At the age of 12 turns, her mother was killed in a rock slide in the mine she was working in, and her father encouraged her to remain in his craft instead. She eagerly complied. Mirna's expertise in choosing woods for crafting is strong, but she still needs work in the artistic side of her field.
(For instance, that piece of wood she's carving there, is meant to look like a runner...)
Mirna is now 18 turns old. Her dark golden hair is lighter than her richly tanned brown skin, though that skin sports many small scars from her whittling and crafting. Her intense yellow-brown eyes usually appraise people around her with a squint, probably due to the excess of wood shavings always floating about near her.
She has gained her senior Apprenticeship in wood crafting, however as she has been Searched she may not continue with a serious intent toward Journeyman status if she impresses.
"Me?" She said again, simply and not so gruffly that he thought she was threatening to do something to him.
"You. That's pretty much it. You are," he looked around her shoulder at the den where she'd been whittling and carving and hammering and who-knew-what before he got there. "You are a strong young woman, focused. Those are good things for riders to be."
"Also a good idea for them not to be in a craft, sir," she replied. "What if I wish to remain here and finish my badge? Get my knots?"
"Then you will be missing out on the sands at Vella Crean."
"I don't know of any 'Velicream' sir," she said, wary.
"It's 'Vel-la Cree-nn'," he pronounced, suddenly aware that his action might be considered rude. But she slaughtered the name easily enough... She could probably throttle him just as --
"Sorry. VellA CreaN." She nodded. When she did, her hair bounced some small shavings out of its curls, and she shook her head free of many more. She did so abruptly, but away from the man lest they get all over him too. "Well. If I go and don't impress, I could come back, then. I've heard tales of people suiciding because they didn't impress. Is that true?"
The search rider nodded solemnly. "It is, sadly. But you certainly don't seem like the type to do that. Nor to worry over much about what kind of dragon you impress."
"Not me sir," Mirna said, "I know it'll be a work out. And ... maybe I'd like to see this Vella Crean for myself."
"Well you wouldn't want to leave a hatchling on the sands, without a bond, now would you?"
"No sir!" She laughed deeply, "I could never do that!"
Mirna packed her things away, careful with each sharp edged whittling tool. Each of them went into a special case which her father had awarded her on her seventeenth birth day. He'd made it himself, showing that he truly was a master. She wondered if he thought she would really ever be more than an apprentice to that craft.
When her items and clothing had been packed up, a drudge from the craft hall helped move them along to the courtyard. There, the search rider's blue dragon stood brilliantly against the carpet of grass.
Mirna almost dropped her satchel. "He's ... he's beautiful," she whispered, hoarsely. The gruff looking woman seemed entranced by the dragon, who lowered his head down carefully and sniffed at her. The warm breath caught up some last few whits of wood shavings, and the dragon gave off a sneeze into the air.
"Well, he still likes you even if you have little pieces of wood chips all over you!" Cried the rider, getting his straps sinched on. "Come along. He can support both of us. He's a big boy."
"He's beautiful," repeated Mirna, "just lovely... I have to make a model of him! Do you think he would pose for me?" She said, finally moving and grunting with the effort of finding space behind the rider. The dragon's back was smooth and rounded, but it looked like the luggage she had would remain where it was strapped down.
"It seems a shame to have this beautiful boy lugging people and things around!" Mirna said, before they lunged into the air. When they did, she clutched around the poor search rider's gut almost hard enough to break him in two! The dragon bellowed and actually she felt a worried flitter of thought in her mind.
I will not let you drop, now let go of my rider before I *do*.
Gasping, Mirna let go -- mostly -- of the rider, and apologized with a surprised look on her face. He spoke to me! He spoke! That's what it's like to have a dragon speak to you...
Within minutes, they were flying over the wooded land, and the rider explained shortly that they were to teleport between spaces to Vella Crean. He figured that she would have enough air in those lungs to last a long trip through black space...
... He was right. She came out with him without even a gasp for breath. So many people who had never been on a dragon, never teleported before, came through screaming and panicked. She remained calm. Another gift to whichever dragonet chose her.
Vella Crean was below them, now. With her normally squinty eyes round with wonder, she looked behind them and all around at the new landscape.
"If I bond to a dragon, I'll be able to go back, right?"
"Well, if you don't, almost any rider will take you if you wish to leave. But you know, Mirna, you're strong enough to stand here or anywhere. Let's show you to your den, all right?"
With an excited nod, she watched the wings of the blue dragon as they descended. They would certainly be hard to whittle... Perhaps she could make a wooden frame, and have a paper maker do the rest...
Mirna! My name is Petath. And I will pose for you, and work with you and make you laugh!
He already had started doing the last one, Mirna realized with a smile on her lips. What a beautiful dragon, and she was his rider! She'd never mis-pronounce his name!
We will never find our way back, Petath thought.
"Sure we will. We're out here, and when the sun goes down the Caer gets shadows over it like this..." She held her hands out, at an angle. Then, she looked to the west. "And there it is. Over that way. Let's get home."
Let me rest? Please?
"You big lump! You're strong enough to go on another day!"
She filled her workshop with lovely sculptures and carvings of the dragon, some in flight and some at rest. And when gather time came, she was ready to sell!
She painted them in a variety of colors, and was quite proud when every last one of them sold!
"We'll do great at markets on our new world, my friend," Mirna announced.
Will I have to fight things? I like flying and diving, and ... Well, I like fighting things. I am a big strong dragon, you told me so!
"And you are! We'll see what we will do, when we get there, okay?" Mirna said, hoping that she would be able to exchange her marks for something more tradable when they got to Alskyr. The weyr or the caer as it would be called, they'd be able to change the useless coins for something else.
She examined the old wood of the mark she got, the last sale at the gather. This one, she'd keep forever, as a reminder.
