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Kyllae giggled by Saraket.

"Your voice is funny."

"What?" Saraket replied, puzzled by the choice of comment. She turned to look up at Kyllae, but the tall girl suddenly collapsed, sinking to her knees. Saraket just managed to prevent her from falling full-force against the sand.
Scared now, she knelt down in the Sands, and shook Kyllae's shoulder, calling her name.

She got no response, though she could see Kyllae was breathing. Had she fainted? Like the earlier people? Oh dear. Saraket got up, and looked around for someone to help her. A senior Weyrmember, or a Healer. She thought she spotted someone close by, and started towards her, then hesitated, looking down at Kyllae. She didn't want to leave her alone.

"Excuse me..." she called out timidly, hoping she would be heard. She was far too quiet, no one responded. Squeezing her eyes shut, Kyllae took a deep breath and yelled across the sands, "Help! Kyllae fainted!"

It was the most beautiful sight that Vera had ever seen. She smiled, getting to her feet to clap for the queen and her newly Impressed rider. She registered, distantly, that the young man from her cousin's youth had also Impressed, and some of the other faces had been familiar. A wave of dizziness washed over her, and she coughed, her cheer dying in her throat as she struggled to get enough air. Beautiful, beautiful queen... I will write a song for her, the Journeyman Harper decided, feeling the heat build. It was the heat of the Sands, surely. Surely...

Why was she standing still? Standing, waiting... waiting for what? For the rider to acknowledge her golden dragonet, perhaps. How could anyone fear so excellent a creature, who showed both grace and poise? Marko was insane surely to believe that such an elegant youngling could be as violent as that little green. She knew better. She had seen such composure in the hatchling, and she would tell him. Yes, that was important... to tell. To tell... whom? Who did she need to speak to? Marko. Yes, Marko. Bringing a hand up to her forehead, she pulled it away swiftly as though it had scorched her.

She shivered, feeling cold for all of that heat. Out on the sands she could see girls dropping. Where was the queen's rider? Why had she not spoken? It was strange, the air seemed so thick. She couldn't take a breath. Choking, she steadied herself on-- thin air. Xeran was gone. Why had she not noticed that Xeran was gone? Who was the lucky girl out on the Sands? It was important, she knew. Important. "Xeran?" she gasped, searching fruitlessly for her mentor. He had gone. Where had he gone to? She had seen him, they had spoken... yes, he had taken her here. "Xer?"

Why had he left her alone? She could not remember why, where he had gone. She coughed, and her shoulders shook with it. Wrapping her arms around her body, she felt the heat once more, and then ice. It was cold, colder than she remembered Hatching Grounds should be. Her hair was loose, how strange. It clung to her face where the beads of sweat gathered, and fell free down her back. Cold. So cold. Doubling over with another coughing fit, she gasped for air and could find none. She couldn't think straight, she couldn't quite grasp where she was, though she thought she had known a moment before.

Finally, when she straightened, her vision went gray (she would have laughed if she had been thinking, for her vision was always gray, was it not?) and she searched the Sands once more in pure desperation. "Xeran?" She fell, and did not know that she fell, for the world had already gone black, night descending on a body already scorched and frozen by turns. If the fall hurt her, she was oblivious to the hurt. For now, there was nothing. For now, there was no Xeran, no Marko, and no Hayara. There was only the black of between, and the red of the fever. She tumbled down from her perch on the stands, and came to rest on the level just below her own. The pipes on her belt were broken.

"I will! He comes!" Did he come fast enough? What was happening?... Oh! Her new queen! How lovely! Through all the mess that was this hatching, their new queen showed grace and dignity. It was a good sign. It had to be.

*****

...L'thor? Who called for that rider? C'mor, Conomor, glanced over his shoulder and swore. Veyes! He had been his friend but... he had betrayed him and... and that didn't matter. Veyes needed to be helped, personal feelings were not important. "Have you eaten enough my heart?"

Naedreth looked up at His with yellowish eyes full of worry. "Yes Mine! I want to sleep but... What do you need of me?"

"Walk with me towards the crowds. We need to see that..." what was the dragon's name! "that Raith's gets through. He needs to be by the exit to meet his sick friend."

Naedreth puffed up his chest and stepped out beside his bonded as surely as he could. "Yes Mine! We will distract them, and Raith's will get through."

Thank goodness for Naedreth. C'mor grinned. Just what he had always needed. A partner in his endeavors. A soul mate, confident, and one now walking with him to distract a crowd of interested persons. Veyes would never know, but that was probably for the best.

*****

Suddenly the press of people was less, and he could rise to his feet. At the edge of the sands, he stood and swore. Veyes was apparently no longer conscious. He wanted to go out there, he wanted to desperately but turns of training held him back. There were people enough out there to get his friend this far, he could help from there. Fists knotted and jaw clenched with tension, L'thor waited for the limp form to be carried off the sands.

Looking up as he heard the gasps and cheers, Dorinelic guessed he might as well see who got the impressive gold. And to his shock it was the small Nandeli. The same girl who had been the first to introduce him to the Wyer and greet him. Smiling, he felt a little bit calmer about the day's event. Nandeli had struck him as a sweet girl, no doubt she would make an excellent rider, especially with the queen. Clapping, he followed them with his eyes. It seemed such a happy ending. Almost like a storybook that a child might read.

Now that the cheering was beginning to die down, he joined the ever leaving candidates in the march out of the bowl, when a thought struck him. Didn't that mean the Wyer now had more then a few Queens? A shiver went up his spine. They might be sent off, along with candidates and other riders. He dearly didn't want to leave...and return to Keroon. With this joy, came a feeling of foreboding. Not all things would remain as they were, and the thought of it made Dorinelic both fearful...and yet, strangely excited.

Shrugging off his thoughts, he thought about his earlier plans. A drink was still in order. A very long drink indeed.

O'asis felt the air rush out of his lungs.

It was Nan. Nandeli the Nose. The kitchen girl he'd peeled tubers with; hawked out bug klah. Teased S'van with, shared his alcove with. Gone to with gossip, teased and been teased by, effortlessly delighted and delighted in. His first Weyrborn friend: The Queen's own. The Goldrider.

It was unbelievable. He'd never seen it in her, dimglow that he was - he'd seen a lot in her, sure, but not that. But there was no mistaking Impression, now that he'd been through it. He felt Uktenath, and knew that what he saw, the little bronze saw as well.

O'asis mine, Uktenath murmured, I would like more to eat.

"Y... yeah," O'asis answered, slightly stunned. His face, awestruck and admiring, grew a smile. Jiriar had Impressed. Jessmet had Impressed. And Nandeli had Impressed. And it went unspoken that he, with Uktenath, had Impressed. It was more joy, more triumph, more unbelievability than he could believe. And far, far more than he knew how to express.

Mine, Uktenath reminded him again. O'asis blinked, suddenly feeling the water in his eyes.

"Yeah! Yeah, I'm all right," he answered, although Uktenath already knew he was very fine. O'asis turned his attention from the sands for the last time, foisting the full of this attention to the bronze waiting on him. His universe was so full now, it was all he could do to contain himself to one portion of it - but fortunately, Uktenath could absorb every bit of excitement that O'asis could give him.

Watching the last Impressions and the commotion going on with a mind divided, Firyal had pinned her last hope on the golden egg. She waited, her chest practically aching with her desire to Impress - please! - and no longer be a nonentity. For the moment she forgot that she had a few friends, and that they probably didn't consider her a nonentity. She was tired of being generally invisible, and even when she made an effort to meet new people, more often than not she found that it was to little avail. She would not be forgotten if she Impressed, and she would never be alone.

And then the beautiful gold Impressed to Nan. Nan! The girl was quick-witted, but she did nothing with her wits. What made her deserving? For that matter, what made Firyal any more deserving? At least people knew who Nan was. For all the Candidates she couldn't recognize, Firyal was sure there were more who could not recognize her either. Which was even more pathetic, since she had lived at the Weyr for six, going on seven, years. She had almost nothing to show for her tenure except Numenor, who was looking more and more to be her only companion.

At least she was off privy duty. She'd definitely be avoiding the Hatching Feast this evening after putting so many of her hopes on this Hatching. She didn't want to face the newest Dragonriders and their happiness. The happiness of others was simply too much to bear at the moment. The weight of her own failure - repeated ad nauseum it seemed - was so heavy that it seemed to squeeze the tears from her eyes, reluctantly at first, and them faster. She fled from the Hatching Grounds before anyone could notice. In the fracas and excitement, she doubted anyone would notice. Numenor joined her in the corridor and together they made their exit, slinking off in the shadows. As usual.

Westren crouched low enough to loop the other fallen boy’s arm around his neck. Standing slowly, he merely nodded,“ It’s no problem. “Treat others as you wish to be treated,” or however that saying goes.”