Chapter 62 — A Home For Two
Eragon laid in bed while Arya leaned against the open door of his bedroom with her arms crossed on her chest. She was watching attentively as Angela grabbed a flask from her bag and sat beside him on the bed. She avoided his look and worked in silence: opening the flask and spreading the greenish unguent on the tender spot of his chest, the one she had been preparing in the kitchen while they were away.
"What's the matter with you?" He asked as she remained serious.
"No matter. I'm fine." Her lips were a fine line and her brows formed a deep crease.
"There's something wrong, Angela. I know it. Spit it out."
Angela took a deep breath and stared at him for the first time.
"You want to know what's wrong with me, you blockhead? Very well," she put the flask aside and pointed a finger to his face. "The matter is that we tend to think you are invincible, the all-mighty Shadeslayer. But you are not, are you?"
Eragon glanced at Arya, who had a relaxed expression, amused even, and returned the gaze to Angela. She was waiting for his answer, so he simply shook his head.
"No, you're not. And you know that. But we forget. We all forget. Not you. You know you can die when you walk into battle. You thought you wouldn't survive the fight against Galbatorix, didn't you?"
"Well, I hoped I would, but I would be lying if I told you I was that confident."
"Right! You knew. You always know! We do too, but we forget, don't we?" She turned to Arya, who rose her shoulders. "You also think I know everything that's going to happen, but it doesn't work that way."
"What's wrong, Angela? Why are you saying these things? What doesn't work that away?"
"Because while you rush to your death, we are confident that you will win. But we forget you are made of flesh and bones just like the rest of us. One mistake and you are gone. And how does it leave us? Huh?" She poked his wound, and a stabbing pain pierced him.
"Ouch, Angela! It hurts," he flinched.
Angela retrieved the unguent and restarted to apply it on his chest with less delicacy than reason recommended.
"Angela. You are saying that you are sad I almost died?"
Angela didn't look at him, but he saw her bottom lip trembling slightly.
"Angela! I never knew you cared so much about me."
Angela stared at him and he wished she hadn't.
"Oh, so I run to get your enormous head out of trouble out of charity? I'm here making sure you stay alive because I like to spend my free time churning in this stinking lotion? Honestly, you are a bigger blockhead than I thought."
Arya let out a quiet laugh as his expression couldn't be more confused.
"I… I'm sorry, Angela. I will try not to worry you anymore."
She raised a brow.
"Do whatever pleases you. I will be here with my unguents and potions as always."
They remained quiet for the rest of the treatment. No jesting, no talking. He respected her introspection, so did Arya.
"I'm all done here," she closed the flask and put it on the bedside table, "you will apply the way I did, abundantly in small circles on the wound. At sunrise and sunset for at least ten days. After that you observe, if it's still red you continue until all that's left is a pale scar. Yes, there will be a scar, but you are already used to being weird-looking."
Eragon frowned but nodded at her instructions.
"Why it didn't close when I heal it on the battlefield, or when Arya did later on?"
Angela sighed, with her eyes focused on the snow that started falling that afternoon.
"Bachel had many tricks. I can only wonder which one she used on you."
"It's funny, she said the same about you, that you're a trickster."
Angela squinted her eyes in annoyance, but then shook her head and patted on his shoulder.
"Bachel was something else, and I'm grateful she's gone." Then she got up and said to the both of them. "I will come here to check on the wound every two days. If any complications appear you let me know."
"We will, thank you, Angela," Arya said approaching the bed.
The herbalist tipped her head and collected her bag.
"May you have a good recovery, Shadeslayer."
"Thank you, Angela. And I'm sorry again for worrying you."
"Aye, aye. Let's forget about it."
For ten days, Eragon did have a good recovery, and as Angela predicted, all that was left at the end was a reddish scar in the form of a stab wound. He tried to erase it from his skin using magic, but the scar remained unaltered. Eragon also regained the weight he had lost, which made him feel stronger to travel.
He equipped Saphira's saddle for the trip back to Ellesméra, and so did Arya and Fírnen. Before, however, they flew to Ceunon, where a feast in their honor was set to happen.
For ten days, Eragon and Arya refrained from speaking about their situation, but things had become lighter between them. The soft words and gentle touches were frequent, although they slept apart.
On the morning of the fifth day after he woke up, Eragon found Arya in the kitchen. She had risen early and started to prepare their breakfast when a stabbing pain debilitated her to the point of making her bend forward and grab the edge of the table. There was blood running down her legs.
Eragon went to her rescue already knowing what happened. He didn't question her on why she had kept it a secret again. He understood. She knew it would be another failed pregnancy, so she didn't want to raise his expectations just to disappoint him. She was being careful. Eragon understood and simply said he was sorry.
It took them another two days so they could talk about it. She told him about the things Angela had told her when he was unconscious, about how difficult would be for them to have children, being their constitution so different, even if it appeared they were equals. The truth was that they were not. Eragon suggested that they would find ways to prevent her to even get pregnant in the first place. He feared that repeated miscarriages would eventually take a toll on her. Arya said she would take care of that.
In his mind, her acceptance of his suggestion could only mean she envisioned a future for their relationship, that she hadn't given up yet. It was some light in their dark days.
The trip to Ceunon was quick and uneventful. It was nice to fly again, and this time without the concern of being in the middle of a war.
When he thought about war, his mind traveled to Ilirea, where the truce agreed between Orrin and Roran was still effective. In fact, Orrin called for a meeting with Nasuada, not knowing she was thousands of miles away. Roran offered to represent the queen, which Orrin disliked but accepted. In the end, Roran expanded Orrin's trading rights and gave him priority in the Kingdom's commercial transactions. With Bachel gone, Eragon knew Orrin would retreat sooner or later, and that was what happened. The Surdan King took the deal and led his troops back to his country. In ten days, two wars had ended.
Lord Dain and Lady Ismira waited for Fírnen and Saphira in the courtyard of his castle. After they landed, a small committee came to grab their belongings and take them inside. Ismira ran to hug the cousin she had as an uncle. Eragon heard about her injury during the battle and how the tavern keeper saved her life in exchange for her own well-being. He thought of how much he had lost to Bachel and her delusions of grandness but considered he could've lost much more.
"It's good to see you well, uncle," she said with a big smile.
"You too, Ismira. I heard you took quite a hit."
"It was nothing, I'm fine."
He was taken inside after greeting Lord Dain and settled in the room he had used before. Arya was placed in another room in the same hallway. She threw him a soft smile before going inside, leaving him staring at her closed door. The world didn't know about them yet, but he was starting to think it was silly of them to hide who they were.
The feast was a lively party. The court's musicians played joyful songs, making people get up and dance. The Riders acted their ages for the first time in a while and danced around each other with a youthful disposition. Eragon observed from the table he shared with Dain and Ismira. To their right, Arya sat in silence, with the diadem over her forehead. Right then, she played the part of the queen, distant and composed. Elva was the only one she traded a word or two.
After ten days, Eragon was healthy again, but he still felt out of breath if he stood for too long, or an ache in his chest threatened to appear if he made a sudden move. Feeling tired, he excused himself and readied to leave the dining hall. When walking toward the open doors, he felt a hand grab his arm and hold him gently in his spot. Eragon turned to see Arya's expectant eyes looking at him.
"Dance with me before you go?"
He couldn't refuse, so he forgot about his exhaustion and let himself be led to the middle of the hall where the others enjoyed the party.
They swayed on the same spot for every song that was played by the musicians. At one point Ismira started to sing a slow and melodic song, and her voice was a balsam for their ears as their foreheads leaned against each other. Arya could smell again his marvelous scent of wet grass and rain. The one she was so afraid to lose.
"Aren't you afraid of what they will think?" He asked and looked around. Some people had stopped to watch them, but most of them became uninterested soon. The Riders, however, pretended they weren't even seeing that.
"Not anymore," she whispered in his ear.
"Why? What changed?"
Arya turned her head to stare into his eyes and said with confidence, "Everything."
Eragon gave her a side smile.
"Does it mean we are back together?"
"If you still want me," she teased.
He rolled his eyes and laughed softly.
"Not everything changed, all right? Of course I want you. I will always want you."
"Then it's settled."
Arya leaned forward and let her lips brush against his. She saw as his eyes closed to enjoy the sweet feeling of their first kiss after his almost death.
When they stared at each other again, Arya watched as his expression became puzzled. It amused her still how many questions could fit into that man.
"Yes?"
"When you said you were taking me away from Alagaësia, did you mean you were coming with me? For good?"
Her fingers caressed the back of his head as her lips rested near his ear to talk in a tone of secrecy.
"It won't be long until I finish what I have to do in Ellesméra. Then, I will keep my promise. Without Renir to lead the Order, I will leave my crown and join you in the east."
She felt his fingers clasp the back of her tunic with devotion. The loss of his friend was still a fresh wound, but the prospect of having her near forever was too good to be true.
"I said I wouldn't hold you to your promise."
"You don't have to. Even if I hadn't promised, I would still go. There, with you and the dragons, teaching our students," she looked at him, "is where I must be."
His eyes were gleaming with emotion. It was then that Arya was sure she was making the right choice.
"May we go now?" She whispered when she saw a grimace of pain in his face He didn't say it, but Arya knew his scar still hurt from time to time.
He nodded and let himself be led away.
They didn't say goodbye or explain themselves. They simply left.
In his room, they could still hear the music and the voices below. It didn't bother them, however. It was a sign that they were alive and had reasons to celebrate when many had perished.
They lay in bed intertwined. She spoke in his ear and he spoke in hers.
"How did you do it?"
"Let's just say that Renir's work about true names served me well in the end."
"After failing with Sir Urien, he mentioned something about binding one's true name to something or someone. Did you figure this out?"
"At first I thought it meant that I would have to magically bind you to something, with a spell, but then it occurred to me. Bachel herself changed your true name by casting her speechless curse. So I would have to change it back. That was what he meant by binding one's true name to something or someone else."
"So I changed during the process."
"You did. It took me a while to figure out what she had done to you. Once I did, I would have to change you again."
"How did you do that?"
Arya raised her body and supported her weight on her elbow to look at him.
"Don't you remember?"
Eragon narrowed his eyes to her, trying to catch a memory he didn't know he had. He shook his head.
"Eragon, you must remember. Your essence reacted to it immediately."
"I swear I don't. What did you do?"
"I had the Eldunarí help me communicate with you. You were having those horrible dreams about the war, but when I touched my belly to let you know about our child to be born, everything changed."
"You showed me that?"
"I did, and I thought you remembered."
Eragon sat on the bed with his back against the headboard.
"I really don't!"
Arya became concerned that he thought she had kept another pregnancy a secret to him, but he soon soothed her troubled mind by changing the course of the subject as it didn't bother him.
"You said it changed me immediately. In what way?"
"Your name was bound and changed by the prospect of fatherhood, something I could understand and control. After that, it was easy to come up with a counterspell. The hard part was to cast it. Speechless magic is an uncertain practice." Arya stirred uncomfortably by his side then spoke her mind. "I feared you were going back to unconsciousness after the miscarriage, but you didn't."
"I still want to be the father of your child, Arya. It hasn't changed."
Nodded slightly and grabbed his hand in hers.
Eragon took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He was so concerned about losing friends and getting healthy again that he didn't realize his true name had changed. Searching inside his being, he looked for the new nuances of him. He found little about it, such as the prospect of fatherhood she had mentioned, and part of his name kept hidden to him.
"I can't figure it out."
"Do you want me to tell you?"
Eragon considered that her proposal was very tempting, but self-knowledge should be conquered not given.
He shook his head and pulled her to his arms. She nestled up against his chest and closed her eyes to enjoy his warmth.
"There's one thing that hasn't changed at all," he said with his lips brushing against her hair.
"What is that?"
"The fact that I love you, my queen."
She hummed with pleasure.
"And I love you. More than ever."
Glaedr's Eldunarí was position near the water by the crags. Eragon and Arya stood far, watching with their throats constricted with emotion. It was the last time they would ever speak with the old dragon.
Life goes on, my younglings. Don't let my passing affect your ability to see hope.
"Easier said than done, master," Eragon's tone was bitter, as he was being left behind.
Saphira turned to him with a warning in her eyes.
You better apologize, Eragon.
He took a deep breath and approached the Eldunarí. Placing a hand on it, he tried to find better words, but all that came out was sincerity.
"I don't want you to go."
A wave of affection, one that Eragon never thought the dragon to be capable of, flooded his mind, soothing his pain.
You will be all right. There's nothing else I can teach you.
"But I don't consider you to be only my teacher."
Where there's love, there's teaching. You once believed it to be true, did you not?
"I still do."
Well, then I will take your love with me to the beyond, for I learned great lessons from you, my friend. I leave you mine, so you will always remember your mission in this world.
Eragon ran his fingers on the lines of the Eldunarí and decided it was time. He stood up and nodded to Fírnen and Saphira. Then he went back to where Arya stood as she held him tightly. Behind his back, Saphira and Fírnen said their goodbyes. Without turning to see, he knew the moment Glaedr's heart of hearts was shattered and his consciousness disappeared forever. Arya's hands cradled his head against her shoulder as both gave in to the tears.
Arya had many assignments to get done before they could leave to Mount Arngor forever, which left him with a lot of free time while she was busy. Walking through the forest, Eragon could clearly perceive how little his relationship with her affected the decision to attempt against her crown. Most people were friendly with him, praising even. The other part of the elves simply ignored his presence or barely acknowledge him, and that is very different from the hatred he once expected.
Arya had promised that after a month, her royal matters would be settled enough for them to leave. On the day before that, he decided to pay Rhunön a visit.
The old elf, the oldest he knew, was the one responsible for reshaping the swords found in Galbatorix's chambers so the new Riders could use them. Once they had finished their studies, the first mission was to fly to Ellesméra and choose a sword, one that would fit best their fighting style. Reshaping was a boring job that Rhunön loathed doing, but Eragon felt that she approved the new order, taking pride in helping them.
Saphira accompanied him there, and it was pleasant to have her by his side as they walked. It felt like the first time they had set foot in Ellesméra. Everything then seemed so foreign, and now it all felt familiar somehow.
The sound of metal hitting metal could be heard from several feet on the trail to Rhunön's workshop. Before they arrived there, however, a werecat crossed their way in her girl form.
"Hello, Maud," he said and performed the elven greeting with his fingers on his lips.
Maud simply stared at him, without blinking. So he felt the need to fill the silence.
"I don't understand why you decided to intervene in the conflict against Bachel, but I'd like to thank you." Another long silence made him uncomfortable. Looking at his hands then back at her he added, "So, thank you."
Maud squinted her eyes to him, twisting her head to the side, as she was analyzing him. If he was uncomfortable before, now he just wanted to sprint out of there. When he was about to, she didn't open her mouth so speak, sounding the words in his mind, you stayed away from the burning men, after all.
He decided not to question how she knew about that, or what did that mean.
"I did. Solembum gave me good advice."
She smiled strangely, then disappeared among the trees.
"Odd girl," he murmured to Saphira.
Tell me about it.
The time they spent with Rhunön was a quiet one. She stopped working when they arrived. Like Maud, she stared at Eragon for a long time. He even thought seeing her let out a sigh of relief, before passing him some tools and without words instructing how to work the iron.
He didn't go there to learn how to be a blacksmith, but he knew that Rhunön's way of showing that she cared was to work together, speaking harsh words so he could learn faster. After a while, he sensed it was the time to speak. So he thanked her as well, for the work dedicated to the Order, but also for aiding Arya when so many had betrayed her.
The old elf looked at him with the corner of her eyes, before spitting some more harsh words. He smiled to himself and kept spending time with her, as Saphira asked about her work and the life in Ellesméra. Rhunön seemed to relax while talking to Saphira, so he let them be. The blacksmith was the first one to treat him as the healthy man he thought he was since the fight against Bachel, so the physical effort of working the iron made him feel alive again.
On the way back, Saphira decided she wanted to fly with him, so they took the skies to watch it all from above. He couldn't say he wasn't anxious to go home, especially when Arya had decided to come along, but he would also miss that place.
The next day, the two pairs of dragons and their Riders said goodbye to the people of Ellesméra and started their trip. They mourned the departure of the now former regent of the fair people. Leaving the throne, right after fighting so hard to keeping it, seemed shocking to all, but for her, it made perfect sense. She fought to have the choice to decide whether to stay or go. She fought so her people wouldn't have to live under the regime of hate and fear installed by those who wanted the domination of all Alagaësia. No, she wanted to leave her throne to someone good and fair, someone who would put the people first. She desired that someone who already served the interests of the people could take her place, so she advocated that Vanir would be appointed the next king. She did her part, and it was up to the new council to decide. Her work there was done.
Elva decided she would stay there for a little longer after Eragon said they could relax the terms of their agreement now that Bachel was gone. He didn't ask why but suspected that it had something to do with Däthedr, for he heard Arya speaking about that with Vanir when they thought he wasn't listening. Apparently, the traitor had escaped again. When he questioned Arya about that, she told him that he has the reason that made her delay her departure to Carvahall, and in the end, it was all for nothing, for her guards weren't able to apprehend him. It was clear that the subject brought her suffering, so he dropped it for good and silenced before Elva's decision to stay.
The intention was to fly to Ilirea first so he could see his family before leaving. Roran, Katrina, and Iain expected them with open arms when they joined the family in Nasuada's castle. It was good to see them again. Eragon doubted that he would see them much in the years to come, for the trip was too straining by land and water, and Roran and Katrina would start to feel the weight of their age soon.
"So, tell me, why have you decided to leave Alagaësia as well, Arya?" Roran asked as they ate dinner in the castle's dining hall. It was where Nasuada had the court's festivities, such as the opening ceremony for the annual games. They were alone there, but space was needed so the dragons could be comfortable in their company.
Arya cleared her throat after a sip of wine.
"So we could be with Eragon and Saphira, of course," she said casually as she was talking about the weather.
Eragon didn't look at his cousin, deciding his plate was much more appealing than that conversation.
Roran, apparently, didn't pick up the meaning of Arya's statement.
"You are all very close, aren't you? I guess this will only make the Order stronger." Katrina's kick on his shin made him pause and doublethink about that. "Oh. Oh!"
Eragon peaked under his brows to his cousin's expression, who went from surprise to satisfaction in a second.
"I suppose that," he signaled Arya and Eragon, "will also make the Order stronger, and the family bigger one day, who knows." Eragon almost choked on his wine, which made Roran burst into laughter. "Calm down, brother, I said one day!"
Eragon also expected it to happen someday, so his discomfort wasn't for the possibility of it, but the impossibility. Arya grabbed his hand and squeezed it lightly to tell him it was all right. Then she shared with the family the pain they had in their hearts. That was the moment when Roran and Katrina were brought closer to them in a way Eragon had never thought was possible.
Later that night, as Arya prepared to lie next to him on the bed, he questioned her why she had chosen to let them know about their failed pregnancies and about what Angela had told her that it would be almost impossible for them to have a healthy child.
Her reply was simple and powerful. "They are our family," she said in a soft voice before lifting the covers and joining him.
Arya almost couldn't believe it when she opened the door to enter the treehouse. It was her home! Their home!
Saphira and Fírnen splashed the cold water of the Edda River on their coming home bath, playing with each other, as Eragon carried their bags inside. In her hand, however, she had what she believed to be her most precious possessions.
She walked to the fireplace and retrieved from the leather purse she carried a small dome with a golden lily inside to be planted in their garden, and a fairth. When she placed it on the mantel next to the ones he had made for her, Eragon's hands came around her waist so he could hold her close.
"Are you forcing me to look at myself every time I walk into the living room?"
Arya laughed softly.
"I am. Do you have a problem with that?"
He spun her around so she would face him.
"I'd rather see your face whenever I walk into any room."
Her fingers traced a line from his shoulder to his neck, which made him shiver a little.
"Then you will have to work on that," she whispered looking deep in his eyes. "Always together now, right?"
Eragon took his lips to touch hers while his hands encircled her waist. Their tongues met, and he heard her soft moan and felt her nails digging in his back. She was punishing him. Branding him all over again, as time had erased the marks she had left on him before their separation.
In a quick move, he lifted her and took her to the couch. He laid her carefully on her back and got on top of her. Her legs locked together behind his back and her fingers grabbed his hair. He loved that. It felt like home indeed.
Very slowly, almost torturously, he lowered his body until he was weighting on her. Their faces were only two inches apart, and he could feel the warmth of her breath against his skin.
Her hands pulled him to her, but he resisted. He wanted to engrave her image in his head more vividly before he closed his eyes to savor her. Eragon let himself relax over her, and his lips caressed her neck then her collarbone at the same time his hands moved up to remove her tunic. By the time he passed the cloth over her head, she was already breathless.
"We said one day," she whispered in his ear as he resumed kissing her neck. "But I've never thought one day would be so soon."
His response came after she let out a soft moan. It was the most wonderful sound in the world. Eragon looked into her eyes and said, without any doubt, "Always together now, my queen."
The Games that year were promised to be the biggest ones so far. People from all over Alagaësia traveled east to compete and watch the competition, which involved more competitors and categories. He felt nervous as he adjusted his tunic before stepping up to the grandstand.
Ready, little one? Saphira asked from the other side of the arena, where the dragons had a special place to watch the games.
I think so. I can't believe it's been thirty years since the first edition of the games.
A lot has changed since then.
Eragon put one foot on the first step and leaned against the railing. He could hear the cheering of the crowd as the competitors paraded around the field.
In the last ten years, life in Mount Arngor happened as normal as possible. The idea of having someone else responsible for administrative matters took form when Eragon and Saphira observed how skilled Arya was with everyday issues. It was easy to consider her as the governor of Mount Arngor and its surroundings. The role of Head Rider and teacher was all that Eragon would worry about now.
Saphira and Fírnen shared the responsibility of instructing the younger dragons and doing the bridge between the wild ones and the Order. The Eldunarí and the eggs were protected by all.
Avelina eventually let Arya apologize for failing Renir, but things between them only started to normalize a year after his passing. Arya tried to understand that Avelina's animosity wasn't because she blamed Arya, but because she blamed herself, but it was hard for her to see her best friend suffer in front of her. One night, Eragon arrived at the treehouse after a day of teaching to find Runalla sitting by the Edda coming from a long trip from Carvahall. When he walked in, he saw that Avelina cried in Arya's arms on the couch, inconsolable. He let them alone to talk, and after that, the Rider would be a constant company for dinner. He liked having her around again, it made him remember Renir and Vance in a good way.
Avelina was a great leader to the ones he would send west after graduating. She would refuse the role of Head Rider, though, with much vehemence. It was Renir's future, not hers, she would say. Eragon decided not to insist and let things the way it was.
It wasn't uncommon for her to mediate Nasuada's conflicts with her neighbors since Murtagh tended to be distant in those political matters as he should. Nothing really serious happened in those ten years, but Avelina was an attentive observer, killing any possibility of conflict before it even started.
"Eragon! Come on, we won't wait for you forever, brother!" Orik came to grab him by the elbow to pull him up to the grandstand.
The dwarf had remained in his mountains for most of the time. Only twice he conferred with Nasuada in person and once with the Elven King. To Arngor, it was the first time he traveled in ten years. For Eragon and Arya, the dwarves were good partners of the Order and the Mount Arngor, so it could only mean that Orik had kept focused on taking care of his people without concerning himself too much about other people's business.
Eragon smiled at his clan brother and let himself be led. When he stepped to the grandstand he saw all the familiar faces looking at him. Some he loved, Arya, Orik, Nasuada, Murtagh, Eric. One he hated, King Orrin in all his arrogance. And another one he still didn't know how to feel about, King Vanir. Arya liked him, which could be indicative that he should as well, but she had kept traitors as friends before, so he didn't know yet.
Walking to the front so he could address the public, he received encouraging looks and words. When he was visible to the crowd, he didn't have to ask for silence.
He looked around and a few faces he could discern. His family was there, such as Angela, Solembum, and Elva. It amused him to see when Helena, already a mature but still beautiful woman, made her way through the crowd so she could sit by Blödhgarm and the other elves, getting some annoyed and angry looks on the way.
Essie, the woman who had saved Ismira from certain death ten years before, was there as well. After the battle, she and her husband Carth decided to follow their dreams of being adventurers. With the small fortune they made by selling the tavern, they traveled throughout the entire Alagaësia, getting themselves entangled in the most curious happenings, like the time they found a field of golden lilies or when they ran into an interesting old man named Tenga. After many adventures, they settled in the east, where Essie was constantly surrounded by dragons and the stories told by the Riders who came to her new tavern. Carth found that the Edda was a good spot for fishing, and soon he became a successful fisherman in the region. Like Eragon and Arya, they struggled to have children.
Eragon's nightmares gave him a rest after almost killing him. After that, the only dreams he had were of reality, where he could fly with Saphira, followed by Fírnen and Arya, toward a beautiful sandy beach surrounded by mountains with green tops.
Go ahead, Eragon, they are waiting for you.
He took a deep breath to stop daydreaming and to enjoy the warmth of that summer morning.
Life is good, isn't it Saphira?
Yes, little one. Life is good.