Post by Ghost of Fire (Fëanáro) on Jun 23, 2013 23:33:06 GMT -8
3075.06.24 | Mid-morning
Mobrey sat down against the wall, perfectly content, for just this moment, to be completely still. Turning his right hand over, he stared at the inside of the wrist. Two turns. That was all there was until he would see the red wagon wheel tattoo of the Vrishna upon that wrist. To be forever marked as belonging to someone. He’d tried to convince his adoptive parents to convince Saddyr Vrishna, his mother’s father, to let him get it early, before he left to accompany Saddyris and Dyranor to the Weyr.
Now, the dragons wanted him to Stand. To be a Candidate. It was the chance of a lifetime. He’d have a chance at becoming a rider. Only, if he did, he could be no part of the Caravan. He knew how much food the Caravan could provide, and it wouldn’t be able to spare the amount of meat needed by a dragon.
Not only that, but where would a dragon stay while the Caravan was in motion. A dragon, even without using between, crossed ground far faster than any caravan could travel. It seemed that there were no options, for he wanted to be a rider, who didn’t? But he wanted the Caravan too.
A snap caught his attention, and he looked up, just in time to see Karatos come over and lay down at his feet, clearly desiring a good rubbing.
“Silly,” Mobrey whispered, reaching towards the canine and rubbing his hands through the thick black and gold fur.
A sudden crash shattered the silence. Mobrey jumped up, eyes wide as he looked around, trying to identify where the sound had come from.