Sixteen

Apology

You are a very talented young lady, Thorn told her bitterly, circling high above the camp after Murtagh had storm off. Now he will spend the rest of the day angry, and tomorrow he will slip into a dark depression.

I wasn't trying to be mean, Nasuada protested. She instantly regretted loosing her temper. She glanced at the hatchling, which was busy sniffing at the cold pot of stew. His scales gleamed in the firelight, reflecting specks of lime on the ground. I hate surprises, she thought dismally.

They make you very grouchy, Thorn said.

Nasuada scowled. I get the point, Thorn.

Then you could at least apologize and feed your dragon.

Nasuada sighed and pulled the hatchling out of the pot. As soon she touched its scales, an impenetrable force exploded through her barriers, opening her mind to another presence. Hot ice poured through her veins. Nasuada tried to move, but her arms and legs were heavy as lead. It was few long moments before she could move again. Her hand burned slightly, and there was a silvery white patch in the middle of her palm.

Now what? A shrill wave of hunger came over her. Nasuada shook her head and ladled a bowl of cold stew into the bowl for the hatchling. The hatchling was like a minuture version of Thorn and Saphira, except that he was green, and was broader in the shoulders and thicker in the legs than Saphira. He watched her with one lime green eye as he gobbled down the stew, tail flickering back and forth.

After a while Eragon returned, with Roran and Katrina slowly in his wake. At first Eragon didn't notice the hatchling. "Where's Murtagh?"

"In the woods. Pouting probably," Nasuada said stiffly, tracing the silver mark on her palm.

"Is he well enough to be out there by himself?"

Nasuada snorted. "He was well enough to go storming off after you."

Eragon looked alarmed. "What did I do?"

"Nothing. We had an argument and he said he was going to find you."

"What were you arguing about?"

She poked the dragon between the ribs and it gave a small squawk. "He's why."

Eragon ran his eyes over the hatchling. His eyes brightened. "What…where did that—he come from?"

"Arya," Nasuada said bitterly, using the elf's name like a curse. "She lied to me."

"How do you mean?"

Rolling her eyes to sky, Nasuada told him about how Arya had lied to her. When she was finished, Eragon laughed. "Dragon's don't just choose anyone," he said. "You should be proud."

"But I never touched the egg in the first place, so why did it hatch?"

Saphira hummed and lowered her head to greet the hatchling. Her sapphire eyes gleamed. A dragon only hatches when he senses his Rider's presence, she said. A bit of silk and ribbons will not stop that. Not when you have been carrying the egg around for more than a week.

"I will have words with Arya when we return," she s sourly.

"The results were positive, so why does it matters."

Nasuada gave him a stiff look. "It matters because my most trusted advisor flat out manipulated me."

"She was only trying to help the Varden."

"Just because you're obsessed with Arya, doesn't make her perfect."

"Whine, whine, whine," Murtagh said hotly, from Thorn's back as he stepped out of the trees. "Would you like some cheese with that whine? That's all you've done today."

Nasuada glowered. "You just don't get it, do you?"

Sliding off Thorn's back, Murtagh glared daggers. His face was pale and clammy, and there were dark circles under his eyes. Until now, Nasuada had not realized how sick he looked. "Oh, I understand perfectly— that I am a dirty, pouting coward," Murtagh retorted. "Yes, poor you, Nasuada. Arya lied and you believed her. Life is so terrible isn't it?"

I told you he'd be angry, Thorn chided.

"I get the idea," Nasuada said impatiently to them both. "I overreacted and said things that I should not have. I apologize for my outburst." Murtagh seemed less convinced.

"It was very unladylike."

"It was." And she left it at that.

Thorn was right though. For the remainder of that day, Murtagh remained in a foul mood. He kept his distant from her, and conversation was reserved as short and bitter. By the morning of the next day, his temper had died down to a brooding, sour silence. When Nasauda asked him if he was all right after returning to camp, looking more pale and sickly than ever, he gave her a rather dark look and in a hoarse voice insisted that he was fine; adding that she should not waste her try to keep her hands clean, and not waste her time on a coward.

"I think he's getting worse," Eragon said lowly later that day. "He looks like he walked out of crypt."

"I'm not blind," Nasuada said. "He just won't listen to anything I have to say." His health worried her. He was getting worse with every passing day. Yet the more she tried to help, the more he ignored her.

It was another three days before Nasuada had had enough. She caught him when he was asleep and could not walk off on her, to make amends. Grabbing the hatchling and her blankets, she peered under Thorn's wing, where Murtagh was sleeping. Thorn cracked an eye ochre open, and then lifted his wing.

"What do you want?" Murtagh mumbled sleepily when she woke him.

She set the dragon down. "Garth and I were feeling a bit cold," she said, half hoping he would play along.

"Garth?"

"That is what I have chosen to call him," Nasuada explained. "'Garth' is short, simple, and strong. And it sounds like him, doesn't."

Murtagh shrugged and rolled over with a frosty, drained languor. "What you call your dragon is your business, not mine."

"You would let us freeze?"

"Go cuddle with Eragon."

Nasuada laid a hand gently on his shoulder. "I am sorry, for what I said. I overreacted and said things I should not have. You are not a coward." She fingered the worn fringe on his cloak. "And I certainly do not consider you a waste of my time."

Murtagh glanced at her. Then at last he gave in and with a weary sigh he scooted over.

Relief washed over her as she settled down beside him. "I was worried you'd still upset with me."

"I don't have the energy to house any anger with you," he said, shifting uncomfortably. "And I like you too much." Garth crawled in between them with a dubious snort.

"I like you too," she said, but he had fallen asleep.

Let him sleep, Thorn chided. Then added, Before Garth gets too jealous. She glanced at Garth, who was nibbling gently at her fingernail. He gave another small snort and scoot closer to her. It was funny, the more she tried to ignore her dragon, the more attatched she grew to Garth.

Jealous?

You spend an awful lot of time thinking about Murtagh.

I do not!

Garth snorted again and she suddenly came to realize that there was little she could hide from him.

A/N: Don't ask me, 'Why Garth?' I don't know what his name is supposed to be. I am...creatively disabled when it comes to making up names for charecters that already have names that I don't know. I personally don't like it when people give dragons really long, bizzare names that I can't even pronounce. Garth was short, simple...and just happened to be the name of uncle who draws really cool dragons. I'll try to come up with something cool that has to do with the name, but right now, I'm tired.

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