I am not Christopher Paolini and, as such, I do not own any of his characters. I only own mine. And without further ado...

"Where is she off to now?" I looked, just in time to see a cloaked figure disappear into the woods.

"I wouldn't bother with her," I said, " Kyra always comes back." Airdail looked at me with worry plain in her eyes.

"I keep waiting for her to get lost. She's so fragile compared to everyone else, and she doesn't seem to realize it." I scoffed at her words.

"What?" she said, glaring at me as I bent over the chain mail I had been working on.

"Perhaps that's why she's always off on little adventures," I said, then was suddenly serious, "Maybe she wants to prove her worth." I judged her expression.

"She's half human, you know that," I continued, "Everyone seems to look down upon her because she'll never be as great as them... I'd want to prove them wrong too." Her gaze fell to the floor, but I had seen her sadness at the truth of my words.

"But she's average," she defended her daughter, "She's supposed to be much less than what she is. She's keeping up in magic, archery, and the ancient language. She's doing better than anyone could have ever expected."

"But it's still not enough." she looked up with mournful eyes.

"I know, Rhunon," tears brimmed her deep brown eyes.

I looked back at the place where Kyra had disappeared, then turned back to the forge. She would come back, she always did.

Kyra's POV

I stepped into the welcoming arms of Du Weldenvarden with a glorious sensation of freedom. Freedom from the stares and the whispers. Freedom from the judgment.

I could be myself in the forest. The critters of the woods were my friends. They didn't judge me. They accepted me without protest. I'd even go so far as to call them my friends.

Nature was my confidant. It always had been.

I walked with ease over the branches and leaves on the forest floor. I was almost soundless. I had worked so hard to achieve what the other elves had naturally. I still cracked a stick occasionally, but I was getting better by the day.

I pulled my deep blue cloak closer around my shoulders.

The wind made the trees shudder and a couple of animals skittered across my path. I breathed in the air, smelling rain. I didn't want to go home yet. The forest was my home.

I looked up at the canopy of trees above me as I walked on. The broad leaves rustled in the wind. If one of the Lethrblaka flew by overhead, even now, he would not see our concealed life. We were made invisible by more than the trees.

"Uf." I huffed as my stomach hit the ground.

I propped myself up on my elbows and looked for what had tripped me.

Stupid roots. I untangled my foot from the vines that had concealed the root, glad this had happened here and not in the village. The trees didn't laugh.

I got up and started brushing the pine needles and leaves off of my beautiful cloak. My foot had torn the bottom of it with the fall.

I brushed the last of the pine needles off, then looked back forward, content on starting again. I abruptly stopped. A few feet away was a clearing.

I walked cautiously forward. If I had learned one thing of the forest, it was that it never stood still and each time it moved, you couldn't trust the new adventure to be safe.

I suspiciously took my surroundings in. The valley was about a mile to my right and left. There was three quarters of a mile between me and the side opposing me.

To my right was a lake. It's black waters were too smooth, like someone was scrying on it's entire surface.

To my left was a mountain-sized rock formation its wide mouth opened in a snarl towards the lake.

The moon shining over the entire scene gave the meadow an eerie, unwelcome feeling. I unconsciously shrugged my shoulders as though trying to hide and pulled my cloak tighter around them.

The air was suddenly frigid. I shivered as a gust of wind invaded the meadow, forcing the grass out of its peaceful state and making it gust toward my ankles as though wishing me gone.

I almost turned around, but something about the black glass of the lake's surface caught my eye. I couldn't leave, not yet.

I walked to the smooth edge of the water and gazed into the reflection-less glass. If I hadn't known any better I would have said someone was scrying me, but that was impossible.

If someone was scrying me, I wouldn't know. It wouldn't effect the water near me.

But why was the water so smooth? And why didn't it reflect my image or the moon's?

I knelt and waved my hand over the glassy surface, but nothing happened. I leaned my body over, expecting to see my emerald eyes appear below me. It remained a stubborn black.

I leaned back, pressed my lips together, and exhaled sharply through my nose. Why couldn't this lake behave like all of the other lakes? It was awfully frustrating.

I rocked back, allowing myself to sit, and gave the cave a good stare. It looked normal enough, but for the fact that its mouth was much too large to be natural. It was easily nine deer high, if they could be stacked one on top of the other, that's including their heads.

The image of nine deer standing on each other's heads popped into my mind. I giggled at the thought.

The trees shifted as though to look at me. The wind brushed softly into the valley again. The cave yawned at me.

The lake remained motionless.

I returned my gaze to it, still very much intrigued. It didn't move for anything, not even the wind.

Would it move for me?