I still don't own it.
"What's going on?" Fathi asked his parents. They were hiding in a room, watching the battle rage outside their window. Hemma, his little sister, and Rogi, their baby brother, were completely quiet.
"The Varden are attacking the city," his father replied. "They are trying to overthrow King Galbatorix."
"But why are they attacking us? We haven't done anything wrong."
His mother sighed. "I don't know, Fathi. I just don't know."
They were interrupted by the sound of soldiers crashing through the front door. Hemma squeaked and buried her face in her mother's shoulder.
Fathi silently got up and stood by the door. He could hear fighting in one of the nearby rooms. Then everything was silent. A dark figure walked past. Fathi lunged at him with his knife, but something stopped him in midair. The figure turned.
Fathi gasped. He recognized the young man from the posters that had been put up all over Feinster. The Varden's Dragon Rider! He's only a couple of years older than I am. That scared him. Somehow, fighting had always been something that adults did, and children were left out of.
He could see his parents standing at the door to the room in which they had been hiding, looking scared. Rogi was crying.
The Rider removed the knife from Fathi's hand, setting it on the floor. Fathi stepped back. The Rider said something (nervously loudly), about how they should stay in the house until the fighting was over -(as if we didn't know that already)- and then apologized. For what? Fathi wondered. A lot of people would have killed me.
But the Rider hadn't. He just left. Fathi would never forget him.