"Oh, I don't know." Seriael said, tossing her blond curls about before she sat down. Her mother gave her a look.

"You know Ryslen permits its inhabitants to Stand once they're of age. You're nearly 19, Seriael -- you've been old enough for turns, and yet still haven't stood."

Seriael was tired of her mother's harping, and tuned her out. Within moments the blond girl was asleep. Her mother sighed and let her rest. She must be the only girl in history like this -- eats, sleeps, and runs like mad in between... her mother thought.

She was 5'9" tall, with not an ounce of extra flesh upon her -- and the young men just adored her, though she hadn't the attention span to realize how they doted on her.

A dragon would help her attention be focused at least a little bit -- the first few months of constant demands for food and oiling would be tough for her, but she'd be busy, and not lack for sleep either.

Ever since Jeyann was Searched, Sariael had no one to lead her, and without a leader, she was truly lost.

Only time would tell what would happen to Sariael.

At lunch that very same day, Seriael was sitting at a table with Danoellin and a few others. She was eating like a starved wher -- sliced wherry, tubers, salads -- nothing excaped her, and yet she never gained an ounce. She was far to hyperactive (when she was awake) to sit still for any length of time.

D'run stopped past the table. "Seriael." he said, and the girl froze with a dripping forkful halfway to her mouth. "Thayor Weyr has a clutch -- they think you're a good one to go."

"Me?!" Seriael squeeled, forgetting her feasting. "Searched for Thayor Weyr?"

"Yep. We leave in two days time. You'd better start packing."

"Yessir!" Seriael said, then attacked her food with renewed vigor.

"You make sure she doesn't forget." D'run charged the girl next to her.

"Yessir, D'run." the girl said, sedately resuming her own meal as D'run left.

Seriael's story continues