Here's another chapter for everyone! School has been a bitch and it's been hard to both study and write, as well as come up with ideas for this. I'll still publish and everything, but it might be a bit delayed between each chapter. Please rate and review!

-xkid11

A sweat-drenched Arya immediately dives away from the incoming stick of her attacker. Diving to the left, she rolls until she is far enough away, then spins on her heel, and stands up, her own stick in her arms. She parries a pair of blows, jumps over the next blow which was aimed for her feet, then goes on her own offensive. A quick strike to the head, then a series of blows varying from top to bottom of her attacker's body, until she is pushed away from her opponent. Not suspecting the shove, she doesn't realize that she has the tip of a stick lightly pressed against her neck.

"I yield."

Brom, who had been holding the sword against her body waiting for the inevitable two words to leave her mouth, steps back, removing the stick, and gives his hand to Arya to help her up.

The pair had been training, in secret, a few weeks after spring had officially begun, and it took a lot of begging and groveling from Arya to Brom to get his help. She had thought that due to his age and statute, that it would not have been terribly hard to best the old man, but what Arya had in her age, Brom had lightning-quick reflexes and, to Arya's knowledge, a veteran swordsman.

Her training at first began with getting the young woman into shape, having her gain muscle to get used to both the weight of the sword, and getting her muscles overall stronger for using the said sword to its full potential. Bruises and sore muscles were almost commonplace during her first few weeks of training, especially with the sticks, but over time the bruises also started appearing on Brom, and both often had to take breaks during her training.

Arya, who's almost entire right arm was sore and would be accompanying bruises the following morning, took the offered drink of water, sat down her stick, and closed her eyes, content to lull in the peacefulness of the afternoon in which they had been training in.

"With the progress made here, Arya, in a few weeks we will most definitely move on to real swords. Of course, we will need to get the appropriate armor and gear, but I have some older sets that can be fixed up." Brom, how was bandaging his hand after it had started bleeding due to getting caught in a particularly hard swipe from Arya's stick, had been impressed with Arya's both eagerness to learn how to fight correctly, as well as her persevereness through those first few weeks. She had seldom complained, which a lot of his previous students had, and had taken to sword fighting like a duck in water.

Unknow to her teacher's inner thoughts, Arya had packed up all of the supplies she had brought, and muttered a goodbye to the old man, and left.

*time skip*

The small amount of light, especially in the grotto, always allowed for Arya either to nap leaned against Firnen, or on the soft moss beds that were rung around the stone. Firnen had almost doubled in size and was now clear over Arya's shoulders, and had trouble finding a comfortable spot on the rock that rested in the middle of the grotto, both due to size and the fact that his claws were sharp enough to slowly tear away, leaving a ragged feeling on the said rock. But he was still able to enter and seek shelter in their place, and they were still able to both meet up there, as well as rest there knowing that most likely no one would be able to find them. A few hunters who had been wandering around the edges of the spine had almost found them, but due to the growth of plants and other vegetation there, they quickly blew it off as a dead trail.

But her uncle, who, after he got new of her sword lessons, had been eyeing her like a hawk, watching her every move and almost always inquiring about what she was doing. He had even followed her once, albeit from a long distance, but that day Arya wasn't allowed to see Firnen, instead of having to meander around until her uncle lost interest, which took almost an entire day.

Shifting into her dragon's warmth, Arya readjusted herself until she was heavily leaving into Firnen's side, with his wing wrapped around her like a silky blanket. His wings, she had found, made for perfect curtains when the sun shined too bright or it got too cold, and when she napped she often took refuge under the protection of his wings.

Going out of the grotto became both riskier and more appealing to the young dragon for several reasons. The grotto's size was very restricting, only allowing for very tight movement, and it got increasingly boring as his size increased. Also, food now required either a deer or a couple of rabbits to fulfill Firnen's hunger. The instinct to fly, which Firnen knew he could do now, was almost demanding of him to go and fly, but with hunters now starting to get more active as well as get more adventurous in the search for animals, didn't allow for Firnen to leave without the risk of getting caught.

Despite her disregarding thoughts, she knew deep down that Firnen would be discovered soon, almost inevitably so. With his ever-increasing size, Arya knew that eventually her dragon would be found, either by the villagers of Carvanhall, the empire, or even her uncle.

Arya let out a weary sigh as she once again closed her eyes, and leaned back against the bulk of Firnen.

A small nudge of what Arya knew to the tip of Firnen's wing, gently nudged her shoulder and her eyes flickered open with a jump, her upper body lurching forward. Gaining her bearings, the young woman let her gaze wander around the grotto, and when she could see streaks of moonlight through the canopy of the forest, she immediately knew she had stayed too late in the grotto.

Arya lept up to her feet, grabbing both her bag as well as her sword, which she swung over her right shoulder, kissed Firnen's snout, gently scratched the scales underneath said snout, and left the grotto.

She didn't know exactly what time it was, but her uncle's ever-growing paranoia, mainly due to her sword lessons, had led him to set a curfew. It wasn't concrete, because he couldn't really stop her from leaving as effective as he used to when she was smaller, and he knew Arya would most likely find a way to escape anyway, but she knew this was almost definitely stretching that unspoken limit.

Racing as fast as her legs could carry her, dodging tree limbs and holes in the ground, Arya managed to make the trip from the grotto to her home in record time, stopping a few feet before to catch her breath and straighten her appearance, but when she went to open the door, it flew open, revealing an irate Garrow who had obviously been waiting for her. Still in shock, she didn't react to her uncle grabbing a fistful of her tunic and dragging her inside, setting her down a few feet away from the door.

"I don't have the energy nor the patience for you and your lollygagging, or whatever the hell it is that you manage to entertain yourself within the bloody spine. I'm still in charge. When I set a rule, it goes. Roran had gained you a bit of leeway, especially since you actually got some food this past winter, but no longer! Be back before sundown tomorrow, or there will be consequences." Her uncle's monologue left her both stunned and worried, for many reasons. One, she now wasn't able to spend as much time with Firnen, and two, her uncle was now even more inclined to follow her, and that was no good.

Sighing and readjusting her clothes, she went to her room and fell asleep.

*time skip*

Fortunately for Arya, her uncle actually was less intrusive and paranoid regarding her free time, but instead increased her chores and became stricter on what she wore and what she did. It wasn't as bad as she thought it would have been, though. Dresses when she went to Carvanhall, and housework instead of farming, wasn't the most terrible punishment her uncle could have come up with, but Arya was grateful.

Firnen did not take the news with a grain of salt, and it took Arya almost half an hour to calm down her dragon. Firnen, who was still growing at a gigantic rate, was now about a fourth larger than what he was when she had gotten caught. His claws were almost about half a foot long, and his fangs were not far off, and his wingspan grew also a few feet. The prints his feet left had gained the interest of a few of the villagers who dared to adventure near the spine, and a few were calling for a hunt for such a massive "beast".

The merchants came recently, bearing what unusual trinkets and antiques that had collected, and Arya managed to buy a few trinkets that caught her eye, including a pair of thick leather boots and a few books, and Roran managed to sell a few of his own things, as well as buy some, for both money and decor for his house. Arya was pleased with her cousin's recent actions regarding Katrina. He didn't have enough money to buy a ring or even a house itself, but when the merchants leave, he would go with them to Therinsford with his knowledge from working for Horst and try to get a better paying job there, for Therinsford was a more populated and more advanced village than Carvanhall. This both scared and excited Arya. She was terrified of how her uncle would start to act towards her when Roran left, for he better behaved around his only son, but she was also excited for her cousin and Katrina.

Arya, who was sitting near a vendors bench, busied herself with sharpening her sword, which had grown slightly dull due to her training with Brom, and often got curious or even sometimes disappointing glances from people walking around the cluster of vendors that had been set up by the merchants when they arrived. However, she paid them no heed and instead continued sharpening her sword, alternating between sides with the whetstone she had in her hand, and simply choose to salivate in the quietest area of Carvanhall. The vendors didn't care what she did, and most people went the first day, then left, and that gave Arya a chance to avoid the townspeople as well as her uncle, simultaneously.

Two men, both in black leather armor, as well as clothes which rested underneath said armor, made their way through Carvanhall, each walking aside the other, their steps in sync. The two had their hoods pulled up, which piqued the interest of several villagers, but no one dared to interrupt the pair, mainly due to the pair of swords that rested on their belts. Whoever looked at them, couldn't see their faces.

They seemed to walk with no purpose, but slight head movements from side to side from each of the two gave away their true intentions.

They were definitely looking for something.

Arya silently groaned to herself when she heard the telltale grumbling from Sloan, who had appeared to be trying to sell meat to a couple of vendors, and she watched as a hunter, one she knew to be named Benett, approached the vendor that Sloan was at. She couldn't hear what Benett was saying, but when she heard Sloan exclaim, "slightings of the beast, where?", she sheathed her sword abruptly, dropped the whetstone into her bag, fastened her sword onto her belt, and began to silently follow the pair as they left Carvanhall and went towards the spine.

Her fears were unfounded when they only managed to find a few footprints of Firnen, but she knew that Sloan would blabber to the wrong person, who would then get people to try to find her dragon, but it wasn't like she could have threatened Sloan, she would have to continue following him and Benett and see would they told.

Things were looking good, until the pair entered the tavern, and everything went downhill from there. For one, Brom wasn't in attendance, she didn't know why, but usually, people shot down rumors the butcher made up because of his deductive reasoning and his way with people, and two, there were, due to the merchants, a lot of people she didn't know they're at the tavern.

She could tell that Sloan was just dying to tell someone about what they found, but Benett seemed rather anxious about what he had found, but Sloan dragged him along anyway to the bar where they both began to babble on about their discoveries. People weren't that intrigued about his rambling, it seemed Brom had tarnished his reputation regarding his honesty, but when Benett, who came from a respective family, their interest was piqued.

And throughout the night, people became more and more interested in their findings, and Arya cursed beneath her breath. She was crouched low near the corner of the room, squatting and with her hood up, but when two men in all black, who had previously been sitting at a booth on the opposite side of the room as Arya, almost everyone quieted down and turned towards them. They walked slowly, but Arya could tell they radiated power and confidence, and most cowered in slight fear and apprehension when they walked by them, and they strode confidently towards Sloan, who seemed uneasy about the pair walking towards him.

She didn't hear most of the conversation between the three, mainly due to the way their voices sounded, but she did hear the end of their conversation. "Lead us to the tracks." Arya, despite having little to no idea what their intentions were, rocketed out of the tavern and intended to go towards the tracks to cover them with dirt, but instead, she ran into the firm chest of Brom, him falling in a heap before her teacher disoriented. Brom, who was seemingly unmoved from his spot where he had run into Arya, let out a hoarse chuckle and extended a hand to help Arya to her feet.

"What's the matter ki-" Brom, who was in the middle of a sentence, was left with dust in front of him. Turning around quickly to make out where Arya was going, he only managed to see the silhouette of a cloak, and then she was gone.

"I wonder what she had to do?" Brom dusted himself off, made to take off his cloak, but the door reopened before he could do so, and a crowd of around a dozen people, led by Sloan and Bennett, began to lead a pair of cloaked men, whose face he couldn't see, in the direction Arya had left in.

"What did you do now kid?"

Arya, who was sprinting as fast as she could to the grotto, while also relaying messages to Firnen through their bond, was terrified of what would happen if those men, and the villagers probably with them, found her dragon and discovered her ridership. She felt a slight amount of guilt towards Brom, for she left him without telling him her destination, but the safety of Firnen and herself was paramount to her manners.

The telltale path, that only she could really make out due to familiarity, was untouched, which made Arya release a breath she didn't know she was holding. She had stopped her sprint and was hunched over, regaining her breath while trying to be relatively quiet in case someone was hunting in this particular section of the spine, which, while unlikely, was the reason she was here in the first place. So after she regained her breath, she entered the grotto, doing so with a brisk pace. Firnen, who had already received her warning and was ready to either flee their grotto or potentially fight their way to freedom, was in a defensive stance, with most of his body hidden behind the rock that was in the middle of the grotto but had his claws and wings in the open, ready for use at any given time. He visibly relaxed when he saw his rider and moved to get out of his stance.

Are you alright? His head snaked around her body, with the rest of his following suit, providing a cocoon of warmth and comfort, trying to calm down his over-anxious rider, who was trying to calm her racing heart.

Breathe, Little One. Breathe… The deep baritone voice of her dragon echoed throughout her head and, after breathing together for a couple of minutes, she finally calmed down. "Thanks, Firnen." She gently kissed his snout, and he uncurled his body from hers, the two of them sitting down and staking out until either someone came or if someone was close.

She knew that the footprint that Firnen had left was rather far away from the entrance to the grotto, and it was pointing in the opposite direction, but other tells could if the person looking knew what to be looking for, lead someone to their location. A few dead logs with marks on them, a rather violently turned up pile of moss that only a massive creature could've done, and broken bark on trees were all signs that something was out there, and the people of Carvanhall were destined to find out.

*time skip*

Dusk came and went, but she could see torchlight through the thick of the trees, but she knew they were most likely safe. A pair of men had almost found them, but one of them slipped down a mud hill that was near their grotto, and the other followed him, and they didn't come back to investigate. So when only darkness surrounded her, aside from the moonlight that shone through the tops of the trees and the canopy of the forest, Arya made to move out from the grotto and was met with an empty meadow and no one to be seen.

Before she went back into town, to reassess the situation, she made sure the grotto's entrance was well covered and made sure it looked like just another patch of grass and bushes. Satisfied that it did, she went back into town to see if Sloan had told anyone else and they were simply waiting until daylight, or if they had called off the search.

Her search for answers, however, lead her to Sloan, and she stood on a barrel that was sitting below one of the few windows the shop had, and when she was able to look inside, she saw Sloan and the two cloaked people that had asked to be taken to the sighting and what she saw gave her chills.

Sloan, who she could tell from his body language was terrified, was pointing repeatedly at a map, which was one of the edges of Carvanhall, and before him were the two figures, but they had removed their hoods, revealing bird-like heads with beaks and feathers, as well as a pair of black beady eyes that screamed danger. They had swords drawn in their hands and kept demanding things from Sloan, but she couldn't make out what they were saying.

This continued for a while, with Sloan obviously fearful for his life and Arya was trying to make out what garbled words she could hear outside in the dead of night. When it was obvious they were going to stay there, and when they left the main room, she sighed, turned around, and was about to jump off of the barrel, but, in all of his old man glory, was Brom, armed with a sword of his own as well as a pack of other supplies in his arms.

"Now, I am impressed you were able to keep his presence a secret to me, I'd like to meet your dragon."

Cliffhanger! Idk, I felt like it. Again, rate and review!

-xkid11