Gr'slen and blue Zannoth Grenslen's eye had healed as much as it would ever heal by the time the dragons began their hum. The small patch would forever be part of his daily wardrobe. His right eye would never see light again. The scratches on his arm were now stripes. He no longer needed the bandages. He stood at the end of the long line of candidates waiting for the eggs to crack. He'd show them. He'd impress the biggest, strongest dragon shelled. So what if no one liked him. Who cared if they were glad that the queen firelizard had punctured his right eye. How could they know what he went through to become a candidate. And why did that dragon pick him anyway? All these were questions he would either never reveal, or never know. The cracking of the first egg broke his thought as all his energies turned towards the eggs. Up in the stands watching the event sat P'lor, rider of bronze Qwicath, and T'remal, rider of brown Lorth. Turning to P'lor, T'remal asked, "Is that Grenslen on the end?" When P'lor nodded in the affermative, he continued, "He lookes vaguely familiar to me. Have I seen him before?." "Grenslen was the leader of the circle of boys Lorth plucked me out of when you found me on Search," P'lor said softly. (for the full story, read P'lor's record.) A flash of anger crossed T'remal's face, but before he could comment further the old queen trumpeted a welcome to the newly hatched gold. After she made her selection, T'remal turned back to P'lor. The bronzerider was quicker to speak. "After I left, Grenslen was sent to the High Reaches in shame. He is the nephew of the Lord Holder at Crom. He was supposed to be sent to Telgar to foster, but not after his father found out about that last incident. In spite of it all, he will make a good dragonrider." A bit taken back to learn more about the past of the tall, lean young man standing on the sands, T'remal's mood softened slightly. "So that's why Vartiat (P'lor's queen fire-lizard) attacked when he started taunting you at lunch." "Unfortunately, yes. When he started taunting me like he has so many times before, my anger built up until before I knew it, Vartiat came to my defense," P'lor said guiltily. "It's a good thing I was away at the time," T'remal muttered under his breath. "Look!" P'lor pointed towards the sands, "There are only three eggs left." As one, the three cracked revealing two browns and a blue. the remaining three candidates moved a few steps closer to make the choice easier. Carefully, the hatchlings shook off the remaining shards as they surveyed th boys. The blue knew in an instant who he wanted. Through his one good eye, Grenslen saw the blue approach. Slowly he knelt to meet his new friend. "His name is Zannath!" he shouted.
"When he's full grown," P'lor said to T'remal, "I want him in our wing. I'm glad he Impressed a blue. He couldn't handle the leadership if he got a bronze or a brown." Read more about Gr'slen and Zannath
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