Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or places. They belong to Christopher Paolini
A/N: Please read and review. I want constructive criticism as well, so I can write better. This is my first FanFic, so I really don't know how good of a writer I am. Also, I'm fudging the distances in the book. Christopher Paolini doesn't have a scale on his map, so I'm really not paying attention to distance. Some parts would really take them longer, while others would not take them so long.
Eragon opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out. They were going to crash into the icy water and die.
"Lean back," Arya yelled. Immediately, Eragon threw his weight back, causing the boat to stop its noseward dive. Now, the boat was going as a slight angle, but still not big enough.
A huge flash of blue passed over Eragon's head and he saw huge talons grab the middle of the boat. Saphira he sighed in relief. The drop slowed, but it was still too fast for Eragon's comfort. Saphira's powerful wings flapped, but the force of gravity was too much to overcome.
Eragon braced himself, ready for an icy swim for his life, but it never came.
The boat hit the water with a splash, but no one or anything fell out. Eragon smiled his releaf at Saphira, but as he gazed up at her, the physical excursion betrayed him, his eyes closed, and he fainted.
Arya's breath was labored, but she continued to paddle down the much calmer river.
When Eragon opened his eyes, he saw he was still traveling on the river. He sat up and looked around. The sun had begun to make its appearance to signal the beginning of a new day.
He took the paddle that he, miraculously, still held, and began to dig it into the water.
"Good morning Eragon. How was your rest?" asked Arya, a hint of a joke in her voice. That surprised Eragon. She had never joked before.
Eragon ignored the question. "Where are the Urgals?" he asked, anxious. "Did we lose them?"
"We did lose the Urgals. I told you that there was no way down the cliff we went over besides the river. The Urgals are now several days behind," she explained.
Eragon nodded, but then remembered Saphira.
Saphira! He called. Are you all right?
Yes, scaredy cat. The boat didn't strain my wings, I just couldn't stop you from completely falling, but I slowed you down. Saphira added, as an afterthought I also didn't pass out, like some people.
I just don't like rivers, he mumbled, embarrassed.
Eragon turned his attention back to Arya. "Where are we?" he asked. The river beds were quite different from the rest of Âz Ragni and the forests were dominated by deciduous trees, unlike the pine trees they had been traveling in before. It was still cold, however. After all, it was winter.
"We are on the portion of the river that runs east until it meets with the Edda. If all goes well, we'll be at Hedarth by tomorrow morning." She sounded tired and Eragon knew that she hadn't gotten any sleep. As if to confirm that fact, Arya asked "Can you paddle for a while? I want to be ready for anything that comes our way, so I need to sleep."
Eragon assured her that he could. He continued paddling down the river, amazed at the distance they had come. They had left Farthen Dûr just four days ago. He knew the traveling would become more difficult once they could no longer use the river for travel, but he was amazed that even with the boat they had come this far. Still, he wanted to ask Arya some questions. He didn't understand why they didn't fight the Urgals. If Saphira had somehow missed her grip on the canoe, they would have crashed into the water, broken their boat, lost all their gear, and possibly their lives. It seemed to him that they could have fought the Urgals, and had a good chance of suvival. After all, he and Arya were quick with their blades and magic.
Eragon was also curious on how he had almost sensed the Urgals, before he even saw them. It seemed Arya did as well, for she had bolted out of bed before they came. He asked Saphira about it.
Maybe it is something that all riders can tell, she suggested.
If it is, he replied, Brom never told me about it.
He sat there for a minute, remembering Brom's death. Quickly he pushed it from his mind.
Is it all right if I go hunting? Saphira asked. I need to eat fairly soon.
Of couse. I'll be all right, he assured her.
He continued to paddle down the river, pausing only to grab some bread out of his pack. The oilskins had saved it from damage when they went through the rapids. He paddled and ate, content with the surroundings. The sun was high in the sky when he steered the boat to the banks. He got out to dig out some more bread, but when he tuned to get it, he was stopped as he looked straight down the shaft of an arrow.