Backgrounds from:
Castleberry Arts
Sneugle's Tubes


The eggs currently resting on the sands had no single figure watching over them. They had not been clutched in the traditional sense, and several of the Weyrs more experienced dams had been taking turns caring for them. Though it was technically now spring, the air still held a bite of winter cold, and with the skies still the twilight grey of the pre-morning, the sun not yet over the horizon, that frosty bite was still very noticeable. Perfect conditions for the hatching of what the common folk of the Weyr had taken to calling the ‘Polar Whers’. 
Many of the candidates were stomping their feet, blowing on their hands or rubbing at their ears and noses as they hurried onto the sands, trying to relieve the sensation of the cold against under protected areas. There were a fairly distinct split in the group of candidates, between the larger number brought in by the wher handlers of Dawn Watch, and the handful who belonged to Polar Wherhold, who had developed a tendency to stick together in the face of the oddness of the weyr.
The first egg drew everyone’s attention by not so much hatching, as exploding. Bits of shell went flying and a warm brown wherlet stood among the wreckage. He looked a little odd compared to the wherlets most were used to, with his layer of fine fur plastered to his form by the dampness inside his egg. The wherlet surprised candidates and spectators by bonding one of the handlers.
Watching this occurrence, many missed the hatching of the next two eggs, which quietly broke open at almost the same moment, a pair of coppers, one dark red and the other more orange. 
Four eggs shuddered and split open, spilling a green, a blue, a brown and another bronze onto the sands. The green, bronze and brown bonded quickly.
However, while his fellows were off causing chaos, the blue was looking worriedly at one of the smallest eggs. He snuffled at one in particular, seeming to listen closely to it for a time before turning and heading over to one particular candidate and asking for help. One of the geneticists provided the necessary awl and the candidate helped the white wherlet hatch. 
In one swift movement, one of the larger remaining eggs shuddered and then cracked around a silver-toned paw. It went still for a moment, before the paw withdrew and then slammed back out again at the edge of the hole, widening it considerably. Now that the shell’s structural integrity was compromised, it was the work of moments to completely destroy it, leaving a mottled grey wherlet sitting among the wreckage. He took a few steps back, half-turned, and then slammed himself into another egg, knocking it over to reveal a large hole in the bottom, with a darker toned silver now freed from the depression underneath. On it’s path downwards, the shell smacked into two other eggs, breaking apart on impact, but also putting wide cracks into the other eggs, cracks which the occupants within swiftly took advantage off. A soft lavender toned purple emerged from one, but her appearance was largely overlooked in favour of the hatchling from the other egg, whose deep yellow colouring indicated a queen. A green and silver wherlet squabbled over a candidate while the other three hatchlings on the sands made their way in among the candidates. 
There were 5 eggs left now, and the anticipation among the candidates had only grown, especially with two of the hatchlings having chosen to bond to handlers, and several others bonding in pairs.
Two eggs broke open, revealing an ordinary looking brown and bright red coloured copper. The two looked at each other and dashed off in opposite directions. Causing a little stir when the copper hatchling bonded to a blue elven man after getting permission from his dragon. The eggs had been tweaked and it showed. 
Moments after that bonding, two of the remaining three eggs broke. One hatchling was a handsome dark brown, and the other a delicate lemon gold. She made it crystal clear that she would bond first and wasted no time. With the queen bonded, attention turned to the brown, and to the single remaining egg. The egg which promptly crumpled and revealed absolutely nothing inside.
"Hah! Got you!" A shadow by the side of one of the mostly intact shells shifted, and a small black coloured wherlet revealed itself by pouncing upon the brown.
'Get Off!' The brown complained, as the black wherlet stood atop him. Even as hatchlings the brown was notably bigger and heavier, and probably would have had no problems simply throwing the black off him, but he seemed too polite to do so.
"Fine." The black said, a little sulkily. "Finding mine now." 
And with that he jumped from the brown’s back and stalked off, leaving the brown to bond.
All attention focused now on the small black hatchling, who seemed less than pleased at this. He moved quickly, ignoring most of the candidates, pausing by only a few here and there, before stopping abruptly in front of a young man in the middle of the remaining group.
"Terrence." He spoke the boy’s name clearly. "Am Terrask. Leave now." And he began to walk away, fully expecting that Terrence would be following. They did after all belong to each other now, and where one went the other would always be.
With that final bond made, the hatching was over, the first Polar whers now out in the world. Only time would tell just how successful the new strain would be.

The Watching Shadow White Terrask
Polar Wher
#181818 | #B9B9B9
4' at the shoulder | 12' long
Vigilant | Sneaky | Resolute | Schemer
Mutation: Melanistic – Terrask’s fur is a deep black

"Come. Follow." Terrask insisted as was usually his way of communicating.
Terrence might have been offended if he didn't feel the genuine love the wher felt for his bond. Though the black-looking, white-classed wher was far from a good conversationalist, his mind was keen and his demeanour was straightforward at first glance but often hid deeper motivations. 
"Sure, whereto?" Terrence asked who had come to adopt a similar curt way of speaking to his bond, no less affectionate in the sending of his words.
"Outside nice."
"I guess that's your way of saying I need some air." Terrence obliged and shivered as he stepped into the cold air. The year was almost at an end and the air was crisp and close to freezing. It was nighttime still, as Terrence had come to stay awake late and sleep in to accommodate his bond's nocturnal rhythm. 
Terrask stepped closer and wrapped his tail and wings around the young cleric.
"Thank you." Terrence let the wher know.  
"I take care." Terrask beamed.
"And you sniff out the bad guys too." 
"They stink." Terrask answered, scrunching his nose.
"I wouldn't know." Terrence chuckled. 
"Okay, time for walk. Now." Terrask pushed. 

Lantessama Isle