Ratar, male, 5'11, 190 very muscular build and solid frame but not in any way overweight, aged 19 turns. He and his sister Zoorita have the same red tan skin, black hair and green eyes. They also share the sharp nose and striking face that their gypsy heritage lends them.

Ratar is usually around when the caravans arrive or the tithe trains are ready for loading. He is very strong and has great stamina, however those are not his only skills! He is quite smart, and is extremely empathic toward animals as well as people and dragons. He enjoys playing gambling and card games with the lowborn of Caledrus, but at the same time he can pass as a rough crafter of some sort. He cares for his sister with a passion, and some say they are a little “too” close. He and she do not ever share each other, contrary to the jibes that follow them. Ratar likes to wear thick leather clothing, so he can hunt or work and not worry about being scraped too much. He has no fear of Thread, however he has seen the damage it can do and wishes to be able to do something about it himself.

Nothing said class like Caledrua, at least to hear her say it. Since the group of Caledrus Hold folk had been sent off to Aneris Weyr, she'd done little more than bicker about things not being the way she was used to them. According to some of his friends, Caledrua was getting more attention here than she'd ever found at home, though Ratar wasn't positive it was good attention. She dressed the same, her expensive outfits and fancy hair ties always drawing jealous looks from other girls. Yet Ratar could also tell she was only snippy because she was scared.

One afternoon, following a lengthy lecture and a subsequent workout getting the hatching sands cleared up for spectators, Ratar watched her closely. She wasn't used to physical labor, and in fact didn't seem well suited to it. He'd encountered her wrath more than once when she was on her Hold duties collecting Tithes, but this was not her Hold, and he didn't owe her anything now. He decided to risk talking to her.

"When did you find the time to learn about that flight pattern?" Ratar asked, as she passed by him. He was leaning against the dark wall just past the Hatching Sands entrance, and she was carefully hiding a bit of a limp. "I was sure the Weyrling master would pick someone else to answer it, but you managed to surprise him."

"Of course I did," she huffed. But he could tell she was exhausted: maybe this was the best time to try speaking with her civilly. "I read quite a bit, you know. These formations... mean a lot to them... here."

"And they scare you out of your wits," Ratar said quietly. He didn't pull an attitude, it wasn't mocking. Of course she first interpreted it that way, but before snapping at him, her face turned from anger to introspection. He could see so many emotions playing out on her admittedly-pretty face, things that he doubted very much anyone else had seen. She wore such a mask, like he'd wear heavy gloves to handle a rough beast. The world was her beast.

"I... I'm glad we'll be going back off-world, Ratar," she whispered. "Learning these things is more than just an idle task for everyone else. Knowing I'll not have to fight Thread is a relief, but it's still difficult for me."

"Do you think it's any less difficult for me? Or other Candidates?" Ratar kept his voice low, others walked past in their own weary shuffles.

"I certainly hope that I haven't sounded that way." She rose a little, growing that mask once more - thinly. "After all, I am a Lady and I must remain aware of everyone's needs. That's how I was raised. I will be proud to Impress, I just..." She looked at her hands, which he noted had blisters forming on the palms. He assumed correctly that her limp was from the endless sweeping and mopping that they as Candidates had to endure, probably a pulled muscle. "But I can't imagine doing anything but flying... Not fighting Thread."

She didn't seem defeated by her admission, and that was good. Ratar smiled smugly. "You'll be able to do your Hold's duties on dragonback, my Lady." He noted her amusement: good, it wasn't anger.

On more of a whim than anything else, Ratar pushed himself away from the wall, draped his arm carefully over her shoulders, and snugged her to his side. "You should relax a bit, take your shoes off and let me get rid of that muscle cramp you've got, Lady Holder. We can't have a dragon Impress you when you're not standing proudly."

She was probably too tired to refuse the offer. She protested, as she would always do - a Lady being handled this way by a gypsy! But she didn't refuse, and by the end of the afternoon, under his careful hands, Caledrua wondered why in the world she'd ever thought so little of the physical arts this dark rogue of a man claimed to have. Obviously, they didn't do anything more than soak in the hot springs and take in a long foot massage: there were always restrictions on any interactions that Candidates had! But Ratar wasn't really even after anything more with her - he knew she would probably snap at him the moment she regained her strength.

He certainly did have a way with those soothing fingers though. And he could assume that she'd gossiped at length with the girls in the barracks, given how they all looked at him and covered their lips with their hands and got that dreamy look.

All was as it should be, then.

And then, the hatching came. Ratar and the others - plenty of others in fact - were brought to the sands that they had helped fix up, and stood in their nervous clumps wearing white robes. Ratar glanced over to the girls, caught his sister's eye and she nodded to him with a knowing grin. If the pair of siblings were ever accused of having a lack of confidence, now would not have been a good example. They were both positively enthused to be there.

A big dark brown hatched first, then others. Ratar had a strange sense of claustrophobia, something like he'd felt around caged animals that yearned to be free. Well, that would follow - there were dragons contained in their eggs, all rocking now and trying to set themselves into the world!

***Two more eggs had hatched during Ainath's struggle including the largest egg in the clutch. Some speculated the large egg with the odd sheen was brown. Others thought it might be bronze. The latter proved right and several marks changed hands in the stands.

The bronze was a good sized hatchling which was surprising given his parentage. It was a testament to how good the flight had been. Ignoring all of the girls on the Sands, the bronze hatchling headed toward a group of boys who had been talking about 'Tesi's Impression.

Ratar, the bronze called to the dark man. My name is Taboroth, and I'd like to go get something to eat if you're done talking about my sister.

Ratar was shocked for a only moment as he looked down at the dark bronze hatchling. "Taboroth," he said with a smile. Then he shook his head. "I guess I lost marks on that one. Come on, Taboroth. There's food this way." He led the bronze off the Sands.***

I cannot believe you thought I would be brown! Taboroth mentally muttered as he snuggled down for their first true rest since the hatching. The bronze was full of his first meal, Ratar... R'tar? Would he go by that on Alskyr or would he keep his full name? It sounded enough alike, it didn't really matter. R'tar rested his head back on his cot, sitting on the floor with the big bronze dragon draped over his lap.

"Well it wasn't like we'd exect a bronze! You're a bigger surprise than anyone would expect from a green's flight!"

You will have to explain why that is, when I am awake...

"Probably when you're bigger, Taboroth," R'tar chuckled. There was no way he'd be able to explain the dynamics of love, or excitement, to a newly hatched dragon!

Taboroth would be pretty big, indeed, particularly when his lineage was recounted. That said, he was quick in the air and strong of wing. The weyrling dragon loved getting into everything he could, even following the smaller blues and browns around until he got stuck in one of the caves they'd discovered.

R'tar, R'tar! What do I do?! The panic was evident in the bronze's mind, though it wasn't because he was in the dark or even snugly surrounded by cave walls. It was because he didn't already know what to do. Well... he did. R'tar just needed to coax that instinct out.

Just come to me, R'tar thought carefully. Imagine where I am, you can see through my eyes, can't you? I want you right here, right on this patch of dirt. You remember that patch, you've been scratching at it for days.

Taboroth suddenly grew still, took in a breath and flickered his eyes closed. He did remember that patch - it smelled of goat blood. Momentarily, he was freed. Just like that. He'd gone between and freed himself from that narrow path. Now he knew: it was always an option. He just had to remember this patch of bloodied dirt and --

"You won't always want to go there!" R'tar laughed heartily.

"So you will stay on for a while," the Weyrleaders seemed pleased, T'rin slapped R'tar on the back and glanced up at the bronze who had grown quite strong over time. Not all of the Caledrus Hold candidates had yet Impressed, some of them had gone back already, but R'tar wanted to taste a bit more action here before returning home. He would. But like several other men among the group, he felt bragging rights would be in order. The only way to get those were to stay on and fight!