Hal was not oblivious to Murtagh's sudden shift in demeanor. He seemed…nervous. Unusually so. She decided not to ask, unsure if it was something she was supposed to notice to begin with. She bade him goodnight and he only grunted a barely audible response, looking rather sickly and distracted. Put out, Hal went to bed, assuming he was moody again about leaving. It seemed to hit everyone differently, that was for sure.

By the time she rose out of bed, she was shocked to find the sun out and shining. She hadn't expected to be so tired. And she soon discovered why no one had woken her — the hut was empty. Not even Thorn was outside.

Frowning, Hal washed her face and changed into her outfit for the day, leaving her hair in a side ponytail as she slipped on her sandals and went in search of the other occupants of her hut. She found an apple in the fruit basket in the kitchen and nibbled at it to ease her hunger. She checked Amon and Tena's finished hut, but found it unoccupied. She hesitated, unsure if she had missed something important. So, she headed towards the fields instead.

Instead, Hal was surprised to see what felt like half the village crowded around the building where Denu, Tengene and the others would often conduct their village leader meetings. The reed mats that filled the space between the columns were down, indicating a private meeting was going on.

"Hal!"

It was Eli, and she moseyed her way over to him. "Eli, what's going on here?" Hal asked with trepidation. "Is something wrong?"

The man shrugged. "Apparently Denu and Murtagh walked in there early this morning with Tengene, and the other heads. Thorn's been sitting outside. They've been in there for quite some time."

"So, you're all just being nosy?" she chastised, but she could not hide her teasing smile.

"It's too hot to work," Eli commented with a sly grin. "What else are we going to do to preoccupy ourselves?"

Hal didn't have time to question Eli further. The flaps were pushed back as Denu and Murtagh suddenly emerged from inside. She and Eli pushed through the crowd to get a closer look, and found Thorn in the process, standing near him off to the side with a better view. Murtagh still looked unnervingly pale, but Denu seemed very pleased. Hal couldn't tell which expression to focus on.

"It seems like everyone is already here," Denu said. He didn't shout. He didn't need to. Their exit had quickly quieted everyone, the air thick with great expectation. They were already listening attentively. Even Hal was straining, not wanting to miss anything. "Murtagh? Is there something you'd like to let them know?"

Murtagh looked at Denu, almost panicked at being called out. He seemed anxious as he scanned the crowd, the familiar and unfamiliar faces. But he stopped when his gaze landed on hers, and Hal knew then he had been looking for her. He stopped scanning, stopped fidgeting. He just stopped. She couldn't tell what he was thinking, but she could've sworn that he stood just a bit straighter. And even as he finally began to speak, he didn't look away, as though he meant to speak to her directly.

"I have talked it over with Thorn, with Denu, and the village leaders," he began, his eyes boring into her and making her heart flutter. "And I have received their blessing. So now, I turn to you all. I humbly ask that Thorn and I be allowed to remain here, with you, for as long as you will have us."

Hal froze in surprise.

An excited murmur broke out across the group. "You're going to stay?!"

It was Layla. Hal hadn't even seen her, but she emerged from between the legs of several adults to get in the front. Murtagh finally looked away and Hal felt the loss and its effects, but was grateful all the same. Eli nudged her side with is elbow, a pretentious smirk on his face letting her know he had seen the whole thing. She rolled her eyes, trying to downplay her racing heart, fighting the urge to grin like an idiot. Murtagh smiled at the girl. "Yes. If possible."

"I vote yes!" Layla shouted, raising her hand. That was not how the process worked, exactly, but it was clear from the positive outburst of cheers and applause that it would do. Color began to return to Murtagh's cheeks in obvious relief, but what happened after that, Hal didn't know. The crowd surged in to congratulate him and she lost sight of him entirely. She was shoved and nudged as people around her moved in. But she couldn't move.

A gentle nudge on her back made her turn around. Thorn huffed, her hair flying from her face as he nudged her cheek.

"I don't understand," she whispered to him. "He talked of going east for so long. Why would you choose to stay?"

Thorn didn't answer, but there was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. She placed a hand on his nose, the scales warm and breathtaking in the sun. "Is this truly what you both want?"

At that, he nodded. And Hal beamed, overcome with emotion. Surely this was too good to be true. She would wake up at any moment and realize it was all just a dream. She wiped her eyes as people shook her shoulders, excited and smiling. She stepped out of the way and found Denu standing off to the side, away from the mob.

"Was this your doing?" Hal asked him, still breathless with disbelief.

Denu shook his head, laughing at the rambunctious crowd before them. "I did nothing but call the meeting and speak on his behalf. He came to me last night asking if there is a process for staying. He was quite humble about it too. I think he feared our rejection."

Hal shook her head, dumbfounded. "I'm so confused."

Denu tilted his head. "Well I would not recommend getting mixed up in all of that," he said, gesturing to the crowd. "But I have no doubt that he will seek you out when they allow him a moment to breathe."

Hal nodded, barely able to contain her smile. She was about to hurry off — she had the sudden idea of preparing a special dinner for tonight — when a familiar and gentle presence touched her mind. She chuckled, preparing to grant him access when she found herself hesitating as a thought struck her: in all of their time together, not once had Murtagh tried to enter her mind without first telling her, and it was only for practice.

The push against her mind became insistent, tempting even. Hal kept her shield up, but she could feel her hesitation. Something was wrong. She needed to reach Murtagh, but the crowd was too thick. She moved towards Thorn, to ask him to pass along a warning, and lost her footing as pain in her head became blinding, a hot spear slowly being drilled into her skull.

Fight her, Halen!

That voice. She had not heard it in a while, but she recognized it immediately. It was the same one from her dream.

It is time.

She squeezed her eyes shut, gasping for air. The second wave was perhaps some of the worse physical pain Hal had ever endured, reminiscent of when the Ra'zac had tortured her. So nauseating, in fact, that she threw up without any warning whatsoever. She needed to focus, and she squeezed her eyes shut, ignoring the hands on her shoulders and back, the outside voices calling her name.

Her shields weren't going to hold.

Whoever it was, they were strong. Stronger than what Murtagh had ever had her endure in practice. She could not, would not, let them in. She felt a sharp pain in her palms, her nails digging into the flesh as she concentrated. She let that pain ground her, focused on it. Endured it.

Then she cried out and pushed back against the force in her mind.

The surge of magic was unexpected, even for her. She felt another mind…no, she felt many. Many voices, shouting and screaming. Demanding control and finding none. There were no memories she could decipher as a clue as to who was behind the attack. Instead, it was all dark and full of bloodlust. Hands seemed to grip her, choke her, as if to drag her into the darkness. And the thought of being consumed by this made her scream, but her voice was swallowed by the vast void that sought to trap her. And it was the most terrifying thing she had ever felt. She wanted out. She needed to get out! It felt like anarchy, voices screaming for release, for violence, and for death.

Except for one.

There was one presence that was not like the others. It was quiet and submissive, trapped in a corner on its own, as if desperately trying not to be seen. It felt almost…child-like. And the second Hal turned towards it, she felt almost…relief. Sane even, a reprieve from the madness that made her remember herself, her own mind. Hal reached for the light, hoping to find mercy, and everything collapsed. She was thrust back as though shoved, and she didn't try and fight it. She felt as though she were returning to her own body, jolted back into a stark reality that made less and less sense.

She felt the fight leave her body, exhaustion and unconsciousness creeping up on her as a final voice, the other one, returned. This time with a warning.

Halen.

It is time.

She is coming.

It was Thorn that told him something was wrong before the cries of the shocked villagers reached him. Murtagh, embarrassed and stunned by all of the attention, had felt Thorn's sharp stab and knew immediately something was wrong. His expressions fell as Thorn said only one word.

Halen!

Pushing through the crowd with desperation, his actions alerted everyone else that something was wrong. They turned to follow him, only to see what he did, their eyes wide in horror. Hal convulsing near a pile of her own sick, and blood was dripping from her nose, the vein on her temple prominent, like she was straining.

She suddenly collapsed, Thorn said, having put himself close by, covering her as best he could to keep the other villagers at bay except for Denu and Eli. She must've sensed something was wrong because she was coming towards me. She looked frightened.

Her lids were half-closed as he dropped down beside her, and he could see the rapid movement of her eyes underneath. She suddenly began to choke just as spit bubbled and frothed at the corner of her mouth. And his hands began to shake with fear and adrenaline as he tried to roll her on her side.

A hand gripped his shoulder, and he realized it was Eli. "We must take her to Mennes. Now. Follow me."

Murtagh nodded stiffly, picking her up with difficulty as she continued to seize erratically. The crowd grew even worse, but they, at least, stepped back at the sense of urgency in their step.

"HAL!"

Layla rushed forward, looking petrified, but Tena appeared out of nowhere and stopped her, panic-stricken as she tried to console her sobbing child. Murtagh turned away. "Come on, Hal," he muttered, more to himself. "Fight it."

The old man, Mennes, was with his apprentice, Eren, running through a recipe and grinding herbs when they burst in.

"Murtagh?" Eren asked, looking up in confusion. He jumped up when he saw Hal and Mennes' mouth fell open.

"She's having a seizure of some kind," Murtagh croaked.

Mennes instructed Murtagh on where to set her down, his voice cordial but clipped. Mennes had still not quite reached the same level of agreeableness to the rider's presence as everyone else, but Murtagh had a feeling Denu had brought the man around to be more tolerable after Hal had taken ill.

Eli explained what he understood to have happened, which wasn't much except that it had all happened suddenly. And everyone agreed that this was not usual for Hal, even when she was ill. Mennes shook his head as he felt her forehead, listened to her heartbeat. Her convulsions, at least, were easing. "She has no fever, yet her heart is weak. Help me check for bites or infection."

Murtagh did as the man said. He checked her legs, sides, arms, hands, everything. As they did, Mennes asked additional questions that Murtagh and Eli did their best to answer. How long did the fit last? Perhaps no more than two minutes, although it certainly felt longer. Had she complained of a head injury beforehand? Not to their knowledge. Had she consumed anything unusual, possibly poisonous? Again, no. There was nothing to be revealed, and the physical examination revealed just as little. Mennes placed a cold rag on her forehead with a defeated sigh. "By all means, she is as fit as she ever was. I hate to say it, but we will have to wait and see once she wakes. Until then, she needs rest."

Eventually, Murtagh carried her back to her room, the concerned stares of the villagers boring into his back. Thorn tried to ease his mind, but Murtagh ignored him. He felt responsible, but, worst of all, he felt useless. Whatever was going on, Hal had to fight this on her own, and he hated himself for it.

Her breathing had grown easy as he laid her down into her cot, and she seemed as though she were merely sleeping aside from her sallow skin. He found a rag and wet it at the washbasin in her room, patting her forehead and wiping the dried blood off from around her nose. Denu sat in the rocking chair in her room while Murtagh contented himself with sitting on the floor by her bed, watching her face carefully for any sign of trouble or consciousness.

When Denu stepped out for a moment, Murtagh rose to his feet. Licking his lips, he placed his hand to her brow. He muttered the words of the Ancient Language, to see if he could get into her mind. He was instead met with a steel-like wall so strong that the force of it repelling him sent him stumbling backwards.

Thorn!

I felt it too. That is not the same presence we feel when you are in her mind. That is not our Halen.

Which means —

There is someone else in there with her.

By the time Hal finally awoke, her throat was unbearably dry and she felt as though Thorn were sitting on her. She struggled to open her eyes, which were unbearably heavy, as she tried to speak, but a soft, familiar voice shushed her. Denu helped her lift her head, and she grimaced at the harsh pounding in her temples. When she was upright, he passed her a cup. The water was soothing, although it tasted like it may have been sitting out for a few hours. "Slowly now, you've been out for nearly three days."

She choked, water dribbling out of the corner of her mouth as she finally managed to open her bleary eyes. She was about to ask but he shook his head again. "We don't know. I'm just relieved to know you're awake."

And something in his tone reminded her of that frightening darkness she had found herself in. And tears burned her eyes as she recalled with a visceral fear the thought that it would drag her under, never for her to emerge again. And it was so much like that cave in which the Ra'zac had tortured her that she thought she might be sick. She actually held her hand in front of her mouth, eyes closed as she waited for the panic and nausea to pass, choking down her sobs until the urge to cry passed as she could wipe the few tears that had fallen from her cheeks.

She finished the rest of her water and took a deep, shaking breath. She laid back down and something caught her eye. She turned her head to find Murtagh propped up against the wall. His forearm was resting on his knee, his head bowed in what had to be an uncomfortable position.

"He only just fell asleep a few hours ago; he refused to leave your side," Denu said quietly, somehow sensing the direction of her gaze. "You frightened him — frightened all of us."

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice uneven as it betrayed the true state of her emotions to the one person she had hoped to hide them from.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. Just get some rest. I'll bring you some food."

She didn't want him to go. Didn't want to be alone after everything she had felt in that attack. But she did not have the heart to tell Denu this as he kissed her hand and told her he would hurry back. She turned and looked at Murtagh. She wanted to wake him up, so that she would not have to be alone in this misery. So that he wouldn't have to worry anymore. But she couldn't do that either, the thought of it alone making her feel pathetic. She would let him sleep. Instead, she stared up at the ceiling, profusely blinking back tears, her hands fisting her sheets so tightly that she could feel the material tremble as she did.

She is coming.

Denu brought her something to eat, as well as some extras for Murtagh when he woke. She ate quietly, barely nibbling on the bread and fruit as Denu stayed by her side. When she finished what she could, Hal immediately went to take a bath. She was surprised with how dark it was outside, speculating it must be close to midnight judging from the position of the moon outside. She felt disoriented, being out for so long. And unnerved.

Three days. How strange. The stiffness in her body and the heaviness in her mind made it seem like it had been much longer. She undressed and climbed into the warm water, sighing at the relief. She let her hair out of its knotted, confining up-do and sunk her head under the water, thinking.

She is coming.

Vague and frightening, if the warning was even to be trusted. Who was 'she'? Could this be the master the Ra'zac had been referring? And who was giving Hal this warning to begin with? Was that what it meant for someone to break into her mind, like Murtagh had warned? But who, and how? In fact, not much of anything else made much sense either. The presences she felt, full of hatred and violence. The one that was not. Was it all in her head? And what in the heavens would she do if it wasn't?

When she finally emerged, she felt perhaps even more stressed, but at least she was cleaner. She pulled on a new dress and was in the middle of patting her hair dry when the door flew open. She jumped but before she could let out a protest at his inappropriate intrusion, Murtagh had covered the distance in a few quick steps. He pulled her into a hug, wrapping one arm around her waist and slinging the other across her back. He buried his face in her neck, tightening his hold on her.

He said nothing and he didn't have to. But Hal couldn't think straight. Her body was on fire, pressed up against his in such an intimate manner. She could feel his breath on her neck, and the thought of his lips so close to her made her blush. Her heart began to race, the blood pounding in her ears. It was so loud she was afraid he would hear it.

But he refused to let go, and she didn't want him to. She moved slowly, afraid of doing something that would make him loosen his hold. She slowly ran her fingers through his hair, stroking the back of his head and neck to calm him down. And while she found it funny that she was comforting him, there was something innately soothing in his embrace. Something freeing after going through such an ordeal and allowing herself to be held, much like he had done for her at the party after her torture. And she gripped him tightly, unable to stave off the tears as they began to fall.

"It's okay," she whispered, closing her eyes and allowing herself to get lost in the warm embrace. "I'm okay." And saying as much out loud helped her breathing grow steady. I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm okay.

She wasn't sure how long they stood there. Seconds? Maybe minutes. But after a while, she could feel his breathing become calmer, and his muscles began to relax. She felt his arms loosen their hold and she began to step back when he sharply pulled her back in. "Not yet."

When he finally did step back, his cheeks and ears were pink. He cleared his throat, unable to meet her gaze. "I'm sorry. I got carried away."

She didn't know what to say. His suddenly shy and embarrassed demeanor was more endearing than she thought possible. It surpassed his expression of concern for her in terms of which was her favorite. She smiled. "It's all right."

He seemed to realize then, glancing up and seeing her tear-stained cheeks. She tried to laugh it off, feeling embarrassed at such emotions. And it seemed to take them both to wipe her face because the acknowledgement of her crying caused her to cry a bit more until she forced calm into her lungs and heart. But she was grateful when Murtagh folder her back into his embrace, holding her even tighter than before.

"Are you sure you're okay, Hal?"

She nodded her head, her cheek pressed against his chest. "I think so. Just shaken." Her grip on him tightened.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

She hesitated, then said, "Yes. But not here."

Murtagh nodded in understanding, but there was something in his tone that worried her. Had something else happened? But before she could ask, he placed his hand on the back of her neck and pulled her head up some, pressing his lips to her forehead. Hal sucked in a sharp intake of air. Her eyes were wide with disbelief, feeling as though time had stopped altogether. It was all she could do to make sure her knees didn't give out underneath her.

By the time her mind could even begin to process what was happening, his lips were gone and she couldn't find her voice. "I'm just relieved you're all right," he said, pressing his forehead to hers. "I was so worried."

Hal looked up at him through her lashes, fully comprehending how close he was. She could see herself in his grey eyes, and a chill ran down her spine at the sight. "Thank you," she whispered. It was all she could get out; all her mind could muster up under the full force of his gaze.

Murtagh smiled and stepped back, still refusing to look away. "I apologize for charging in. I just…I needed to see you for myself."

Hal still couldn't speak as he turned and left. It felt like there was a rock in her throat. She raised her hand to her forehead, as if the kiss would leave a mark of some kind. Her body was hot, as alive as she felt whenever she was out in the woods. These feelings, she didn't know what to make of them. But they were more frightening than anything she could be fighting face-to-face.

"Layla, I told you I'm fine."

"Sorry Captain. Murtagh told me I wasn't to leave your side until he and Thorn got back," the girl stated with a false sense of authority "bestowed" upon her by the Dragon Rider. And "according to Murtagh," Dragon Rider outranks Captain. Ass.

Hal rolled her eyes. Ever since she had woken up the following morning, if she wasn't thinking of about what she had felt during her attack, she was thinking of Murtagh, his kiss, his body flush against hers, and the effect his gaze alone had on her. She felt at a loss and, despite taking solace in Layla's presence, needed someone to talk to about what she was feeling who was at least over the age sixteen. Or ten.

"Would you like some water?"

"No," Hal said distractedly, "I'm fine."

"You need to drink something, Hal," Layla said in a clipped tone, snapping Hal out of her reverie.

She could hear the exasperation in the young girl's voice and Hal caved. "Oh, all right. Hand me the cup."

Layla sat on Hal's bedside and watched, pleased, as Hal downed the water. She let out a dramatic sigh of relief and Layla giggled. "Are you sure you're all right, Hal?"

Hearing the worry in the girl's voice, Hal playfully tousled the top of her head and gave her a small smile. "Yes, Lieutenant. I'm sure."

"All right, Layla, I'm back — oh, Hal, you're awake." Murtagh gave them both a wide smile, and Hal looked away, unnerved by how much it meant to her to see it. Layla, however, beamed and jumped up from her spot to wrap her arms around Murtagh's waist. He laughed, smoothing down her thick hair that Hal had just ruffled. "Did you miss me?"

"Yes. But not as much as Hal did. She's been moody since you left."

Hal, flustered with betrayal, tossed her pillow at the little traitor as she ran off laughing. "Bye Murtagh! Bye Captain, feel better soon!"

Hal couldn't even look at him as he chuckled. He took the spot on the cot Layla had just occupied, raising hand to her forehead. "I'm fine," she said curtly.

"I just want to be sure."

"I'm —" But she fell quiet at his stern stare.

"You're still a bit warm."

"Well, we do live on an island." He gave her a look like he didn't know whether to laugh or roll his eyes, and she just pulled his hand away. "I'm fine, Murtagh."

"Will you stop being so stubborn?" Suddenly, he grinned cheekily. "If it helps, scry me next time I'm away and it'll feel like I'm practically in the room with you."

Hal didn't have another pillow, so she just punched him in the arm. "Ass," she hissed, her face brutally hot.

He chuckled, rubbing the spot where she'd hit him, and Hal found herself shamelessly pleased. He had a lovely smile, one that — she had realized for quite some time — she wanted to see more and more. She wanted his smile to be effortless, especially if it was directed at her.

"Mennes is set to come by this evening to give you final clearance to move around again," Murtagh told her, his voice dropping a few octaves even though they were alone. "If he does, do you think you'll be up for talking tomorrow?"

She hesitated, her pleasantness vanishing at the thought of reliving the ordeal. But she knew Murtagh needed to know what happened, and she found herself anxious to talk openly with him about it. So she nodded. He stepped out with a stern reminder for her to rest. But all Hal could feel was a dreaded sense of foreboding as she went back to trying to decipher the nature of her attack. It was certainly less nerve-wracking than the feelings the rider brought up in her lately.

Hal led the way as they walked to their usual spot. Murtagh had come to love this space as much as Hal had, enjoying its beauty and privacy. He was glad he would not have to part with it.

He watched her carefully, trying to note if she seemed more tired from their walk, frightened. She did seem anxious, and he knew something had happened to shake her resolve. He was desperate to know, but patient, not wanting to push her before she was ready. He had learned his lesson by now.

When they reached their secret spot, Hal finally began to speak in a low voice, explaining what had happened and everything she had heard. It sounded as disconcerting as he had feared. In fact, it sounded worse. "I'm sorry you had to go through that," he told her. "And I'm so relieved you're okay, Hal. So very relieved."

Her smile was small, but sincere in her gratefulness. He could tell how hard reliving that had been. He did not take such things lightly. It was evidence that they were miles from where they had started.

Murtagh quickly told her of what he had observed from his end, then asked, "Did you feel anyone in there with you?"

She frowned, trying to formulate her response. "Yes and no. There was a voice, in my head. But I didn't feel them like I felt you or this other person. It was just a voice. And it told me 'she is coming' and nothing else."

That unnerved him. "I'm sorry that I could not do more for you."

Her eyes went wide with disbelief. "You don't honestly believe that, do you?" She scoffed. "If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have even been able to defend myself." She shook her head. "I wish you would not belittle yourself so quickly."

"I just…I felt so useless. And if anything had happened to you as a result…"

Hal sidled up to him, a teasing smile on her face. "Look at you, being worried about me."

It was no laughing matter. Not this. Not to him.

"I've invested far too much time into you," he said in a low voice, mimicking what she had told him months ago when they were nothing more than strangers and he was stuck on the floor of Denu's hut. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, not missing how stiff she got as his fingers brushed her cheek. He could never tell if that was a good sign or a bad one, but she never stopped him, which he knew she would if his touch was unwarranted. And the way she would look at him when he did — heavens above, the way she looked at him — made him think she did not mind it at all. "It would hurt me to lose you now."

Her expression softened. "Well I don't intend on going anywhere. So, for the foreseeable future, you're stuck with me."

He leaned back against the craggy, rock wall, crossing his arms over his chest as Hal back away, her expression shifting as a smile spread across her face. "Which reminds me: we have not yet had a moment to celebrate our newest villagers. Murtagh, we welcome you and Thorn as official members of the Tenariono Village." She bowed dramatically.

"You're not mad?"

She straightened, her smile gentle. "I admit, I was nervous you were doing this for me and the villagers. But Thorn indicated this was what you wanted. What you both wanted. And as long as that statement holds true, then I am the happiest woman in the world."

His face was hot, but he forced himself to hold her gaze. Observing her bright smile, so radiant and carefree, her eyes lighting up with her joy. He felt his heart skip a beat. That he should be the cause of such an expression, that he should be fortunate to look upon it now.

He knew then that he would do whatever he could to preserve that smile.

"I'm feeling tense," Hal said suddenly, gazing up at the overcast sky. "What do you say we spar for a bit? Let off some steam?"

A perfect idea. He passed her his hand-and-a-half sword, watching her carefully as she used the words he had taught her to dull its edges. Murtagh did the same with Zar'roc. He had told himself that Hal would never touch the sword. Never be defiled by it. But she had insisted on practicing with blades when they improved beyond wooden sticks, their blows becoming so hard that they snapped under the weight. Murtagh eventually agreed.

They assumed their usual positions, Murtagh attacking first, feigning left before dropping and swinging for her hip. Hal blocked him, using the force of his blow to propel herself back, making sure to use her quickness to keep her balance as she gave herself space and time to recover before his next attack. That was one unique thing about her training: she would never best Murtagh on sheer strength alone. And as he had gotten stronger, so had his attacks. But she was light on her feet and as fast as they come. As they had trained early on — Hal learning as she had with Amon and the others — to use the strength and weight of her opponent to her advantage. And although he had years of experience compared to her, she was impressively skilled. With a proper teacher and enough time, she could be as good as, if not better than, he or Eragon. He grinned to himself, his spirits soaring with a single thought: now that he wasn't leaving, maybe he would get to see that moment for himself.

He supposed he had Denu to thank for her skills. She fought like a hunter, someone who was trained to listen, not just with their ears, and see, not just with their eyes. She had told him once that blades had a distinct sound when they cut through the air, which was how she often knew when he was trying to land a sneak attack. She didn't always catch him, simply because he was fast. But the fact that she was so accustomed to listening and observing gave her a strong advantage. And although he knew she was watching him, studying his movements and mannerisms whenever they fought, he found her gaze more tantalizing than perhaps it should be. And she moved like a hunter, not just a trained fighter, combining instinct, intuition, and sheer hard work and grit.

He still bested her, even if it was narrowly, much to her chagrin. But she persisted all the same, taking short breaks before insisting they continue. After a light lunch of greens and fruit, Hal was already up and waiting as he took another long pull of water. He watched her as she cracked her neck, walking around to loosen up the muscles in her body. She rotated the hilt of his sword in her hands like it was nothing, having finally begun to grow accustomed to the weight of it, although she still tired quickly. She had been baffled the first time she held it, more impressed with how he wielded it like it was a nothing more than an extension of his arm.

He forced himself to look away, feeling rather enchanted just watching her pace. And that unnerved him, how easily she distracted him. He rose to his feet and attacked without warning to surprise her. She barely got her sword up in time, her breath catching in surprise as his blows rained down on her. She managed to deflect it and stepped back as he thrusted towards her chest, swung for her side, and cut at her legs to trip her up. But she managed to hold him off, and he realized how proud he was of how far she had come. He smiled at her.

Despite how seriously she would often take her lessons, she smiled back.

The breaks increased as their arms grew leaden, sweat pouring down their backs, their hair and clothes clinging to them. When they finished another session, ending with Murtagh's blade parallel to Hal's neck, he said, "I say we call it a day. Before we both pass out from exhaustion."

Hal dropped to her knees, letting the sword clang to the ground. Murtagh could see that her arm was shaking from the exertion and he frowned. "Perhaps we did too much too fast."

"No," she panted. "No. I have to get stronger. As strong as you, so that I can fight."

Murtagh crouched down so that they were eye-to-eye. "Hal, I have had years of training, since I was boy. It is not fair for you to compare your skills to mine."

She shook her head. "It's not simply a comparison. I just feel like I'm not enough. If something were to happen…" She held her scarred hands in her lap, her gaze distance and pained. "It was bad enough, what the Ra'zac did to me. But now something is attacking my mind too? And how did they even find me? I feel violently exposed and afraid, especially now. Like I'm not learning quickly enough. Like I'm…weak."

Her practically spat out the last word, the taste of it bitter on her tongue. Murtagh placed a comforting hand on top of her head. She had always been eager to practice, but her sudden push for it after being out for so long made much more sense than a simple desire to 'let off steam.' "You have never been weak. And you are certainly not weak now. I know it's frustrating, I do. But these things take time. You have shown more heart and dedication than anyone I know. Do not doubt yourself now. And know this: I will do everything in my power to make sure no harm comes to you. Vel eïnradhin iet ai Shur'tugal. Upon my word as a rider."

She seemed rather dazed, stunned and touched by the simple oath. Hal nodded as she placed her hand over his, clutching it tightly. "Thank you, Murtagh. Not just for this, for teaching me. But for being my friend. I don't know how I could do this without you, if I would even be alive. I'm so grateful you're staying. Not just because of this madness, but because…I really would have missed you."

The sentiment warmed his heart, which beat madly under his tunic as she looked at him with red-rimmed eyes. He couldn't believe he had almost left this. Had almost left her. He leaned forward, kissing her forehead before pulling her forehead against his. "I could say the same thing about you, you know," he said.

She sighed, as though content. "I know."

He chuckled, squeezing her tightly one last time before they pulled apart. "Come on," he said, looking into her eyes, "let's head back so you can rest."

As they walked, Murtagh strayed a few feet behind, talking with Thorn who had chosen, for today, to remain at the village. What do you think, Thorn? Perhaps I have been training her wrong, if she feels a lack of confidence in her skills.

I do not think she's implying your training is missing the mark — I think she would just tell you. I think it's only natural that she feels a need to improve quickly after such an attack. I'm curious though — I wonder what the men would say on the matter, considering she trained with them.

Fair point. Perhaps I will talk with Denu about it later. See what he thinks.

But now I must ask — do you think she's ready for more? You have covered much of the basics: simple defensive and attack spells and fighting techniques. And now that we are staying, there are more opportunities for us to advance her training. She is capable of more, I'm sure.

Of that I have no doubt. Murtagh glanced at her up ahead. I'll think about it. She does have a knack for magic despite having never been formally trained.

Could you imagine if she had been? With her instinct and intelligence, she would be a force to be reckoned with.

Murtagh snorted. Have you not been paying attention? He teased. She already is.

He heard Hal yelp in surprise and his gaze focused, noticing her stiff stance, her hesitant steps backwards. He rushed forward, then blinked in surprise, easily catching what had startled her. He had completely forgotten, and she would have no way of knowing.

"It's all right, I don't think it'll hurt you."

"You don't think?!" she hissed quietly, continuing to retreat, passing him with a confused glare. "What the bloody hell is it?"

Murtagh chuckled. "That, Hal, is a spirit."

She paused, curiosity quickly transforming her features. "A spirit?"

"Aye. And, unless I am mistaken, it may be the same one that led us to you when the Ra'zac took you."

She looked at him. "You never mentioned that before."

"Never seemed to be a proper time. Admittedly, I also forgot."

She snorted. "For shame, rider." She ignored his look of reproach. "Is it going to move so that we may pass?"

Strangely enough, the spirit was just floating there as if it had no idea they were even present. It seemed to unnerve Hal even further, much to Murtagh's amusement, as she exclaimed, "It's like it's looking at me."

"Perhaps you've angered it and it means to attack you."

"I will poison your meal tonight, do not test me, rider."

However, Murtagh barely heard her. As his gaze focused on the spirit, he felt a sudden sense of…urgency. Panicked urgency, at that. The skin on the back of his neck prickled the longer he gazed at the spirit, feeling as though it was the cause of these strange emotions.

Run, they needed to run.

No, there was no time. They needed to hide.

"…it's just floating there," Hal was saying, resuming to back away slowly, just out of his reach.

"Halen, don't move."

She froze at the sound of her full name, knowing immediately he'd only used it as of late when he was angry or serious about something. She shot him a confused look, waiting for an explanation and opening her mouth when none came. Murtagh held out his hand to silence her, his mind racing as he put together the words in the Ancient Language, speaking quickly.

Don't move, don't speak, he said, touching her mind.

Murtagh —

They both froze as they heard sounds of someone approaching. The spirit slowly vanished, but Murtagh had a sinking feeling it was not gone. They waited with baited breath for what felt like several long moments as a figure suddenly appeared from the shadows of where they had just been headed. Hal's eyes went wide with fear, and even he could see the tears that filled them as a Ra'zac crawled across the ground towards them, sniffing with desperation.

He couldn't touch her mind, not when he needed to focus on the shields he had put up around them to make sure they could not be detected. She covered her mouth with her hands as she closed her eyes, and he knew what she was seeing. What she was hearing and feeling. He wanted to reach out, to comfort her. And the fact that he couldn't made him seethe.

The Ra'zac moved with a meticulously slow pace, like it had known they were around here somewhere. And as it drew closer, he could see Hal begin to tremble, the tears beginning to fall as it approached her. It was inhaling deep pulls of air, like it recognized her scent.

You sssmell like our massster.

That's what the Ra'zac from before had kept repeating. Hal's scent drew them to her like honey to a bee. But why was the smell so important? Why did her scent indicate to the Ra'zac she was capable of magic?

Murtagh began to grow weak, the amount of magic it was taking to hide as much of their presence taking its toll. He could feel the sweat breaking out on his forehead, his body shaking with exertion. He was stronger now than he had been months ago, though, and he would see to it that the shields remained, if only for Hal's sake.

The Ra'zac had gotten closer now, sniffing at her feet, close to her physical form. Even though Murtagh was hiding them, his shields would do nothing if the creature ran right into her. But he had not mastered non-verbal spells, and he dared not risk opening his mouth and giving them away. Not when it was so close to Hal.

Look at me, he silently begged her. Just look at me. To me, Halen.

As if hearing him — had she heard him? — Hal's teary gaze went to him. The creature sniffed up her back and she closed them again, gritting her teeth so tightly he feared she would break her jaw. Despite the toll this was taking on him, his only concern was for her. She opened her eyes again and looked at him. He steeled his gaze, trying to convey to her that nothing was going to happen, that she was safe. He would not let the Ra'zac take her again.

He saw her swallow, licking her lips nervously, as the Ra'zac seemed to discern nothing out of the ordinary, sniffing its way through the trail Hal had left, back the way they had come. They waited several more minutes, to make sure it didn't circle back and surprise them. When it didn't reappear, Murtagh released the magic and Hal rushed forward to catch him as his knees gave out underneath him. The feel of her was a comfort, her hands on his face as she pushed his hair from his face.

"You are so unbelievably reckless," she snapped, her tears of concern giving away where her true feelings lay — although he had no doubt she was cross with him.

"I had few options, and even less time."

She shook her head at him. "How long will you continue to use my own words against me?"

"As long as it allows me to win an argument with you, which I rarely get the opportunity to do." He struggled to sit up straight, not wanting to put all of his weight on her. She remained close, but allowed him to move about independently.

"Are you sure you're all right?"

He nodded stiffly, smart enough not to mention that he would have been well off had he not spent so much energy sparring right before. "I'm sure I'll sleep soundly tonight, but I'll be fine." He raised his brow. "What about you?"

She hid her face. "I'm suddenly not as tired."

He nodded in understanding. Before he could respond, however, they heard an animalistic scream from the same direction the Ra'zac had gone. Hal whipped out her bow and arrow, crouching protectively in front of Murtagh before he could even lift his arm to grab his sword. He unsheathed it slowly, unsure if the sound was the Ra'zac being attacked, or the Ra'zac attacking something else.

It wasn't long before a tall figure appeared, stepping gracefully out of the thicket. Murtagh's eyes widened at the sight before him, and he heard Hal inhale sharply. He could understand her surprise, for he had a hard time processing what he was seeing, but familiarity prickled his skin. So much so that when Hal tightened his grip on her bow, preparing to shoot, he threw his hand out and stopped her.

"Have you lost your damn mind, rider?!"

"Don't — I don't think he's our enemy." To the elf he shouted, "Are you?"

The elf paused, and Murtagh was sure he was an elf, albeit a strange one. Instead of skin, he was covered in thick azure fur that gleamed beautifully in the sun. His eyes were a sharp yellow, hawkish in nature. And as he stepped closer, they both realized that he wore little more than a loincloth, to which Hal gave a strangled, "Oh my," before raising her gaze towards the tops of the trees. Murtagh blinked, having a slight inkling of seeing him with Eragon before Galbatorix had been killed — as they had entered the castle. Or perhaps on a battlefield.

"I am not, Murtagh Morzansson. My lady, I did not mean to startle you. My companion and I spotted the Ra'zac and, after slaying the beast, came to make sure it had not harmed any others."

As he spoke, a thin-faced female elf walked out of the brush to join him, sheathing a blade at her hip as she did so. She acknowledged them politely with a slight tilt of her head, but otherwise said nothing.

"My name is Blödhgarm, son of Ildrid the Beautiful," the elf said smoothly, his smile kind yet unnerving all the same. "I come on behalf of Eragon Shadeslayer. Murtagh, your brother is quite worried about you."