Click here to read Sylarn's story from the beginning
Sy'n was tapping his fingers on the table again - not making any noise, but tapping none-the-less. Oh, how he missed drumming.
What's that one mean? Onaleth asked from his ledge.
Golden sky flying. Sy'n replied.
Onaleth looked at the sky. No queens flying. Why do you make that pattern?
Sy'n shrugged, and someone looked at him strangely, then ignored it. Dragonriders always did wierd things like shrugging when there was no reason to.
Make my pattern again? the brown asked.
Sy'n switched patterns again. ::Brown flying fire:: he drummed, and felt Onaleth smile.
"Ok Weyrlings, that's enough." The WeyrlingMaster said. "Go tend to your dragons." The class started to get up. "Oh, and get a good night's sleep. I want you all well-rested for tomorrow."
They groaned. That always meant firestone drills...
It was beginning to rain, great big drops falling to the ground and slashing up tiny dust clouds from the parched earth of the weyrbowl. That's pretty. Onaleth said, and went out to investigate. Soon other weyrlings were joining him, their riders staying in the mouths of werys to keep dry. One lost their footing in the slippery mud and fell, splashing mud on Kulerth. Of course, he retaliated, and soon mud was flying everywhere. Finaly their riders joined in, and soon they were all plastered with mud.
Some of the older riders laughed, and some joined in, having nothing better to do while the rain fell.
It got to be such a mess that the only way to tell which dragon was which was for them to stand still long enough for a few raindrops to clear mud from their hides!
What a day!
