Tristen was hot, annoyed and wishing he was anywhere but the center of attention. He grumbled to himself as he shifted from foot to foot on the burning sands, cursing dragons, time, and heat all in one breath. As he glanced from one end of the gigantic hatching cavern to the other, he added clutch mothers to the list. There were so damn many of them! How was one hatchling going to find him in a crowd of more then fourty other candidates?

The candidates had been called out only moments ago, privy to the rumble of noise that vibrated through the entire Healing Den. Unlike last time, the clutch mothers were allowed to broadcast their children's hatching. And broadcast it they did. Tristen winced as one of the mother's picked a particularly high note. He wondered, for the tenth time, why he had even bothered to come here.

People were clustered together like tuna in a can, disregarding personal space for the prime seat from which to watch the hatching. Mystic was up there, and Aaron. Shifting a narrowed glare up into the stands, he noted that Rugan wasn't present. Neither Porth or Yarpath were among the dragons either, bringing a light smirk to the boy's face. His beloved 'adoptive mother' hadn't even allowed one of the father dragons to see his last child hatch. His moody thoughts were torn away from the stands and Rugan by the forceful hatching of the first egg.

An odd, rust coloured muzzle poked out from the jagged hole opened on the crack lined egg. The dragonet wuffled, struggling with all his might to shatter the rest of his prison and emerge, triumphant, onto the hot sands. When his small head had wriggled past the opening, the hatchling used powerful kicks from his stubby legs to break apart the weakening shell. Once free, he stood and fanned semi-transparent wings in the glowing light of the Healing Den sands.

Tristen allowed a small smile to crease his face as he gazed at the proud, sturdy little brown. His paws, muzzle, tail tip and wing tines were high lightened with a glimmering dust of coppery rust colour. Silver gray stubs that would grow into horns protruded from either side of his head, accenting the small ridge of deep brown that rode down his neck. The former orphan felt a stir of emotion deep within his breast, but he ignored it for now. Reluctantly, he tore his gaze away from the dragonet to watch the hatching of the next egg. But his idle interest was soon interrupted.

I am so glad I waited for you to arrive, my friend. A gentle, masculine voice entered his mind. Tristen tensed, feeling the warmth of a damp muzzle press against his leg. He looked down curiously, surprised to see the same copper-rust hatchling gazing up at him with adoring eyes. A small shudder at Tristen's hip turned both their attentions towards the leather sac hanging from his belt. Just in time. You and I will have a visitor in our lives. We will be complete. Tristen scowled softly. He wasn't ready for the flit to hatch at the same time. The copper-rust dragonet snorted in frustration, placing his thick paws on Tristen's side. Stop being angry! You must love me, because I, Jaigagah, love you...

Tristen opened his mouth to speak but was stopped by the strain of the leather pouch and an indignant chirp from within. Hastily, he untied the strings and reached in to catch the new born flitter.

"Jai... I wonder what we'll call it?" He asked absently of his bond, liking the roll of the shortened name on his tongue. The dragon rumbled softly, staring at the amber flit that creeled hungrily in his bond's hands.

Rugan calls her flit Gray because he is gray. She will be Amber because she is amber. Jaigagah returned logically. Tristen chuckled softy, balancing Amber in one hand and kneeling down to sweep Jaigagah into his other.

"Amber it is." He smiled, for once in his life, a true, happy smile. With dragon and flit both held close to his body, Tristen began a brisk walk back to the feeding area. He didn't want to lose Amber just because she got tired of waiting for food. The hungry pinch in Jaigagah's mind urged him on just as quickly.

When the orphan boy finally reached the feeding area and found a suitable seat with a large bowl of meat for his two friends, he took a moment to relax and feel the touch of two minds.

Amber purred as she wolfed down her fill of the chunks of meat, careful to avoid Jaigagah's significantly larger jaws. The small flit was barely a few minutes old but already asserted herself as the 'leader' of this trio. Her hide shone delicate reds and browns, mixing into the depthless glitter of a gem. Jaigagah's hide shifted from a deep, soothing brown to a fiery red in the artifical light, showing through his translucent wings like a fog. Coppery sparks marked his strong paws but were lost on his muzzle by the messy consumption of raw meat. Tristen grinned away, leaning back in his chair and admiring both with a selective pride.

"He's a beauty alright." A husky, extrememly familiar, feminine voice spoke from over his shoulder. The boy whirled quickly, angry that he hadn't heard Rugan's approach. Then again, she did have royal Liron blood running through her veins.

The woman didn't meet his gaze but instead fixed her narrowed eyes studiously on Jaigagah. Her thick arms were crossed over her chest and Gray chirped happily from one of her broad shoulders. Tristen nodded and looked back to his bond.

"I'd hoped this was the job you'd want." Rugan continued, her tones emotionless and firm, as they always were. "You've always had the potential of a dragon rider."

Tristen looked up slowly, watching the stone-like mask of her face. Only, in her eyes, there was something different. Though she tried to keep them blank and uncaring, there was a spark of sadness.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you back there." She nearly choked on the words but caught herself quickly. Tentatively, her black eyes turned away from Jaigagah and met Tristen's amber stare. "I just didn't want to see you go."

There was a long moment of silence where mother and adopted son simply stared at each other, not moving, almost not breathing. Finally, Tristen spoke. "So... you did care what happened to me?"

" 'Course I did." She whispered hoarsely, a weak smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Tristen stood slowly, matching her at eye-level. She was a tall woman, but Tristen wasn't done growing yet. He still had some time to grow vertically, as well as a great deal of time to put on muscle. The edges of his scar scrunched on his brow as he looked down at her thoughtfully. "Then why did you tell me to go?"

Rugan cleared her throat, looking away as another small batch of newly bonded walked by. "I've never been close to anyone, Tristen, but for five years, you've been like a son to me." She smirked softly. "I'm not used to all this emotional crap."

A gentle smile crept across Tristen's face. With a sudden-ness that startled even himself, he pulled Rugan into a warm embrace. The dark skinned woman wrapped her arms around him, patting his back affectionately.

"Alright lad." She smiled, looking up at him as they broke the hug. "I'm glad we're back on friendly terms."

Tristen smirked lightly. "I still want to be a metal smith." He paused for a moment, his smirk turning in to a mischevous grin. "Or a fighter. Something to do with swords."

Rugan laughed, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. Gray chittered excitedly as Amber finally made her way up to Tristen's other shoulder and claimed the cloth of his shirt as her bed. Rugan's little gray friend was more then happy to finally have a friend to share the smithy with. The images he sent Rugan in rapid succession confirmed the thought that he too wanted to see Tristen back by the forge. "Aye, lad." Rugan smiled her usual, mocking smile as she pulled up a seat beside him. "But first, you've gotta train that bond of yours how to fly and fight."

I will be a good fighter! Jaigagah declared to both humans. His muzzle was wet with blood from his meal and, as he attempted to hop up to Tristen's lap, the boy grimiced and looked around for something to clean him up with.

"First, you learn how not to be a messy eater. Gods, Jai! Did you get any of that stuff into you instead of on you?" He chidded his bond, settling the copper rust dragon on his lap. Rugan chuckled softly, handing him a cloth from one of the passing drudges.

"If ye can get some manners into that little one then you'll be better off then me and Porth. Yarpath's pretty good for keepin' himself clean but that big, brown brute of mine..." She trailed off shaking her head even as Porth replied with an indignant comment in her mind.

"I have a feeling Jai's going to be more like Yarpath." He smiled down at his bond, stroking his eye ridges lovingly. "He is a Healing Denner after all."

Rugan smirked lightly, concealing a laugh. "Porth's insulted."

Let him be. Jaigagah purred softly, his eyes slowing closing under the caress of his bond. We are all happy and that is all that matters.

* * *

Three years later...

I'm bigger then you are. I'm bigger then you are. I'm bigger then you are... Porth cajouled in a sing-song voice. He had been tauting the poor sturdy Jaigagah since arriving back at the Healing Den to pick him up. Today was the day Rugan and her two bonds escorted Tristen and Jaigagah back to Tris'Hath. When Porth had set eyes upon the 33 ft. long, fully grown copper-rust dragon, he had begun a continuous streak of mockery that had yet to end.

Jaigagah sighed in exasperation, keeping the center of his attention on the spiraling descent to the flight fields below. They had appeared over the Warren a few moments ago and the copper-rust dragon had ignored Porth to this point, more intent on seeing this world of wonders that his bond came from. Finally, he'd had enough. I really don't see how that matters, Porth. He began, swivelling his strong, translucent gray wings in the ebbing air currents. I am easily faster, stronger and smarter then you. My size is of no matter to me, as long as I am able to fly and carry Tristen.

The logical, superior commentary silenced Porth in a minute. It also had Rugan, Tristen and Yarpath nearly doubled over in laughter. Porth grumbled to himself and focussed on making a rough landing for his laughing rider.

What's so funny? The copper-rust turned a confused gaze on his rider, gently back winging to a landing at the same time.

Few people rarely correct Porth when he is being an idiot. That's all. The large, copper coloured Yarpath commented while his eyes whirled a mirthful blue. He stood on two legs, unlike either Porth or Jaigagah. The small, three year old dragon nodded sagely.

Ah. I see. But I have always known I am smarter then him. It's not that hard to see. A very confused Jaigagah was even more confused as Rugan roared with laughter, literally falling from Porth's back without the strength to support herself.

"Aye..." She spoke through quick gasps of breath, still clutching her sides. "Ye are a lot smarter then Porth. And it'll be a pleasure to have you around the smithy."

That's good. Jaigagah's eyes shifted to a pleased green. I believe I will like the smithy.

"I know you will." Tristen slid easily from his bond's back, keeping one strong hand resting on the dragon's shoulder. Amber cheeped happily from his broad shoulder, her slender tail barely able to wrap once around the boy's thick neck. He was no longer a boy.

Over the three years Tristen had spent training and growing with Jaigagah, he had sprouted as much as the 33 ft. wonder that had once been a hatchling. His voice was a deep, rich boom, easily distinguishable in a crowd. He had gained four inches on his mouth, towering over the tall Rugan with a proud carrage. His entire body had taken on a mass of rippling, rock hard muscles that were visable even beneath his light, yellow toned tunic and tanned riding leathers. The short scruff of hair that had rimmed his ears now extended down into a light growth of beard on his well defined chin. Even his scar gave him a handsomely daring appearence now that he was fully grown himself.

"Let's get you settled in then, lad." Rugan wrapped an arm around her foster son, for once having to reach up to touch his shoulders. Pride danced in her normally uncaring black eyes. There was a smile on her lips, lighting her face as only Tristen knew it could. "You've got a lot to catch up on."

Tristen returned the smile, placing his own hand on her other shoulder. Ever since the destruction of his home, he had felt alone. Now, looking around at the looming shadows of three dragons, the flitting forms of two joyous flits, and his foster mother, proud, strong, respected, he knew he had been wrong.

Read Tristen's story.
Jaigagah is from: The Healing Den
Amber is from: Falas Weyr