As it turned out, the bronze was dead wrong, though his logic had certainily made sense. But then, with how strange and confusing everything else was at the hatching, Cath wouldn't have been surprised if he'd had a whole flock of newly hatched dragons clamoring for his attention. It was just that weird.

For one thing, the candidates were all so widely varied, and so wildly strange in many cases. Cath didn't know what to make of them, and he suspected Sam wouldn't, either, if he had spared them more than a glance. He'd been focused almost entirely on the eggs-- and, once they broke free, the hatchlings-- and didn't seem to notice anything else. Which actually seemed to be an impossible task, given everything that was happening.

For another thing, the hatchlings themselves were like none Cath had ever seen. After spending seven years at the specus, he knew what baby dragons-- and adult dragons, for that matter-- should look like, and this wasn't it. They had the usual colors, the metallic coppers, golds, silvers, and the like, but their undersides, where there should have been scaled plates of their dominant color, were instead inky black, and oddly patterned, though he couldn't quite put a word on what it reminded him of. The membranes of their wings and between the spines of their crests were similar, but with bolder patterning in neon green, like ever-moving numbers. It looked disturbing, and disturbingly familiar, but again, Cath couldn't quite say why or how.

And, perhaps worst of all, was that the third hatchling to bond simply... disappeared. She had made her choice on one of the many weird candidates, spoken her name, and then, much to her own surprise as well as everyone else's, vanished. Cath forgot for a moment to be irritated by where he had been forced to go, or to be nervous by the press of minds just within effortless sensing range in the stands, as he stared in shock at the place the hatchling had stood. Had she just teleported herself somewhere? Or, horror of horrors, been teleported away? He'd heard of particular powerful telekinetics who were supposed to be able to do such things-- but no, the chrome dragoness who was the clutch's mother couldn't find her. Even if she'd been stolen away, her mother could have found her. She was gone, without a trace.

Another dragon hatchling choose, and he, too, disappeared, though now their mother had calmed, marginally, anyway. Her distress still seethed, grating on Cath's nerves-- dragons had much stronger "presences" than people, and she was closer tan even the crowd packed into the stands. Their rising confusion and panic was starting to grate, as well, and all Cath wanted was to bolt off the sands that burned on his feet through the soft boots he wore-- but he couldn't. Trying to pass beneath those stands, between the masses of people, even running, even with the promise of freedom and peace on the other side... he didn't think he'd make it. Not with their thoughts and emotions seething with fear and worry, as they were.

So there he stayed, trying to shrink into his brother's tall shadow and hope that he would be ignored by the hatchlings. He could wait until it was all over, then slip out. Maybe Sam would find himself the dragon he wanted so badly, and then he would be really free, able to leave his brother in the capable paws of a dragon who could communicate for him and treat him much better than Cath ever did. He could give Sam his congratulations, wish him luck, and then make all haste for the nearest dock to sign up with the first ship which would have him. Maybe this would all work out for the best of everyone involved. No self-respecting dragon would choose someone who didn't want it, after all. Right?

His hopeful thoughts were shattered as the edges of burst of joy and welcome filtered from Sam to himself, and he gave a twitch of surprise, forcing his attention back on what was happening. Two dragons, matching steps now that they had the workings of their legs down, were coming towards him and his twin. Both were bicolored-- like all the dragons so far, Cath realized distractedly; it was a rare thing in a clutch to have so many bicolored-- and both were of a point pattern: bronze and copper of varying shades, only they were reversed, one bronze with copper points and the other copper with bronze. Cath had seen that exact dual-dragon patterning occur twice before, and it was with a sinking feeling that he saw the orange-pointed bronze hatchling break away from its sibling and bound up to Sam. He didn't even need a link to know it had chosen his twin; didn't even need to hear its-- his-- words to know. The rapturous expression on Sam's face said it all.

Which meant that what had happened before, was happening again. Twins for twins. The second of the pair fixed him with golden eyes, continuing towards him more sedately, proving his suspicion. Cath's hands balled into fists. That bloody, lying bronze Sodom-- he'd said no dragon would pick him! He didn't want to be stuck with some bloody baby dragon-- a dragon who, with his luck, would get seasick at the very thought of a ship and never learn how to swim. It isn't bloody fair, dammit, he complained furiously to himself, trying to warn the hatchling away with a glare. I don't want you, go away! he thought forcefully-- he didn't send it, because even if he didn't want a dragon, he'd still been raised in a specus, and he knew it was the dragon's choice, not the candidate's. Bloody screwy, that, he growled to himself.

The dragonet stopped in front of him and sat down as smoothly as a cat, looking up at him with something like a self-confident grin on its ruddy, bloody muzzle. Before Cath could spit something vile at it, its jaw gaped and it... croaked. That surprised him into another twitch and a stare. What was that? It seemed a healthy enough hatchling, so what was it doing making that strange noise? --Then the amusement in its "presence" registered, and he realized it was trying to laugh. It was laughing at him. He scowled further, wanting to tug at his hair in frustration at this completely unexpected and unwanted turn of fate. And there was absolutely nothing he could bloody well do about it.

::Are you sure you'd want to do anything about it, if you could?:: he heard a sly mind-voice slipping into his head. ::I'd make a good partner.::

Of course I would! he wanted to snarl back. He wanted to shatter the bond that he could feel forming with the bloody smug little dragon with every ounce of psionic ability he had-- but even if he was angry, backed into a corner like this, he wasn't cruel. Doing that would kill the dragon, and he didn't think he could do that, not even if it meant he'd be miserable for the rest of his life.

"Well, I guess not," he finally muttered, forcing himself to accept this whole mess.

Eyes sparkling, the dragon stretched up its next towards him and, purring like the damn cat it looked like-- he looked like; Cath made himself stop referring to the thing as an it-- and looking just as smug as before, the bond officially solidified. ::I'm Sodom,:: it-- he-- said, making Cath jerk again in yet another surprise. Sodom-- but wait-- wasn't that the other dragon? The dragonet continued, distracting him from confusion: ::You wouldn't mind getting me some food, hmm?::

::I'll mind 'tever I bloody well feel like mindin',:: he growled back silently, taking strength from righteous anger so he wouldn't fall into the usual mindless, instinctive stupor of contentment that bonds always seemed to cause in their humans. Sam was in it, he could feel at the periphery of his psionic senses, and he would be damned before he succumbed. ::So stop actin' so cursed smug.::

Snorting and shameless, Sodom looked over at Sam and its-- his-- inversed twin. Cath followed his gaze, still scowling unpleasantly, and actually took in the second dragon. His only consolation was that Sodom was much more attractive than his sibling; the other dragonet was downright ugly in coloration, its dull brown and orange being pale excuses for the same copper and bronze Sodom sported in much shinier, more pleasant varieties. Sodom's smugness increased at the thought, but Sam radiated displeasure and disagreement despite his post-bonding euphoria. ::He is not,:: he sent, sounding protective. ::I think Gomorrah looks just fine.::

Gomorrah. There it was again, that name he already knew, and had attached to a dark-haired, matronly sort of woman. Memory of the words he had been distressed to think about at the time came drifting back, and he remembered that that dragonet was named Gomorrah, too. Just like Sodom was named like that damn bronze who had gotten them into this mess. Too bloody weird, Cath thought. Not that I want anything more to do with those worthless curs, anyway. All their fault, this is.

::You wanted freedom,:: a disgustingly familiar mind-voice interrupted his angry thought. He looked sharply over at the entrance to the hatching dome. There stood the original Sodom, only he seemed... bigger, fully mature rather than half grown, with the original Gomorrah standing beside him, unchanged, one hand resting on his foreleg.

::What?:: Cath sent back irritably. ::You think this is what I meant? How is this freedom!::

::It might not look like it now,:: he heard, the voice implacably calm, ::but this is your ticket to true freedom.::

And with that cryptic, completely unhelpful remark, both bronze and rider-- vanished.