Fyrea stood by the cot in her new weyr. It was large, and right now, empty. The large, magestic, honey-coloured Vimarlith stretched out, watching Fyrea as she hustled to and fro. She was blinking sleepily. Fyrea was placing furs on the bed when Vimarlith rose to her feet.
Fyrea. Are you proud of me? Fyrea stopped tucking the bed and turned to the dragon. She was an adult now, grown so much.
"Of course, Vim. I am very proud of you. You are beautiful, smart, fast, playful, funny, fun, and not to mention you were just given the rank of Junior Queen here at Keandyn Weyr." The dragon beamed.
Oh yes. I'd almost forgotten about that. Rider and dragon shared a glance before saying at the same time: