Dyveta

Talor Cliff Weyr
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The Weyr was motionless and quiet, bathed in moonlight, when Rhysharth's clear bugle pierced the silence.

Dyveta was out of bed like a shot, once her sleep-fogged brain realized what had happened. She nearly ripped her robe while grabbing it off the hook, hurriedly running fingers through her hair and pulling the loose garment over her head.

When she arrived breathlessly at the Sands, a few of the Candidates still looked half asleep, which they no doubt were. The humming was almost unbearable, as the eggs began to rock.

One small bluish one rolled out of the sand and towards the candidates, rather like a bowling ball aiming for the pins. It stopped a few feet away as the shell cracked neatly down the middle, revealing a dazed-looking dragonet.

With a hungry, pouty creel the little green marched over to Dyveta and nudged her hand, not even glancing at the scar. Dyveta slowly reached down and stroked her dragon's muzzle, receiving a pleased croon in return.

That's better. I had an itch. Now, can we go get something to eat? Oh yes, you can called me Maudisath. piped up a perky voice in Dyveta's head. The young woman smiled until her face hurt and nodded. "Of course we can....Maudisath." she answered. Good.

"Do this, do that, go there, go here...will this never end?" Dyveta muttered to herself, climbing up onto Maudisath's neck. They were on conveyance duty, today to the SmithCrafthall where Dyveta had been an apprentice. Of course it will end. Our shift ends next sevenday. The weyrling green answered blithely, and received a grin in response. Maudisath flared her translucent wings and took off. They had learned how to go between several sevendays ago.

Dyveta closed her eyes and pictured the Crafthall. They jumped into the frigid black void. 1...2..3...Three heartbeats passed. The girl felt panic rising in her throat. They should have arrived at the hall by now! She struggled to bring back the coordinates, but her mind was wiped blank by terror.

Back to the Weyr! Dyveta cried out mentally. She could at least focus on the image of the Weyrbowl. Maudisath quickly teleported out of between into the warm, humid air. Dyveta sagged against the riding harness in relief, almost sobbing. Don't worry, my rider! We are all right. Maudisath told her in an attempt to comfort her bondmate.

The young greenrider nodded blearily and slid off her dragon's shoulder, hugging her dragon tightly. What might have happened...she didn't want to think about what could have happened.

The Weyrlingmaster spotted them and came striding over. "Why are you still here? You were told to go to the Smithcrafthall, weren't you?" He demanded. Dyveta sniffled and swallowed. "We-we-I mean, I-couldn't remember the coordinates." she gulped. D'tol accepted the explanation. "Well then. Easoth will give them to Maudisath." he informed her, turning back to his big brown.

Dyveta nodded tremulously and vaulted back up to her green's neck, stifling qualms of fear.