A/N: This is my first fanfic so please R&R! :) Constructive criticism welcomed, if you believe this story sucks then I'd appreciate it if you are polite about it.

Now, as my favorite series is the Inheritance Cycle, it would only be fitting to make it my first. So let's see how this one will go eh? I do not own the Inheritance Cycle (obviously) and all IC belongs to CP. Except for maybe Angela as that belongs to CP's sister, Angela.

Let us begin…

Three days, thought Eragon. Three days had passed since the siege of Feinster and three days since the death of Eragon and Saphira's mentor Oromis. Three days since Eragon and Arya defeated the Shade Varaug. How odd that the events have unfolded so differently yet so similarly to the events in Farthen Dûr. That we should be victorious, only to realize how much we have lost. I defeated a Shade, yet Ajihad died and Murtagh got kidnapped. Now, Arya defeated the Shade, but our teachers are lost, Oromis completely and Glaedr in body.

Little one, Saphira murmured. Do not dwell on things you cannot change. Remember, we cannot stop until the day the Black King and his dragon are dead. Unless Murtagh and Thorn could change their true names and join us, we are the sole bearers of this burden.

Eragon sighed. I know Saphira; it's just that I miss them. Miss them and need them.

As do I. But let us fulfill our duty to the Varden and Alagaësia to the best of our abilities.

We shall. Saphira, are you near?

Look behind you! Saphira exclaimed.

Eragon whirled around from where he sat and beheld Saphira, an azure streak of magnificence swooping towards him and landing in a gentle glide. Eragon's throat was clogged with emotion. Every time he watched Saphira fly, he felt a sense of wonder that he, a farm boy, could be lucky enough to be a part of something as legendary and respected as the Dragon Riders. The knowledge came with a heavier weight upon his shoulders as he realized he was the last Rider in Alagaësia, discounting Murtagh and Galbatorix. Eragon could not help but start smiling with pure joy, a joy Saphira could feel radiating from him through their connection, which she in turn expressed.

Do you wish to fly with me today? Saphira queried.

I do, but I must report to Nasuada soon, Eragon responded.

It can wait. We must find happiness whenever we can, for the closer we get to Urû'baen, the less time we shall have.

Very well, Eragon grumbled. At least I can say it was your idea.

I shall be fast. Besides, how can you punish a dragon?

Through her Rider, Eragon laughed. He quickly climbed onto her back, avoiding the spikes. Let's go!

Unfurling her wings, Saphira leapt into the air, flapping with smooth powerful strokes. Before long they were in the clouds, basking in the late summer sunlight. From this height, Feinster was just a blurred smudge the size of Eragon's palm. The encampment of the Varden was just a cloud of tiny dots marking the location of the tents. It seems so peaceful from up here, thought Eragon. Saphira agreed, and for a while they flew in silence, simply enjoying each other's company and appreciating the world from this innocent point of view. Eragon closed his eyes, and briefly imagined a world without war or conflict, a world without Galbatorix. He and Saphira could fly around as they pleased, perhaps taking Arya with them. But thoughts like these wouldn't end the fighting any faster, and so Eragon's thoughts returned to the present. He opened his eyes.

We should return.

Yes we should, Eragon said, though I wish we could do this every day.

Such wishes are childish, you know it isn't possible.

Yes but the feeling remains the same.

When Eragon and Saphira arrived at Nasuada's pavilion, they were greeted by a small host of humans gathered at the entrance, while the Nighthawks stood guard. When the group saw Eragon and Saphira approach, they parted and dispersed back amongst their duties. As Eragon entered the tent, he was surprised to see Angela and Solembum, as well as Arya, Orik, and King Orrin. Elva stood behind Nasuada's chair watching everything intently. A strange, childlike figure stood discussing intensely with Nasuada, who looked slightly irritated with the discussion occurring. When she noticed Eragon enter, she raised her hand in the air, which momentarily silenced the stranger, who turned around to see what had caused the distraction. Eragon sucked in his breath. It's a werecat.

There was no denying it, from the diminutive size, to the catlike eyes; the figure looked exceedingly like Solembum in human form. There were some differences, however. This particular cat had a certain regal air, as if he beheld everyone as below him somehow. A small dagger was strapped to his belt, a shiny pearl embedded in the pommel. And (and Eragon was even more confused at this), he had the last two fingers of his right hand missing. Regaining composure from her discussion, Nasuada stood and said,

"Eragon, I'd to formally introduce you to Grimmr Halfpaw, king of the werecats."

A/N: Edited 11/25/13