Cilla

"Ugh!" Cilla sighed as she flopped into the long grass. "Ah!" Cilla winced as Jevyan, a little startled by his mistress’ rapid decent, dug his claws into her shoulder. She swore as she rolled onto her back, knocking the kitten loose from his perch.

"Shardin’ animal." There were red streaks of blood forming on her shoulder. The cat, content now that he was back on the ground, began to purr and rub himself against Cilla, completely unaware that he was the subject of her scorn.

"Stupid feline." It was impossible to stay made at him for long, and Cilla eventually picked him up and let her curl up on her stomach, which was covered with her leather corset. At the moment she was thankful for the thick hide, but that was a rare occasion. In general, the stupid leathers that all candidates were supposed to wear, preparing them for their riding leathers, drove Cilla crazy. They were hot, stiff, creaked when she moved and they were chafing her stomach to pieces. The Weyrling Master’s suggestion was to wear something under the leathers, but in this mid-summer weather, that was a sure ticket to dehydration, fainting, and the Healing Caverns.

Somewhere between the wonderful feeling of the grass on her bare arms, and the thoughts of the hot, sticky leathers, an idea came to Cilla. She sat up quickly, dumping Jevyan into her lap and glanced around. She was lying in the middle of a field, outside the Weyr, ,during dinner. She smirked and began peeling off the leathers, more than happy to lie in the quickly cooling air wearing only what nature gave her. She smirked, thinking of what her sister, or worse mother, would do to her if they ever saw her. Somehow it made the whole experience more enjoyable.

As the sun began to set and the temperature began to drop, Jevyan suggested they return to the Weyr by trying to pierce her ears with his teeth. With a sigh she wrapped her body in the damnable leathers and returned to the candidate barracks, smelling like the earth, bugs caught in her hair, grass sticking off her clothing, and once more at peace with the world.

* * *

The pounding entered Cilla’s head, driving her near insane. She knew it wasn’t one of the other girls. They seemed to dislike her healthy smell. She grunted, slightly offended. After all, she did grow up in a Beasthold for Faranth’s sake. "Wha?" She pulled the pillow over her head. Sometime through the almost unbearably hot night she’d lost her blanket. Her shift was the only thing preserving her modesty, but at this ungodly hour of the morning, that meant little.

"Umm candidate?" The drudge was trying to wake her without angering her. "It’s time to rise."

"UGH!" Cilla made a meaningful noise, hinting the she might like a little more rest.

The drudge went to shake her shoulders, and quickly stepped back shrieking. The poor woman was terrified.

Cilla leapt up and searched for the enemy. Her vision blurred slightly, not yet ready for such action. She rubbed her eyes. "What?"

The girl merely pointed and Cilla turned her attention in that direction. Jevyan sat on the floor dissecting a mouse. She sighed and covered the cat with the blanket she’d finally located on the floor. "Will that be all?"

The girl blushed, realizing that some of the importance of her message was going to be lost by her behaviour. "The other girls are already on the Sands. The eggs are hatching."

Cilla stared at the girl for a moment, grass covering her body, a bug crawling along her leg and she realized that her shift was covering significantly less that it was supposed to. Cilla calmly closed her eyes, clenched her fists and uttered several, rather loud words that caused the poor drudge to blush all over again. She grabbed her robe, wrapped the kitten up in the blanket, left it on the bed and stripped her shift off on her way to the lake. In a popular move amongst the youths, she flung herself into the lake, shook her hair out and flung the robe on before sprinting to the Sands.

As she approached the other female candidates, she noticed she was getting odd looks from the males and whistles from the sand. Looking down, Cilla remembered what happened to white fabric when in got wet. She cursed herself, smiled sweetly at the boys and pulled the fabric away from her body, letting it dry in the scorching air radiating from the sand beneath her.

Cilla was probably the only one on the sands glad that the eggs decided to take their time. It gave her white robe enough time to dry. By the time the first egg hatched, the only sign of her controversial bathe was her quickly drying hair.

From the beginning of the hatching, Cilla had her eye on one egg...the suspected gold egg. Even when the first two hatchlings uncovered their siblings, Cilla didn’t care. If she was going to do this impression thing, she was going to do it right. As the egg began to rock, Cilla’s heart was in her throat, her pride resting on that egg. To describe her as crest-fallen when the gold happily walked to another girl, would be a gross understatement.

In disbelief, Cilla’s pride shattered. She’d done many thing in her life, and she’d never failed before this moment. Some part of her, the less-prideful part, realized that there still might be a dragonet on the sand for her, but she knew better. That had been her one shot, and it was gone. She turned to leave the Sands, shaken to her core.

Where are you going Cilla? You’re not going to leave me are you?!? A panicked voice entered her mind and Cilla turned to see one of the oddest sights in her life: A black hatchling. Her eyes told her there was also a white hatching on the sands, rare, but not unheard of. Cilla had never seen a black dragon.

The hatchling, happy that Cilla wasn’t leaving, walked forwards and nuzzled her. You can stare at me for the rest of our lives, rider-mine. I’m Mirth and I’m hungry.

Cilla smiled, a new emotion filling her. Something to replace her prideful nature, something to tame her wild spirit, something solid. Cilla was in love. "Of course, of course." She gathered the black hatchling in her arms and made it to the feeding grounds, completely ignoring all the comments about her earlier behaviour.

Jevyan was waiting with the meat, obviously having escaped his blanket and adventured towards the food. He was slightly jealous of the attention the hatchling was getting, and at his earlier treatment, but he could no longer stay angry at her than she could at him. Cilla smiled, feeding her dragon with one hand and her kitten with the other.

* * *
Cilla impressed Mirth at Draco’s Inferno Weyr.
Jevyan’s picture from Sapphire Weyr.
Background from Myrror Images.
Cilla’s picture from The Woman Says.