Okay, so this idea wouldn't get out of my head. I will still try to post for other stories, but I want to get this one out there.

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As the Tatalia floated down the river, Eragon stood on the prow of the ship. Saphira flew gracefully overhead, keeping a sharp lookout for anything. Eragon always admired Saphira as she flew, and at time wished he could do the same. Sighing, he turned his attention back to the river. Deep clear water showed all kinds of fish, from small, sleek ones, to massive, vicious ones as long as the boat. "How's the weather up there?" Eragon asked.

"Perfect. The wind is just right to give me enough lift to let me rest my wings." Saphira hummed. Eragon smiled, proud of his dragon. Over the past two years, ever since she had hatched, he had always had a very close bond with her, strengthened by their pair as dragon and rider. The elves on the ship wandered the deck, talking about whatever they could.

Later in the evening, a cold, bitter wind blew from the south, bringing with it a hard, driving rainstorm. Saphira landed on the shore nearby, cold and wet. Eragon ordered the boat be brought ashore, and a fire made to keep everyone warm. As the sparks flew, the fire warmed everyone, even Saphira. The rain turned to thunder, and the thunder turned to lightning. Saphira shuddered with every bolt that struck, as part of an unfortunate instinct.

Eragon fell asleep under Saphira's wing, just like he did usually when they traveled. In the warmth of the fire and of Saphira, he slept well, until the dreams started.

The wind against his face, the air under his wings. He knew this dream all too well. Flying higher and higher, he rose above the sun, above the stars and the moon, beyond all that they knew. But, something was wrong. He felt himself changing, his wings vanish, and his form change. He was falling, falling forever, back to the earth, back to the ground, to his death. Calling out for help, he saw no one. Calling again for anyone, someone answered:

"This is your time. Your time to be what you have dreamed of. Let your dreams no longer be dreams, let the spirit of the dragon awake in you."

Eragon jolted awake, the sun shining on his face. Saphira glanced down at him, sensing his confusion. "What is it? What is bothering you, little one?" Eragon looked around, still panting.

"Just a dream Saphira, just a dream."

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Okay, short first chapter, but I don't want to go too deep right away. I know where I'm going with this, and I would like your feedback. Thanks.