Author's Notes: My second published story in one night! Oh, well. I'm just starting this whole publishing thing. This is another oneshot story, just about the hatching, because of my inability to write plot as of yet. Please, please review, with advice or corrections, or even just to say that I rock (which, of course, I do)!

Lanlia ran her fingers through her hair, making a face as it caught on an annoying tangle. She didn't like her hair – a nondescript brown, hanging short and scraggly to her shoulders.

She pressed absently on her nose. She wasn't in love with it, either – kind of small and round. Like her face. Round and small, with a healthy glow in the cheeks. Why did it have to be so round? She wasn't fat. Was she?

Lanlia sucked in her stomach. No, she was thin. But ugly. I'm ugly. She peered into the mirror, examining her reflection critically. Now, her eyes weren't bad. No, they were a bright, attractive brown. Why couldn't the rest of her face be like her eyes?

But it didn't matter what she looked like – the dragons thought she could Impress. There was a golden queen's egg on the Hatching Sands, and she was a candidate for it. She breathed in sharply in anticipation. The Hatching would be soon.

But just then, bluerider B'yar came in. "Lanlia!" he said. "Lanlia! Your – your – oh, I'm so sorry!"

Lanlia's guts gave a painful wrench. "Wh-what's wrong?" she asked shakily.

"Your… your father…" B'yar dropped his gaze. "He died."

Lanliaa blinked blankly, unable to comprehend the news. "…"

"I'm so sorry," Plesiath's rider said again. "Really."

"Father," Lanlia said, dazed. "Father?"

Father couldn't be dead. He was alive. Surely he wasn't gone. He was always there. No, it wasn't true.

"Lanlia… Lanlia, he fell off a runner. The creature threw him and… and trampled him. He's… he's dead."

Lanlia fell heavily into a chair. "H-he's what?"

"D-dead, La. Dead."

"Stop saying that!" Lanlia shrieked suddenly, throwing up her hands to defend herself from his words. "I – I heard it the first time."

But I didn't like it. And I don't like it now.

Then, it hit her. Hit her like a wave. The grief slammed into her, and she gave a terrible cry of pain, and sobbed violently into her hands. Her father had always been the most loved in her life. Mother had been nice enough… and Lornarn, her brother… But Father was always there, to say that he loved her, that… she was beautiful.

And now, he was gone.

"I'm to take you to your hold," B'yar said gently, offering his hand to her.

Lanlia recoiled. "I don't want to go," she said vehemently.

"Your family needs you," the rider said softly. Lanlia reluctantly took his hand and he pulled her out of her chair. She felt a hot sensation in her stomach. She walked on wooden legs out to the waiting Plesiath.

B'yar helped her onto his dragon's neck, and they took off, throwing Lanlia's head back. She got no pleasure in the wonderful experience of riding a-dragonback. Before, it'd been wonderful. Now, it was leading her to her dead father. Dead. Dead Dad.

They went between, and Lanlia curled her fingers around B'yar's riding belt. She couldn't feel it, but she trusted that it was there, and she clung to that trust. That belief that he and Plesiath could get her out of there.

They did.

Plesiath landed, and Lanlia dismounted to run to her mother and brother. They all were sad and tried to console each other. Lanlia felt the tears begin again. Her mother's face was already stained and streaked, and even Lornarn's eyes sparkled. She felt sorry for them, but even more for herself. She vaguely wondered whether she should feel sorry for Father, too. After all, he was the dead one.

No. He can't feel my sorrow any more. Wherever he is. Well, whever that is, it isn't here! And it isn't right. Oh, someone, please help me!

"Come on," Lornarn said softly to his mother and sister. "We'd better go inside."

"I'll come get you later, Lanlia," B'yar said. "The Hatching's to be soon, you know."

"Yes… thank you, B'yar," Lanlia said absently.

As yet another couple came up to offer their condolences to the desolate little family, Lanlia felt an aching behind her temples. These people were kind. They meant well. They had known Father. She truly appreciated them. But all she wanted to do was sleep. Where was B'yar?

"A dragon! A dragon!" cried one of the hold lads excitedly. Lanlia scrambled to her feet. Plesiath was bugling urgently.

"B'yar! Is it happening? Is it?"

"Yes!" B'yar called. "Come, Lanlia! Come!" Lanlia obediently scurried out, to mount the dragon and attend the Hatching.

But, in her haste, she tripped over a rock.

Sprawled on the ground, she felt tears of frustration spring to her eyes. Then, the tears turned to those of pain. She swallowed a wail of agony.

"Lanlia! Lanlia! Are you all right?"

"Numbweed!" shouted Lornarn. "Her leg's broken!"

Broken? That would explain the excrutiating pain! Lanlia managed to sit up, to dizzying waves crashing through her head. The leg stuck out at an odd angle.

Soon, blessed numbweed was slathered generously on the limb. Lanlia sighed in relief. But then, she remembered. "The Hatching! Oh, I have to go!"

"You're going nowhere until that leg's set," Chyry, the hold's healer, said firmly. "Between on a freshly broken bone? Not while I'm the Healer here!"

So Lanlia's leg was hastily set. She was nervous. They had to be on time! She could even shake off the pain of a broken leg for the thought of Impressing a marvelous dragon. A dragon!

She was carefully settled onto Plesiath's neck. B'yar didn't even let her finish seeing her family wave goodbye before they were between. They came out. But something felt wrong.

"B-B'yar?" Lanlia said hesitantly. "I-I don't hear the Hatching."

B'yar slumped dejectedly on Plesiath's neck. "Oh, Lanlia. I'm so sorry," he said. "We-we've missed it."

Lanlia felt a cold sensation in her stomach. How come everything was going wrong for her today?

"Let me down," she said softly. "I want to see who Impressed."

"It was the strangest thing. But so sad," Myhla said, her hand on the head of her new golden hatchling. Lanlia's stomach twisted at the sight. That could have been her queen. "There was this little green hatchling. She came out, all normal. She turned around, looking at all of the candidates. But she began to wail most piteously. She just kept looking, but Rhyliabeth here," and Myhla looked down fondly at her dragon. "said that none were for the green here.

"So, the Weyrleaders came out and took the green to the stands. But she couldn't find anyone there that she liked. And I realized she wouldn't Impress, you know? So she would… would die. It was so sad. And, sure enough, she squeaked, and… I was right there when she went between.

"But none of the dragons keened. I thought they would. But Rhyliabeth doesn't say anything about the little green. I suppose she just… suicided when there was no one for her. That's happened before, you know."

Lanlia nodded, then trudged away from the dragonpairs, leaning on a big, heavy wooden stick that had been given her.

What would she do with her life now? She'd missed the Hatching. She didn't want to go back to her Hold. Not without her father. But could she stay here? To be reminded of what she had not been priveledged to get? There wouldn't be another clutch for a long time. And no queen egg, either.

She sighed, slumping on the floor, a bit away from everyone else.

Suddenly, a dragon burst out from between – right next to her! A young one, too – scarcely Hatched! Lanlia backed up, shocked.

The dragon was green.

She'd gone between, yes – but she'd come back out again! She'd been looking for her lifemate! Lanlia thought –

But then, Rhieth met her eyes, and she didn't need to think through anything any more.

Thanks for reading! Please review. Even if you're not registered. It would make my day! You can say this sucked, or it rocked, or how to fix it...