CHAPTER 1

I stood at the edge of my farm in Thereinsford, waiting. They say patience is a virtue, but curiosity and
excitement was rushing through my veins, no patience left. I had been waiting for days, and alas, finally
my day was here.

But, of course, they had to be over an hour late.

I heard something moving behind me; twigs snapping, a sort of snuffling. I whirled around, dagger at the ready (which was always fastened at my hip) and bent my knees slightly. This was a reflex from my days at my father's farm – you never knew when a sneaky fox would slip in.

However, a fight was not needed. I analyzed the situation quickly, gave a little abashed grin, and slipped the dagger back into my sheath.

Hello, Naftalia.

"Good morning, Dragon," I replied aloud.

She gave a snort at the name; she did not like to be addressed as "Dragon", as much as I would have liked to be referred to as "Human" or "Woman", as she had reminded me several times. But I had no choice; when Galbatorix was defeated and the Riders became known to the villages and towns in Alagaesia again, the history of the dragons were long gone. Instead of warming to a new Rider in their midst, as I'd have thought, the people of Therinsford shied away from me, as if I were an unnatural alien. Even some of the children, whom I used to be in close contact with, avoided me at all costs. So, even if some of the storytellers or elders knew any dragons' names, they would not have informed me of them.
I had considered naming her Saphira, after the Kingkiller/Shadeslayer Eragon and Brom's dragon(s). Her scales were an icy blue, which coincided with the name vaguely. But finally, I did not deem it appropriate; Eragon and Brom were extraordinary, famous Riders, and I was a mere fledgling. Having been a Rider for two months, I enjoyed the mind-conversations of Dragon and I, but the small guidance I had gained from Arya (an elf, a Rider, and also an ambassador for the elves) were terrifying. She seemed so cold, expressionless.

An alien.

Perhaps the villagers of Therinsford thought of me that way, too. Then, I could not blame them. But had they not known me for years? Felton Grasson's daughter, the one who was perhaps a little mischievous, but I was perfectly loyal and trusting, wasn't I? Did I not tend to the sick, or provide starving families with my father's crops without charge? Did I not patch up Avelina Hilkertdaughter's little boy, when he had broken his foot near our farm? Yet now, Avelina was one of the most terrible to me in the village.
I was broken out of my reverie when Dragon spoke in my mind once again.

Naftalia, you must pay more attention to your surroundings. If you weren't so lost in your imaginations, then perhaps you could have heard me coming.

I did hear you coming. This time I spoke mind-to-mind with her.

She looked at me reproachfully with her large, amber eyes. You know what I mean, Naftalia. You could have heard my presence, in your head. You will need to master it.

Oh.

There was an awkward, almost painful silence. Then, perhaps feeling a more humorous comment was needed, she said, You know, you could have impaled me with that dagger.

Hah! As if. I walked over to her and tapped one of her shoulder scales with the tip of my finger. You have scales, remember? I could barely scratch them if I tried.

We both chuckled, hers a deep, throaty, coughing sound.

Suddenly, she stopped and raised her head to the sky.

They're here,she breathed.

I smiled, raising my head also and squinting my eyes against the noonday sun.

Finally.

Hello! :)
I hope the bold lettering and underlining isn't too difficult to determine who's thought is who's.
Also, you may be wondering, how did a human get hold of an egg, since there was only two, which were supposed to be for the Urgals and dwarves?
Don't worry, this will be cleared up in the next few chapters!
-Tessa
R&R