made a great background for her beautiful new gown . . . red against
gold.
Then another dozen or so eggs split wide open and the raucous screeching
of starving little drago nets reverberated back and forth on the Ground.
There was a piercing quality to these screams like lost souls. As each
hatchling met its rider, the scream broke off and a mellow croon began.
That quickly segued into a piteous hungry’ appeal which was almost more
devastating than the earliest screech the weyrlings made. K’vin’s
stomach invariably went into empathetic hunger cramps.
The noise of a Hatching, K’vin thought, was unique.
Fortunately, because human eardrums were not designed to deal with such
decibels and cacophony, it didn’t last too long.
He always felt siightly deafened – certainly ear sore – by the end of a
Hatching.
He was suddenly aware of another sort of babble and fuss going on just
outside the Hatching Ground. He tried to see what was happening, but he
saw T’dam striding over to investigate so K’vin turned his attention
back to the pairing of the last few hatchlings, two browns and the last
green. Two lads were homing on the green, desperate expressions on
their faces. Abruptly the green turned from them and resolutely charged
across the sands to the girl who had just entered.
K’vin gave a double-take. There were only five girls, weren’t they? Not
that he wasn’t glad to see another. And she was the one the green
wanted, for the hatchling pushed aside the boy who tried to divert her.
Then three men strode into the Ground, furious expressions on their
faces, with T’dam trying to intercept their angry progress towards the
lately Impressed green pair.
DEBERA!” yelled the first man, reaching out and snatching her away from
the green dragonet.
That was his first mistake, K’vin thought, running across the sands to
avert catastrophe. Damn it all. Why did this marvellous moment have to
be interrupted so abruptly?
Hatchings should be sacrosanct.
Before K’vin could get there, the green reacted to the man’s attempt to
separate her from her chosen one. She reared, despite being not
altogether sure of her balance on wobbly hindquarters. Extending her
short forearms with claws unsheathed, she lunged at the man.
K’vin had one look at the shock on his face, the fear on the girl’s
before the dragon had the man down and was trying to open her jaws wide
enough to fit around his head.
T’dam, being nearer, plunged to the rescue. The girl, Debera, was also
trying to detach her dragonet from her father, for that’s what she was
calling him.
Father! Father! Leave him alone, Morath. He can’t touch me now I’m a
dragon rider Morath, do you hear me?” Except that K’vin was very
anxious that Morath might have already injured the man, he was close to
laughing at this Debera’s tone of authority. The girl had instinctively
adopted the right attitude with her newly hatched charge.
No wonder she’d been Searched and at some hold evidently not too far
away.
K’vin assisted Debera while T’dam pulled the fallen man out of the
dragon’s reach. Then his companions hauled him even further away while
Morath continued to squeal and writhed to resume her attack.
He would hurt you. He would own you. You are mine and I am yours and
no-one comes between us, Morath was saying so ferociously that every
rider heard her.
Zulaya joined the group and, bending to check the father’s injuries,
called for the medics who were dealing with the minor lacerations that
generally occurred at this time. Fortunately, Morath had no fangs yet
and, although there were raw weals on the man’s face and his chest had
been badly scratched by unsheathed claws – despite their newness – he
had been somewhat protected by the leather jerkin he wore.
By now, most of the newly-hatched were out of the Grounds, being fed
their first meal by their new life companions. The spectators,
beginning to dismount from the ampitheatre’s levels, managed to get a
peek at the injured man. Undoubtedly they would recount the incident at
every opportunity. K’vin hoped the embellishments would stay within