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The egg Fyraden had given Telatl became the center of his life during the first few sevendays of his "crippled" existence. When he was dragged out of bed to try out a new pair of crutches, he always hobbled over to the hearth to check on the egg. Whenever Fyraden came to visit him, as the former rider often did, they talked about and "visited" the egg. There were bets among the injured and sick in the infirmary about when Telatl's egg would hatch and it was carefully watched day and night.
Many times, Telatl told himself it was stupid. He was going to die anyway, why Impress a flit that would only suicide when he died? But, every time this thought came it was accompanied by Fyraden's words: a reason to live. And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get past the fact that if he did Impress the flit, he'd have to keep on living. Just for the flit's sake.
The dreaded and much anticipated event took place quite suddenly on a lazy afternoon. Telatl was exhausted from a walk across the room on crutches that were still being perfected, angry with himself for being so out of shape. His ten-turn-old brother Toltel was crouched over the sand-filled bucket where Telatl's egg resided, watching the creamy oval for any sign of Hatching as he had been doing for the past few hours.
"Faranth! Tel! It's Hatching!" Toltel exclaimed suddenly. "Look at it rock! Get Telatl some meat! He's gonna get a flit!"
"Oh come on," Telatl chuckled from where he was massaging his stump and his right leg alternately, "stop kidding with us, Toltel. I know you're excited for it to Hatch, but don't try to be funny about it."
"I am not kidding!" Toltel protested. "Come over here and see for yourself! Fardles, it's gonna hop right out of the bucket, I betcha! Where is that meat?"
Telatl gritted his teeth and made his way over. The egg was indeed rocking, just as Fyraden had said it would before it Hatched. "Isn't anyone going to bring me some sharding meat?" Telatl demanded, taking the egg into his hands.
"Can't you feed it something else?" Toltel wondered. "Think it'd eat a peice of fur or something? Maybe it'd like the skin."
The egg gave a little hop in Telatl's hands. "I don't know, I've never Hatched a flit before," Telatl replied. "Just bring whatever you can. Cloth, fur, anything healthy!"
Toltel ran off and returned with a pair of old boots. "Hopefully it'll wait til some real food gets here, but these'll probably do in the mean time," Toltel suggested, dropping the boots at Telatl's feet and squatting down to watch the egg.
The flit inside had no intentions of waiting, and a large crack appeared down the front of the egg. A silver head appeared and was followed by copper wings folded tightly to a wet silver body. The flit fell out of the egg, creeling its hunger until Telatl stuffed a peice of the boot into its open mouth.
The flit took a bite, chewed, swallowed, and looked up at Telatl with an almost disdainful gaze. Then it did something Telatl had not been expecting. It spoke. Is an old boot a very nice thing to give Sirin for her first meal? the flit chided him in a definetly feminene voice.
"I-I'm sorry Sirin, they couldn't get meat up here fast enough. It'll be here soon, I promise," Telatl said as the realization hit him. He'd Impressed!
Well of course you've Impressed, else you wouldn't be hearing me would you? Sirin asked. And that meat had better get here soon. I'm starving.
"You've already named it?" Toltel asked in an awed voice. "How'd you come up with a name so fast?"
Telatl smiled wonderingly at his brother. "She told me her name was Sirin."
"But firelizards don't talk!" Toltel exclaimed. "How'd she tell you?"
"Well, Sirin does, and she told me her name just like I'd tell you mine," Telatl explained matter-of-factly, suddenly protective of the little silver-copper bundle he cradled in his arms.
Of course I do, Sirin purred and rubbed her head up against his arm affectionately. And I did come up with a very beautiful name, didn't I?
A beautiful name for a beautiful flit, Telatl agreed in his mind, knowing instinctively that Sirin would hear him.
Why wouldn't I hear you? Sirin replied in the same manner. Telatl, I am very very hungry. Where is my meat?
At that moment a breathless drudge dashed into the room, a bowl of meat in her arms. Sirin gave a little cry of happiness and flew to it. She perched daintily on the side and began stuffing her face.
Fyraden arrived shortly after the meat in time to see Sirin finish, give a little hiccup, and waddle over to Telatl and flop over into his lap.
"Pretty little thing," Fyraden remarked, scratching Sirin's tiny eyeridges. The flit crooned in her sleep and moved her head towards his fingers. "Boy or girl?"
"Does she look like a boy to you?" Telatl asked with a chuckle, gazing at Sirin adoringly. "She's so beautiful."
"No, she really does not, definetly a beauty," Fyraden replied after a moment. "What're you going to name her? Got any ideas?"
"She says her name is Sirin," Telatl told him, savoring the name. "She came up with it herself, you know."
"Ah, you got a talking firelizard, did you?" Fyraden's voice had a note of wistfulness in it. "They're supposed to act just like dragons, you know. If your Sirin's anything like my Ladurith at her age, you're in for it."
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