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As they rode away from Terim, Eragon asked, "What are werecats?"

Brom looked surprised at the question. "Why the sudden curiosity?"

"I heard someone mention them in Teirm. They're not real, are they?" said Eragon, pretending ignorance. George glanced at his friend but Eragon shook his head. Neither will tell Brom about Solembum's message unless it's absolutely necessary.

"They are quite real. During the Riders' years of glory, they were as renowned as the dragons. Kings and elves kept them as companions—yet the werecats were free to do what they chose. Very little has ever been known about them. I'm afraid that their race has become rather scarce recently."

"Could they use magic?" asked Eragon.

"No one's sure, but they could certainly do unusual things. They always seemed to know what was going on and somehow or another manage to get themselves involved." Brom pulled his hood up to block a chill wind.

"What's Helgrind?" asked Eragon, after a moment's thought.

"You'll see when we get to Dras-Leona."

When Teirm was out of sight, Eragon reached out with his mind and called, Saphira! The force of his mental shout was so strong that Cadoc flicked his ears in annoyance.

Saphira answered and sped toward them with all of her strength. Eragon and Brom watched as a dark blur rushed from a cloud, then heard a dull roar as Saphira's wings flared open. The sun shone behind the thin membranes, turning them translucent and silhouetting the dark veins. She landed with a blast of air.

Eragon got off Cadoc from behind George. "I'll join you for lunch."

Brom nodded, but seemed preoccupied. "Have a good time," he said, then looked at Saphira and smiled. "It's good to see you again."

And you too. Saphira turned her gaze to George. Would you like to join us, George?

I think you and Eragon should take the time to have a flight considering how long you both haven't went for a flight. George pointed out, eve though he was itching to stretch his dragon wings.

Saphira was a little disappointed and her tone spoke it. Oh, okay. She looked at him again. Maybe after we come back.

Definitely. I want a rematch from Teirm and I need to stretch my wings.

Pleased at that, Saphira spread her wings and took off while George and Brom continued on, looking for a place to camp for the night. Brom also took this time to ask George some things about the Sith Order and the Jedi Knights.

With the wind at her tail, Saphira sliced through the air. Hold on, she warned Eragon, and letting out a wild bugle, she soared in a great loop. Eragon yelled with excitement as he flung his arms in the air, holding on only with his legs.

I didn't know I could stay on while you did that without being strapped into the saddle, he said, grinning fiercely.

Neither did I, admitted Saphira, laughing in her peculiar way. Eragon hugged her tightly, and they flew a level path, masters of the sky.

By noon his legs were sore from riding bareback, and his hands and face were numb from the cold air. Saphira's scales were always warm to the touch, but she could not keep him from getting chilled. Eragon then asked Saphira, Do you mind if I ride Cadoc? He had decided to question Brom further about his past.

No, but tell me what he says. Eragon was not surprised that Saphira knew his plans. It was nearly impossible to hide anything from her when they were mentally linked. When they landed where George and Brom had set up camp and were having lunch, Eragon got off Saphira's back and approached his companions to have some food himself before deciding to question Brom.

Saphira than walked up behind George who seemed to know she was there judging by the smirk Eragon and Brom saw as Saphira playfully pulled on his black trench coat. He looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "Yes, Saphira?"

Saphira bent low on her front paws, her tail twitching in the air. She almost resembled a dog that wanted to play, which was what Saphira wanted as she nudged him playfully and growled, inviting him to play.

George chuckled and stood up after finishing. "You know, you look like a dog when you do that?" He quickly transformed and took off with an offended Saphira chasing after him.

Brom and Eragon chuckled at the two. "They make quite the pair, don't they?" Eragon asked with a smile as he watched the two dragons fly.

"Yes, they certainly do." Brom chuckled. The two readied the horses and continued onwards. Eragon now took the time to ask Brom about something.

"I need to talk to you. I wanted to do it when we first arrived in Teirm, but I decided to wait until now." Eragon said

"About what?" asked Brom.

Eragon paused. "There's a lot going on that I don't understand. For instance, who are your 'friends,' and why were you hiding in Carvahall? I trust you with my life just as I trust George with it—which is why I'm still traveling with you and have allowed George to travel this far with us—but I need to know more about who you are and what you are doing. What did you steal in Gil'ead, and what is the tuatha du orothrim that you're taking me through? I think that after all that's happened, I deserve an explanation."

"You eavesdropped on us."

"Only once," said Eragon. "George did as well."

"I see that you have yet to learn proper manners, and it seems it's the same with George." said Brom grimly, tugging on his beard. "What makes you think that this concerns you?"

"Nothing, really," said Eragon shrugging. "Just it's an odd coincidence that you happened to be hiding in Carvahall when I found Saphira's egg and that you also know so much dragonlore. The more I think about it, the less likely it seems. There were other clues that I mostly ignored, but they're obvious now that I look back. Like how you knew of the Ra'zac in the first place and why they ran away when you approached. And I can't help but wonder if you had something to do with the appearance of Saphira's egg. There's a lot you haven't told us, and Saphira, George, and I can't afford to ignore anything that might be dangerous."

Dark lines appeared on Brom's forehead as he reined Snowfire to a halt. "You won't wait?" he asked. Eragon shook his head mulishly. Brom sighed. "This wouldn't be a problem if you weren't so suspicious, but I suppose that you wouldn't be worth my time if you were otherwise." Eragon was unsure if he should take that as a compliment. Brom lit his pipe and slowly blew a plume of smoke into the air. "I'll tell you," he said, "but you have to understand that I cannot reveal everything." Eragon started to protest, but Brom cut him off. "It's not out of a desire to withhold information, but because I won't give away secrets that aren't mine. There are other stories woven in with this narrative. You'll have to talk with the others involved to find out the rest."

"Very well. Explain what you can," said Eragon.

"Are you sure?" asked Brom. "There are reasons for my secretiveness. I've tried to protect you by shielding you from forces that would tear you apart. Once you know of them and their purposes, you'll never have the chance to live quietly. You will have to choose sides and make a stand. Do you really want to know?"

"I cannot live my life in ignorance," said Eragon quietly.

"A worthy goal...Very well: there is a war raging in Alagaësia between the Varden and the Empire. Their conflict, however, reaches far beyond any incidental armed clashes. They are locked in a titanic power struggle... centered around you."

"Me?" said Eragon, disbelieving. "That's impossible. I don't have anything to do with either of them."

"Not yet," said Brom, "but your very existence is the focus of their battles. The Varden and the Empire aren't fighting to control this land or its people. Their goal is to control the next generation of Riders, of whom you are the first. Whoever controls these Riders will become the undisputed master of Alagaësia."

Eragon tried to absorb Brom's statements. It seemed incomprehensible that so many people would be interested in him and Saphira. No one besides Brom had thought he was that important. The whole concept of the Empire and Varden fighting over him was too abstract for him to grasp fully. Objections quickly formed in his mind. "But all the Riders were killed except for the Forsworn, who joined Galbatorix. As far as I know, even those are now dead. And you told me in Carvahall that no one knows if there are still dragons in Alagaësia."

"I lied about the dragons," said Brom flatly. "Even though the Riders are gone, there are still three dragon eggs left—all of them in Galbatorix's possession. Actually there are only two now, since Saphira hatched. The king salvaged the three during his last great battle with the Riders."

"So there may soon be two new Riders, both of them loyal to the king?" asked Eragon with a sinking feeling.

"Exactly," said Brom. "There is a deadly race in progress. Galbatorix is desperately trying to find the people for whom his eggs will hatch, while the Varden are employing every means to kill his candidates or steal the eggs."

"But where did Saphira's egg come from? How could anyone have gotten it away from the king? And why do you know all of this?" asked Eragon, bewildered.

"So many questions," laughed Brom bitterly. "There is another chapter to all this, one that took place long before you were born. Back then I was a bit younger, though perhaps not as wise. I hated the Empire—for reasons I'll keep to myself—and wanted to damage it in any way I could. My fervor led me to a scholar, Jeod, who claimed to have discovered a book that showed a secret passageway into Galbatorix's castle. I eagerly brought Jeod to the Varden—who are my 'friends'—and they arranged to have the eggs stolen."

The Varden!

"However, something went amiss, and our thief got only one egg. For some reason he fled with it and didn't return to the Varden. When he wasn't found, Jeod and I were sent to bring him and the egg back." Brom's eyes grew distant, and he spoke in a curious voice. "That was the start of one of the greatest searches in history. We raced against the Ra'zac and Morzan, last of the Forsworn and the king's finest servant."

"Morzan!" interrupted Eragon. "But he was the one who betrayed the Riders to Galbatorix!" And that happened so long ago! Morzan must have been ancient. It disturbed him to be reminded of how long Riders lived.

"So?" asked Brom, raising an eyebrow. "Yes, he was old, but strong and cruel. He was one of the king's first followers and by far his most loyal. As there had been blood between us before, the hunt for the egg turned into a personal battle. When it was located in Gil'ead, I rushed there and fought Morzan for possession. It was a terrible contest, but in the end I slew him. During the conflict I was separated from Jeod. There was no time to search for him, so I took the egg and bore it to the Varden, who asked me to train whomever became the new Rider. I agreed and decided to hide in Carvahall—which I had been to several times before—until the Varden contacted me. I was never summoned."

"Then how did Saphira's egg appear in the Spine? Was another one stolen from the king?" asked Eragon.

Brom grunted. "Small chance of that. He has the remaining two guarded so thoroughly that it would be suicide to try and steal them. No, Saphira was taken from the Varden, and I think I know how. To protect the egg, its guardian must have tried to send it to me with magic.

"The Varden haven't contacted me to explain how they lost the egg, so I suspect that their runners were intercepted by the Empire and the Ra'zac were sent in their place. I'm sure they were quite eager to find me, as I've managed to foil many of their plans."

"Then the Ra'zac didn't know about me when they arrived in Carvahall," said Eragon with wonder.

"That's right," replied Brom. "If that ass Sloan had kept his mouth shut, they might not have found out about you. Events could have turned out quite differently. In a way I have you to thank for my life. If the Ra'zac hadn't become so preoccupied with you, they might have caught me unawares, and that would have been the end of Brom the storyteller. The only reason they ran was because I'm stronger than the two of them, especially during the day. They must have planned to drug me during the night, then question me about the egg."

"You sent a message to the Varden, telling them about me?"

"Yes. I'm sure they'll want me to bring you to them as soon as possible."

"But you're not going to, are you?"

Brom shook his head. "No, I'm not."

"Why not? Being with the Varden must be safer than chasing after the Ra'zac, especially for a new Rider."

Brom snorted and looked at Eragon with fondness. "The Varden are dangerous people. If we go to them, you will be entangled in their politics and machinations. Their leaders may send you on missions just to make a point, even though you might not be strong enough for them. I want you to be well prepared before you go anywhere near the Varden. At least while we pursue the Ra'zac, I don't have to worry about someone poisoning your water. This is the lesser of two evils. And," he said with a smile, "it keeps you happy while I train you. . . . Tuatha du orothrim is just a stage in your instruction. I will help you find—and perhaps even kill—the Ra'zac, for they are as much my enemies as yours. But then you will have to make a choice."

"And that would be . . . ?" asked Eragon warily.

"Whether to join the Varden," said Brom. "If you kill the Ra'zac, the only ways for you to escape Galbatorix's wrath will be to seek the Varden's protection, flee to Surda, or plead for the king's mercy and join his forces. Even if you don't kill the Ra'zac, you will still face this choice eventually."

Eragon knew the best way to gain sanctuary might be to join the Varden, but he did not want to spend his entire life fighting the Empire like they did. He mulled over Brom's comments, trying to consider them from every angle. "You still didn't explain how you know so much about dragons."

"No, I didn't, did I?" said Brom with a crooked smile. "That will have to wait for another time."

Why me? Eragon asked himself. What made him so special that he should become a Rider? "Did you ever meet my mother?" he blurted.

Brom looked grave. "Yes, I did."

"What was she like?"

The old man sighed. "She was full of dignity and pride, like Garrow. Ultimately it was her downfall, but it was one of her greatest gifts nevertheless. . . . She always helped the poor and the less fortunate, no matter what her situation."

"You knew her well?" asked Eragon, startled.

"Well enough to miss her when she was gone."

As Cadoc plodded along, Eragon tried to recall when he had thought that Brom was just a scruffy old man who told stories. For the first time Eragon understood how ignorant he had been.

Hurry up, slowpoke! George called back with a laugh as he and Saphira flew through the air like jets trying to go supersonic. The sapphire dragoness did not enjoy his teasing at her being slow.

When I catch you... She left the threat hanging playfully as she caught up to him and both locked eyes. Since leaving Eragon and Brom, they've been flying about the mountainside playfully fighting in the air but they've been going at it for a while with neither wanting to submit to the other.

Saphira did a hard flap of her wings to fly above George before she tackled him straight out of the air and made sure he wouldn't be able to break out of it. They rolled about in the air before landing on a hill, both rolling down it while laughing in each other's heads.

When they stopped, Saphira was sprawled atop George's chest and their wings were lying limp on the ground, both were laughing at the fun they were having before both looked at each other and suddenly realized how close their snouts were but both dragons were staring into each other's eyes to notice. After a moment, they soon saw what position they were in which caused them both to blush before Saphira scrambled off George's chest.

George got onto his feet, clearing his throat. Well,uh...I guess you win. He said in a sheepish tone.

Guess so. Saphira said, not looking at him. After a minute she looked at him only to see him quickly looking away from her. Both dragons were silent as they refused to meet the other's eyes. Eventually, Saphira broke the silence. Do you...Do you want to continue playing? She asked, her stomach twisting in a knot. On one hand she wanted him to say yes, as she enjoyed the playing and fighting she and George did. On the other hand, she couldn't ignore the deep feeling she had just there when they were so close to each other but she quickly shook the thought away. George was her friend. They were just playing.

The same thoughts were in George's head as he thought over Saphira's question and what he felt just there when she was on top of him, her muzzle so close to his. He hasn't really felt this way at all in his entire life, he kept telling himself and his stomach that he and Saphira were just friends, yet a part of him was whispering he was a male and she was a beautiful female. He knew he had to get rid of this awkwardness before something happens one or two of them will regret.

He looked at the sky and felt relief at finding an excuse to break it. It's getting late. We should head back to Eragon and Brom

Silent relief flooded through Saphira but she hid it from George. Yes, I suppose you're right. Both dragons opened their wings and took off into the air but this time there was a large gap between them as they flew back.

They landed where Eragon and Brom had set up camp and immediately both went in the opposite direction of each other, away from the other. Eragon and Brom noticed this as Saphira sat on one side of Eragon and George laid a little bit away from them near Brom's side of the campfire and didn't transform back to human.

Eragon, oblivious to this, asked them how their flight well but only got curt responses from them as Saphira focused on cleaning her forepaws and George wasn't looking in Saphira's direction. I hope they didn't have a real fight this time. Eragon thought before he got to his feet and searched for water while Brom made dinner. He rubbed his hands together for warmth as he walked in a large circle, listening for a creek or spring. It was gloomy and damp between the trees.

He found a stream a ways from the camp, then crouched on the bank and watched the water splash over the rocks, dipping in his fingertips. The icy mountain water swirled around his skin, numbing it. It doesn't care what happens to us, or anyone else, thought Eragon. He shivered and stood.

An unusual print on the opposing stream bank caught his attention. It was oddly shaped and very large. Curious, he jumped across the stream and onto a rock shelf. As he landed, his foot hit a patch of damp moss. He grabbed a branch for support, but it broke, and he thrust out his hand to break his fall. He felt his right wrist crack as he hit the ground. Pain lanced up his arm.

A steady stream of curses came out from behind his clenched teeth as he tried not to howl. Half blind with pain, he curled on the ground, cradling his arm. Eragon! came Saphira's alarmed cry. What happened?

Broke my wrist . . . did something stupid . . . fell.

I'm coming, said Saphira.

No—I can make it back. Don't . . . come. Trees too close for . . . wings.

She sent him a brief image of her tearing the forest apart to get at him, then said, Hurry.

Groaning, he staggered upright. The print was pressed deeply into the ground a few feet away. It was the mark of a heavy, nail-studded boot. Eragon instantly remembered the tracks that had surrounded the pile of bodies in Yazuac. "Urgal," he spat, wishing that Zar'roc was with him; he could not use his bow with only one hand. His head snapped up, and he shouted with his mind, Saphira! Urgals! Keep the others safe.

Eragon leapt back over the stream and raced toward their camp, yanking out his hunting knife. He saw potential enemies behind every tree and bush. I hope there's only one Urgal. He burst into the camp, ducking as Saphira's tail swung overhead. "Stop. It's me!" he yelled.

Oops, said Saphira. Her wings were folded in front of her chest like a wall.

"Oops?" growled Eragon, running to her. "You could've killed me! Where's Brom?"

"I'm right here," snapped Brom's voice from behind Saphira's wings. Eragon noticed George, still in dragon form, now watching with what seemed to be amusement dancing in his eyes. "Tell your crazy dragon to release me; she won't listen to me."

"Let him go!" said Eragon, exasperated. "Didn't you tell him?"

No, she said sheepishly. You just said to keep him safe. She lifted her wings, and Brom stepped forward angrily.

"I found an Urgal footprint. And it's fresh."

Brom immediately turned serious and turned to George who had now returned to human form and fixed his trench coat. "Saddle the horses. We're leaving." He put out the fire while George got the horses ready but Eragon did not move. "What's wrong with your arm?"

"My wrist is broken," he said, swaying.

"Damn it." George said as he got onto Cadoc, grabbed Eragon's other arm that wasn't broken and swung him onto the horse behind the Force-user. "Hold on."

Brom turned and said to Saphira, "It's almost dark; you might as well fly right overhead. If Urgals show up, they'll think twice about attacking with you nearby."

They'd better, or else they won't think again, remarked Saphira as she licked Eragon's cheek, locked eyes with George, then took off.

The light was disappearing quickly, and the horses were tired, but they spurred them on without respite. Eragon's wrist, swollen and red, continued to throb. A mile from the camp, Brom halted. "Listen," he said.

Both George and Eragon heard the faint call of a hunting horn behind them. As it fell silent, panic gripped him. "They must have found where we were," said Brom, "and probably Saphira's tracks. They will chase us now. It's not in their nature to let prey escape." Then two horns winded. They were closer. A chill ran through Eragon as he tightened his grip around George's shoulders, having moved his arm there st some point. "Our only chance is to run," said Brom. He raised his head to the sky, and his face blanked as he called Saphira.

She rushed out of the night sky and landed. "Leave Cadoc. Go with her. You'll be safer," commanded Brom.

"What about you two?" Eragon protested.

"We'll be fine. Now go!" George said as he used his strength to lift Eragon onto Saphira's back, the dragoness crouched low so her rider can be placed on her back. Once this was done, George and Brom rode on ahead with the horses, Saphira flew after them, flapping above the galloping horses.

Eragon clung to Saphira as best he could; he winced whenever her movements jostled his wrist. The horns blared nearby, bringing a fresh wave of terror. Brom and George crashed through the underbrush, forcing the horses to their limits. The horns trumpeted in unison close behind them, then were quiet.

Minutes passed. Where are the Urgals? wondered Eragon. A horn sounded, this time in the distance. He sighed in relief, resting against Saphira's neck, while on the ground Brom and George slowed theie headlong rush. That was close, said Eragon.

Yes, but we cannot stop until—Saphira was interrupted as a horn blasted directly underneath them. Eragon jerked in surprise, and Brom and George resumed their frenzied retreat. Horned Urgals, shouting with coarse voices, barreled along the trail on horses, swiftly gaining ground. They were almost in sight of George and Brom, they could not outrun the Urgals.

We have to do something! exclaimed Eragon.

What?

Land in front of the Urgals!

Are you crazy? demanded Saphira.

Land! I know what I'm doing, said Eragon. There isn't time for anything else. They're going to overtake Brom and George!

Very well. Saphira pulled ahead of the Urgals, then turned, preparing to drop onto the trail. Eragon reached for his power and felt the familiar resistance in his mind that separated him from the magic. He did not try to breach it yet. A muscle twitched in his neck.

As the Urgals pounded up the trail, he shouted, "Now!" Saphira abruptly folded her wings and dropped straight down from above the trees, landing on the trail in a spray of dirt and rocks.

The Urgals shouted with alarm and yanked on their horses' reins. The animals went stiff-legged and collided into each other, but the Urgals quickly untangled themselves to face Saphira with bared weapons. Hate crossed their faces as they glared at her. There were twelve of them, all ugly, jeering brutes. Eragon wondered why they did not flee. He had thought that the sight of Saphira would frighten them away. Why are they waiting? Are they going to attack us or not?

He was shocked when the largest Urgal advanced and spat, "Our master wishes to speak with you, human!" The monster spoke in deep, rolling gutturals.

It's a trap, warned Saphira before Eragon could say anything. Don't listen to him.

At least let's find out what he has to say, He reasoned, curious, but extremely wary. "Who is your master?" he asked.

The Urgal sneered. "His name does not deserve to be given to one as low as yourself. He rules the sky and holds dominance over the earth. You are no more than a stray ant to him. Yet he has decreed that you shall be brought before him, alive. Take heart that you have become worthy of such notice!"

"I'll never go with you nor any of my enemies!" declared Eragon, thinking of Yazuac. "Whether you serve Shade, Urgal, or some twisted fiend I've not heard of, I have no wish to parley with him."

"That is a grave mistake," growled the Urgal, showing his fangs. "There is no way to escape him. Eventually you will stand before our master. If you resist, he will fill your days with agony."

Eragon wondered who had the power to bring the Urgals under one banner. Was there a third great force loose in the land—along with the Empire and the Varden? "Keep your offer and tell your master that the crows can eat his entrails for all I care!"

Rage swept through the Urgals; their leader howled, gnashing his teeth. "We'll drag you to him, then!" He waved his arm and the Urgals rushed at Saphira. Raising his right hand, Eragon barked, "Jierda!"

No! cried Saphira, but it was too late.

The monsters faltered as Eragon's palm glowed. Beams of light lanced from his hand, striking each of them in the gut. The Urgals were thrown through the air and smashed into trees, falling senseless to the ground.

Fatigue suddenly drained Eragon of strength, and he tumbled off Saphira. His mind felt hazy and dull. As Saphira bent over him, he realized that he might have gone too far. The energy needed to lift and throw twelve Urgals was enormous. Fear engulfed him as he struggled to stay conscious.

At the edge of his vision he saw one of the Urgals stagger to his feet, sword in hand. Eragon tried to warn Saphira, but he was too weak. No . . . , he thought feebly. The Urgal crept toward Saphira until he was well past her tail, then raised his sword to strike her neck. No! . . . Saphira whirled on the monster, roaring savagely. Her talons slashed with blinding speed. Blood spurted everywhere as the Urgal was rent in two.

Saphira snapped her jaws together with finality and returned to Eragon. She gently wrapped her bloody claws around his torso, then growled and jumped into the air. The night blurred into a pain-filled streak. The hypnotic sound of Saphira's wings put him in a bleary trance: up, down; up, down; up, down...

This is a total clusterfuck. George thought to himself as he looked at Eragon's unconscious form, Brom checking on him while Saphira was worried and practically blaming herself for not stopping Eragon. Having enough of her blaming herself, he walked up and grabbed her cheeks to turn her head so she can look at him in the eye. Enough Saphira! None of this is your fault.

But I didn't stop him... Saphira cried as tears fell down her scaly cheeks.

I don't think any of us could've. George said softly as he rubbed her cheeks, Saphira leaning into his embrace and comfort. He's alive and Brom says he'll be okay, Saphira? Don't blame yourself. He hugged her snout, an odd feeling of protectiveness making him do so. Now wipe those tears away, they hide those pretty eyes of yours.

With that, he released her snout and walked away to Brom's side as Saphira's was shocked at what he said, a curious feeling appearing in her stomach at his words. He called her eyes pretty...

"What's the plan, Brom?" George asked seriously with his arms crossed.

"Saphira and I will hunt those Urgals down. We cannot let them get back to their master with information about Eragon and Saphira." Brom growled as he went to get ready.

George, watch-

I will, Saphira. You have my word. George said as he stared into her eyes. Once Brom was on her back, Saphira nodded at George before taking off into the air. George looked and Eragon and said aloud. "She's not going to be happy with you when you wake up."

After a small flight and hunt for some food for himself, George came back and saw Eragon had woken up. He landed and dropped the deer carcass before speaking with Eragon. Finally awake.

Where's Brom and Saphira? Eragon asked as George began eating.

Cleaning up your mess. George said a bit coldly as he ripped a chunk out of the deer. Eragon winced as he remembered what happened with the Urgals. Saphira won't be happy with you when she comes back and neither will Brom.

I was trying to help! Eragon argued back.

I know, Eragon. George said softly as he soon finished eating what he needed from the deer and disposed of the carcass before changing back into his human form. "We were all just worried."

Eragon nodded. He then scryed Saphira and Brom to make sure they were alright and also saw the girl from his dreams. After this he talked with George a bit to pass the time when they heard the flap of Saphira's wings. Saphira soon landed with Brom on her back, but both George and Eragon saw his sword stained with blood.

"What happened?" asked Eragon, afraid that he had been wounded.

"What happened?" roared the old man. "I've been trying to clean up your mess!" He slashed the air with the sword, flinging drops of blood along its arc. "Do you know what you did with that little trick of yours? Do you?"

"Here we go..." George muttered as he stood next to Saphira, placing a hand on her neck and she hummed, happy to see him as well. The two stayed back and watched the heated argument between them before Eragon admitted he made a mistake and Brom's anger eased but not completely. Eventually they decided to get some rest for the night.

I'm glad you are okay, little one. You had me worried. Saphira said, nuzzling her Rider softly.

I'm sorry for worrying you. Eragon saidz rubbing her neck.

Just don't do it again. Saphira said and watched as her Rider soon went to sleep befit looking at George and saw he was still awake but looking at the fire now. She thought back to what he said about her eyes and that curious feeling returned to her stomach. She was in tears and he comforted her and was there for her. The concern and care she felt from him wasn't fake or an illusion, they were genuine. Saphira could no longer deny that things were changing between her and George, changes that started after he became a dragon. They didn't have feelings of friendship anymore, it's went deeper and has been since Teirm. But what the feelings were and what her and George were becoming... Saphira didn't know.

She shifted slightly. George?

Yes, Saphira? He looked at her curiously.

Saphira hesitated in what she was about to say. She didn't know what his answer to it would be but if it was the one she thinks it will be, then it confirms things have changed between the two. What you said about my eyes last night...that they were pretty...

Yes...? George asked hesitantly and now shifting uncomfortably.

Did you mean it? Saphira asked, hesitating to ask the question.

George was silent as he fought his own hesitation. Part of him said it in the spur of the moment but it was the truth, her eyes were very pretty. I did. They are pretty.

Th...Thank you.

You're um...you're welcome.

Both remained silent after that, they were definitely not just friends now. They didn't know what they were, things have been changing between them since Teirm. Saphira didn't know what she was feeling, all she knew was that she and George were now slightly more than friends.

Yes, simply more than friends and that's how it will stay.

That's it for this chapter.