Shyobahn and White
Green Maribeth
HATCHING
Winter
was progressing at an alarming rate, and the eggs on the hatching sands
were slowly hardening. Almost too slowly. Some worried that so many eggs
on and in the soft red sands were just too many and they weren’t kept warm
enough. Logical minds argued that if there were a problem, the experienced
mothers on the sands would have said something.
An unseasonably warm week had wreaked its havoc on the snowbanks of Ryslen,
turning the winter wonderland into a sloppy wet muddy place.
Many of the candidates - novos - were reassigned from
the “traditional” chores to keep the floors clean and dry in the major
entryways. Some, if not all of them were pleased to be out of
barracks cleaning duties.
It seemed that a breath of fresh air was what everyone needed - especially
the eggs. Shortly after the sun passed zenith, a harmonious rumble issued
forth from the hatching grounds. The call had been anticipated for so long
that half of Ryslen was quite startled and the other half... weren’t. At
any rate, the hatching grounds were quickly filled but the hearts of the
tiros were heavy - many of the eggs showed no sign of movement, and a few
even seemed flaccid.
The IceLanders were among the novos that had rushed to
the sands but had not bonded after the last rocking egg had hatched. It
seemed that they would have to wait a little longer while Winter lasted at
Ryslen. There were a grand multitude of eggs left and surely they would
hatch? It was barely daybreak when Ryslen was seranaded with dragonsong
again. But again the IceLanders did not bond. And worse, due to some
unknown magic a lot of the eggs that had rocked first seemed to have been
‘stopped’. Though it was hard to understand just what had happened the
IceLanders were a supersticious people and they knew that praying and
waiting was about the only thing they could do.
The weather at Ryslen for the following days was erratic at best. It
couldn’t decide whether to blow spring gently in, or to blow in another
snowfall. Every day it was cold and gloomy enough to hazard a prediction
of snow was followed by one just warm enough to melt the crystalline
drifts a little further. The hearts of the Ryslenese were similarly
afflicted – everyone seemed to long after the warm caress of spring after
an incredibly cold winter, but knew full well that until the Flurry clutch
was off the sands winter would never truly end.
When the attention-getting call of the Flurry mothers resonated through
Ryslen the third time, the multitude of novos hurried to assemble. There
were more dragons and furry candidates now than Ryslen had ever seen
grouped together for one clutch. The eggs were rocking quite ferociously
(for eggs…) and yet too few eggs showed signs of life. But at least some
were still alive.
Almost leisurely, the second of Akhrinyath’s eggs broke open,
revealing a mossy green dragoness with snow white wingsails. She had a
maternal quality about her already, it seemed, and as she approached one
of few Ryslen Novos to have children before being Searched, it seemed an
appropriate thing indeed. Shyobahn welcomed the hatchling with a
hug as she would have welcomed one of her own children. “Maribeth…”
FLEDGELING
texttexttext
ADULT
texttext
[Story] [back to main]
Shyobahn impressed at the Ryslen
Flurry 2003
