| Mailstra The young woman's gentle voice floated through the rows of vendors at the gather, her strawberry-blonde curls tumbling down the side of her face. Mailstra leaned back against a wooden post, driven into the ground as a support for one of the vendor stalls, reminding herself for the millionth time that her sister was a harper, she was a DragonHealer. She and Tarril had been as distant as one could think of for two sisters only a Turn and a half apart, one perfect and the other one a tomboy. Tarril had been Apprenticed to the Harper Craft at a young age, excelled without any obvious effort, was slender, and had Impressed a golden firelizard. Many expected her to Impress the queen at a clutch coming up on Drakmal's Weyr. She'd earned her Journeywoman knots at the age of sixteen. Mailstra was a tomboy, who never thought twice about telling somebody when they were doing something wrong. She cropped her brown hair short when she moved to the DragonHealer Craft, where she was still struggling to be in the top twenty-five percent of her class. The rank of Junior Apprentice had been earned for Mailstra through much sweat, work, and effort. Getting away from the Beginning Apprentice rank had taken her two years, and getting the Senior Apprentice knots took another year and a half. She was probably never going to be Searched in her entire lifetime. Which was why many found it surprising when a bluerider came soaring down to the DragonHealer Crafthall, and picked Mailstra out of many other Apprentices. The young girl had never done anything of notice in her life, other than being Apprenticed. Turning to the vendor of the stall, Mailstra asked, "Ma'am, what is the price that you're putting on those firelizard eggs?" There was a clutch of seven firelizard eggs resting in hot sand on the shelf, a green curled up around them protectively. "Two marks," The woman replied gruffly, her mouth twisting into a grimace as Mailstra fished out her three marks. "Now, then, ma'am, I've seen gold firelizard eggs for a mark and a quarter," She said, flat-out lying. The woman, however, was as shrewd as a fisherman's wife, and simply turned away to help someone who was truly interested in buying the firelizard eggs. Sighing as she turned back to the bluerider who was conveying her to and from the gather, Mailstra told him that she was ready to leave, her face twisting into a sour grimace as Tarril's sweet voice floated up through the air and up to Mailstra. She was thankful when the dragon blinked between, thankful to of gotten away from the one who had stolen the spotlight forever. # # # "Hatching!" Mailstra yelled, grabbing her white robe and hastily pulling it over her other clothing, and bolting out to the sands. The Weyrlingmaster stood, waiting for all of the seven Candidtes to arrive. Whenever they finally did, he attempted to lead them out quietly, but everyone was so nervous that it didn't really help at all. As the Candidates stood in a half-circle about the five eggs, the first one split to reveal a tiny brown with a slightly darker left wing than right. The next to hatch were two greens, right at the same time. One of them had a diamond shape on her muzzle, and they stood next to the brown. What was going on? The final two eggs had hatched, and only whenever they stood up did the first dragonet make its choice. A blue with dark legs stumbled over to Veone, strangely hyper, unlike most blues. The normal green made her choice next, heading over to the boys. Corbeo was the lucky one to Impress. A blue with the light muzzle stumbled down to Tainor, leaving the brown and the green with a darker muzzle. She stumbled over to the girls, and Mailstra was silently pleading Choose me, choose me. She knew that browns rarely chose girls, so this might be her last chance to Impress. However, it stumbled over to Vaerra, leaving the brown. The brown then began to make his way slowly towards the Candidates, and to the... To the girls? There was definately something going wrong here! However, he knew exactly who he wanted and was self-assured. The brown headed straight to Mailstra, who was nearly hopping up and down in her delight. Mailstra? I'm Stonith, The little brown said, and Mailstra nearly choked. "Me? You want me?" She asked, amazed. Of course I want you! Will you feed me now, please? I am so very, very empty, and I want to eat The brown said, nudging her again. Mailstra began to laugh and cry at the same time, kneeling down to hug Stonith, but soon stood, tears streaming down her cheeks, to lead the little brown off of the Sands. Back to Mailstra's Weyr |