Author's Note: Ah! The sweet smell of – smog? Eh, NYC is all I remembered and more. Dirty, crowded, loud, yet strangely irresistible and unendingly elating. I could jabber on for hours about all the wonderful things I've seen here (Did you know the kangaroo at F.A.O. Schwartz looks slightly peevish when viewed at an angle?) But you obviously don't want that. And it would give me a wrist ache from typing so much. Plus it would be awfully boring to listen to me. So instead I bid thee farewell, and offer you my latest chapter to delve into the fantasy world of my twisted mind. Hearts, Kittie!

Rune felt Súndavar in her mind even as she dreamed. The darkness that followed his consciousness wherever it went turned her night vision from a happy field with flowers to a barren plain of gore. Súndavar stood in the middle of it all, glancing around at the carnage.

"What are you doing here?" Rune asked him, stepping over an arm so mutilated she had to remind herself it was a dream to keep from being sick.

"Did I do this?" he questioned, nudging a bloody carcass with one boot.

"My dream was perfectly fine until you came," Rune replied irritably. "What do you want?"

"I didn't know you could enter someone's mind while they were sleeping," he admitted.

Rune snorted. "Then why did you try it?"

"I didn't," Súndavar said. "I just slipped into bed next to you and let my mind wander. It wandered to you."

"All too literally," she snapped.

He shrugged. "When does it not?"

She sighed and touched his hand. "I preferred my plain with flowers dream, Sún," she said. "Although your company is great, the mood is a bit depressing."

He peered curiously at a dead body as only a boy would. "I'm sixteen now, you know," he said.

"Oh?"

"Last week."

"Why didn't you tell me then?" she asked.

"I forgot."

She smiled sadly. "I'm afraid I didn't get you a present."

He inched closer. "I can think of a few things that would suffice."

Rune groaned and jumped over a severed leg to get away from him. "Súndavar, I'm dreaming. You already invaded my sleep. Nothing here is real."

"Then it doesn't matter what we do," he said with a grin.

She raised her eyebrows and glanced around the battlefield. "Sún, even if I wanted to, this isn't the place. We're sleeping."

"But our minds are awake," he argued. "And you'd still be a maiden and everything, because in real life I'm sleeping peacefully beside you. Nothing would happen."

She frowned angrily. "Get out of my head," she snapped. "It's enough bringing your twisted battlefield into my dream. I want my field of flowers back."

He closed his eyes and the scene shifted. They were standing in a forest. Rune felt tears prick at her eyes, but they didn't fall. Tears never fell, in dreams.

They were in Du Weldenvarden. Before the fire.

Súndavar saw the effect of the dream's transformation and held her tightly.

"Sorry," he said.

"Change it back," she demanded, pushing him away violently. "Change it back!"

Súndavar looked at her and saw the hate in her eyes. The landscape changed to a fiery hell. Molten rock and fire twisted and screamed, agonized voices shrieked vulgar curses.

Súndavar's eyes burned red.

Rune screamed.

"I want to wake up!" she cried. "I want to wake up!"

But the daylight didn't dawn. Angry flames bit at her skin. Shivering, Rune sank to the ground.

Súndavar watched her, laughing, as the world burned.

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Rune!"

Rune felt someone shaking her. She groaned and pushed the person away. Their hands felt hot and angry on her skin.

"Rune, wake up!"

Her eyes opened, banishing the fiery torment of her mind. Súndavar was watching her, a concerned look on his face. Rune's skin was sweaty and slick, and his thumbs dug painfully into her shoulders.

"Get away," she whispered fearfully.

"What?" he asked, "Rune, what's wrong?"

She backed away from him, falling off the edge of the bed clumsily and landing on Vanir, who once again slept under the bed. He jumped and blinked groggily.

"Look, if you're going to screw him at least stay on the—" Vanir broke off, catching sight of Rune's fear. He looked at Súndavar, who was looking confused, then back to the sweaty girl.

"What's going on?"

"He…" Rune gasped, "He was…"

Vanir frowned angrily, jumping to conclusions. In an instant he was out from under the bed and sitting on a cot with Rune in his arms. He glared at Súndavar.

"Are you insane?" he asked. "Exactly what are you trying to prove here?"

"But—" Súndavar protested, "I didn't—"

"You of all people!" Vanir cried. "You should know better."

"But I didn't do anything!" Súndavar yelped. His evergreen eyes few to Rune for confirmation, put the girl was too busy shivering and murmuring fearfully to herself to provide any such thing.

Vanir tucked her into bed and backhanded Súndavar in the jaw. The elf's strength snapped Súndavar's head back. Súndavar blinked, dazed.

"If we're ever going to get back where we belong, you have to behave," Vanir growled.

"I didn't do bloody nothing!"

"Get out!" Vanir hissed. "Leave. You don't belong with us if you're going to treat Rune like that."

Súndavar was too shocked to resist. Vanir propelled him out the window with a single push. He had the vague feeling of falling, then everything was black.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Is he dead?"

Súndavar groaned and tried to sit up, only to find he couldn't. His whole body ached. Someone poked him in the side.

"What is he? A vampire Tarisai?"

"Vampires aren't real!" snapped an older, girl voice. "Don't be silly."

"Well then what is he?"

"He's a boy," said a strong, male voice. "Suppose we bring him home?"

"Robin would murder us," said Tarisai. Her voice was worried.

"Yup!" piped the younger. "He'd dice and quarter us and hang us from the ramparts!"

"Our house hasn't any ramparts," the male sighed. "We can't just leave him there."

"We already dragged him into town," Tarisai said. "It'll be light soon. Robin will wonder where we are."

There was the sound of footprints, and the voices broke off. A moment of silence, followed by…

"Shay!"

With that, Súndavar was fully awake. He sat up, ignoring his screaming muscles.

"Súndavar?"

He met Shay's eyes. Blue…they were blue…his head swam.

"Dragon's teeth, what happened to you?"

"Vanir…" Súndavar mumbled. "Pushed me out…the window. He thought…I was forcing Rune…I…wasn't…"

"Shut up," she ordered.

Súndavar was all too happy to comply.

Barely conscious, he felt Shay and the others pick him up. Where they were bringing him, he didn't know. Nor did he care.

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

Ocean.

Miles and miles of water.

Endless, smothering blue.

Slate felt tiny, tinier than he had ever felt. Tinier than he felt when he compared himself to Glaedr, tinier than he had felt when he looked at the Menoa Tree.

For the ocean was greater than either.

The water troubles thy heart, Matrix said.

Slate looked at her, then at Saphira on his other side. A shiver went down his spine.

Kuthian is not underwater, is it?

Matrix laughed, a throaty dragon laugh that was complemented by the waves and the gulls above.

No, she said. Her eyes danced. Kuthian is the beginning. It is the birth of life, and love, and being. It is and was and always will be.

Then why are we staring at the ocean? Slate complained. The water made him nervous.

Matrix smiled at him softly, her scales shining and her golden eyes bright. Where we are going, naught can find but those whose destiny leads them there. It is no were and everywhere, both to the north and to the south and to the west and to the east. It begins with the sun and sets with it also. It is Kuthian, and there is no other like it.

Slate shivered at her words. How do we get there?

Matrix spread her wings. We fly, she said. Thy heart will tell thee where.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Rune awoke, and instantly she felt cold. She groped in the bed for someone – Eragon, Súndavar, Alanna, but she was alone. There was no comforting presence in the sheets with her, no legs to tangle with her own.

She sat up and looked around. She was alone in the slave's chambers. A note written in Eragon's hasty scrawl lay on the table.

Rune,

I don't know what to say but that I'm sorry. I wanted to stay with you, but I had work to do. Kel wants to see you in her chambers when you wake up.

I love you,

Eragon

Rune blinked in confusion. What was he sorry for? And why did he want to stay with her? Yesterday she had been woken early with the others, put to work mending Kel's things. Why did they let her sleep in? And where was Freoh?

Rune rummaged in her pack for a fresh tunic, and her hand brushed something hard. Her fingers closed around it, and she brought it out.

In her hand, laid Eragon's gift. The tiny, brown wrapped box made her heart sing. She turned it over. It was tied with a piece of leather. A tiny note was tucked in the strand, folded to the size of a coin. She pulled it out and unfolded it.

Open when the time is right.

Her hand paused above the knot. She put the box back into her bag and brought out the tunic she had been searching for.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Kel hugged Rune tightly. Rune squirmed in her smothering embrace.

"I'm so sorry," Kel said.

Rune blinked at her. "For what?" she question bluntly, pushing the older woman away so she could catch her breath.

Confusion crossed Kel's face. "Vanir told me about what happened with Súndavar," she said. "How he tried to force you—"

Rune cut her off with a hand. "Súndavar was waking me up," she said. "I had a nightmare."

Kel stopped and let out a groan. She fell into the upholstered fainting chair by the window. "So now Súndavar was pushed out a window because he woke you up from a nightmare?"

"Vanir pushed him out the window?" Rune cried.

Kel nodded and rubbed her temples.

"We have to find him!" Rune demanded frantically. "Where is he?"

"Dead, most likely," Kel admitted. "It's a long fall."

Rune gasped and swayed, nearly passing out. Tears pricked her eyes.

Kel got up and hugged her. "Stop crying," she ordered. "There's nothing we can do about it now. If he's alive, fate will take care of him. You'll meet again."

Rune's tears stopped. Kel was right.

"Tabor spotted a white deer earlier this morning," Kel said, changing the subject. "He wants to get a party together to hunt it tomorrow, before it leaves the area. Do you suppose that bird of yours would help?"

"Tawnyclaw isn't mine. And I don't know where he is."

Kel nodded sadly. "Very well. If you find him, tell Marcus or his huntsman."

"I will."

"Would you like me to straighten things out with Eragon?" Kel asked. "You'll have a hard time explaining to him that it was a nightmare and naught more."

"Yes, thank you. Being smothered by you is quite enough for one day. I needn't add him to the count."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Tawnyclaw looked at the sooty owl curiously.

Hello, he said.

The owl cocked its head, looking at him upside-down. It flew away.

Tawnyclaw sighed and spread his wings. Rune would be wondering where he was.

When he thought of the girl who had cared for him, Tawnyclaw's avian heart beat faster. She was perfect in every way. If she was a bird, he would take her as his mate. But she was not a bird. And he was not human.

Tawnyclaw sighed again, his angry golden eyes searching the forest leaves below. Then he saw something unusual – a flash of white in the green brush.

Curious, the hawk dove through the trees. He found himself in a quiet glade. Sipping from a creek, shadowed by a weeping willow, grazed a doe. Nearby, two fawns bickered in a bush, tossing and playing with one another.

Then Tawnyclaw saw the buck.

A brilliant white pelt, gigantic antlers, eyes of wildfire. A Prince of the Forest in his own right. The hawk met the buck's eyes and bowed low.

The buck nodded to him, fay emanating in the air between the two animals. A quiet recognition of common being passed between the bird and the hart.

Beating his wings, Tawnyclaw retreated from the powerful presence.

He found Rune with Eragon. She was sobbing silently into her palms.

Tears?

She looked up at him in surprise, reaching out an arm. He landed gracefully on it.

Tears? He asked again.

"Súndavar is dead, Tawnyclaw," Rune said aloud. Tawnyclaw cocked his head. He hated it when she spoke to him aloud. It was much better in his head. The sounds confused him, but her meaning was clear, when she spoke to him alone in the confines of his mind.

Dead? Bad blood boy dead?

"I think so."

Good?

"No," she said. "That's bad."

Eragon kissed her cheek tenderly and stroked Tawnyclaw's feathers, receiving a bloody finger for the effort. "He's not dead," the Rider assured. "He'll be back."

Rune nodded sadly.

Hart! Tawnyclaw cried, changing the subject. Fay hart. Star pelt.

"What?"

Hart, he stressed, hart pelt glow starlight snow!

"You saw a white deer?"

Yes! Fay!

Rune frowned. "Tabor wants to kill a white deer."

No! Tawnyclaw cried. No! Doe and fawns! Hart star pelt.

Rune nodded. "We won't let him. Will you help?"

Tawnyclaw jerked his head once in a hawk nod.

"Starpelt," she said. "I like that. We'll call him Starpelt."