I'm back. As I said before, I am NOT Christopher Paolini. I only own Tania and Ophelia (who will come along later).
Chapter Two
She backed away, clutching her chest. The Rider King of Alagaësia was infamous even in the Northlands, where she lived. A tyrant Dragon Rider who had taken the crown of Alagaësia for himself, he had killed the other Riders who had dared to oppose him, and had destroyed many families in the process. Her mother's mother had been a Rider, and had been killed, violently and slowly, in front of her daughter. Tania's mother had lived a very long time, taking that trait from her Rider grandmother. She should have been an old crone when she gave birth to Tania, but she still looked young—until she had been taken by the plague.
All the same, Tania remembered when her mother had shown her the crest of Galbatorix, and had warned her away from any who wore it.
Turning, she ran deeper into the woods, going past where it was charred and dead, and then coming out onto greenery once more. She ran blindly, leaping over obstacles and ducking branches by mere centimeters. She ran until she could run no more.
Finally stopping, she leaned against a large beech for support. Looking around, she realized she was no longer in the Northlands, where she knew every tree and every rock by heart. She crumpled to the ground, knowing what it meant.
It was warmer than back home, if you could call it that, and for this she was grateful. Somewhere along the way, her pack had slipped off her shoulders. She mourned it's loss a moment, but then though about the speed she had reached without it. She had barely had time to leap over logs or duck under branches!
Tania prided herself on her speed and stealth, but her stick-like, malnourished frame couldn't take much exertion. She settled for pinecones, and was glad that she had thought ahead and stuck her knife through her rope belt. Cracking pinecones for their seeds was difficult without something sharp.
She clambered up a tree to sleep after she had eaten. As she nestled herself in a comfortable spot, she wondered if there was any sort of force that defied the Rider King. It could be a good place to go, she thought as she drifted off.
When she awoke, the sun had barely risen above the treetops. She strectched, yawning, and climbed down from the tree. She reached the bottom and froze. There, upwind from her, behind two trees, was a doe, grazing. Quietly, Tania unsheathed her knife, and, moving slowly, she crept closer. After a moment, she held the knife by the blade, lifted it behind her head, and threw.
It buried itself in the doe's neck, just below the skull. She crumpled to the ground, dead. A grim smile worked it's way onto Tania's face. Here was the result of dedication and determination.
I could hardly kill her, now, could I?
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Falcon