Washout

Washout was on his way to becoming a disciple of one of the Eleven when he stumbled upon The Wandering Clan - or more appropriately, when his eyes landed upon the most beautiful dragon he'd ever seen. She glowed in the morning light as she weaved her way in and out of the cloudbanks that scattered their way across the sky.
And that one moment was all it took - he was smitten. He stayed in the clan and spent a blissful week with Irene before she simply... vanished. When he asked the others of the clan about her, none seemed surprised with her sudden disappearance. All nodded sagely and said she'd be back when she decided to be back, and not a moment sooner. At his crestfallen expression, they explained her flighty ways - how she would stay only for short bursts before moving on to the next experience, and that she would cut off any who tried to hold onto her too tightly.
When she appeared again, he tried to keep part of himself aloof, knowing that any attempt to keep her close would only drive her away again. And she stayed, for a while, and he dreamed that she would stay... maybe she would stay with him forever.
It wasn't forever. It wasn't even a month. But it was still a wonderful, beautiful time, and even as she was away the second time(and the third, and the fourth, and all the times after), he still watched the clouds and waited for her to return to him again.