Hatch Or Die [Outlaw Flower and Art Clutches]

[puppetmaster]

Despite it's lack of previous movement, Widow's Veil started to rock back and forth, a sudden flurry of movement, of something akin to anger. It shuddered, tilted to the side, and rolled a few feet. Then, with a crunch, the egg broke in half, and out tumbled a hatchling.

At first it appeared to be a brown - one filled with a reddish brown, a darker color, splotches here and there. He was related to Mordanth, after all - piebald would not be an uncommon thing if dragons worked anything like humans. But when the infant stumbled onto the dirt and into the light, it did indeed appear to be the size of a small brown, and may have passed if not for the bright orange coloring thrown along it's hide, or the peach, the tan, the gray and blacks.

It may have passed for a brown if not for those, and if not for the fear, the panic, the utter rage radiating off the small dragonet. Maybe it could have been, if that panic hadn't started to seep into every living thing in that cavern with a presence so utterly feminine that being mistaken for a brown would be a very, very difficult thing to do.

You stole me! The voice, a wail, wavered, female and delicate and high. The Sobbing Mistress Hatchling stumbled, another squeal of fright leaving her. Another wave of panic washed over the onlookers, her voice in every mind, that inkling of such sadness and hurt and anger. All of you! You stole me, they will kill me, you took me away!

Her eyes swirled all colors of the rainbow, without being an Impression - fear, hunger, dispair, concern, and Sobbing Mistress shoved her way past River Blue, by then still in the wake of it's sisters terror. You will not forget this one - no one is allowed to forget any of us!

Dramatic? Maybe. Out rolled a purple-sized egg, the Want Me Egg (ADMIN), covered in dark circles, bursts of lighter golds. Sobbing Mistress spun around, eyes more gray then red, and then another brush of fear fear fear in the onlookers mind.

Where is mine?! Where did you take Mine! Who hurt him? Who stole him from me?

((OOC: Sorry to godmode a bit but, yes, everyone will be hearing her. Everyone will be feeling her fear. Welcome to the Torties, kids.))

[firebird]

What, what was that? By the egg of Faranth, it was as if a voice was drilling into his mind! Augh! This was a lot more than the weak fingertips of thought from the eggs. Gah, how did dragonriders stand it? And more importantly, why was the sharding hatchling projecting like that? The others had got by with basic noises and creelings and that eye changing-color thing, so why was this one projecting its thoughts like that?

Yekemi jerked back from the force of the hatchling's mental shrieks, nearly losing his balance as he stumbled back a few steps. Unfortunately, he was still standing next to the hot springs proper. Splash.

[Inkwell]

Astor had been sitting on the sands, legs crossed, head bent with his hands over his face. The darkness and feeling of being hemmed in calmed him, oddly enough. So it was that he didn't notice the little tortoise hatchling until she was screaming into his mind, re-introducing him to the panic and fear and, yes, the anger that he had tried to hard to fight down in himself, if only for the purpose of staying alive long enough to Impress his own.

But this dragon, just like the yellow, was obviously not for him. In fact, it didn't seem to for any of them, if its shrieks were any indication. He lifted his head up, peered out from between his fingers -- my, that was a strange coloration. Was she a brown? No, she couldn't be, browns were males. Another mutation, then. At least it had been non-fatal!

Though if she couldn't find Hers and betweened, it wouldn't matter. Part of him kind of wanted her to between. She was making both his head and heart ache in sympathy to her raging emotions, emotions that were compounding on top of his own and pushing him closer and closer to one of his explosive breakdowns. Hopefully she would quiet down before that or he would blow his chance to Impress entirely.

[S'yal]

Iris was so happy to see it alive, so happy to see it moving and breathing and it was alive! She hardly even noticed something was off, that maybe there wasn't something quite right with this situation... until the panic seeped into her mind.

The weight on her chest was back, twisting around her chest and brushing cold fingers against her heart with all the familiarity of a lover. She was so frightened, so very scared. She felt the fear as if it was her own, and maybe part of it was her own. Fang and my son and my egg and they're all gone and she's screaming and she needs to "STOP!" Iris screamed, lifting her hands to cover her ears. "Make it stop!" Why wouldn't it stop!?

She was inside her head, and Iris couldn't get her out. Because it was all her fault, and now it was going to die because she took it away. It was Iris that needed to die, needed to go away and be forgotten. Not the little baby. Not her baby.

"Stop, stop... he's here, I promise. You just have to look. P-please look." It hated her, but Iris didn't hate it. Iris loved it, with all the emptiness and broken obsession that the woman could muster. "You have to look. Look! Don't go between. Please..." Her voice had faded from the first scream, now it was likely that the dragon wouldn't even hear her pleas.

But it was crying out for some man, her rider, and Iris understood. She wanted to cry and scream, as well. She wanted Fang. She wanted her son. She wanted to feel whole again, and she knew with a sudden clarity that no dragon would ever give her that. Before the emptiness had been comfortable enough, a forever there pit that never vanished, but never got bigger either.

But now it ached and bled.

[Evadne]

One moment, life was idyllic. In the next, Jadore was being subjected to three times the horror: the newly hatched dragon's fear, anguish and anger, her own and dear Algonquith's. How could one mind cause such horror? No amount of training could keep the woman from reeling from the assault on her senses. The opal was creeling but she could barely hear it beneath the waves of fear pouring off of the Tortie.

In times like these, certain instincts were trigged. She only distantly sensed Yekemi's sudden absence at her side. She had no idea where the man had gone.

All she knew was that she had to get away.

But not alone. For once she moved without a care for who might be watching and what they might see. Graceless, she bent and scooped up Algonquith. The opal was sharp but she was still an infant, and she flailed and shrieked as she was taken up, eyes spinning with reds and yellows. Talons that had long since dried raked her bonded's arms and shoulders, but Jadore didn't feel that either. She struggled with the dragon's living, moving weight and turned on her heel to begin staggering away from the pool area.

People needed to get out of her way. Panicked, newly Impressed woman and opal coming through!

Algonquith added her own mental shrieks to the cacophany. Make it stop make it stop! Her tail snapped and lashed around, as sharp as any whip. Those whom it caught would feel the sting...if they could feel anything other than fear right now.

[giftwrapped]

The pink consumed his attention, anxiousness dwindling as it moved further away from him, but wary attention never leaving the healer's eyes. It would kill another, no doubt. He noticed nothing else until a trio of splashes caught his attention. His eyes lifted, head turning to the hot springs. Three had been submerged, all by the yellow dragonet who was moving his way with a motion that was sensuously wry.

Jiruynomine. Pay attention to me. The voice. That voice. Low and feminine and yet somehow harsh, a grating tone underlain with a purr that Jiru couldn't ignore. Oh, she was speaking to him and though for a moment, he could not disentangle his own disgust and amusement from the new presence in his mind, he recognized the expansion. This was new. Different. It had not come to weed him out. The pink had not come to harm him. No, this dragon, this - yellow? This female was here for him now. The scalpel fell from his fingers.

It was not love at first sight. It was barely love at all. Oh, but it was kinship and he knew what was in his head.

Your Moneth is tired of these people. They fall much too easily, and should learn how to stand better, or get out of the way.

"...Of course, darling." Jiruyno's look of surprise faded into one of amusement, and his fingers slid over yellow neckridges, coming away damp with egg leavings - albumin, he reminded himself idly - and bringing a wrinkle to the Healer's nose. Quietly, he wiped his hand on his trousers, only glancing up when a tug on his other hand brought his gaze to the dead firelizard. Moneth was there, biting hard on the tail, the leg, pulling. She wanted, and the hunger that had gnawed his stomach since he left the prison was doubled - nearly tripled. Crouching and dropping the lizard in front of him, he picked up the scalpel, slicing the stomach open and moving aside quickly as the yellow took her opening and lunged forward.

His gaze in that crouch turned to the dealer downed beside him. For a moment, his eyes met hers, her gaze one of pleading. She opened her mouth, perhaps to form a request - Help me... - and Jiru's expression turned suddenly dark. Help...help filth, an addict herself, petty thief? Filth of humanity. "Help you," he answered with a pleasant enough smile. "Yes, of course." He would have pressed his fingers into the cavity at her throat in another setting, held her down and watched her convulse until the life left her.

But here, he had so little time. She would thrash, and he did not want that. The scalpel flashed, and then a fountain of red -

And then a yellow muzzle, smeared with grey-green ichor, a dragon following the smell of hot blood and tearing into the throat. As good a use as any, Moneth said in response to the sudden stab of alarm. You do well, Jiruyno.

For a time they were consumed with the task; dragonet drinking the blood that burst forth from the woman and healer watching, an impassive, guarded look returning to his face. But eventually the creature was sated, and she stopped, turning her gaze to the Sands. A great deal had happened. Another pink, what looked like an opal...two...what were those, Faranth? A lifeless body. And two dragonets crouched over the thief's form.

Rhith and Beoth, Moneth remarked matter-of-factly. My brother and sister. And one was Impressed to....ah!

Jiruyno straightened, using a sleeve to wipe the worst of the blood from his yellow dragonet's muzzle. "Come with me, dearest, we have congratulations to give." And his lips twitched, a soft expression of fondness stealing over them. He would have to congratulate Machi, just as soon as he -

The fear hit like a hammer, and even Jiru staggered for a moment, before forcing himself to the same calmness he had managed once a long time back, during the opal's Flight. Moneth, however, lowered her head and hissed, a low, menacing sound. Oh, yes, there was fear, but she turned it to rage, to fury, and advanced slowly toward her sister, wings bristling. Calm yourself, she dropped, and her tone was pleasant in contrast to her posture, but Jiru grabbed her by the base of the wings and dragged her, moving toward Arkady and Machi.

"Leave her. She will break. She is gone already - and matters not to us."

A sibling lost is never right, Moneth rumbled, and her yellow-tinged eyes did not leave her shrieking sister, though her limbs quivered with fear.

[Cansi]

The appearance of the Sobbing Mistress stole Alezri's attention, but thankfully Tith was too busy making distress noises to notice. The little purple's sides were distended with meat already, a little less than half the meat pile left. The human ineffectually covered his ears. Why were they all being punished?! It was hatchlings that had killed those people, not the outlaws. And for that matter only one of them had stolen that hatchling's egg. Not that he didn't sympathize; the emotions were pretty much being shoved into his head, so he couldn't help it. But he didn't WANT to sympathize. He'd just made room in his mind for Tith.

Inevitably, his head started pounding fiercely. Mine, it hurts, Tith whimpered.

I know. One way or the other, it'll be over with soon.

He hoped.

[whiteangel28]

She was aware oof nothing with her head in her hands, possibly she was aware of Alezri moving about with his dragonet but at that moment she didn't care. She just wanted to find somewhere cool to lay down for a while and the hot springs were not cool, they were hot. No, she wasn't away of anything until panic and fear began washing over hr, causing her slightly calmed stomach to begin churning violently once more.

For moment, sheassumed the panic was hers for what ever reason, thoufh she had only known fear this intense once before and so she was baffled by the emotion's presence for a moment, but then the voice screech echoed through her mind. She jumped, head jerking up t try to peer through the crowd's legs. She had no clue what had just hatched except that it was female. But perhaps the worst of it was the fact her 'other' side had registered the panic and a shifting, boiling vexation was now bubbling in her chest. Just like before, when she had stood before the council, this self clawed its way through the panic, hissing and spitting it at it as if it was the young woman's own.

Her eys flashed as meekness was replaced by stubbornness, throughrly intending to go find the source of the voice and panic and slap them until they shut up. She struggled to get to her feet, glaring through the crowd even as shook and leaned against the wall for support. The flitting little bird that was her meekness, had no reason to worry though. She may be able to stand and imagine slapping the dragonet, but that didn't mean she had the strength. So se was left there, glaring through the crowd at the apparent dragonet of Widow's Veil as her mind snarled at the panic seeping rom her.

Shaking like the other little purple, fighting down bile even as se leaned against the wall for support with a glower on her face, Caroline made quite the laughable sight indeed.

[puppetmaster]

They hated her.

They hated her.

Sobbing Mistress shrunk back and away from Iris and her rage, flinching from her like a beaten dog. That not-unfamiliar fear flared when it felt all of her rage and the loss of her son and lover; Sobbing Mistress keened for them. She skirted to the side, shuddering, keening, wailing

They hated her. They hated her so much. They--

She froze. She stopped moving completely save for the shudders along her hide for a long moment, her eyes completely awash with the gray of impending doom. Sobbing Mistress sunk to her stomach, head turning to look towards the one who didn't want her.

But she wanted him. She loved him. Why didn't he love her?

Astor-Mine. And sorrow, sorrow and love and regret because he didn't love her, and wanted her dead. Rainbows were in her eyes, but muted by that gray still all over them. At least it stopped others from feeling it, now that she Impressed. Oh, she projected some, but it would not sink into the others brains as it had before. She was only his. She would love only him. You want your Brigith dead? I- she is sorry, I am sorry, my sister hurt you and- I will between, if you want me to. I am yours, yours, I love you, please want me.

Name: Brigith
Color: Tortie
Flower: Mourning Bride
Hex Code: CC6600

Appearance: Brigith may have the coloring of a housecat, but that doesn't mean she's built like one. This girl is more along the line of a panther, all muscular power under a pretty hide, capable of slinking and face-hugging the larger of her sisters. She's a little smaller then a pink, a bit bigger then a brown - maybe she won't be able to fight off Juarth and Beoth with her claws alone, but she can do enough damage with them to give the young men a smarting.

In terms of color... Brigith is a 'tortie'. She has no one true color, and this, in itself, may be a problem. There isn't a way to classify her, but she is certainly unique. It's a good thing that she enjoys being hidden away, as her coloring and mottled pattern give excellent means of hiding. Maybe not so much those bright bursts of orange but... A girl can try, can't she?

Personality: Brigith is a dragon of extremes. There is no gray area, no in betweens, and there is nothing else but 'this is GOOD' and 'this is BAD'. What counts as good and bad varies greatly on her moods at the time, and whether or not Hers likes it. Once filed away in one of the categories, her ideas stay there; if you make an enemy of Brigith, it isn’t likely to change anytime soon. Brigith will not try to argue her points and beliefs as she is right, and others are silly for thinking otherwise, but she’ll instead look to Hers to defend her.

Her sense of extremes extends also to her rider; Brigith loves her rider. She loves them so much that she needs to always protect them - the world is hard, and the jungle is BAD. People want to cripple her! They would, if they found them, and Hers must be protected. In order to do that, she needs to keep them away from the big badness, needs to keep them only to herself, and if they disagree… well…

What's a girl to do?

In her paranoia, a trait only strengthens as she gets older, Brigith buries her psyche deeply into that of her rider. Her fears are their fears, her happiness their happiness, and once Brigith has sunk her claws in, she does not ever let go - she is devoted to her rider because he is part of her, as she is him. Being the girl she is, to the extremes she goes, Brigith's love spills over to her rider, much like every other emotion. She makes sure Hers knows this, and has no problem reminding them.

Brigith is nosy, invasive, and she absolutely needs to know all of the business, ever. Refusing to give her information results in a paranoid state where YOU are the enemy and must be destroyed. She is obsessive in her desire to know all, to protect her home and Hers, and anything else she puts her mind to.

On that note - can we say OCD? Yes we can! She doesn't need to do everything multiple times, but when Brigith gets an idea into her head of how things MUST be, she tends to get, well...

Obsessive.

Don't get in her way.


Why Me? To any casual observer, Brigith and her latching on to Astor to be nothing more then like calling to like - the paranoid, the slightly off-kilter, the obsessive. She is a clingy, self-indulgent creature, and she needed someone to appease her rather erratic whims. In Brigith, Astor will find his unconditional, if somewhat intense, love. He will also find power in her uniqueness, her atypical ability to hurt others, her innate ability to protect them from her worst fears: being stolen, being found. As for Brigith, Astor is her protector, and even in the shell he loved her. He warned others from her, he had been willing to take hits for her. Astor is not a weak mind, but he is in touch enough with his baser instincts to allow her to dig her little pinpricked claws in as deep as she wants.

Doting on him and loving him will keep her from any serious breakdowns, and hopefully the same will be true for him. She is meant to be a damper on his explosions and keep them from raging out of control.

They make a dangerous pair, the two of them, and Brigith will make sure Hers knows they can have others see it too.

[Inkwell]

Astor continued to watch the splotchy dragonet as it sank to the floor, shuddered softly. Its eyes were so gray... was it going to between? Astor wasn't used to feeling the emotions of others, much less somehow caring so much, but her project fear and anger ate him to the bone. He didn't like it. He didn't...

Astor-Mine.

He froze. His heart seemed to leap into his throat and he wanted to make a noise, some sort of wordless cry of shock, but nothing would come but rainbows behind his eyes. Even muted, even covered by gray, he saw them and knew what they meant and she was in pain and she was hurting because of him.

You want your Brigith dead? I- she is sorry, I am sorry, my sister hurt you and- I will between, if you want me to. I am yours, yours, I love you, please want me.

"No," he murmured, for once subdued, in shock. "No, no, don't go. You're... you're so much better than she was. Look at you." Carefully, he moved forward, reaching out a hand, hesitating only a moment before touching her. Her skin was smooth, still sticky in places with the remnants of the goop inside of her egg. He would clean her, later, when he could think clearly again, until she shone like the beautiful, superior creature she was. A color never seen before, and she was all his!

Of course I am yours, Astorlove. And you are mine and I will never let anyone hurt you again. Not even my sister. Especially not my sister. She nuzzled forward, crawling almost into his lap, pressing close as though trying to fuse herself with him body as well as mind. Now that they were together, she was never going to let him go. She was going to keep him safe and happy and make him proud!

Just as soon as she had the energy. She tilted her head, nosing down between them to pluck with her teeth at the bag that held the fish.

Astormine, feed me! Feed me so I can grow large and strong and beautiful for you.

Still dumbfounded, his expression slowly becoming that wide, ear to ear smile, Astor tugged the fish out of the bag (Brigith moved back slightly to allow him the space, but stayed as close as possible). With his stone knife he hacked the fish into pieces small enough to eat, feeding them to her one by one. She wouldn't bite him, no matter how desperately hungry she was -- he knew she wouldn't. She loved him and wanted to keep him safe.

Yes, mine. Always.

"Always," he agreed, offering up another piece of fish.

The rest of the room? Did not exist. Iris, eat your heart out.

[Evadne]

And like that, it was over. The panic was gone, the fear and anger. Jadore almost stumbled as if her strings had been cut. Algonquith gave a single yelp (which would forever be denied) and ceased her struggling. Then the pain rolled in, shared between the two of them, coming from the cuts inflicted by the opal's terrified thrashing.

As one, they sagged to the stone floor. It was cooler there near the entrance and far less slimy, but neither noticed.

Darling...?

She was answered by a wordless pulse of indignation. Algonquith was fine! Everything was all right! She hadn't panicked. A "spoken" answer soon followed, dry enough to mummify a body. Some simply can't resist making a spectacle of themselves in their entrances.

Jadore would have laughed if she'd had breath enough. She lower Algonquith to the floor. An infant still, but still compact and solid, her weight was an unaccustomed burden and the woman's shoulders and arms had begun to burn from the scratches. But that pain became a distant memory when she looked back to see what had become of the tortie...

...and saw her pressed tightly against Astor.

Jadore's stomach lurched, provoking a warble of concern from the opal. Jadorelove?

"Oh...oh no. There'll be no living with him now."

[Cansi]

As soon as the fear leeched from their minds, the sated and relatively clean purple and Hers heaved a collective sigh of relief. Then Tith spotted the dead body getting chewed on, and made a sound very like a groan. That is so disgusting, she said, and shuddered her hide. In the manner of a feline, she started flicking a fastidious tongue across her hide to remove the rest of the egg stuff from her that hadn't rubbed off on Dazanth's egg shell.

"Couldn't agree more," Alezri said, but he was gigglesnorting. Oh, yes he was. We have food left over, he reminded her, as he started gathering it into his already-soiled hands. He hadn't minded the blood, or the egg wet on Tith's neck, and wasn't about to start minding it now. The moisture in the air from the hot springs, smelly as it was, kept the yuck fresh enough that he didn't doubt he'd be able to wipe it off. When he was done touching yucky things anyway.

So what if we do? She stopped mid-lick, tilting her tiny little head up at him. Don't tell me you intend on sharing it with that- that-!

Well, you're full, he said simply. It'll spoil before you get hungry again, and I won't see it wasted. Alezri's own hunger was a dull grumble, overlaid as it was with the utter repletion the dragonet radiated through their link. He'd eaten yesterday- rather well in fact- and definitely wouldn't starve. What else did they have to do besides sneak around trying to feed themselves? As long as they weren't seen. Alezri had already started edging through the crowd with the armload of meat staining his jumpsuit when a realization crept up on him.

Tith wasn't following.

She sat in a sulk, eyes tinged the colors of annoyance as she looked after him. You'd really leave me?

No, but you'll have to come on your own, lovey, Alezri said. On foot. I can't carry this AND you. Besides, my hands have all this nastiness on them, and you just got done cleaning yourself. Slightly mollified at that answer (and its honesty), the purple flicked her tail daintily and wove through the crowd to follow at his heels. Carefully avoiding Beoth, of course, and steering clear of Algonquith and Jadore for that matter. They should have no problem getting assistance. Astor, on the other hand...?

Alezri approached Astor as warily as one might face a feral canine, one who had once known civilization but had been left to its own devices for Turns. "Extra meat," he said unnecessarily. "Want some?" He even managed to keep his voice level, betraying nothing of his feelings toward the pyro. Tith sent a pulse of approval to Hers, and as she peered at the larger (and previously riled) Brigith, she sent a cautious chirp of greeting.

[whiteangel28]

As soon as the fear had left their minds, the dragonet going to the previously devastated Astor, the vexation and irritation seemed to calm, leaving a previously strengthed Caroline struggling to stay on her feet again. Even the wall wasn't enough support at the moment as her knees quickly gave way and she sat back down.

Ignoring the snickers from surrounding outlaws that had looked back whne Alezri had made his way through the crowd, she allowed to head to be burried in her hands once more, taking dead and steady breaths and quickly finding that was a bad idea. Now she could [itaste[/i] the smell! Caroline gagged, coughing a little as her stomach almost succeeded in doing what it had been trying to for the last couple minutes. A quick little coughing fit, the taste of bile suddenly added to the taste in the air, and she was suddenly wondering if she had enough strength to crawl out of the springs.

Well it wouldn't hurt to try... she thought to herself, never mind the fact her dingity would be tarnished, she would crawl she was far enough away to empty her stomach, and then go clean her jumpsuit as best as possible and hope beyond hope to get the blood stains on the bottom out. But maybe she should wait until after the other outlaws had stopped staring at her and making crude, little weakling jokes...?

Yeah. She'll do that.

[tuathade]

Machi might have missed the look on his sister’s face, before it was carefully wiped away and replaced with the pleasant smile. Arkady did not.

Beoth growled, when the headknob-rubs ceased and Machi left to retrieve the little purple. Just as he was beginning to enjoy the little pale man’s company, he was stolen away by another dragon. Arkady felt the wave of jealous frustration rise, and rested a hand on Beoth’s muzzle in silent warning. For a moment there was a push in his head, a battle of wills – but the meat was here, and hunger overrode all else. The pink’s rumble died away and he turned back to gulp down chunks of meat ripped from the dead man’s thigh. There would be precious little left of that leg but bone and fabric by the time Beoth was done.

Machi returned, cradling his fragile dragon. Arkady glanced from sister to brother, silent. In another time and place – a younger Harper, a free man in a sleepy little hold – this was precisely the kind of situation he lived for. It would be so easy to turn this brittle moment of tension into a terrible explosion. A word dropped in the right place, a subtle nudge to one or the other… But this wasn’t the same. This was Jessan and Machi. And as always, breaking was so much easier than mending. But for now, he would be arbiter rather than instigator. The pleasant, guileless smile he gave the two betrayed none of his internal thoughts. “Congratulations,” Arkady said simply. Nothing else needed saying.

He was going to have to keep a careful eye on Machi and Rhinth.

The Jazz Hands yellow Impressed. Another, a grey with a curiously metallic shimmer to its hide (a silver?) came out of the egg half-formed and clearly dead. Well, their record wasn’t flawless, but better than he’d expected. They would have to bury or cremate the sad little body before someone got the idea in their head to eat it… or cut it up… or, well, whatever. Poor thing deserved a little more respect than that, dying before it ever got a chance to live.

Then… the Widow’s Veil. The voice in his head, and the wave of fear that hit him like a physical blow. He was afraid – he was fucking terrified, and pressed close in on all sides by bodies and the walls of the cave – shards, he was trapped, he wanted to be out and away and he had a machete in his hand and that awful screaming voice in his ears.

Things might well have gone very poorly for everyone within Arkady’s attack radius if it hadn’t been for Beoth’s presence. Fear was an alien emotion to the tough little hatchling, something he inflicted on other people. To have that fear reflected back onto him, into him, made him keen and press up against his rider’s legs. Mine! The insistent need of his dragon anchored the rider, gave him something else to focus on than the overwhelming need to hack through everyone standing between him and the exit. He knelt hurriedly, hands rubbing over Beoth’s eyeridges and headknobs, running over the gangly limbs with the delicate bones clearly palpable beneath. Solid, real, the hide under his hands and the mind in his mind. His dragon. He would stay where he was, with Beoth, until it passed.

And it did pass, when the strangely mottled female Impressed. Everything was silence again, save for the rapid beating of his heart and the trembling hatchling pressed against his chest.

[lithle]

Roni was screaming. She'd begun to cry again when the pinks began their disgusting savagery, pinks and a yellow as well, all feeding on human flesh. Myr had pulled the child against her, kneeling because she didn't have the strength to carry her. Frankly, she wasn't sure she could stand, anyway. Myr disliked blood at the best of times. When the blood was human flesh being eaten by dragons, well, that was a bit more than even she could take.

She'd have left, but couldn't bear to. She had to have a dragon of her own. Had to. That obsession, that hunger, the hunger that had pushed her to take Roni as she had, was now planting her in place, even with the blood and the stench and the dead people and dead dragon and then something terrifying.

It was then that Roni began to scream, high and piercing, as children could.

"Enough." Myr's voice was a bit sharp, sharper than she ever usually took with anyone, let alone one of her pets. But fear was driving her as well, while stubbornness and obsession kept her rooted. "It's not becoming."

The dragon, the seeming source of all the panic, impressed. The fear ebbed. She could breath again. Roni's screams turned back to little hiccuping sobs. Myr returned her gaze to the sands.

Only a few eggs left, if one included the egg dug up by the strange patched dragon.

Her new treasure, in one of them.

She would have a dragon. It'd be hers. Hers alone. Her own precious thing.