Hi! This chapter is NOT very good at all, but I was quite low on inspiration. Sorry. I'll be sure to refill for the next update. Anyway, thanks a LOT to my reviewers, you really make me very very happy. So please keep reviewing. Thanks again.

Enjoy! Despite the bad quality!

And I own nothing! Nothing at all!

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With the Careers

"I don't understand why you didn't kill us," said Sharker.

It was midafternoon in the arena. Eragon, Gaia, Blaze and Sharker were hiking northwards through the forest, following a trail of footprints they'd stumbled upon shortly after leaving the clearing. Sharker swore they were Zuleika's. Eragon had to admit that there was a certain lopsidedness to them; while he felt bad for the girl they were tracking and wished he could somehow hid her tracks, he was relieved they weren't Katniss's.

"I told you," he replied, swiping at a particularly thick clump of vegetation with Blödslytha – he'd given the Careers back their weapons. "I didn't want to kill you. I still don't want to kill you."

"But you're supposed to kill people in the Hunger Games," Sharker protested.

"All right," said Eragon, rounding on him. "Would you rather I had killed you? Because I can easily remedy that."

Their conversation ended there.

Back in the clearing, Eragon had explained to the Careers why he'd spared them: his flimsy excuse was that there was safety in numbers. He couldn't exactly tell them that he wouldn't, no, couldn't kill them, or they would be upon him like a pack of wolves upon a sheep. Despite knowing that he could defend himself more that adequately. He couldn't kill them, but he wasn't helpless, either. Still, if he could avoid conflict, of course he would.

Despite all the stress and fear that came with it, Eragon relished being once again surrounded by nature. It was all the more pleasant when he thought of the Capitol, its artificial candy streets, its freakish inhabitants… the cold clearness of the arena was invigorating. Sometimes, between the trees, he glimpsed animals, mainly squirrels and the like, but occasionally a fox darting through the snow, and once he even saw a grey wolf watching them with unblinking golden eyes from deep in the woods.

"Hello, little garm," Eragon whispered before making sure that his companions were far enough away to not hear him. "Glad to see I'm not alone."

The wolf's gaze didn't falter. It swished its bushy silver tail through the air, once, and then turned and sank back into the shadows of the trees, quietly, slowly, almost a shadow itself.

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The day passed quickly, as they trecked north, towards the mountains. Eragon estimated that the next morning they would reach the foothills. The tracks they were following led to a churned up little glade, nestled between some large boulders. Eragon noted a blackened patch of ground, strewn with bits of charcoal; a burned-out fire.

"It's not like she's exactly trying to cover her path, is it?" said Blaze incredulously as he knelt and inspected the old campfire. "Look, Sharker," he said, spotting something. "A second pair of footprints is leading away from here."

They all saw the tracks joining up with Zuleika's and winding away deeper into the forest.

"So she's got an ally," Gaia shrugged. "Nothing we can't handle."

"Hmm," said Sharker, narrowing his eyes as he gazed at the prints. Then he suddenly grinned. "Unless Eragon spares their lives, like he did with us."

Blaze laughed, and Eragon joined in. But inwardly he was chafing. A joke like that might mean nothing… or it might mean that Sharker knew that he was unwilling – unable – to kill another tribute. Which might also mean that Sharker saw him as a weak link. Which might also mean that…

Eragon tutted at himself. He was being ridiculous. Leaping to conclusions like this wasn't going to help him in any way. But he did wonder if he mightn't have been better off if he'd stayed on his own. He couldn't exactly walk off now. Well, if he had to, he wouldn't have any trouble. All he had to do was knock out the Careers like before, and…

He was doing it again. Leaping to conclusions. Making plans like the Careers were going to turn on him in the next five minutes.

Being ridiculous.

"All right," said Sharker, clapping his gloved hands together. "Onwards we go. Come on!"

He led the way, with Gaia just behind him, followed by Blaze.

Eragon sighed, shifted the straps of his pack into a more comfortable position, and started after his companions.

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Eragon, Gaia, Blaze and Sharker sat around a fire, cooking pieces of the deer that Blaze had carried draped over one shoulder for seven hours. Eragon had to admire his strenght. He would be a match for a Kull.

"Okay, said Sharker, "I'm tired. Who's gonna stand sentry for the first half of the night?"

"I– " Eragon began, but was interrupted by Gaia, who said, "I will."

"And the second half?"

"I wi– " Eragon tried to say again, but this time Blaze volunteered. Oh well. It wouldn't be bad to catch some sleep.

The anthem suddenly boomed over their heads, as instant and loud as a clap of thunder. Eragon jolted, like he had the first time he'd heard it in the arena, and charred half the slice of venison he'd been roasting. He scraped the blackened mess of the stick as the picture of the boy from District Nine appeared against the stars, followed by the one of the girl from Two. Then the symbol of the Capitol replaced her, the music ended with flourish and once again the night was silent and dark.

"Hmm," said Sharker in disgust. "Not many people died today. Oh well. All the more for us." He flashed that fearsome grin again. Eragon was starting to think that Sharker was perhaps a little unstable.

"All right," said Blaze, rifling through the backpack he had been carrying and pulling out a blanket. He unrolled it and sat against a tree, spreading the blanket over his knees. "I don't know about you lot, but I'm gonna catch some sleep."

"Thanks for taking the only blanket," snapped Sharker. "Very kind of you. I'll just have to do without one, like I did yesterday." He swept a patch of snow away and sat down, laying his crossbow and quiver to one side. The firelight glinted golden off his blonde hair as he laid his head on the ground.

Eragon pulled out his own blanket and, following Sharker's lead, brushed the snow away from where he would lie. He wrapped himself in the blanket and lay down. His hand was wrapped around Blödslytha's hilt.

He didn't sleep that night.

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The next morning, they breakfasted on cold venison and started off quickly, their breath forming misty plumes in the frosty air. Eragon had been right; only a half-hour after they set off, they reached the first of the low, sloping hills that heralded the approach of the range of jagged mountains that had been looming on the horizon.

They walked quickly, without talking, their boots crunching through the snow that lay in thick drifts on the ground. The forest was starting to thin out, giving way to an icy scrubland, but the footprints of the tributes they were tracking were still visible – painfully so.

Zuleika and her companion must really be naïve, thought Eragon as he trudged onwards behind the imposing bulk of Blaze's back, gazing down at the crisp prints that pierced the white veil of snow. Either that or they're way too confident in their abilities.

He hoped that the other tribute wasn't Katniss.

The watery sun dragged itself up into the pale sky – the blue sky of the previous day seemed to be a world away – giving them little light and scant warmth. Eragon stared up at where it hung like the watchful but indifferent eye of some godlike cosmic creature.

How puny the affairs of the mortals must seem to the gods, he thought. If he were in Alagaësia, he would talk with Saphira about this; they often held philosophical debates. But he wasn't in Alagaësia anymore. So all he could do was spare one last glance towards the colourless sun and follow his companions.

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There was smoke on the horizon.

It was nothing more than a grey smear against the looming mountains, really, but it was there, and Eragon's stomach coiled into a tense, sick-feeling knot when he saw it. Here it was, then. In less than half an hour, judging by the distance at which the smoke rose, he would meet other tributes, and he would know his true worth.

He would know whether he would be the Eragon who killed another person of his age, or whether he would hold back and be himself. Be the Eragon who refused to be controlled by the bloodthirsty Capitol. Be the stronger Eragon.

He didn't need to even ask himself the question.

He would be the stronger Eragon.

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And that's the end! I'm really sorry for the quality of this chapter. But the thing is, I sort of know the rough storyline, and the important events that will happen, but not the between bits, if you know what I mean. So this is a between bit, and for that reason it's fairly rubbish. But I promise the next one will be better and longer.

Read and review, it would make me so happy!

:)