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Date Posted: 16:29:56 12/02/04 Thu
Author: Taran
Subject: Doesn't bacardi have alcohol in it? (Pointless title, I know)

“Shards!”

At the sound of the humming, Taran pulled off his tunic hastily, throwing it down on his bed and struggling with the white candidate’s robe as he tried to find the neck hole. It took him a while to get his arms through the thing, and when he at last was able to breathe, free from the suffocating grip of the white material, he looked in the mirror for a second before bolting.

It was ridiculously baggy on him, this robe. I always knew that it was bad to be so short… At least he was wearing his trousers underneath that, so he didn’t look like he was wearing a floor-length gown. He stumbled his way to the Hatching Sands, tripping on a loose cobblestone and scrambling his way into the huge arena.
<
i>I feel stupid. He realised, much to his embarrassment, and straightened up to sand on his feet, trying to brush sand from his mop of hair as unobtrusively as was humanly possible.

The robe still reached his ankles, and he bowed to the green, her mate and the two riders before he moved to a more hospitable place in the arena.

He had brushed all the sand from his hair and from the robe by the time he had found a space in the loose circle of people standing on the Sands. That was relief. He didn’t know if dragons preferred riders who were neat and tidy, but if they did, he had no chance.

His hair was sticking up every which-way, his robe was rumpled, and his face had several smudges of dirt on it, from the sand he had gotten a face full of. But that was what he looked like normally, so no worries.

At least, he hoped so. He really did.

It wasn’t just a matter of Impressing the dragon, he wanted to really impress it. Make it see that he was good choice. And there were more candidates than there were eggs. That meant that some people wouldn’t Impress. And it’s better than even money that I will be one of those…
But no. He had to be positive. He didn’t have any care as to which colour he Impressed.

Just…well…he didn’t want a green. No. Not a green. He wasn’t really like that. And he would probably break her neck.

But any other was good. Any other was amazing. Any colour was…more than amazing. Arden said he suited brown, but he didn’t give a shell.

He focused on the eggs.

They were lovely. The pristine, smooth casings were every mixture of colour imaginable, and (as he usually was) he was glad he wasn’t a girl. Then he would only be able to Impress a green. But hadn’t a blue Impressed a girl, or was that just a rumour?

And why had a green clutched? There wasn’t much time to worry about it though! He wanted to get on with it!

The young man shifted on the sand, trying to smooth down his messy hair.

Argh! He hated this waiting!

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