Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the OC.

After selling Cadoc in a small town, George went back to where he had hidden Arya in the woods. He knew this bit would be difficult. Transforming into his dragon form, he carefully got the saddle strapped to him and then got Arya strapped to it. Once he was sure she was secured and he was hidden from view, he took off into the air and flew towards the mountains. His massive wings flapped through the air as he soured through the sky.

He glanced back in the direction he came, the direction he left his companions and his mate. He sighed and bowed his head. He already missed her. He steeled himself and flew faster. As soon as he got Arya to the Varden, the sooner he can reunite with the female he loves...

Eragon, Saphira, and Murtagh forced themselves to rise early in the gray predawn hours. Eragon shivered in the cool air and looked around, noticing George was missing before remembering what he was doing.

Shall we go? Saphira asked. She had struggled to not think about any danger her mate could be finding himself in on his way to the Varden. All she wanted was to get to the Varden so she can be beside him once again.

Eragon repeated the question and Murtagh's eyes sparked dangerously, a tight smile lifting his lips. He glanced back the way they had come, where smoke from soldiers' camps was clearly visible, and said, "I always did like races."

"And now we are in one for our lives!"

Murtagh swung into Tornac's saddle and trotted out of the camp. Eragon followed close behind on Snowfire. Saphira jumped into the air. She flew low to the ground to avoid being seen by the soldiers. In this fashion, the three of them made their way southeast toward the distant Hadarac Desert.

Eragon kept a quick eye out for pursuers as he rode. His mind repeatedly wandered back recent events and what people back home in Carvahall, what Roran, would think of. It struck him that if he ever returned to Carvahall, he would have a hard time convincing anyone that his adventures had actually occurred.

For the rest of the day, Eragon and Murtagh sped through the land, ignoring discomfort and fatigue. They drove the horses as hard as they could without killing them. Sometimes they dismounted and ran on foot to give Tornac and Snowfire a rest. Only twice did they stop—both times to let the horses eat and drink.

Though the soldiers of Gil'ead were far behind now, Eragon and Murtagh found themselves having to avoid new soldiers every time they passed a town or village. Somehow the alarm had been sent ahead of them. Twice they were nearly ambushed along the trail, escaping only because Saphira happened to smell the men ahead of them. After the second incident, they avoided the trail entirely.

Dusk softened the countryside as evening drew a black cloak across the sky. Through the night they traveled, relentlessly pacing out the miles. In the deepest hours of night, the ground rose beneath them to form low cactus-dotted hills.

Murtagh pointed forward. "There's a town, Bullridge, some leagues ahead that we must bypass. They're sure to have soldiers watching for us. We should try to slip past them now while it's dark."

After three hours they saw the straw-yellow lanterns of Bullridge. A web of soldiers patrolled between watch fires scattered around the town. Eragon and Murtagh muffled their sword sheaths and carefully dismounted. They led the horses in a wide detour around Bullridge, listening attentively to avoid stumbling on an encampment.

With the town behind them, Eragon relaxed slightly. Daybreak finally flooded the sky with a delicate blush and warmed the chilly night air. They halted on the crest of a hill to observe their surroundings. The Ramr River was to their left, but it was also five miles to their right. The river continued south for several leagues, then doubled back on itself in a narrow loop before curving west. They had covered over sixteen leagues in one day.

Eragon leaned against Snowfire's neck, happy with the distance they had gone. "Let's find a gully or hollow where we can sleep undisturbed." They stopped at a small stand of juniper trees and laid their blankets beneath them. Saphira waited patiently for them.

As Murtagh stated he'd take the first watch, Saphira curled around her Rider. He scratched her neck but knew her mind kept wandering to her mate and he hoped George was okay. But he was capable of taking care of himself.

I miss him, little one. Saphira said softly.

As do I, Saphira. As do I.

And that's how I ended up meeting Eragon, Saphira, and Brom. George said to the unconscious elf on his back. He knew she wouldn't hear him, at least he think she wouldn't or couldn't, but it helped a little with the silence. He did have a habit of speaking to himself at times. He had flown all day and night now, never stopping until his wings were tired. Once they were, that's when he stopped and rested for the night, curling around Arya to protect her.

Plus his stomach called for food.

Once he was done resting his wings and having some breakfast. He was back in the air. No matter what, he couldn't stop with this mission. He faster a glance back to Arya before looking forward and continued flying.

This could probably take a while. Hopefully my wings are strong enough to go all day, night, and morning. The silver-scaled dragon thought to himself.

They had reached the Hadarac Desert.

Avast expanse of dunes spread to the horizon like ripples on an ocean. Bursts of wind twirled the reddish gold sand into the air. Scraggly trees grew on scattered patches of solid ground—ground any farmer would have declared unfit for crops. Rising in the distance was a line of purple crags. The imposing desolation was barren of any animals except for a bird gliding on the zephyrs.

"You're sure we'll find food for the horses out there?" queried Eragon, slurring his words. The hot, dry air stung his throat.

"See those?" asked Murtagh, indicating the crags. "Grass grows around them. It's short and tough, but the horses will find it sufficient."

"I hope you're right," said Eragon, squinting at the sun. "Before we continue, let's rest. My mind is slow as a snail, and I can barely move my legs."

They ate, then laid in the shadow of a dune for a nap. As Eragon settled into the sand, Saphira coiled up next to him and spread her wings over them. This is a wondrous place, she said. I could spend years here and not notice the passing time.

Eragon closed his eyes. It would be a nice place to fly, he agreed drowsily.

Not only that, I feel as though I was made for this desert. It has the space I need, mountains where I could roost, and camouflaged prey that I could spend days hunting. And the warmth! Cold does not disturb me, but this heat makes me feel alive and full of energy. She craned her head toward the sky, stretching happily. George would love it here.

You like it that much? mumbled Eragon.

Yes.

Then when this is all done, perhaps we can return...All of us. He drifted into slumber even as he spoke. Saphira was pleased and hummed gently while he and Murtagh rested.

Bloody hell, FINALLY! George thought to himself as he came upon the place Eragon described was the Varden's entrance, at least he hoped it was or else he went the wrong way. He landed at the lake, hearing a waterfall up ahead. His wings were tired for the flight and so was he. He could do with a rest now but he needed to get into the Varden first.

Making his way towards where he can hear the waterfall, he found the area he was looking for. Wasting little time, he went towards the entrance he assumed it was and batted st it harshly with one of his paws to get anyone's attention, really. He then shouted with his mind. Aí varden abr du Shur'tugals gata vanta! A Friend of the Varden seeks passage!

A few seconds passed and nothing happened. George growled and repeated the phrase, again, nothing. He growled even more in anger as he began to use aggressive means to get anyone's attention when he saw movement out of the corner of his eyes. He growled when he saw men aiming arrows at him. Suddenly the cliff face opened like two doors and he cautiously entered, making sure Arya was safe on his back. He walked further until he heard a voice

"Well, now. This is certainly a surprise..."

And that's it for this chapter, separate routes as I named it. The next one is called The Varden as George is now at the Varden. Because he used his Dragon form, he got there quicker than the others. So I'd say Eragon and the other companions are a day behind him.