She flies next to him, feeling the vibrations of his gigantic wings moving through the air. His voice rumbles through her mind as strongly as ever. She suppresses a tremor as she attempts to hide her emotions from him.

Throughout the lesson, she is distracted; she is considering a mission, something that she has been thinking on for awhile now. Keeping her intentions from Eragon has been difficult, but she knows it was necessary; her two-legged, round-eared Rider would only scoff at her thoughts and try to change her mind. But her resolve is as strong as iron, as she is sure her mother's was before her, being that she had been a great wild dragon of old. Dragons weren't scared of admitting these things, were they?

No, not at all.

His explanations interest her, so she hangs on every word as she knows he and his Rider would expect. The powerful way he speaks to her, his consciousness strong and wild, makes her want to listen even more. When she is with him, she almost forgets about Eragon; this is dangerous, she knows, but she doesn't care. Finally, he finishes his explanation.

'Do you have any queries about the dragons of old, Hatchling?' he asks her, looking into her eyes with intensity. What he is teaching her is important, the history of old. She will need all of the information he can teach her if she will ever face the foul beast that is Shruikan. Her own feelings of compassion are mirrored in his large eyes, she notices.

'No, Master,' she replies, and at this moment she knows the time has come, this is the right thing to do. She asks the question.

His confusion is evident, and a profound sadness enters his thoughts. Rejection, cold and cruel, stings her young heart, driving the breath from her lungs.

Rage. That is the emotion she feels now, filling her lithe body with energy. She howls with pain, the emotional pain she has never felt until now. Letting the rage drive her, she flings herself toward him.

She is not angry at him, not really. It is not his fault that this has happened. She had been the foolish one, the youngling who had thrown herself at him, expecting him to give into her desires. He is strong, in more ways than one, and she knows the truth. She is to blame. But her wild emotions take over, and she strikes.

Her claws sink into his foreleg and he cries out in agony, his cavernous mouth opening to emit a bright jet of golden flames. She dodges it. He hisses and rounds on her, raising a claw and tearing savagely into her flesh. Sharp needles of pain distract her from her anger, and she curls up on herself, whimpering.

He leaves. This, above all, seals her fate of despair, and she shuts off her mind behind thick mental barriers. She cowers, thinking about her wrongs and trying to disappear into the rock walls of the bone-strewn cave. But she isn't there long before Eragon appears, shaking and gasping.

She would know him anywhere, the man who is bonded to her for life. His gentle patience finally breaks her resolve, and she allows him to heal her wound. Her mind feels complete, whole in his presence.

What a fool, what a stupid fool she has been. Not much explanation is necessary. He knows her so well, her Eragon, the partner of her mind and heart. He comforts her because he knows. He knows the pain in falling for someone who rejects him. She knows she'll have to face the consequences of her impropriety, but not tonight. Her heart is broken, but she is a dragon; she is strong. If she can fight Urgals, she can overcome her heartache.