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Berjint hauled it to the sands, his sandals slapping loudly on the tunnel floors. The whole way, though, he was struggling with his robe. For some reason, his robe this time was too long. He had to hike it up, showing his bare knees as he ran. He would have felt like a right fool if he hadn't been so excited. The Hatching! It had begun! Candidates streamed onto the sands as he joined in the file, slowing enough to mostly drop the robe. He still kept one hand clenched in the fabric, providing just enough leeway so that he wouldn't step of the front edge of the thing.

When it began, his heart raced, his jaw clenched, and he edged around someone so he could see better. Such violence seemed to be becoming more common, he thought with astonishment as obht newly hatched dragons barreled through candidates, leaving behind a bloody trail. Dismayed but not quite sensible enough to be frightened, he watched the brown with wide eyes and open mouth, forgetting to keep an eye on the other eggs too.




Illabel had been ready this time. She was sitting on her bed, brushing the odd little knots out of her hair. It was getting long enough again that it tangled reasonably easily, and she was finding herself wishing for it to get long enough to braid again. She jerked the brush out but as the roar echoed through the Weyr. She paused for a moment, brush in mid-air. Then Bartan appeared above her, screeching in soft alarm.

"Yes, I know, I'm going!" she answered him, shooing him playfully as she tugged on the robe and sandals. "Don't worry, I haven't forgotten the drill!"

On the sands, it was chaos. Candidates milled, dragons hatched with screams, and then mauled their way through the candidates. Illabel watched with a worried look. It seemed to her a troubling way to begin a Hatching, with two ferociously searching dragonets that seemed lost. She wished she could soothe the little queen, but had seen those claws at work before and knew better than to bother trying. If she wasn't the queen's, the queen was likely to strike her for her interference. So she merely stepped back, making sure to keep her feet in the midst of the swiftly moving candidate crowd.

Kagiya, of course, was not to be outdone. Nor was she going to sit around while some deadglow said her beloved daddy was a skittish tunnelsnake. "I'm comin' you ijit!" Apparently she had a little trouble with that word, but that didn't matter. "How come you gots to be so mean, anyway?" Whine whine whine. But she was trundling along, and keeping to her feet, unwilling to fall down and embarrass herself in front of the other weyrbrat. "Your fault we're missin' it," she accused, since he had waited to give his challenge too long, apparently.

She slithered down the tunnels, well aware that her mommy and daddy would be very mad if she was caught. But she needed to see, and they wouldn't let her go! And nobody, NOBODY (not even Dolmin) called her daddy a tunnelsnake! She made an unhappy face, irritated with the boy for being right in front of her. She couldn't see, she couldn't see and it was his fault! "Get outa the way!" She shoved him aside imperiously, and peered up at the crack.

Goran stood surprisingly still for the Healer and a shuddering sigh slipped from him as his legs went numb. His throat felt oddly dry, and even then, he could only nod his thanks to the man's back as he moved on to treat the next. But the little brown was struggling now, and Goran unconsciously clenched his jaw. Fool me once, shame on you, but twice? He could live without losing more skin.

... Well, good, it seemed as if the injured boys were already having treatment rushed to them-- though that hardly assuaged Canth's secret anxiety. How many people had already been torn open over two eggs, and how many eggs were there total? If this trend continued, not half the candidates were sure to escape in one piece, and in this sort of crowd even those with enough sense to run might not be safe.

She'd been watching the treatments with equal intentness as the dragonets, paying heed to one for certainty that there'd be no DYING on the sands that day and the other so... well, to see who'd get their hide tanned, more than anything. She had yet to see the supposedly mystical bond of impression form; right now, it was all just chaos and woe and nothing WONDERFUL at all.

If only they'd just calm down, she couldn't help thinking to herself, with the slightest touch of a grimace. All this panic's not doing the hatchlings any good... No doubt they, too, were just as panicked in their search for their 'Mines' and the like. It must've felt like drowning with no life preserver... or something.

Chavel couldn't have said (or thought) it better himself-- but alas, panic and desperation to preserve one's own life was all just human nature! He did feel a touch of sympathy for the poor healers zipping about, though; no doubt they'd be having their hands and infirmaries full before the night ended.

"A'course they're babies, deadglow!" Dolmin informed her with a caustic drawl, able to break away from his excitement enough to establish, as he was always eager to do, why he knew more than anybody. Glancing at the bronzerider's daughter scornfully, he pointed a finger and whispered to her, "Lookit the momma! They're tiny, c'mpared t'what a real dragon looks like!"

Shaking his head in exaggerated disbelief, he settled back in to watch. "I dunno," he dubiously answered her question, "but look - somebody's hurt, right?" He'd caught sight of Cordel being treated now, and his interest factor heightened. This was a real Hatching, wasn't it!

Something like a shriek (or squeak) of triumph came from the small Queen as the brown went down hard, her eyes whirling red even as she clumsily staled away from her fallen brother. Just because he had gone down didn't mean she was happy, however! She continued to awkwardly stagger across the sands, occasionally screaming her fury so everyone would know her displeasure. Where. Was. Hers?

The brown had struggled to his feet again after a moment, clearly unabashed by his actions, his mouth slightly open as he watched the Healer. It wasn't hard to guess what was running through the dragon's mind, but his sister soon distracted him with another loud cry.

She'd had it! The temperamental gold had lunged without warning towards Canthry, as though hoping in her frustration that the violent motion would help bring Hers out! Unfortunately, she had underestimated the distance sorely and realized she couldn't hope to reach the girl like this, so the next closest target would have to do.

It was more her weight (despite her small size) that would be enough to knock Firyal flat on her back instead of claws or teeth, and the girl would surely have the wind knocked out of her at least. Of course, now ignoring whatever was underneath her sharp feet, the Queen stepped impatiently on and over the girl, ripping both into her robes and skin. A loud hiss slipped from the furious gold, and her wedge-shaped head was weaving dangerously as though trying to focus on a new target.

Where was Hers?!

"Hah! Serves 'em right," Dolmin jeered, feeling infinitely more superior by the moment to the unlucky Candidates that had gotten clawed. "Can't be a Cand'ate if y'aren't smart 'nough to move outta th' way. I'd never be that shardin--"

The little Queen shrieked, and Dolmin's words were abruptly cut off. He gasped - "The Queen, she--" attacked a Candidate? Just like that, for no reason? That wasn't a Candidate being too slow to get out of the way - she was trying to hurt them!

Dolmin suddenly felt a touch nauseous, and a considerable amount of fear. Why was the Queen attacking folks?