AN: I'm trying to keep everything authentic, but as I generously "donated" the books to a friend I have no references, so be forgiving. I'm pretty motivated to update, and it looks like this story will be a little longer than originally planned (which was barely longer than a oneshot). Read, review, enjoy!
Eragon awoke from his nesting spot beneath Saphira's appendages and yawned, feeling the chill of the morning air. He indulged in one last moment of grogginess before reality hit him. Their current unfortunate situation, and his own conundrum. Saphira spread her jaws in a powerful triangle and made a sleepy noise.
Ready to face the day? She asked, though her head wavering on her neck did not look like the dragon was fully awake. Eragon laughed affectionately and nodded, rubbing her necks gently. "Good morrow to you too, Saphira," he said, and made mock kissy-faces at her. "Ready to head out?"
She began to move around and stretch, and the young man found it prudent to excuse himself. When he returned from morning toiletries, Saphira was bright-eyed and quick once again, her eyes swirling with a million subtle colors in the light of sunrise. Gah! Morning always comes too early . . .
"And sunrise is the brightest part of day," Eragon finished, smacking her on the haunch. "Up, you lazy cow! You know we've got work to do . . ." He wanted to be up and ready before Roran came, anyway. "Besides, I'm hungry, and I thought we might be dining on our way out."
Mmmph. Saphira said disdainfully. I'm not really hungry. Even so, she sniffed at the hunk of bread Eragon kept in his pocket overnight. Sometimes it was easier than disturbing someone if he got hungry.
Sure enough, just as he'd anticipated, Roran soon came striding across the cracked ground, eyes full of passion. "Eragon! Ergaon! Wake up!" he shouted.
Eragon raised himself up over the top of Saphira. "I've been awake," he told him, and came around in front of Saphira. "Do we even have a plan for the day?"
"Yes," Roran said, rubbing at his beard. "Leave. Immediately."
Eragon nodded with only a slight groan, he'd been expecting this, of course, but the day was early yet, and on some level, he'd hoped against it. He raised a hand to brush back a disobedient strand of hair, and started-he still did; Eragon wasn't sure if he'd ever become used to the changes in his physical form. His fingers lingered on his upper cheekbone for a moment, and he subtly traced the upward ascent of the bone, allowing his little finger to catch on the point of his ear. Still doesn't feel like me . . . he thought, marveling.
"Well, come on then, little brother!" Roran shouted. "Or are you just going to stare at the clouds all morning?" He grinned at him, and turned, walking off to ready a few last things. Eragon watched him leave with an uncomfortable feeling, his awareness of his lies like wet boots, uncomfortable and unwieldy. The young man began gathering his things, thinking mournfully of recent events. He once again tried to suppress a torrent of images, knowing those were more easily accessible than thoughts, such as Murtagh has such beautiful eyes or His hair falls so appealingly over his face at times; I'd just like to reach over and brush it back . . . He turned a vibrant shade of red as he tugged close the strap of his pack, concealing the flush of emotion with a cover of physical exertion. "I'm near ready," he told Saphira, flustered again.
I am all ready she replied, slinking off towards their point of departure. Eragon lagged behind a little, wondering how long he could keep up such a façade.
"Quick enough," Roran said, and though there was steel in his eyes, his expression wasn't altogether cold. "Let's be on our way . . . If you've made your goodbyes?"
Eragon just sort of shrugged and nodded, mounting Saphira, and waving a few last goodbyes as they ascended. As the wind tore through his hair, he felt momentarily cleansed. Their journey might be arduous, but he knew it would still be relaxing . . . These quiet airborne moments would give him time to think, maybe straighten out his head.