Disclaimer: I do not own The Inheritance Cycle. It belongs to Christopher Paolini.

A/N : Dear readers.

As this is my first attempt to write a story, I feel the need to dedicate it to all of them who are flying on the wings of fantasy. You guys are wonderful people, you make this world go round (especially in difficult times). Fantasy is the beginning of creation.

Two girls.

By the banks of the river, on the yellowing grass, two girls were seated, laundry baskets, full of wet clothing, at their sides. They seemed to have finished the hard task and now they were enjoying the sunny morning.

One girl leaned on the other's shoulder, her red curls falling all along her back, waving in the summer breeze. She tenderly whispered something in the ear of her friend, which made the other giggle.

'I'd rather not', she answered. 'The water is still freezing. No wonder our hands turned purple, while washing'. Dark brown hair, tied back in a long ponytail, revealed a beautiful face, with two smart brown eyes. 'I would say the summer has yet to come, if it was not for this bright sunny light'.

'If you find this water cold, then what would you think, if you visited the waterfalls?' the red-haired asked playfully.

'Certainly not! No self-respecting person would go there, ever!'

'But the view is wonderful. Not to mention the adventure', said her friend, gathering her long red hair in a bun and pinning it on the top of her head.

'Pfft, adventure! Making for a big city, for the capital maybe… That's an adventure. Not strolling around a mountain', she said, making a face.

'Say whatever you like, I love this nature. It makes me feel free', the other girl smiled, revealing two dimples on her cheeks.

Long brown ponytail moving mischievously, eyes full of mockery, her friend asked.

'Speaking of freedom….. this man…. Are you seriously considering marrying him?'

'He is the only one who has asked for me. My family insist on that marriage', the other sighed.

'I would say, you should think again', a grimace momentarily changed the girl's beautiful face.

Her voice lowered, as if the wind would carry her whisper away, to be heard by wrong ears. 'He is inappropriate for you'.

'But my mother says…. I do not have any other option'.

The other girl turned to face her, dark brown eyes shimmering with anger, her voice full of uncontrollable emotion.

'No other option? You could leave!'

'Where to? What are you talking about?'

'To a big city. To the capital. Someplace where you would have other more options'.

The red-haired girl's face turned very serious.

'You would do that? Leave your home, your family? Your …dear friends?' In the depths of her eyes a great sorrow was beginning to stir.

'I would', the other answered with determination. 'One day, I will'.

The boldly spoken, causing pain, unemotional words, made her friend move slightly away from her side, coming closer to the water.

'He is a good man', she whispered.

'I don't like him. His eyes…always full of suspiciousness. His pockmarked reddish face… He reminds me of the pigs his father slaughters'. The offending words caused the protest of the other. The voices were gradually raised.

'He is decent'.

'He is short-sighted'.

'He is honest'.

'He is dominant'.

'He says he loves me. What other possible thing would I ask?'

'He is going to chain you to the back side of his father's butchery'.

The tiff stopped abruptly, causing a few minutes of silence. A passing cloud, shading the sun for a moment, caused a sudden burst of colder wind. The dark-eyed girl turned and cupped the other's cheek.

'Come with me. We can leave together'. Her friend gave her a grieved smile.

'I cannot do such a thing. I'm sorry'.

'Ismira!'

The red-haired girl jumped on her feet the same instant. Behind them, on the pathway leading to the river, a young man stood glaring, his two hands clenched in fists, his reddish face sweating. He hurried to the riverbank panting, as if he had been running all the way from the village.

'What are you doing here Ismira?'

'Laundry', the red-haired answered, indicating her basket, full of wet cotton and linen.

'And did you have to come this far away for your laundry?', the young man said, giving a hostile look to the other. 'Isn't there any other place, closer to the village?'

The other maid stood as well. She mockingly nodded.

'Sloan'.

'Selena'. They exchanged a mutually distasteful look.

'Come Ismira, I'll escort you to your home. Your mother is looking for you'.

The girl's eyes danced from the man to her friend.

'But we came together….'

'There is no problem', Selena's ironic tone, pierced the son of the butcher. 'Go with your fiancé, I'll find my way to the farm'. She turned her back on them, seriously busy throwing pebbles into the river.

Ismira shrugged apologetically lifting her basket to follow him.

Selena stayed for a bit longer, watching with dreamy eyes a flock of birds flying even more northerly for the summer.