Why am I so different? The cry rang in Tion's mind.
He groaned and rolled over.
Please, help me! It was louder now. What have I done?
Impression! The word drove every other thought from Tion's mind. He threw on his white candidate's robe, lashed water in his face, and ran down the steps to the Hatching Grounds two at a time.
The dragon stumbled yet again. She let out a thin, pitiful wail.
No one knew what to do. First, she wasn't like any other hatchling: neither green, nor gold, nor even a blue. She was pure, silvery white except for swirls of red, brown and ocher.
Second, she hadn't Impressed a rider.
With a cry of dismay, Lion reached the Grounds. There were no dragons left! Where was the one who'd called to him?
Here! An image, sharp as crystal, burned behind his eyes: In a semicircle of boys and girls, a white hatchling was curled up, shivering. Hang on, he reassured her.
Indignant, she replied, That's not my name. It's Tenth!
