A/N: I am so sorry for taking so long to update! The holidays and life have kept me majorly busy, and I was stuck with the plot a little, overthinking every detail, but I've found an idea that I enjoy, and am sticking with it. The next chapter will introduce Lydia, so stay tuned! And I will try my best to get it to you much sooner this time around.

I own nothing but my own creativity.

Onward to the chapter! Enjoy! :)


Chapter Two

God.

Eragon had never been convinced that there was ever such a thing, not like the dwarven Gods, or the human Gods. No, he wasn't sure he believed in any God himself. However, despite his uncertain faith, Eragon found himself pleading to whatever God did exist for help. Help to find the one person he'd been searching for practically every waking moment and even so far as his dreams as well. With every moment, he was searching; scanning the horizon, looking for any signs, any changes. Looking for anything that said, "I'm here!"

It was partly silly, and Eragon knew that. He knew what he seemed like. A desperate fool. Saphira had said as much, and Glaedr seemed intent on making him turn back. But he couldn't. Something told him, whether it be God or his own wit, that turning back was no longer an option. He had made his choice. He had decided, and he would see it through.

I have to do this, he said to Saphira after his bizarre dream that took the shape of perhaps one of Lydia's memories. I can't do nothing. I'm a Rider, Saphira. I'm supposed to help. However, she wasn't convinced, because she had her own reason to believe whatever this was; it was some kind of trap. Eragon had thought of that as well, at one point, but that still, small voice in the back of his mind whispered to him that this was what he needed to do. That this was right.

He worked restlessly from that point on, convinced that he'd find some clues or some kind of hint. He had to. Days flew past like seconds, and he felt the familiar burn of purpose with everything he did. However, he was no closer to his goal than before, and it frustrated him. Beyond measure. He struggled with Saphira daily, who'd grown weary of his attempts at something she thought was lost, and Glaedr made every indication that he disapproved of Eragon's foolishness.

His pleas to whatever God may or may not exist became more desperate, drawing him further out into the wilds, searching. He searched until his shoulders ached and his lungs burned from the cold of the winter that seemed to appear out of nowhere. But it wasn't out of nowhere, and he knew that as well. He'd been so busy trying to find Lydia that his own life had flashed by like it was nothing. The purpose to help someone blurring his days together until they were jumbled and he couldn't remember if he had breakfast that day or the day before that.

As things became more and more difficult, and still no clue presented themselves, Eragon felt himself drifting back to the desperate hopelessness he'd felt the day after his very first dream. He remembered it still. He played it over and over in his brain, until he didn't need to force the memories back, like it was second nature, searching for anything that was missing, that didn't make sense.

Searching, until suddenly, it clicked.

"Saphira!" he cried both in his mind and out loud, scrambling down the stairs of his study, stopping short when her face appeared only feet in front of him. "I get it! The dream, she was trying to tell us where to look!"

Saphira blinked, pulling her head back. She said nothing, however, waiting for him to continue. He did so eagerly. "Do you remember what she said? About the huge thing she saw? I don't know how I missed it before." his voice was harsh suddenly, as if he took the blame for missing what he thought was plainly obvious, "She was telling us where she is! Then the dream, the memory, because that's what it was! A memory! She said she saw something, and then she fell!"

To the point then, she replied, shifting her gaze. Eragon didn't waver. He knew her doubt.

"She's been right outside our door all along." Eragon's voice trembled, and then he nodded slowly, as if to himself. "She's on the mountain, Saphira. I don't know where, but we can find her."

He waited, and then reached out delicately with his mind. Please trust me on this.

Something softened in her gaze, and she moved, turning so that her neck was exposed to him. Then what are we waiting for?

xxx

The wind was frigid, like ice that wanted nothing more than to cut through his very core and freeze him solid. His cloak was hardly any help, and the only thing that held back the cold was the spell Eragon cast to keep himself warm. Saphira searched while they flew, scanning the forest for anything out of the ordinary. Everything was coated in white, as if covered by a blanket. Eragon pulled his cloak tighter around himself and breathed out heavily.

Everything is white. We'll be searching for days. His shoulders slumped, a knot forming in his gut. Saphira could feel his worry and sickened fear, but said nothing in return. She had trusted his words alone, and had nothing else to say that would bring him any hope.

However, regardless of her doubt, both Rider and dragon searched. Eragon cast his mind in all different directions, searching every nook and cranny while Saphira scouted from the air. It seemed to go on for hours, and at one point, Eragon brought his hands up, cupping around his mouth and took to the old fashioned way of finding someone. He called out until his throat was hoarse and his lungs burned, but found no sign of anyone answering his call. His gaze wandered back and forth, brows furrowed and hand on his sword, gripping the hilt tightly. His frustration was clear to all.

He stopped only after his heart felt heavy, nerves alit with despair. We'll never find her, he admitted softly, listening to the familiar beat of Saphira's wings as she circled above. All the magic in the world, and we still can't find her.

Closing his eyes, he ran his hand through his hair, exasperated and tired. He hadn't eaten today either, and the slight tremor in his hand reminded him. Yet he felt no hunger or desire to eat. His eyes peaked open just as Saphira landed near him, looking around to make sure it was clear. Once she was certain, the dragon turned and settled her eyes on him. He felt the stare as if it burnt him, and closed his eyes wearily, willing her gaze away. Even with his eyes shut, her eyes pierced him like knives deep in his heart.

Then, as if by some force neither of them had felt before, something brushed Eragon's mind. His eyes flew open almost immediately, his senses alert and his guard up. Saphira was doing the same, bearing her teeth at the unknown force, as if it could see her. Then, as if as one, both dragon and Rider understood what was happening. Their eyes met, and a single echo passed between them.

Lydia.

Eragon was the first to move. He dropped his guard slightly, moving forward with swift and precise movements. The mind that had touched him reached out again, brushing against his tenderly, as if afraid to reach out. The familiarity of it caught him off guard entirely, and when it was dropped, and the other made no motion to attack, he cast his mind in all directions once more, eager and afraid.

Are you here? His mind echoed with power, and the presence seemed to appear out of nowhere. He felt it almost instantly, seemingly far away, but closer than he had originally thought. He moved swifter now, almost running with his eyes wide and searching. The cold stung his eyes, bringing tears as he ran and forcing him to blink more rapidly, but he paid them no mind. Saphira was above him, her sapphire scales easily spotted between the snowy covered trees. He pressed onwards with Saphira following closely with wide circular arcs in the sky, ready to attack if he should need her.

The voice echoed back, and as if surrounded by an essence of another, two voices rang in his head. One sounded afraid, the other hopeful. Yes.

No time to ponder, no time to even think, he was almost flying. His legs moved gracefully over every stump and twig, and he was reminded suddenly of the memory, of Lydia running through the trees. He wondered if she followed this same path, or perhaps a different one close by. He nearly turned his head to scan for any kind of evidence of her, but was abruptly stopped as Saphira's alarm scurried up his spine.

Eragon! she cried. I see something!

What is it? Eragon pleaded, and the images flashed in his mind within moments. There, in the midst of the white, was what could only be described as a cave. Blackness seemed to swallow it, as if the ground was charred and not even the frigid temperature could touch its blackness. He followed the directions she gave, running like his life depended on it. Something in his mind told him someone's life did, in fact, depend on it.

He found Saphira amidst the white before he found the cave, which was densely hidden by all who might have searched it, except maybe it was easier from above, as Saphira had found it with some effort. Once he came closer, however, Eragon stopped in his tracks. His breath caught and his eyes widened. The familiar touch brushed his mind, but it didn't linger. Only after a moment, it all but vanished from his mind, drawing back in on itself and seeming to disappear entirely, leaving in its wake a different presence entirely. The new presence he felt was vaguely familiar, as if he'd felt it long ago, but he couldn't pinpoint what that meant. Instead, his eyes remained fixed on the cave before them.

It wasn't really a cave at all. The snow was melted away, and all life within a yard of the center was burned away, charred as he had guessed before. The ground was sunken in, as if struck by an intense force; it caved in on itself, blackened and sickly, and all but the center was dead. The center itself was what stunned him the most. While he'd seen many things in his travels and in his teachings, the sight of a single human girl was probably one of the most complex things he could imagine seeing, nor did he think he would believe it had he not seen it himself.

Realization dawned on him slowly then, and before he could speak, Saphira's voice found him instead.

This is Lydia. Her voice held no doubt, unlike all the times before when they spoke of the matter. She looked just like the girl from his dreams, he knew. He remembered her face. Eragon nodded dumbly for a moment, and then it truly struck him. They had done it. Lydia was found.

"We did it." he whispered, "We found her."

As if on cue, Lydia stirred from her resting place, moving as if in a daze. Her eyes did not open, however, and Saphira motioned for him to do something. He did so sluggishly, cautious but curious. As he moved closer, he could see her form better now, and the rags she now wore that might have resembled a decent looking dress before now. With this in mind, and with common decency, he removed his cloak from around his body while lowering himself to the ground near her. He watched her for a moment, and when he deemed she truly was no threat in her current state, Eragon shifted the cloak around her body as best he could. The action made her stir again, but still she did not wake, and he took a moment to adjust himself as he slipped and his arms under her. With one under her knees and the other under her back, he stood and turned, moving from the burnt ground with quicker feet than when he'd approached. Lydia shivered when they moved out of the deadened circle, and he quickened his pace just a little more.

We did it, he said to Saphira, unable to do anything but repeat himself as he glanced once again over the girl in his arms. His dragon said nothing, but he could feel the comfort she sent him, and settled with that.

Wasting no more time than necessary, Eragon managed back into the saddle on Saphira's neck, securing Lydia with the straps and his arm around her, taking special caution of the cloak that he'd wrapped around her form. Only when he was ready (after checking to make sure Lydia was secure more than twice) did they turn to the sky, setting out back to the Riders' stronghold. Saphira flew as cautiously as she could, which eased Eragon greatly, and he was able to focus on the girl he'd spent so much time searching for, though it was hard to really see her with the wind in his face. It was as frigid as earlier that day, more so with the dipping sun, and quietly Eragon cast a spell of protection around both himself and Lydia.

When the stronghold came into view, Eragon couldn't help but sigh softly at the familiar scene stretched out in front of him. For once, they were returning home successfully. They'd found who they were looking for, even if he had questions for and about her, he was content at the moment to know that she was now safe, and that he had saved at least one life, no matter how small it might seem.


A/N: Thanks for reading, and thank you for your patience with my time schedule. I'll try to update sooner, I promise!