Between.

Darkness filled Aylitan's senses. Cold filled her bones. The cold of absolute Void. Her eyes, she knew, were open, yet she could see nothing. Her heart pounded in her chest as adrenaline rushed through her system. Fear tried to freeze her mind, but she wouldn't let it. They would get through. If rider and dragon could make it to Earth for her, then rider and dragon could take her back with them safely, she trusted them...

Didn't she?

Sudden sunlight blinded her momentarily, and she closed her eyes, inhaling a deep breath of refreshing air. Cold stung her lungs and she shivered, pulling her fur-lined jacket closer about her. She looked down, placing a finely boned hand on the blue's side as she leaned over, gazing at the Ryslen Weyr Bowl. Dragons sunned, bathed, and fed upon the beasts kept in the Feeding Grounds. Weyrfolk ran to and fro, going about their daily life. But other than that it was quiet.

Were they too late? Or early?

Aylitan found herself hoping early. Riders never knew when a clutch would hatch, though they could give at least approximates. Snow sparkled, catching Aylitan's emerald eyes off guard and she flinched briefly in the flash of crystalline light that she had not expected.

"Hold on, we're going to land," the blue's rider called back to her. Indeed, the ground was already drawing nearer as the icy blue dragon circled tighter and tighter, moving closer to a suitable landing area.

Aylitan held on, as did her green Dragonet, Tyrae, who was the color of emerald, just like her eyes. The female Dragonet--or fire-lizard, as they were termed on Pern, according to the rider--had been a gift from one of her admirers. Whom, she did not know--it had been signed anonymously, though she had her suspicions.

The Elf gently stroked her green, whose skull bore no horns, save for those around her eyes, or other decorations. Her tail was spaded, and her eyes were blue. At least currently. They had a tendency to change color. Generally just in the cool colors range, however. Not like the eyes of the dragon beneath her.

As the blue backwinged, he stirred up vast amounts of snow, causing all of them to be surrounded by a white, blizzard-like cloud. Aylitan closed her eyes against the white stuff, but Tyrae spooked enough that she began flapping her wings, as if trying to get away, only making matters worse.

Stop that! Aylitan mind-shouted to her green, who immediately obeyed. Aylitan snorted. Much better. Thank you. Her voice had a slightly rough nature to it. It wasn't finely refined as a Bard's voice, but when she wanted to be heard she could make herself heard. Often for miles. That was no mean accomplishment. Especially not for a woman. Sometimes, however, it got the best of her. Especially with how she often said what she felt needed to be said. It may not have been precisely what needed to be said, though she may have felt that it was needed. She simply had a will of her own, and a pox on anyone who tried to stop her when she set her mind to something.

Especially if she had promised to do it.

Her thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the Searchrider, who had unbuckled her. "Just slide down, miss. The snow will cushion your fall."

Yes, and freeze me all over again I'm sure, she thought to herself, but obeyed. A grimace escaped her as snow slid into her boots, starting to freeze her already cold feet. "Uhm, I'm up to my knees in this... and I'm freezing. Where can I go to get warm?" she asked, re-slinging her sack over her shoulder.

The rider pointed towards a large cavern. "The Living Cavern, that way," he replied, and dropped his hand. "If you please, I'll be going. I'm sure you can find your way from here. Be seeing you, miss." And with that, he was gone, a flurry of snow following his dragon upwards as they rose into the Pernese skies.

Aylitan watched him for only the briefest moments before quickly trotting towards the large cavern opening. Cold. Freezing. A sudden thought occurred to her just then, however. "Hey! Maybe my fire magic will work here!" Tyrae chirped, clinging to her shoulder. "Maybe," she shrugged.

"Well, I'm going to try!" She closed her eyes and focused, putting her hand out and concentrating on making a fireball. Suddenly her hand felt warm and she opened her eyes. Lo and behold, there was a fireball, hovering, nice and toasty. "Oh, it does work!" Her jubilant voice echoed off the Weyr walls and she grimaced. "Oops," was all she could find to say to the looks directed her way.

She quickly scurried inside the Living Cavern, tracking snow behind her. She looked around, uncertain how it worked here, but knowing at home you got your own food, so she marched right up to where all the food could be seen--and smelled--and picked up a plate, proceeding to server herself. Some interesting looking rolls went on her plate, as well as plain bread and cheese, and some fruit. Lastly she snagged a mug and filled it with some cinnamon smelling brew, taking a sip. It needed some sugar, but it was already other than that. And it was warm!

She next found what looked to be sugar, and added a spoonful or two to her cup, stirring it before placing the spoon back. She had dried it. Really. The sixteen-year-old Elf quickly trotted to a nearby table, and sat down, hanging her sack on the back of the chair. It was empty save for one other person. His shoulder knot was brown, along with that Aylitan assumed to be the Weyr's colors.

He offered her a friendly smile, and she offered him a shy one back. "Hello. I'm S'ran, rider of brown Maeonyth. I take it you were one of the left over Candidates?"

Aylitan went to introduce herself, but choked on that last bit. "Left over?" she replied, her voice trembling slightly.

The rider's brow creased, a puzzled expression taking over his handsome features. "Yes. You know, the flurry clutch that just hatched yesterday. Will you be staying to try your luck on any of the others?"

Aylitan found herself momentarily speechless. They had missed the hatching? Missed it by a whole day? How could that be possible? She took a breath and nodded. "Yes, I'm one of the leftover Candidates. And yes, I plan to stay." Something needed to be said, and Aylitan felt that was it.

"Are you alright?" S'ran asked, his baritone voice evincing concern.

Aylitan started to nod, but then shook her head. "No. No I'm not. I just got here, not ten minutes ago. I thought the clutch was still on the sands. I thought for once I'd have a real chance at Bonding, at riding a Dragon. I promised myself long ago I would. Perhaps that was foolish of me, but I promised myself, and my brother, just before I left him, that I would Bond a Dragon, no matter what. And now I find out the clutch I came to stand for is gone? No, I'm not alright."

S'ran reached out to pat her hand gently. "I know how you feel, dear. By the way, what is your name?"

"Aylitan. Aylitan Aezris," she replied, her voice a bit steadier, though no more lyrical than usual. "I hail from Earth."

"And if your pointed ears are something to judge by, not to mention your short stature, you're an Elf as well," the brownrider commented.

"Yes," Aylitan replied. She was of medium stature as far as Elves went. Some were very short, some were taller than even humans. She was on the shorter side of average. And she wasn't offended by the brownrider's words. They weren't meant to be offensive, anyway.

S'ran chuckled. "I apologize if my blunt nature offends you. I fear my Dragon's own blunt nature has rubbed off into me, though I won't claim I was perfectly tactful before he came along, either."

Aylitan nodded. "Fair enough. Since I will be staying for the next clutch, where shall I go?"

S'ran pointed towards the back entrance of the Living Caverns. "If you follow the tunnel that goes left, and then the third entrance on the right to the end of that corridor, you'll come upon the Candidate Barracks. Best of luck, by the way."

Aylitan nodded. "Thank you, sir." Conversation evidently finished, as the brownrider rose, and left the table, Aylitan began to eat, trying to use small amount of Fire magic to warm her body. Her feet especially. All the snow that had snuck inside of the fleece lined boots had just made matters worse.

It took her about fifteen minutes to finish her meal, and warm herself sufficiently that she felt limber enough to move before she stood up from the table, picking up her bag, and finished the last of her klah. That's what she had been told it was called.

Seeing that there were people picking up plates from the tables. Some wearing white knots. Aylitan left her own dishes out, though she felt somewhat self conscious about it. A resigned sigh escaped her as she turned, and began following S'ran's directions to the Candidate Barracks.

She entered the left tunnel, her boots making soft clicking noises on the stone floor as she walked. "First door... Second door... Ah! Third door." She turned the knob on it and entered the slightly smaller stone corridor, closing the door behind her.

It was warmer here, in the bowls of the Weyr. A warmth Aylitan cherished. Especially after the cold outside. Tyrae seemed to be enjoying it as well, for the green did not cling to her shoulder so adamantly, and relaxed her once tight grip upon the girl's neck with her tail.

The tunnel was long, but it did eventually lead into a large room full of bunk beds, and foot lockers. Aylitan assumed it to be the Candidate barracks. It was empty, save for a couple of people. People wearing white knots. So that was what those young people wearing the white knots and working were! They were Candidates, and they were doing chores!

"Hello," came a voice from her left side, and she startled slightly. "Oh, hello!" she exclaimed, still breathless from the sudden start.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. I'm Ahyan. S'ran asked me to keep an eye out for you, and help you settle in. My apologize for startling you."

Aylitan nodded. "Alright," she replied, a trace of hesitancy still in her voice. "Where do you want me?"

"Well," Ahyan started thoughtfully. "There is a bottom bunk over there, or a top one over there. The place has been clearing out fast, with all the new Weyrlings. Over eighty of them."

"Eighty?" Aylitan replied, startled. Eighty eggs? No single dragon layed that many, no matter what their size!

Ahyan smiled, seeing her puzzled expression. "Their were a bunch of dragons that flew at once. Golds, greens, whites. All of them were light colored, or had white marks. It was a sight I'm told. I wish I could have been here."

Aylitan nodded. "So, should I just pick a spot and start unpacking?"

Ahyan nodded. "Yes. Just any clear area. Wherever you're comfortable. If you need anything, I'll be in the stables. I have chores before dinner." And with that he waved, and ran out.

Aylitan watched him go, brow furrowing. Chores? Dinner? It had only been just lunchtime when she had been Searched. Did time flow differently between these two worlds? Apparently it did.

She walked up and down the aisle several times before she found her perfect spot. It was near the back, and on the bottom, so she would be able to keep her warmth around her better. That was always a good thing, she found herself thinking as a glint of snow from outside caught her eye.

She slung her sack onto the back, which clattered metallically. Untying it revealed why. Several daggers were present, as was a short sword. She might not wear it in public often, but she carried it around. Her daggers found various places on her person to nest, and her sword was slung onto her side. She hadn't been told she couldn't, and who knew what could happen to her, after all, she was in a strange place. A grin crossed her features.

Yes, pity those who stood in her way of achieving something she had sworn to gain, or prevented her from doing something she promised to do. She ran her thumb over the edge of one of her many daggers, testing the edge and nodding with satisfaction. It was sharp enough, alright.

Tyrae chirped from her shoulder, nuzzling her. "There's one of the Weyrling dragons outside," she said to the girl in Draconic.

Aylitan looked at the green. "Are you serious? Who's the rider?" The Elf was curious as to what came of the flurry clutch, after hearing so much about it.

Tyrae shrugged. "I don't know. She's all alone. And she doesn't look very happy. She's green like me, though. With white wing sails. I think she's pretty. I wish I had sails like hers."

Aylitan chuckled. "Very well then, let's go see." She quickly picked up her sack, and dropped it into the chest at the end of her bed, shutting it before she walked out the front entrance.

What she saw took her breath away. The creature was absolutely magnificent. Her neckridges were like a crown upon her, and they flowed down her back like an icy mountain. Her wings were as a mantel, flowing like silk. Emerald and Opal were her friends, dazzling to behold, and Aylitan found herself holding her breath in the sight of such magnificence. And such sadness.

As the dragon looked up at her, and Aylitan found their eyes meeting, one thought passed through her mind, and out of her mouth. "I wish you were mine," she breathed. "I'd make you happy... I swear by the First Tree I would." A shudder passed through Aylitan's frame as that gaze was held for what seemed like eternity, before it finally broke.

Aylitan felt a surge of sudden anguish pass through her being. What had made this dragon so sad? What had hurt this magnificent creature who deserved so much love? Who would dare do such a thing? Fury replaced anguish, and silently Aylitan swore she would never let her dragon be hurt, not by anything, or anyone. No matter what the cost.

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Page Two

You are listening to Yasunori Mitsuda, Chrono Cross -- Scar of Time (2:30)