Journal #11
It was getting to be dark outside, and Jada was staring at the sky, feeling oddly drained. Of all days, and of all people, why did it have to be today, and why did he have to be the one who found her? The Hatching, she decided, had been a test. It could have been a lot worse, in truth. For blood, someone had said after breakfast, this didn't come near to what the Terrible Trio had done. The three of them, the Candidate had told the girl gleefully, had been like to kill the whole Weyr, and their mother hadn't been inclined to much care one way or another. (He'd laughed when she turned even paler, and left her to herself.) She groaned again, and felt the familiar hand run down her hair, soothing. It would be just her luck if she vomited on him, Jada realized. She was already showing her weak stomach to someone she wanted to do little more than impress. How many people cried over the blood at a Hatching? No one Weyr-born, probably. And a Healer's daughter shouldn't show that she had such a weak stomach. Then again, maybe she wouls be lucky, and everyone would assume her red eyes were because she didn't Impress. Or because the Gold egg had turned out to be a handsome Bronze. Either of those would be good reasons to cry.
But he hadn't laughed at her when he'd found her. Instead, the weyrsinger had taken her by the arm and pulled her away, tucking the two of them away somewhere, and no one had disturbed them yet. Ichoth hovered nearby, shy as always, her soft croons soothing. “I wasn't ready.” she mumbled at last, and dashed the liquid from her lashes angrily. “I'm just being stupid, crying for some people I don't even know.” she didn't expect an answer, and she didn't get one. “I'll be ready next time.” M'dor's hand on her face was cold, yet incredibly gentle as he wiped away a smudge under her eye. “I know I will.”
It was getting to be dark outside, and Jada was staring at the sky, feeling oddly drained. Of all days, and of all people, why did it have to be today, and why did he have to be the one who found her? The Hatching, she decided, had been a test. It could have been a lot worse, in truth. For blood, someone had said after breakfast, this didn't come near to what the Terrible Trio had done. The three of them, the Candidate had told the girl gleefully, had been like to kill the whole Weyr, and their mother hadn't been inclined to much care one way or another. (He'd laughed when she turned even paler, and left her to herself.) She groaned again, and felt the familiar hand run down her hair, soothing. It would be just her luck if she vomited on him, Jada realized. She was already showing her weak stomach to someone she wanted to do little more than impress. How many people cried over the blood at a Hatching? No one Weyr-born, probably. And a Healer's daughter shouldn't show that she had such a weak stomach. Then again, maybe she wouls be lucky, and everyone would assume her red eyes were because she didn't Impress. Or because the Gold egg had turned out to be a handsome Bronze. Either of those would be good reasons to cry.
But he hadn't laughed at her when he'd found her. Instead, the weyrsinger had taken her by the arm and pulled her away, tucking the two of them away somewhere, and no one had disturbed them yet. Ichoth hovered nearby, shy as always, her soft croons soothing. “I wasn't ready.” she mumbled at last, and dashed the liquid from her lashes angrily. “I'm just being stupid, crying for some people I don't even know.” she didn't expect an answer, and she didn't get one. “I'll be ready next time.” M'dor's hand on her face was cold, yet incredibly gentle as he wiped away a smudge under her eye. “I know I will.”