suddenly ashamed that he wore no clothes. He remembered, from before, that a human should never be uncovered, naked, like the animals were. He was standing towards the edge of a rather large forest, and as far as he could tell, there were no other living beings in site. Only a couple of the rats that were wrapped around his neck, seeing where their large friend was going, tagging along for the ride.
Trees loomed all around him, and a strange chirping noise that he thought was maybe being caused by those six legged crunchy things the rats often brought back to eat. The sights were overwhelming to him, and he was torn between exploring for the adventure, or turning around and jumping right back down the tunnel. His young sense of adventure won out, and he tip toed hesitantly into the unknown.
He kept the rats with him, they were his only hope of finding the tunnel again, and the desire to "hold on" to them stuck with him ever since. The trees and foilage surrounding him didn't hold his attention for very long. They were like the fungus down in the caves, only larger and dryer. The sky frightened him-as did spaces that were too open. There was too much expanse there for comfort. He rather liked crunchy leaves beneath his feet, and the way the wind played with his long hair. It was cold up here-he hadn't remember what it was like to be cold. The cave was always warm-heated by the very depths where it lay.
But very soon the sky began to lighten, and then in turn, darken. A few drops of wetness, what was it called? Ah yes, rain. A few drops of rain fellon Carys's head, and he looked up in fright. Could this hurt him? He didn't remember.
He continued to walk, and the rats didn't seem worried by the water, so he didn't worry either. But it was just getting so cold....But there, in the distance, something flickering. A fire. Carys walked willingly to it.
There were traders there, in a clearing, waking up and cooking their morning meal. Carys watched with mild interest, because their movements were so familiar. Without meaning to he gave himself away, and they immediately brought the poor, holdless boy into their midsts.
They gave him clothes, two pair, for free, and food. They asked his name, and when his mouth remembered enough of words to say one, he said "Shadow". He didnt' know why. But lately that's how he'd begun to think of himself: a shadow. They raised their eyebrows at this, but were well used to folk who wanted thing-names, so didn't ask questions. Naturally they expected him to be grateful enough to travel with them, and join their clan.
He snuck away in the middle of the first night, and went back to the direction he'd come from. He had his clothes, only because he thought it was the proper thing to be dressed, and he had taken some food as well. He'd also packed several other useful implements, like the matches he'd seen the other people using, and a cooking pot.
He made it back to his cave later that afternoon, and was very glad to be back with his rats. He celebrated by cooking some of the food that he stole, and one of the rats as well. He shared with all, because that rats surely weren't opposed to cannabalism.
He made a routine of leaving the rat cave every few days to go above and explore and collect anything he thought he might need. He didn't know how he did without these things before, and was glad he'd never have to again. He was only Shadow now, and if he hadn't made himself speak to remember language every day, he'd have forgotten it and thought like that rats did.
Once a turn that same trading clan would come back to the forest, and every turn he'd venture out and take some more clothes for his growing body, and warm food and even more implements that he collected souly for their beauty. The folk welcomed him every turn, making him into something of a clan legend, and gladly gave him whatever he would need. In return he'd sometimes offer one of the younger rats as a pet, because these people seemed fond of pets, but they'd never accept.
Time continued to pass, and Shadow thrived. He wasn't quite sure how old he was, but that didn't matter to him. He outlived every rat, that was for certain, but his "specials" seemed to live longer than the rest. Maybe because they didn't go foraging for food, because their Shadow always fed them. Maybe because when he went swimming in the nearby pond, they got themselves cleaner than the rest did by joining him in the water. However it was, at the time he was actually eighteen (but didn't know it), and searched, he had three rats that he considered his.
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The morning started like all the rest. Shadow woke up when the nests of young around him began squeeking for food. Adult rats were streaming into the cave with mouths full of substanence they had found for a meal, and his Spider was digging anxiously at his side for some seeds.
Shadow obliged, and gave Spider, abtly name for the way he scurried up and down walls, breakfast. In turn, Shadow found himself what was left of the latest berry picking excursion, and ate that.

Shadow moved quickly out of his place, and into the fresh air after that. He enjoyed stretching his legs in movement-enjoyed being out of the dankness of his home. His three "specials" went with him; Spider and Whitey up on his shoulder, and his old girl Lothy in his pocket. He wore warm pants that were up to his ankles, and a jacket that was too large for him.


But even Shadow sensed something different in the air that day...the forest was quiet, and the rats were somber. Something was amiss, and Shadow was determined not to discover it.
Shadow turned to go back, the feeling of oppression weighing him down, when suddenly a figure turned up from nowhere. Shadow tensed, the only people he'd seen since he was a child were the traders...and this wasn't one of them. The man was startlingly familiar...but in a non-personal type way. Shadow felt he should know who this was.
The man was very heavily dressed for such a hot day, and Shadow immediately noticed the aura of arrogance and perceived self importance that he carried. No wonder the creatures were acting weird. The rats were clapping their teeth in annoyance, and the man looked slightly revolted by their presence as well.
"Heyla lad, what would your name be then? I didn't really expect to see someone else out here..." The man rattle don, and Shadow could barely understand half of what he said. Too fast! Shadow shook his head, and shrugged.
"Shadow." He said hoarsely, for he knew what it meant when people asked his name. The man stared at him oddly for a minute.
"Who're your parents son? Are they around? I don't mean to pry, but there's been tellings of a group of gypsies out here..." The man stopped, seeing that the boy wasn't following.
"Traders." The man said. "Gypsies." He hoped to make a connection. The boy nodded, and then shook his head.
"They don't belong here...except for autumn. Then they come in large."
The man raised an eyebrow, and watched the boy looking around, almost distractingly.
"I'm G'ran, Shadow is it? Who're your parents Shadow?" The man felt a strange curiousity concerning his new acquiantance.
"Parents?" Shadow shrugged.
G'ran sighed, another roaming orphan. The Weyrs were getting full of 'em these days, but he couldn't well leave the boy out here alone.
"You ever ridden a dragon boy?" G'ran wasn't so sure that calling this young man a boy was proper...but he surely didn't look old enough to be called sir.
"What's a...dragon?" Shadow was curious now, but very uncomfortable.
"A dragon...well, that's what protects you son. From Thread, haven't you ever seen them before?" G'ran thought that the boy was only joking, but he looked very serious when he next said,
"Yes, the ones that keep the silver fire from hitting the trees? They come over sometimes." Shadow looked around eagerly, obviously watching for a dragon.
"He's not in here lad, he's too big to fit in the trees. I suppose I'll take you to him...ah, Shadow." G'ran shook his head, and led the boy off.

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Shadow reflected that the only reason he followed the stranger was pure curiousity. Another human, with an enormous pet rat....who wouldn't be interested? Plus he seemed to feel almost content to follow this man...like it was the proper thing to do.
He wasn't shocked when he first saw what was called Stergoth, the brown dragon, or when this Stergoth talked to him and told him to come be a candidate. Shadow didn't like the way the creature spoke, inside his mind, but went anyway, not knowing why. He supposed he'd thought he could go back.
But once he realized what a candidate was, and what he was expected to do at this Weyr he grew frightened...and sick. He wasn't used to the food, the warmth, and the shere mass of bodies pressing around all the day. For weeks he was delirious....and it was during those weeks a fewer of the more curious riders discovered his idenity. The boy had been pronounced dead by the miners so many turns ago...and when he responded to the name Carys from the depths of his illness...they knew it had to be him.
He was a local hero for nearly a day, before some more interesting candidates got brought in; and when he woke up, no one called him Shadow. He insisted, he begged, but they refused. And slowly he began to accept his new life as Carys...