The boring man in the front was droning on about---wing membranes? His blue was what made most of the candidates even bother to pay half attention. It was a stunning beast, brillantly colored. Jurana loved his whirling eyes.

  It was then that one of the weyrfolk rushed. "The eggs are hatching!"

The class of candidates jerked to their feet. Robes appeared and soon the class was decked in white as they walked and in some cases ran to the Sands. Jurana felt excitement surge through her. Would she Impress a dragon worthy of leadership? Would she Impress? Where was Fadurek?

 The large sands were warm and the room was beginning to fill with people. Since Dragonhope was quite far out of the way of most normal trade routes, there were few civilian visitors to watch, but among them a couple of traders and a few Holders traveling to look over land sat and placed bets on what the outcome would be.

The dragons in the Weyr had begun to hum, not quite as loudly as their southern counterparts would have - they had long learned the benefit of a silent hatching, since that one disasterous avalanch some century-and-a-half ago... But still they gave enough song to call their new siblings forth.

 Jurana walked onto the Sands and stood next to an egg with a faint swirl pattern. The Queen had moved away from the main bunch of eggs. There was a faint stirring as a egg of tinted gold was revealed. There was a queen egg. Girls walked over to stand by it but Jurana stayed. No queens led wings. Well except for the gueens wing but that was not a proper wing in Juranas opinion.

Everyone went silent in the stands, while the dragons increased the volume of their crooning just a bit to make it all very dramatic. From the first, larger, shell came a medium-colored Brown, while the smaller had a petite Blue. They both spent a bit of time shaking their wings free, getting the muck off their tails... Then the looked at one another.

The Blue gave a bit of a disdainful snort, and turned to examine the candidates for himself, while the Brown simply strode up to the girls. There, he sniffed around and butted his head to move one or two of the young ladies. He found who he was looking for: the Gypsy Voele.

The raven-haired Voele threw her arms around his sturdy neck, and Mustlaneth reared up a bit to accept her bond. He would be quite a large Brown, it seemed. Since this Weyr was apt to take whatever candidates they could for their hatchlings, instead of the typical 'a Brown and a girl?' comments, the whole audience (minus a couple stodgy Holders here and there who thought girls ought to be only on Greens or something) erupted into applause. Voele murmured his name repeatedly at the records-keeper Ilina, as they went to get their bowl of fresh meat.

Not to be outdone, however, the small Blue had gazed at each of the candidates before him, and walked with grace up to the artist Deladien.

Everyone applauded again, and while they did so, another Brown broke his shell. He was if anything bigger than Voele's bond, but it was hard to say because he moved quickly away from his eggs and into the middle of the sands. He gave off a single chirp of greeting to his mother and sire, who nuzzled him warmly before he turned to the boys in the semi-circle nearby.

After they had left the sands, three eggs broke open as one. From one came a lovely pale Green, the first female of the clutch. From the middle one emerged a slender Brown, and from another... A swaggering Bronze. That filled the air with pleased muttering.

 Jurana watched the two males closly. Both would be fine. Could she attract one?

The Bronze took his time preening a bit, and then set out to look at everyone. In the meantime, the Brown had fanned his wings off and was nosing around on the Boys' side. Swynol gave off a sigh, then a bit of an urgent yelp when he thought that the Brown was looking at him. "I hardly think that this is right," he said, looking up and away, "I mean, with the Bronze here and all."

"You idiot," Jurana spat, "He isn't looking for you, he's Impressed me." Jurana looked toward Ilina and grinned for the first time realized that now, unless Fadurek Impressed a Green, they'd be wing-mates, rather than weyr-mates. "His name is Meresoitjath." She nodded curtly, and proudly helped the lean Brown off the sands.

She had made brown! Now where was Fadurek?

Parts of this hatching are written by Saxxon of Dragonhope.