Novash knew that his father was the local Lord, acted on it occasionally, even though his mother was not the Lord's wife. Novash was tall and healthy, handsome and rich. What more could anyone want from such a lad? He was also quite good with the runners. He looked far better upon one's back than most other children, he knew they were serious creatures and trusted his instincts when he thought one was in trouble. Out on the plains, where their busy hold was located, it was a crossroads where many traders and caravans stopped for supplies and gathers to do business. Novash watched and learned, even from a very young age, as the riders handled their runners. Hitching them up to the wagons, he noted the differences between their tack and that which was used with oxen or other burden beasts.

He had a fine appreciation for runners, probably the only thing that caused him any strife. He was nice to people, reasonably pleasant when there were no runners about. But if there were? He was all business and all about them. No one got in his way if he wanted a look at one - he had pulled a runner from its badly worn harness at the age of fifteen and nearly beaten its owner for having run the thing ragged. That runner, he still owned when he was Searched, that runner, he would dearly miss if he became a rider.

But even so, he knew that having been Searched was a good thing. His experience with racing and riding of all kinds he was told would be of tremendous help even though dragons flew. When the dragons were around on that fateful Searching day, he studied their own harnesses and saddle work comparing it to things he'd fit before.

"You don't have any ties at all here then?" Asked the head Searchrider, who looked at the tall young man doubtfully. Novash was well dressed, looked wealthy, he couldn't possibly be an orphan or ... could he?

"Not that need me around, sir," Novash told him. "I have things I can send for, but I won't be inheriting anything. That's up to my younger brother."

When Novash had packed up some of his belongings into the two satchels he was told he could bring this trip, his father watched with interest from the boy's doorway. "Not even so much as a good bye?" He said, startling the new candidate.

"Father..." Novash began, but his father smiled and nodded.

"Don't worry about it. Just... send word when you get where you're going. I can afford to be proud of you, Novash, give me that much?"

"Of course, father!" Novash beamed, embraced his father, and headed off to his new life. What would await him?

***

The weyrs were at least airy, but those inner corridors... they bothered Novash a little bit. Until he really knew where he was going around Sedona Weyr, he felt uncomfortable - as though the thick walls were going to cave in on him at any moment. But that feeling abated as he took the dragoning classes, learned more and more about the Weyr and its people, and got to watch the dragons.

The freedom he could hope for, on their backs... Oh how that would be superb! The feeling of wind in his hair, the prickling of droplets of water on his skin when they went through the clouds... He begged the search rider for numerous rides, and got them - he was an apt learner and knew the way around Sedona's landscape from landmarks above, even without being told what they were.

"You'll be a good rider, son, but... you need to be patient," that rider told him, after he'd stood on Sedona's sands once, without success. "The dragon will come to you, I'm sure of it, my own is sure of it, so... all you should do is keep practicing your wing forms in the meantime."

Which he did. Novash didn't appear to have any strong fear of fighting Thread, even though deep down he knew that one hit from it could very well change not only his appearance but his life. But then... that could happen on the ground as well. No use fretting about that! There were eggs on the sands, and he meant to Impress a dragon!

***

Eventually after numerous months at Sedona, working with their Tanner and harness makers, as well as the runners to keep his life busy, the hatching would come. Late at night, but then Novash was used to late-night emergencies what with two pregnant runners dropping within days of each other just a few sevendays before.

The glows and few torches cast a strange light on everything. It was very different in the daylight, which filtered in where it could. Novash was glad that he'd also taken more time to steady his writing hand, each week sending his father a note and sometimes getting a little boxed or bagged gift from home. This time... Indeed. He would be glad he'd done that practice. He was better at flight formations and riding than he'd ever be at writing, but when he had time that morning, early, he penned a letter proudly to his sire.

"I have become V'ash," he wrote with a broad grin. "My dragon is a bronze, father, a BRONZE! Atoth is his name, he is so fine and smart. He even chose me over the stronger lads from the Weyr, there were plenty of us to choose from. I'm so proud to say his name, he's asleep right now but when he wakes I'll say it again and be just as happy!"

***

V'ash and Atoth were strong fliers, once he got up in the air. Though it took him longer to get there - he was of a good size, though would be a bit leaner and shorter in the tail than the other bronze that had hatched in his clutch. That much bulk needed more time, more wing strength, and he had Atoth down in the deeper part of the lake in order to train his wing muscles.

"Those little blues," he wrote to his father, "they shoot into the sky like an arrow. But Atoth... oh he is so strong, when he beats his wings, even the weyrlings are struck off their feet by the wind!"

***

And finally they were summoned by another Weyr, Dragonhope had room for transfers, and he decided to head to this northern place for a change of scenery and some new experience. They went between, but not directly to Dragonhope. He stopped at the Hold where he'd grown up, smiled dashingly at the Ladies, and chattingly showing off to the young Lords. His father approached, wide-eyed, and got a thorough sniffing-over by Atoth.

"Does... that mean he likes me?"

"It means he approves, father, after all, you're the one who gave me to him!"

They arrived at Dragonhope with several others, eventually settling in. The tall frigid Weyr was a sight to behold, and certainly it didn't give him the same odd claustrophobic feel as Sedona or other weyrs he'd visited. Perhaps it was the lighting, he decided that was it. Once Thread had pulled him into a wing, he and several others were shuffled around until they were comfortable in their spots. V'ash was good with runners - even being able to keep Atoth from drooling at them when they were nearby - so he was placed in the heavy-duty rider wing. He'd see combat, surely - but he'd also be there when runners were being traded, helping with disputes or appraisals in the lower caverns, and generally making himself as useful to riders as their mounts when he helped with the harness fittings.

The Master Miner and wing leader of the Benteng Udara wing, S'vax, insisted that he have a strong bronze like this at his side when he flew - and thus Atoth and V'ash became wing seconds in this reasonably new wing!

Skills gained while living in style: runner racing and appraisal, Other skills: climbing