Wyand's Childhoood [Weyr] [Childhood] [Candidacy] [Hatchling] [Weyrling] [Adult] [Stats] [Ryslen Weyr]                            2854.01.19 (January 19th, 1999) Wyand gently stroked Midnight Surrender's neck, his black hide seeming to shine with cleanlieness.  The stallion was one of the top runners in her father's stable, and she was thankful that she was able to take care of him.  Although she did a very good job of tending the runners, Wyand knew that the only reason     that she was allowed to do so was because she was the third-oldest child in a family full of girls. Her older two sisters, Dynai and Naine, were brought up to believe that they would have younger brothers that would tend the livestock, so they acted as a "proper lady" should.  However, with Wyand's birth, her parents began to loose hope.  By the time that Wyand turned 10, her mother had three more children, all of                     which were girls, and she couldn't have another child. Fostering had been the first option that her parents had thought of, but it seemed that there weren't enough    boys of the correct age around.  Her cousin, Pansiral, was going to be sent from the Weyr to their cotholding, until he decided to become Apprenticed to the WeyrHerder..  That left Wyand and her younger sister, Zenda, to do all of the outside chores, which included exercising and grooming the runners, amongst other things. Wyand led Midnight into the barn, patting the jumpy stallion's neck as he snorted at her father's firelizard,              the bronze Ranshank.  "Easy there, big boy," She whispered soothingly. After leading Midnight into his stall, she turned towards the newest mare in the barn, who was jumpy and not used to being around humans.  She was a beautiful chestnut coloration, and had a gray filly by her side,   whom Wyand had already named Cinders.  "Easy, girl," She whispered softly, walking slowly into the mare's stall. Over two years later... "C'm on, Cinders!" Wyand shouted breathlessly, the wind whipping her hair against her face and into her eyes.  She didn't need to look, though.  The path was worn from Cinder's hooves, and Wyand knew every bit of it... Since she didn't have any real friends, and didn't like anyone, Wyand had chosen Cinders to be with on Restdays, and spent all of her time grooming the gray mare.  Her mother had gotten a fosterling, and a boy, who was eight years old.  He didn't work much, and, in Wyand's opinion, was going to turn out to be a good-for-nothing lump.  She still got to work with the horses. Wyand gently pulled Cinders up to a halt, patting the mare's sweaty neck.  "Good girl," She whispered, stroking the smoke-gray neck.  "C'm on, I think that we'd better go home." She turned in the direction of the cothold, and nudged Cinders into a walk.  "Thassa girl," Wyand said, glad that the mare was co-operating.  She was still flighty, after being raced at a recent gather and whipped by the jockey.  However, with several days of TLC, the mare had begun to trust Wyand again. Therefore, it surprised Wyand whenever Cinders bolted into a gallop, throwing her foreward against the black-maned neck.  Looking up for what had caused the fearful bolt, Wyand also tried to slow Cinders down.  Trying the two at once didn't work too well, so she gently pulled back on the bridle, hoping not to harm the mare's tender mouth. When Cinders finally calmed, Wyand scanned around for what had caused the gray to freak.  She spotted a dot in the sky, suddenly realizing that it was a dragon, and she shook with rage.  Who did they think they were, coming while she was obviously trying to train a runner?  No wonder that Cinders had been spooked. To make matters worse, the blue spiraled down gently, landing around ten meters away.  Cinders rolled her eyes, spooking at the sight of her predator so close by.  The blue's rider, however, didn't seem to notice, which made Wyand even angrier.  "Shards, what do you think that you're DOING?" She screamed, but the rider just laughed. "I'm just trying to talk to you, missy," The bluerider said, finally noticing the gray mare's whirling eyes.  "And I'll have Okserth leave, if it will make your mare feel more comfortable."  As if he'd spoken to the blue (and Wyand had no doubt that he had), it blinked between. "There is no need for Cinders to be comfortable, for we are not going to converse," Wyand said, rembering the horror stories that she'd heard from Craft-bred girls about the ways of Weyrfolk.  "Thank you, I'll be leaving now." "Not so fast," The bluerider said.  "Now, then, there's something that I'd like to speak to you about.  Okserth, that's my blue, thinks that you might make a good Candidate for Cytiath's clutch." Wyand knew that her mouth was hanging open, and for once she didn't care.  "A Candidate?  Me?" She asked.  "A Candidate?" The bluerider shrugged.  "That's what I just said.  Now then, Okserth and I will be following close behind you on that gray mare, whatever you called her, so that we can get to your cotholding and obtain permission from your parents." Wyand didn't reply, for she'd already nudged Cinders into a gallop, and the mare sprinted off towards the cothold, an ecstatic Wyand astride.