Gathering Your Feelings The young woman whipped the shuttle in and out of the loom, her quick finger movements almost impossible to follow, her black hair swishing behind her in rythym with her hands.  Another woman, probably around twenty or so, stood behind her, surveying her work critically.  By their knots, the younger was a Senior Apprentice Weaver, the older a Junior Journeywoman Weaver.  "Well, Candis, is it good enough?" The younger asked, her face shining with hopefullness.  She had a small, upturned nose and brown eyes, and slightly tan skin.  The weaving was of a dragon, a brown one, with a young rider mounted on its back, the brown searing Thread. "Not your best, Tarilan, but I'll stamp it for sale," The journeywoman, who had to be Candis, replied.  "I really did think that after I took you on you'd do better than this, because when you get better, then you can walk the tables, and possibly get a firelizard."  As if to emphsize this point, a brown flit blinked from between to land on Candis's shoulder.  "And I'll get it stamped for sale before tomorrow, so that you can take it to the Gather.  By the way, that small weaving with the simple hexagonal pattern, the masterweaver fell in love with.  He stamped it immediately, and said that it looked just like a firelizard's eye.  Is that what you wanted it to do?" "No, Candis, I made it that way just so that I could have an easy pattern," Tarilan replied, slightly miffed that the journeywoman didn't think that she was capable of realizing that a dragon's eye was blue-green, and faceted with hexagons. "Watch your mouth, young woman, unless you want to be beaten within an inch of your life!" Candis shot back angrily, and Tarilan flinched.  She'd already been punished here, her first day of being apprenticed to Candis, for speaking out of place.  The scars were nearly faded away, but the memory was still there. "Whatever," Tarilan said lazily, handed the weaving to Candis, and stalked back to her bunk. # # # "Well, Candis, you said that I could go to the gather," Tarilan said, her voice tense  and her mouth in a line.  "I am currently trying not to yell at you Candis, you promised that I could yesterday, and I shall report it to the MasterWeaver that you're not allowing me to go." Candis turned a vivid red at this, but knew that it was the truth.  She'd better let Tarilan go.  "Fine, here's your weaving."  Candis tossed the brown dragon weaving to Tarilan, who caught it deftly in midair and turned back to the weyrling.  "Look, I just want to get to the gather."  Candis smiled as she left Tarilan to barter with the weyrling on how much it would cost for her to get a ride to the gather on his brown.  Eventually, though, with a glance at the golden firelizard on his shoulder, Tarilan made an offer, which was accepted.  She mounted the brown, and it flew up, then lept betweeen. # # # "Arrgghhh!" Tarilan yelled in pain as she lifted her head up from the rocky path, glancing up to see, of course, Barnuil standing there with a slight grin on his face.  Brushing the dirt off of her clothing, and wiping the blood from her nose, she stalked away from the laughing brownrider and the others who'd gathered to watch her lovely display. "Don't worry, Tarilan," Baernil said, walking slowly beside her.  He was Barnuil's younger brother, and fifteen turns, like Tarilan, but a head taller than anyone else in the crafthall.  There were no words to describe him other than tall and gawky. "Thanks," She muttered half-heartedly, and sniffed again.  "I've just gone and embaressed myself in front of your brother again, he's going to think that I'm an ugly clutz, and you can't deny that he's the guy most of the girls in the weyr are chasing after..." "Yeah, I know," Baernil replied.  "I've put up with it forever.  But, um, Tarilan, you're beautiful no matter how you look."  After saying this, the young Junior Apprentice Weaver turned bright red, and he hurried off quickly, muttering something about bubbly pies, leaving Tarilan with a confused smile on her face and a million differant thoughts whirling about in her head. Next Chapter Back to the Table of Contents Back to Tarilan's Index