Disclaimer: Some of the characters mentioned in these past chapters and yet to come in others are not owned by me; they are Christopher Paolini's characters and are owned only by him and Knopf Inc. They're copyright, too.

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Vrael-Chapter 7-Eoin

"There's someone in the tree?"

"Yes Vrael. Now can you please be quite? I'm trying to aim..."

Vrael moaned. "Arya, I don't think even you know you are actually blind! And you can't just-"

Briam was curious; he stood up with and effort and headed towards the commotion, interrupting Vrael. "You're trying to shoot a tree?"

"No, father. They think there's someone up there so Arya's going to shoot it."

"But you're blind," Briam sounded uninterested.

"Exactly my-"

Arya released her grip on the string and arrow. Vrael watched as the arrow swift past them into the tree. Then he heard something yelp from there.

Evarinya smiled, baring his needle-point-sharp teeth. What were you saying now, Vrael?

Vrael only stood there, jaw open. Briam merely blinked wearily.

And Arya watched smugly as a young man dropped face first from the tree onto the ground, Arya's arrow protruding from his right upper forearm.

The elf was of scrawny, yet of fit stature, probably near sixteen years old, and had dazzlingly-bright brown hair. He wore a blue hair band on his fore-head to keep his long and messy hair up, failing, only to allow his hair to grow over his eyes to the extent of almost totally covering the band. He sat up, and looked at Arya. Vrael gasped.

He had an enormous scar covering most of the left side of his face, shutting his left eye, and spreading vaguely like stripes on part of his forehead closest to his eye; a thin string-like scar from it spreading to his right side under his nose to his right cheek. But beside that pinkish scar, he was a handsome, alive-looking young man, with "an" eye darker than time.

The elf stood up, still clutching his badly-bleeding forearm, and says disdainfully but still able to find some manners, "It's a pleasure to meet your acquaintance. I'm Eoin." He tries to lift his hand, but withdraws to the ground, grimacing from the pain. His blood was dripping to the ground now, giving his once-black sleeve a crimson hue.

Arya looks concerned. "Are you bleeding?"

Eoin looks up at her, confused. "Um... isn't it obvious?"

But Arya had already run to the camp searching for some bandages and herbs.

"Don't mind her," Vrael said, helping the injured elf up, "she's blind-supposedly."

"But she's the one who shot me right?"

"Yeah. She was," Vrael offered no explanation since he had none.

Eoin stared blankly at Evarinya, who simply snorted, and then back at Vrael. "So," Eoin sat himself against a tree, "You're a dragon Rider, I see?"

Evarinya growled at him, menacingly, projecting his thoughts. Are you mocking us, boy? Vrael smiled at Evarinya.

"No, not necessarily. I'm simply expressing my excitement and reverence to this magnificent creature or yours."

Evarinya blinked and asked Vrael privately, Is he being sarcastic? 'Cause I can rip the flesh of his bones if he is.

Honestly, I have no idea.

Arya came back with the bandages and herbs, and knelt down near where Eoin lay.

"Vrael," she said hastily, "place my hand on the arrow."

Vrael did so and watched as Eoin winced from the pain.

"Okay, Eoin. I have to pull the arrow out of your arm, but it's going to hurt quite badly."

"Believe me," Eoin smiled sadly, "I've been through worse. Just please don't-"

But, before Eoin knew it, Arya had pulled out the arrow in one swift pull.

Eoin fought back tears of pain, clutching his bleeding wound.

"If I said 'Ow', what would you say, huh?"

Arya smiled, bandaging his wound. "I'd say 'it would've hurt more if you were expecting it.'"

Vrael cringed when Arya smiled at Eoin; although he was unaware of it, he was jealous.

So Vrael, his dragon, and his father stood and watched as Arya tended to Eoin, the wounded elf cringing from time to time; but besides that, all was silent in the morning of the forest

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