And here, ladies and gentleman, is a chapter that is longer than 2500 words! (And here you're supposed to gasp and cry: "It's a miracle!" "I thought it was just a legend!" or you can just say nothing at all because the average length of the chapters of OTHER fanfics is about 5000 words. I'm ashamed.) Unfortunately, this miraculous chapter is… not very good. In fact it is quite terrible. But never mind, there is no action whatsoever, nothing really at all apart from another of Eragon's weird psychotic dreams, and you can stop reading this fanfic right here if you want but please DON'T! Please! On that matter, I would like to thank the reviewers of my last chapter, Dragonnetic, Ai Huiyuan, and Nine! Thank you all SO MUCH! I know I sound pathetic but I really am veeeeery grateful to all of you. If it's not too much to ask, please carry on reviewing!

Other than that, I have nothing much to say apart from that I watched the second Hunger Games movie yesterdy and it was even better than the first one it was AMAZING if you haven't watched them yet then WATCH THEM because they are SO GREAAAAAT and I own nothing and of course even though I've already said it please please please REVIEW!

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Dreams and Tales

Once again, he stood in the glowing forest. The marble-like, leafless branches of the trees were shrowded in a softly shining haze of violet and blue that obscured what sky there might have been. The carpet of green moss was soft and spongy beneath his bare feet. And of course, at his side stood Saphira.

By unspoken consent they walked, slowly, following an unseen path. Saphira's wings rustled against the alabaster tree trunks, and cast a shimmering light upon Eragon's skin. He was the first to speak.

I cannot do this anymore, he said. It is too hard.

Saphira snorted, releasing a small puff of smoke from her nostrils. She bent her head to touch his shoulder with the tip of her nose. The hero of the Varden says that it is too hard? she replied incredulously. You are Eragon Shadeslayer. You have put up with far worse hardships than this without complaining. Nothing is "too hard" for you.

This is, he said. It is different to the war against Galbatorix. Their world is strange, and even though Galbatorix was evil, do you think he would have pitted children against one another? Some of my supposed "enemies" are barely twelve years old. The Hunger Games are monstrous indeed.

The azure dragon appeared to consider this for a while, her gleaming indigo eyes slitted as she pondered his words.

Eragon, she said finally, you do not know the context in which these children are fighting. Of course I think that it is an evil thing. But… perhaps you should not be so quick to judge when you know not the history of their world.

Eragon, infuriated, stepped in her path, blocking her way. He stared up at the hulking dragon, fire in his gaze. How can you say that? he spat. I don't care about what events brought the Games into being. I don't care about what wars were waged, or how many people died. I don't care about any of that. All I know is that these children are innocent. How can they not be? They're children, Saphira. Some of them are younger than I was when I found your egg in the Spine. I recently saw a boy butcher a girl who had to be fourteen at most. She was called Anya. And now she's dead, and her parents will mourn her, and you say that I shouldn't judge her true murderers: the people who watch us die, the people who laugh as we die. He turned away from her, not waiting to hear her reply.

She was silent for a long while, and Eragon stood there, shoulders heaving, breathing heavily. He had to put a lid on his anger. Saphira was not in the arena with him. She could not know what atrocities these people were committing.

I am sorry, she murmured. I should not have spoken like that. I know nothing of the world of which you speak. But, Eragon… here she snaked her great, spiny head around to look him in the eye, and snapped her jaws together once, and he glimpsed a flash of white fangs inside her mouth. I want you to know that if I were in that arena with you, I would breathe flames upon every inch of it, and watch as it burnt. And then I would fly out, and I would fly to the king's rat-nest-city, no matter how far or how well armed or how well defended it was, and I would smash every last stone to rubble. And then I would tear the people who watched you fight in the arena to bloody shreds and leave them for the rats and the birds of carrion, and then I would take the king himself in my jaws and burn him alive, and then I would rip his ashes apart and scatter them far and wide in his kingdom, so that he would never be able to rest in peace. And then, and only then, would I be content. She snorted again, and the puff of wispy smoke seemed to act as a full stop to her speech. She withdrew her head and Eragon turned back round to face her. He smiled.

Thank you, he whispered, placing one hand upon her thickly armoured chest. You don't know how much better that made me feel.

Saphira grinned one of her ferocious, wolfish grins.

The only thing is, he added, resting his brow against her glittering scales, I think it is a president, not a king, who rules over the land.

She growled, and he felt the thrum of her powerful muscles against his skin. No matter. President, king, I am sure all of them taste good enough after being roasted with dragonfire.

Eragon closed his eyes, and trailed his finger tips down her silky-smooth, diamond-hard, sea-blue hide. Again, thank you, he murmured so softly she would not have heard his words had they not been linked by their minds. Truly. I feel strong enough to return there now. Will I find you here again?

Saphira hummed gently and folded her velvet wings around him. I will always be anywhere for you, little one.

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Eragon awoke blearily, feeling disorientated. He tried to raise himself into a sitting position, but a sharp, searing blast of agony slammed into him, making his stomach lurch and his eyes water with pain. He fell back, gasping, and stared up at the pale blue sky that was visible through a criss-crossing web of branches.

"You might want to be a little more careful with that," said a female voice from somewhere nearby. "It's not a flesh wound. At least two of your ribs are broken, but I don't think they're piercing a lung. And you lost a good deal of blood."

Eragon turned his head to one side and saw Katniss sitting on a rock to his right, idly playing with her bow. The sight of her brought memories of the horrendous previous night – the Careers, the wolf creatures, his injury… The place he was in now didn't seem like the clearing of the battle, though.

"How long have I been out for?" he asked weakly, gazing up at the puffy white clouds that scudded overhead. "And where are we?"

Katniss hopped nimbly down from her rock and crouched next to him. "You were unconscious for a little more than half a day," she replied. "And we're a few hundred meters from the clearing where you were attacked by the mutts. I carried you over here –" she paused, and amended, " – dragged you over here. The Capitol had to collect the bodies." She sat back, then added as an afterthought, "You're heavy."

Eragon felt a chill crawl down his spine at the word bodies. "Who died?" he asked. "Actually, no, I know the answer to that question. Blaze and Zuleika, right?" A small pang of regret and grief went through him at the loss of his ally.

"I don't know their names," said Katniss, "but there was a really big guy and a girl with a crossbow."

"That's them," he said. "What did you call those things? The wolf creatures. You put a name to them just now."

"What, the mutts?" repeated Katniss. "Yeah, well, they're genetically engineered monsters… animals… things, created by the Capitol for the Hunger Games. To kill the tributes, as you must have guessed." She sat back, then seemed to have a second thought and leaned forwards, pulling her muffler down and placing her lips against his ear. Eragon suppressed a shiver. He might be fighting for his life, but he hadn't stopped loving Katniss.

"Remember," she whispered, her voice little more than a breath, "you're supposed to be from District Twelve, so try to act like you know what's going on. Odds are, we're live in front of the whole of Panem at the moment." She withdrew, and Eragon considered her words. He nodded.

"All right," Katniss said, tucking her braid into her hood and standing up, "I'm afraid this isn't a hospital here. It's an icy cold arena, there are people roaming around who are after our blood, and we're in danger. Unfortunately, you're gonna have to get up." She held out a hand, and Eragon noticed the absence of her outer gloves, like Sharker. He grimaced.

"My ribs are broken."

"Unless we move right around now you're going to hurt a whole lot more," Katniss insisted, thrusting her hand towards him. "It's not a wound that will heal in five minutes. We haven't got enough time to stick around here and weep over your poor, beat-up little body."

"I'm hungry," said Eragon, stalling, but also realizing that he hadn't eaten anything very substantial for a good deal of time. "There are biscuits in my pack, which I really hope you've brought with us. Pass me one, will you?"

Katniss sighed, vanished from his field of vision, then reappeared with a crumbling biscuit in her hand. She shoved it into his mouth (his muffler was around his neck) then, while he was spluttering around the stale piece of biscuit, she seized his gloved hand in hers and hauled him to his feet. He yelled, spewing crumbs everywhere, as a fiery bolt of pain tore through his bandaged flank. Eragon doubled over and pressed his hands against his ribs, but that only made it worse, so he took them away.

"Not cut out to be a healer, are you?" he hissed from between clenched teeth. Katniss shook her head.

"Not exactly, no," she said. "My mother passed that particular trait to my sister, but not to me."

"Great," Eragon snorted, the pain in his side receding, but still throbbing angrily each time he drew breath or moved suddenly. He stood up straight, wincing, and feeling light-headed from loss of blood. "At this precise moment, I'd rather your little sister were in the arena than you. She'd certainly be of more use."

"Ah, but what saved you from the mutts?" Katniss asked, winking at him. She shouldered Eragon's rucksack and her bow. "Me and my amazing archery skills." She suddenly grew serious. "Let's cut the banter. We'll need to be more prepared than this if we're going to survive." She handed him Blödhslytha, sheathed in its gleaming silver scabbard. "Are you strong enough to carry this?"

Eragon took the heavy weapon and slipped it through his belt. "It's fine." In truth it wasn't fine, it hurt like a hot brand was pressed against his ribs when he moved with the sword hanging off him, but the reassuring weight of Blödhslytha at his waist more than made up for that uncomfortable fact. He set his jaw resolutely. "Let's go."

Katniss nodded approvingly, and they set off through the snow-laden forest.

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After half an hour, they had to stop. Eragon's claw-wounds hurt terribly, and he felt weak and woozy. Katniss watched him with something like concern in her dark eyes as he lowered himself onto a log and took deep, gulping breaths of the cold air.

"I'm fine," he choked out. "It's just… the blood loss, I guess. I'll be over it tomorrow." He leant his elbows on his knees and looked down at the ground, trying to get his strenght back. He might have the body of an elf and the abilties of one too, but that didn't mean he recovered miraculously after an injury of that size and depth. "At least, I hope I will, because otherwise we're in deep trouble."

Katniss sat down next to him, brushing powdery snow off the pitted and gnarled wood. She rubbed his back while they sat in silence for a while. Eragon knew that while she was trying to hide it, she was impatient to keep moving and a little irritated that he was slowing them down.

"So, what's happened to you so far?" he asked, to take her mind off the fact that they should start moving again and also out of genuine curiosity. "Has it been as much of a ride for you as it's been for me?"

She shrugged. "At the Cornucopia, I grabbed this bow and arrows, and I was lucky enough to make it out alive with no serious wounds." She placed emphasis on this word as she showed him a bloody scrape on her left forearm. "A little blond bastard gave it to me, but it could have been worse. So, I took off running towards the forest, and survived in there for a little while. A day, maybe? Two? Anyway, I was hunting – I didn't have a rucksack or any kind of supplies, so that's been my main source of food, aside from bark and pine needles – " here she made a face " – Don't recommend them. They're disgusting. As I was saying, I was hunting when I heard these horrible growls and snarls. Please don't ask me why, but I set off towards where they were coming from and found these massive mutts ripping a group of people to shreds."

"It was hardly a group," protested Eragon. "It was me and Zuleika. And there was Blaze, I suppose, but Zuleika had already shot him, so he doesn't count."

Katniss shot him a glare. "Leave me out of your love life. All I saw was a pack of enormous fang-filled muttations tearing up a corpse and splatters of blood everywhere in the clearing, so excuse me for thinking there were more than two people there. In any case, I set upon them with my bow because that's just who I am, and then, lying on the ground and covered in an alarming amount of your own blood, I found you. And of course you know the rest." She paused for a moment, then asked, "How did you get covered in such an alarming amount of your own blood? I thought your field of predilection was swordsmanship and that you were really excellent at that." She grinned, and Eragon sighed, then regretted it as a spasm of pain ripped through his guts.

"You're not still toting those words around, are you?" he said incredulously. "I said them in the Capitol. That was – " he thought for a second. "Actually, that wasn't so long ago. But still. Anyway, to answer your question, I am very good with a sword, but those… mutts got me by surprise, and they were very powerful." Eragon shifted slightly on the log and winced. "And I guess I underestimated them perhaps a little bit."

Katniss gaped at him. "The great warrior Eragon? He underestimated his enemy? My, that will be a tale for my grandchildren."

"Oh, come on," smiled Eragon. "Hasn't it ever happened to you?"

Katniss got off the log and held out a hand to him. "Never," she said firmly. "And I have no intention of it ever happening."

Eragon took her hand, and let her haul him to his feet, and once again, they started off through the snow beneath the watchful black trees.

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I am sooooooooo sorry for that chapter. Really. Nothing I say can possibly add to that fact. I am so ashamed that I will now withdraw humbly, and all that I ask of you is to please… review. (Of course. You must have guessed it.)

;)