Seeing Saphira fly into the camp a few days later with Roran and a woman on her back is strange, especially with Eragon absent. My worries begin to float around my mind, but Saphira's calmness brushes against my mind, and if she is calm, then Eragon should be in no danger.

I run to her, dodging between people until I end up directly below her snout. How did the mission go Saphira?

Well enough. Roran and Katrina are alive. Though I worry for Katrina, she has been in captivity for so long that her health may be in danger. Can you have Nasuada clear the field? I do not want to reveal that Eragon is gone.

I nod and silently agree to check on Katrina. I direct the request to Nasuada and Saphira lies on the ground and makes it easier for Roran and his lady to dismount. She is slight, with coppery hair and a strong frame. Her face is pale, so I run around Saphira to see her and Roran.

Roran looks at me carefully. "Did Saphira ask you to look at her?"

I nod. "Did she tell you?"

"No." Roran looks grim. "Only, if she hadn't, I would have asked it of you myself."

I smile and take Katrina's hand. "Then would the two of you please come to my tent? I have a medical bag there, as well as a greater store of energy to work with, just in case I find something worrying."

Roran nods, but before I can take them to my tent, Nasuada and Orrin arrive and introductions ensue, though many stares are directed at Katrina. Saphira quickly and briefly gives me the whole story, including the parts that Eragon would prefer others not to know, but trusts that I will keep the secret. And once that is done, I usher Roran and Katrina into my tent.

I sit Katrina in a chair, which is safer than a bed, in case of certain injuries of the spine or brain that could result in worse damage if she were to lie down. I sing incantations, finding every single cause of her pain and discomfort, and what I find is quite interesting. Roran grips the chair with a worried expression. "So? Have you found anything yet?"

"Apart from the obvious cuts, bruises and malnutrition, not much." Then I clasp my hands and frown. "I'm not going to pretend to understand human customs. But I'm sure that this is going to be a shock and surprise to you Roran." I look him straight in the eye. "She is carrying a child, it is about three months along." Then I smile. "Fortunately, if I act in healing her now, there will be no permanent damage to the child."

Katrina bursts into tears, which rather confuses me, especially since I feel a whole confused tangle of emotions from her. But Roran nods. "Please do. And thank you for telling us."

I take Katrina's hands and start to sing, healing all of her cuts and bruises, filling her body with energy and bringing some color back into her face. With her increasing energy she allows me to pull her into a dance, which heightens emotions and gives me more energy to use. Her injuries heal before Roran's eyes and her expression lightens considerably. I also reach into their minds and find Katina's original hair color, a brighter shade of copper, and I use magic to restore that color to her hair.

When we stop dancing, Katrina sits down heavily. "I never knew that magic felt so nice."

I start to laugh and smile. "That is because that was healing magic, which is my specialty. I usually have a bright presence, which is why people become more comfortable around me, if they just try to get over the fact that I am half elf. The dancing is how I give myself more energy, by making my magic draw power from my heightened emotions."

"Is she alright now?" Roran still looks concerned. "Is the child going to be alright?"

"Yes, yes." I roll my eyes and sigh. "I did say that healing magic is my specialty. She is going to be just fine. All you have to do is make sure that she rests and eats properly. Do that, and her strength should return quickly." Then I feel the need to address an issue. "I've studied human culture and I believe that I've found a problem."

Roran nods. "Katrina is pregnant and we are not yet married."

"I'm not going to pretend to understand whatever emotional implications there are." And when Roran frowns in confusion, I feel compelled to explain. "I've been in Du Weldenvarden my whole life. I was raised by my elven grandfather, as he is the only family I have left. Thus, I am more familiar with elven traditions. And marriage is not one of them."

Katrina looks a little shocked. "Elves don't marry? But then what about children?"

I smile a bit sadly. "There are sometimes children, but because of our infinitely long lives, they seem a bit few and far between. When a couple has a child, it is considered the ultimate way of expressing their love to each other. But no, elves do not marry. We take mates for however long we choose, but as we do not die of old age, a promise for forever is inadvisable. An onerous obligation, if you will."

Voices sound outside and Roran seems to recognize them. "Katrina, I must go, Horst is becoming loud." He kisses her and shoots me a glance before walking out of the tent.

"So Katrina, is there anything that I should know before the backlash of emotions and memories hits me?" I look at her carefully, trying not to upset her too much. "A side effect of the amount of healing that I do, as well as my sensitive emotions, I often get some negative backlash. I absorb some of the painful memories of the people that I heal. And in most cases they are quite happy to be free of some of that pain."

Her expression tells me that she has a sinking feeling. "I was imprisoned by those Ra'zac all this time." Then her eyes fill with tears. "I was alone for so long that when Roran and Eragon arrived, I thought that they were hallucinations, or the Ra'zac coming back to hurt me."

I wrap my arms around Katrina and dry her tears. "It's alright now, you won't have to see those evil creatures ever again. There are people here who care about you, and some very powerful people willing to fight for you."

Suddenly, the backlash hits me and I drop to my knees. Katrina crouches and touches my shoulder. "Are you going to be alright?" I suddenly feel Sorin pushing against my mind, but I keep him out to spare him from feeling the waves of pain and sadness.

"I'll be fine, this isn't as bad as when I healed Eragon." I breathe in and out, using meditation techniques to steady myself. "And I've absorbed plenty of pain from the warriors here. One more mind isn't going to do any significant damage."

After a while, Katrina leaves my tent and heads towards where her people have set up their tents. I sit against my bed and run through the traumatic memories that leeched from Katrina to me. Between the memories from the people I've healed and the memories of the battle, my mind is a bit of a mess. And worst of all is the memory of being stabbed. I can still feel the cold steel of the blade sliding through me, and I find myself checking the skin, expecting to see it open and bleeding.

The more you fret over it, the worse the fretting will get. Sorin pushes his head into the tent, filling up about half of it with a green, scaly head with foot and a half long horns. He looks at me with his big, sparkling eyes, like he wants me give me a hug. Why don't we go fly around a bit. The open sky is just waiting for something to fly around in it.

Alright. I touch his nose and he pulls his head out of the tent. I change out of my dress and into my casual riding clothes before climbing onto Sorin's back. He has a small notch between two of his spikes that makes for a good place to sit, even without a saddle. He has a broader back than Saphira, which makes for a more comfortable ride when there isn't a saddle. Let's go.

Hold on tight. He walks right through the camp and to the cleared area that he and Saphira use for taking off and landing. He lowers his nose down to Jormundar, who is looking at us quizzically, but then seems to sigh and nod in resignation. Then Sorin shifts his weight to the back and takes off into the air.

As the wind whips around us, I feel my worries ebb away. But with only having done magic today, I feel restless and full of anxiety. With Eragon gone, I have no one to properly spar with. Because in my battles, I need to be able to use physical and mental assaults simultaneously. And also because Eragon is both technically proficient and gifted with the same speed and strength as me, therefore he can give me more relevant advice.

Why don't you go and hit someone with a sword, or better yet, why don't you learn to fight with something new? Perhaps that will distract you enough to get your mind off of these unsettling events. The only way to move on is to move forward.

Alright fine. I will go and learn something new, but what should it be? I can already use dual swords, I can shoot very well, I don't like the idea of a huge two handed sword or a shield weighing me down.

Then how about you learn to fight barehanded?

With that idea in mind, Sorin flies over the practice field and rolls in mid-air, allowing me to slip off his back and land on the ground. I see Roran lifting boulders for strength training, and I see one of the weapons trainers sparring with two young men about the same ages as Roran and Eragon.

After giving them each a hard whap with a wooden sword that sends them sprawling, the older man shoves his wooden practice sword into the dirt and watches me approach. "Shouldn't you be over with Thorvac?"

"No, he has given me more than enough help with my sword-work, I should let him get back to the others." I step carefully around the two on the ground and look at the rack of weapons. "I already excel with a bow, and for now, I can only wait for Eragon to return and spar with me to improve my sword-work."

He nods toward the rack. "Then what is it that you're looking for?"

I shrug. "Another skill. I can carry around knives, but like with my archery, I already have good aim. I need to learn a skill from scratch, to keep myself busy and to ward off things I would rather not think about."

Lang nods curtly. "And do you have a skill in mind?"

"Perhaps an unarmed skill. There could be situations where I find myself unable to reach for a weapon, and it would be good to learn to fight without having to rely on magic." I smile grimly. "Using magic is far more taxing than most people believe. Galbatorix also has some drugs that make reaching for magic very difficult, and sometimes even impossible. If an enemy agent were to slip it into my food or drink without my notice, or if it were somehow undetectable, there would prove to be some problems."

Lang frowns in slight confusion, and the two behind me groan with discomfort. Lang looks at them piteously. "Alright, you two go take a break. It seems that the lady would like to learn to fight in a less refined manner."

"So are you able to teach me?" I turn to look at him, keeping my gaze fixed on his movements.

He inclines his head slightly and purses his lips. "I can, but it is a skill that takes keen observation skills and good instincts to use effectively. And like swords, fighting unarmed requires a much faster reaction time."

"In that case, this will be good for me to learn. Even for an elf, I am exceptionally fast, as well as flexible" Then I remember my extensive training with Oromis. "And learning how to observe everything is one of the requirements in a Rider's training. Unfortunately, I'd had minimal combat training before arriving here."

"Minimal combat training?" Lang drops his coat to the ground, leaving him in a sleeveless shirt that reveals his arms. "In that case, remove some of those heavy clothes and let me see how you move."

I nod and strip down to the tight, sleeveless tunic, leggings and boots that make up the outfit that I wear for the Rimgar. "Is there anything in particular you would like to see me do?"

"How far can you bend?" His question catches me off guard a little, but I can't blame him for asking. He looks at me expectantly. "Well? Show me how far you can bend, forwards and backwards, to the sides. How far can you contort your body? That will tell me how much you can learn."

"Very well." I stretch a little to let my body warm up before showing him the extent of my abilities. "I realize that most people might find this rather disturbing. But the fact remains that my flexibility is one of my more interesting natural talents."

I stretch my arms to the sky, then bend backwards, so far that my arms reach through my legs. I lift my legs into the air and bring them down to my hands, but keep them just slightly off the ground. Then I allow them to slide between my arms, putting me into a hunched forward position. I slip my legs back out, then straighten my back a little and bend my legs around to the left, then to the right. I lift my legs back to the sky, straightening myself between the ground and sky. Then I bend them down to the ground, letting them touch my back, and I bend back up to my original position.

Lang stares at me with disbelief. Though it doesn't surprise me that he hasn't seen anyone quite that strong and flexible before, it still feels uncomfortable to have everyone on the practice field staring at me as well.

"It seems that you have an easily contorted body." Lang touches my arms, then my legs. "And a fair bit of muscle for a woman. I thought you said that you had very little training."

"Well in combat." I start doing poses from the Rimgar. "This is called the Dance of the Snake and Crane, or the Rimgar. It is how most elves stay in shape when not practicing the sword, spear, bow, or other such crafts. I spent every day for about three years doing the Rimgar, until I had mastered every pose. I ride Sorin often and we do some very complex aerial maneuvers that require a lot of strength, more than I had to begin with."

Lang nods and we spend an hour with him teaching me various ways to strike a person with my hands, feet, elbows and knees. And with a promise to train with him every day, I leave him to continue training others. And the timing is perfect because a message reaches me that the twelve elven spell-casters have arrived.

I make my way to where Nasuada and the elves are meeting, and the one who greets me is Blodhgarm, who steps forward and twists his hand in a gesture of respect. "Atra esterni ono thelduin, Lady Ciara."

I touch my fingers to my lips. "Atra du evarinya ono varda."

And with a last flourish of his hand, he bows deeply. "Un atra mor'ranr lifa unin hjarta onr. It is good to see that you are well. Your grandfather has been worried about you."

"I see." I feel stiff as Blodhgarm regards me. "As you can see, I am healed of the injuries I sustained during the battle. I may be young and inexperienced, but I am far more tenacious than most give me credit for."

He nods. "It is as you say, you have been exceeding the expectations of many."

"I'm sure." I try to keep my face blank, but my markings turn a dark red with hard and defiant anger. "And I'm also sure that you will be making a full report of me to the lords and ladies. They no doubt want to know if I am likely to survive this war."

Blodhgarm's ability to control all of his expressions is quite impressive, he nods curtly. "I will be sending regular reports to Queen Islanzadi and Lord Dathedr."

I stifle a bitter laugh. "Then you may tell the lords and ladies that they need not worry. Once this war ends, I will either be dead and the Riders destroyed forever, or I will return to Ellesmera one last time to collect what remains of my possessions and leave the forest forever."

He bows. "As you wish Lady Ciara."

I turn to Nasuada, who seems rather alarmed by the exchange, though she likely has no idea what was said. "You needn't worry, they are not your enemies." Then I speak directly into her mind. But if you were hoping for pleasantries between us, then I am sorry to disappoint you. There are many who consider my existence an abomination of nature, despite how they proclaim to love children. If you were to ask me to enter their minds and tell you if they are trustworthy or not, I would refuse. I do not want to know all the things they think about me.

I stride off to my tent and look into a mirror, examining the intricate patterns on my face. Since everyone else can see the color changes, I decide to use magic to expand the designs, sending the magical pigment in intricate spirals and twists under my hair in a crown-like pattern. From there, they twirl to my neck and down my back and arms, creating a symmetrical network of patterns and designs from my head down my back and chest, over my hips, and all the way around my arms and legs until they end on the tops of my feet and the backs of my hands. But when they extend to my hands, they take on the silver color of my gedwey ignasia, though continue to change with my shifting emotions.