Eragon knelt down and scanned the deer tracks before him, illuminated in the light of a harvest moon. The herd had been here only an hour before, and the doe he was tracking was starting to trail behind the rest. Eragon was amazed but glad she hadn't been picked off by a predator yet.
Many tales of missing men and strange occurrences stemmed from the mountains known as the Spine. But both Eragon and his brother had hunted in the Spine for some time, and nothing had happened to either of them yet. Eragon's brother had a job in Therinsford now, so Eragon had to hunt alone.
He stood and crept forward. This was the culmination of three days' effort and would feed his family, with some left to take to his uncle Garrow. He drew an arrow and readied his bow. He slowly advanced, then froze when the doe was within his sights. He pulled back on the bowstring and fired. The twang of the bowstring startled the deer and she rose to her feet. Eragon's arrow whizzed over her head.
An explosion rang out, shattering the night's silence, and a hot wind rushed past Eragon. He advanced cautiously, curious as to what had caused the explosion. A circle of grass was charred and flattened, surrounded by trees missing many of their needles. In the center of the circle lay a polished blue stone. He slowly moved closer until he was directly in front of it. He bent down to pick it up, intrigued that such a small object could cause such an explosion.
It was an oblong blue stone, with thin white lines spreading across its surface like a spider web, about a foot in length. It weighed a few pounds, but seemed lighter than it should have been. Eragon ran his hands over it, and calling to mind one of his father's stories, he realized what it was. A dragon's egg!
He put the egg in his pack. Realizing there was no point in walking back down the mountain this late at night, he started to make a fire and build a shelter for himself. It took a few minutes for the fire to catch due to the mist, but he soon had a crackling fire. Eragon sat down, warming his hands by the fire. He pulled out the egg and looked at it, wondering. Why had it appeared before him? More importantly, where did it come from?
Eragon put one hand on the egg. He felt it move under his hand and he looked down. He set it in front of him and watched in fascination as it squirmed and cracks appeared on its surface. The egg squeaked and a piece of it wobbled and fell to the ground. A damp head poked out as the egg shattered.
A dragon hatchling, about the size of a cat and covered in blue scales, stepped away from the fragments of its egg. Eragon stared in awe for a moment, then reached down to touch it. Pain seared his hand and he quickly pulled it back. He watched as a diffused white oval formed on the palm of his right hand. He stared at it, knowing its implications.
A mind tentatively touched his, and he lowered his mental barriers. It communicated to him an immense hunger and he glanced at the hatchling.
"That's quite an appetite for one so small," he said with a laugh. "But since you cost me my deer, you'll have to make do with this." He said as he pulled some strips of dried meat from his pack. He fed them to the dragon, who gulped all he gave it. He lay on his back, his eyes closed, and the dragon curled up on his chest.