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Ceanandin hadn't let the collapse of the Candidate and dragonrider distract him long. He had no healing training whatsoever, and there were already more people clustered about the pair that really was necessary in either case. Really, it was a wonder that such a gathering hadn't frightened the hatching dragonets into hurting someone--but no, inevitably a mauling did come. Again, however, he strengthened his resolve and remained stubbornly in place, eyes on the clutch.

They had been warned that the dragonets could be dangerous, scared as they might be upon hatching. If one came his way, he would do what he could to avoid it, but he wasn't running to the rescue of Candidates who did get injured. Someone, someone not standing for Impression, would help the girls--and did, he noted after the fact. If everyone ran off to help, who would be presented to the hatchlings? Who would risk a dragonet going between while it's would-be bond was distracted elsewhere? Frankly, Ceanandin considered that loss a greater one than the death of a Candidate who stayed in a hatchling's way. The Hatching sped by.

And then it was done. He had known for a little while now, really--after all, the Queen was last to Hatch, and she would only Impress a girl. But while one dragonet stood on the Sands, it was as if ten others did as well, as if the Hatching would never end, as if his opportunity was still there. Apparently it wasn't. Perhaps it had never been. As the final green Impressed, and the Queen shortly after her, Ceanandin's hands clenched into fists at his side. Another Hatching over, another Hatching where he had failed to Impress.

It was difficult to remain positive immediately afterward, with the proud newly Impressed marching from the sands so stuff themselves and celebrate. His chest was a knot of jealousy and, yes, perhaps a fair bit of bitterness for the boy who had earlier stood beside him, who had Impressed the second bronze. But he had known coming in that the odds were against him, and a glance around the Sands showed a large number of Candidates as disappointed as he. The dragonets new who was the right choice for each of them; if they had picked others, he should congratulate those successful Weyrlings and set his eyes ahead to the next Hatching. Yes. He would keep his chin up, and head out to the feast.

The bronzes had held his attention while several other dragonets had hatched, and in the rush of greens that followed, he had missed much of who made Impression. He knew very few of the Candidates, but perhaps some of his friends had been among them...and he must put on a smile, and do his duty and congratulate them. His feet were heavy as he pulled himself from the Sands, and he mentally kicked himself--he would be happy for them, not a false happiness. His dragonet had not been among them. That was no reason to be bitter towards those who had Impressed. He repeated a little mantra of encouragement in his head as he turned his back to the egg shards and left the Sands. Maybe, hopefully, next time.

Daramulath relayed Astarteth's message, even though E'rik had already figured out what would be required of him. He was a fairly slight young man, and Gh'lan certainly outweighed him by at least a stone, but he could probably manage for short periods of time if Gh'lan could support a portion of his own weight, and if someone else would assist him by bearing part of the other Brownrider's weight.

By chance E'rik had glanced back at the Sands just as the gold Impressed to Nan. That was a surprise. He blinked a few times to dismiss it, since there was a more immediate situation that required his attention, but then his gaze fell on his best friend looking dejected. Poor Mal! He was younger than E'rik, but his chances to Impress were running out. From habit, E'rik's gaze sought out a short, plump figure that he assumed would be nearly indistinguishable from the crowd, despite being one of the only overweight people in the entire Weyr. He saw her making a retreat, clearly distraught. He remembered that she, too, had a limited number of chances to Impress at this point. He wanted to be there for his friends.

E'rik, Khunoth's human needs help, and I do not think Mal or Firyal will suffer as much as Gh'lan might if he isn't attended to. That was Daramulath. Calmly reminding E'rik of his duty to the Weyr. First, last, and always.

"I can carry him if I have help." It would be worse to drop Gh'lan than to admit to being unable to carry him. He didn't have that kind of hidden strength reserves, useful though it might be. "And a clear path." The clear path would be more difficult to find than help, he guessed, but he was actually better-equipped for that. Authoritative, commanding voices were fairly necessary for Harpers. When the time came, he could probably clear a path with his voice.

Dara must have been eavesdropping somehow, because he also called E'rik's attention to the collapsed Candidate on the Sands, which he had managed not to see before between the press of people and his preferential attention to Mal and Firyal. But when he followed T'ka's voice and looked down at the Sands once more he recognized the lithe dolphineer he had spoken to at the lake one day. Daramulath plucked the memories from his mind and insisted, You must help her, E'rik. She's very nice.

I can only be in one place at a time, E'rik reminded Dara. You can't come in here, by the way. That would panic people.

"T'ka, I can manage Kyllae much easier than I could manage Gh'lan," he said. He figured since Kyllae was her cousin, it would be best to address himself to her. "If you'll take Gh'lan, I can run down there and get Kyllae and then see what I can do about clearing us a path. I shout pretty authoritatively when I need to."

Outside, Daramulath looked to his spotted green clutchmate, unperturbed by the flecks of red in her whirling eyes. He was far larger than she, and though he was not vicious or violent by nature, he could subdue her if need be. He didn't think it would be, though.

Haanyath, he said in his most soothing tone. The humans will take care of their own, including your human's family. My E'rik has offered to help her. He likes her, too. Almost as much as you and your human do.

That wasn't quite the truth. E'rik was fond of Kyllae, but he probably didn't like her anywhere near as much as T'ka and Haanyath did. Still, he was trying to be reassuring. Also, your human is there, helping, and isn't she a very capable person? E'rik thinks she's very strong and brave, and he would know these things. He knows lots of stories about strong and brave people.

Another not-quite truth. He'd learned the skill from E'rik. Your human is in no danger. You and Astarteth should help me with Khunoth, so that he doesn't worry so much.

Kallista moved back. There was really nothing she could do; after all, she was small and wiry, not tall and strong. Her hazel eyes were now green with worry and concern. Moving quickly out of the way, she watched as T'ka bent over Gh'lan and started to gather him. Clearing her throat, Kallista looked over at the crowds. If there was one thing a runner knew how to do...

"CLEAR THE WAY! CLEAR THE WAY! MEDICAL EMERGENCY!" Her small frame had an amazing ability to have an authoritative sound. The Healer man nodded and started to move people out of his way.

Astarteth, meanwhile, was trying to sooth Khunoth. She had started to move towards the brown. Her eyes were tinged with worry for her clutch mate's rider. Do not worry, Knunoth. The riders know what to do and yours will be fine.

Kallista felt a little helpless with everyone else taking action. She shouted again and a few more people moved. Thankfully, they were mostly with crafters and holders who showed some deference to the group of riders.

Kastina sighed in relief as the last two eggs hatched - she had been slightly worried about the calm stillness.

She smiled, disappointed again but not surprised. She wondered if she would have to go back to the Crafthall straight away - Probably not, everyone will be enjoying the feast.

Will they want me for the next clutch? Or was I just a 'just-in-case' candidate, that they didn't expect to impress, and would never see again.
Her mouth pouted to a small line. They were going to have to tell her straight if they wanted her to stay in the crafthall. She wasn't going to just give up and trail away! She'd make herself a better person.