Sorry for the long wait.

Walker had decided that he quite hated traveling. Two days was more than enough to make that opinion. The worst part was the saddle soreness. His legs would be stiff from riding all day and when he would wake up the next morning it was only worse. And having to ride all of the next day did not help either. The reason why Abigail wanted to travel would always remain a mystery to him.

Ingothold loved the open air, though. He would scuttle along the road and through the trees purposely scaring the nearby small animals. His purpose was merely to scare, not to hunt. Whenever a small woodland creature squeaked and ran fearfully away Ingothold's eyes would light up and a small rumbling sounded in his throat. He enjoyed having other smaller animals fear him.

It seemed that no matter what the little dragon did he always managed to brighten up Walker's day.

The little dragon was venturing farther into the woods and away from Walker which was making Walker very nervous. Ingothold, come back. Walker projected the message to the dragon. Ingothold turned his head to look back at him and then hesitantly came back to Walker. When he came near Walker's horse he jumped and flapped his wings a few times so he was able to make it into the saddle and he laid down in front of Walker.

Walker glanced into the trees. Since they had left the safety of the Hall, he was nervous about the Domia abr kyn, and whoever else wanted to kill him and Ingothold. The safety of having trained guards around him did not amount to the safety of walls to him. They were out in the wilderness and who knows what was lurking behind those trees.

Ingothold rubbed his head against Walker's arm. Walker looked down into the dragon's violet eyes. Ingothold made a sharp click sound with his tongue and sent an image into Walker's head.

To stop worrying isn't that easy. Walker replied.

The dragon snorted and then started to climb up the horse's neck and watch the scenery.

"He's right." Vesta came up walking beside his horse. "You should stop worrying. We're perfectly capable of protecting you. And also, the closest person is all the way back in Therinsford. You have nothing to worry about." Even though she was walking, she was keeping pace with his trotting horse without any sign of tiring.

"It's not that easy," he replied.

"I know. When I first connected with Eridor, I was terrified that something would happen to him. I wouldn't let him be more than three feet away from me and I wouldn't let anyone start to approach him or really even think about it. It's a mysterious thing how even though you have only been with each other a few days you care about them more than anyone else and you can't even begin to image your life without them."

"It is. Even though I never wanted this life in the first place, I don't want to go back at all."

Walker watched Ingothold lay across the horse's neck and let his tail dangle toward the ground. That's strange. The horse doesn't seem to mind at all. Back in Carvahall every single horse in a mile radius would be screaming its head off if a dragon was near. "How come all of the horses are calm," he asked Vesta.

"They've gotten used to being near dragons, that's all. Catherine here," she patted the horse's side, "has practically lived with dragons ever since she was born. It would probably be strange to her not to have one near."

"Does that apply to other things also?"

"Like what?"

"Like battle, fighting, killing, the like. Do you eventually get used to it?"

A somber mien settled onto her face. She sighed and then began to speak but she did not look into his eyes again. "This world is filled with all different kinds of people. Some adjust easily and some . . . do not. There are also others who adjust somewhat and are not overcome by guilt. Killing is not a very good thing to get used to and most people never do. The trick is to not let it overcome your life. Do not ever relish in killing but neither should you refuse it as a sacrifice that is needed to be made. I will say though that you will most likely get used to it somewhat but never completely."

"Have you ever gotten used to it, somewhat?"

There was silent pause before she spoke again. "That is not a very appropriate question to ask someone, Walker." She finally turned her head to look back at him. By her tone and expression he could see that he had vexed her. "You should not ask that again."

"I understand. And I'm sorry."

"It is all right." Vesta focused her attention up ahead. Her face brightened up all of a sudden. "Oh, look." she told him and pointed to the steepest mountain Walker had ever seen. It was about a mile away and rose up above all of the other mountains and its peak was hidden in the clouds. The mountain was so steep that no trees had any room to grow on it and no animals could find footholds on it either.

The only way to get to the peak must be to fly,he thought. "Utgard." he whispered as he remembered people saying that it was one of the steepest mountains in Alagaësia.

"Yes," Vesta replied.

"Didn't it used to be a Rider's outpost before the Fall? And Vrael, he died there, right?" Walker said. He already knew about how Vrael had been defeated by Galbatorix there but he hoped to somehow brush off the effects of his question from earlier.

"Yes. The Council is considering rebuilding the outpost, but it won't be for a while."

"Why do they want to rebuild it?"

"All Rider's swords are made from this special metal called Brightsteel. We believe that there is a large deposit in these mountains around Palancar Valley. Eventually we hope to mine for it but first we need an outpost around here so bringing in supplies will be easier."

Walker stared into the clouds curious to see what the old Rider's outpost looked like. I wonder what it looks like now. I hope I'll be able to see it before it gets repaired. The ruins of history were more alluring to Walker than the progressive present.

"If you're lucky, you may be able to have your sword crafted from Brightsteel taken from your own familiar valley," said Vesta.

"If I'm lucky," he repeated.

They reached Utgard at dusk and camped at the base of the mountain. Walker decided to sleep under the stars that night. He gazed into the depths of the universe from his little patch of dirt and let serenity pass over him as a light winter breeze does. Ingothold was curled up into a ball by his side where he had fallen asleep the second he had settled down. It took Walker longer to fall asleep but after a while nature sung its sweet lullaby and he drifted off into sleep.

The next morning saddle soreness reared its ugly head again. He could barely move an inch and he thought if he had to endure another day of traveling he would just have to die. It took all of his self-will and Ingothold's prodding to get back on Catherine and through a third day of traveling.

That day they made it all of the way around Utgard and into the plains. The mountains opened up into flat open land as far as the eye could see. For the land to open so suddenly was startling to Walker. He had never in his life been out of the mountains, ever. And now he was journeying into the plains and he felt more exposed than ever before. It felt wrong for his sight to stop seeing first rather than having something get in the way in the first place.

They rode on until night started to creep in on the day once more and camped by the Anora River. Walker sat alone at a fire he had just made as he watched Ingothold hunt as he crouched in the tall grass. Ingothold caught sight of a field mouse and was reading to pounce. The dragon pounced and caught the mouse in his mouth. He bit down and swung it around until it was limp before coming back to the fire to eat it.

"A fine catch." said Vesta as she walked toward them with Eridor following behind her. She had two swords in her hand and held out one to Walker. "I've given you three days to rest from the newness of traveling but now it is time to start training again."

"You only gave me three days."

"And it should be enough. Now get up."

Walker bit his lip to hold in a groan and he took the sword Vesta offered him. He ran his finger along the edge of the blade to check that she had dulled it so they wouldn't hurt the other. Not like I'd have any change of hurting her anyway.

It was painful but he managed to slowly edge himself onto his feet. Eridor laid down on the ground and closed his eyes but Walker doubted that he wasn't aware of all of the things going on around him. They each took a fighting stance across from each other. Walker was strong enough to wield a sword from working in the blacksmith with his father all of time but he lacked essential balance and agility.

"On guard." Vesta said and then she attacked. She lunged and aimed for his side. He was able to jump out of the way just in time. He then swung his sword to knock hers out of her hands but she pulled it back toward herself before he could make impact. Again she lunged and ended the match by striking him on the stomach.

They continued on this way for several more matches. All of the matches ended after only a few blows and Walker always lost. Sword-fighting taxed his body unlike anything else. An hour passed. Walker was covered in perspiration and he was panting worse than a dog. But Vesta showed no perceptible signs of tiring and she pressed him on.

With one easy blow she knocked his sword out of his hand and onto the ground five feet away. She did save him the trouble though by walking over and picking it up and handing it to him but she still said, "Again."

Walker took the sword and wiped some sweat out his eyes. He could not go on. No matter how hard he tried. He opened his mouth to protest.

"Vesta. Give the boy a break. He's worked hard enough already. And just look at him. If you drive him any further, he'll have died of exhaustion before we even reach Gilead." a man said.

Walker had been too preoccupied before to notice a man watching them duel. The man was rather old with white hair and a beard that stood out in many different directions. A staff made up of knotted hawthorns laid across his lap. He was clad in a long brown woolen cloak that had two openings on the sides so the man could move his arms more freely. His face held wrinkles from smiling many times and he wore a smile on his face now.

"Master Paterum worked me just as hard when Eridor hatched for me." Vesta replied.

"But you were such an eager learner. You wanted to continue on, and I'm sure that if you were tired like him," he motioned toward Walker, "he would have called it a day."

"I doubt that."

"He would. And also the boy has lots of time before he has to be presented before the king."

Vesta considered it but she still wasn't entirely convinced. She turned back toward Walker and raised her sword. "On guard."

"Wait," Walker said. Vesta stopped in her tracks, mid-lunge. "You really should listen to him," he said as he motioned toward the man. "Really. You should listen to such a wise man as. . ."

"Thomas." the man said.

"As Thomas who should know such things and be a very reliable person to . . . to rely on."

"How would you know if he is wise or not if you didn't even know his name?" she asked.

"You can just tell. By merely looking at him." It was the best excuse he had.

She lowered her sword. "Fine. I'll give you a break. But definitely not for any reason you two proposed." Vesta took both of the swords and sat down by Eridor while Walker plopped down onto the ground. He looked at Thomas and gave a nod as a silent "Thank you."

"Here take this," Thomas handed him a water bottle and he took it and drank heartily. "So, how is that old Master Paterum of yours doing?" he asked Vesta.

"He's doing quite well, actually. He is one of the highest of Elders." Vesta replied rather coldly.

"Hmm. Good for him." he turned to Walker. "I've only ever met him once and once is once enough. But before I met him you wouldn't believe the number of stories I had heard about him. He had left the company in protecting the eggs and their new Riders to become part of this council, the one that Vesta just mentioned, right before I joined. That's how I heard about how Vesta was such an eager learner when she became a Rider. Master Paterum is a very strict, hard-working man, but I'm still positive about some things that he would have done." He glanced back at Vesta for a second. "Speaking of stories-."

"Oh no." Vesta groaned. "Not one of your stories."

"Yes. One of my stories."

She turned to Walker. "Don't believe any thing from his stories. They're fables and they have about as much truth as a puddle is deep."

"I've heard many stories in my time," Thomas said, "and at least one of them has to be true. And I know just the one."

"It is the one I tell all of the Riders I meet." Thomas and Vesta said in unison.

Vesta rolled her eyes and Thomas turned to her. "Do you want to tell the story or should I?"

"No, you can go on."

He turned back to Walker. "It is the one I tell all of the Riders I meet. It's about the Satini. They're creatures not made by the powerful gods, but by man. They're creatures filled completely with evil that can choke the goodness out of anything. Their skin is darker than the night and slimy with mucous that their skin expels. Their heads are thin and shaped like an arrow's head with beady red eyes and they have wings that seem to be made of leather as thick as a pommel of a sword. They cannot reproduce like regular animals but must be made by performing a certain ritual that will merge a Ra'zac egg with that of a dragon's."

"Really." The thought of a Ra'zac's egg and a dragon's egg merging together was dreadful but yet fascinating.

"Yes, really."

Vesta snorted.

"The Satini were swifter and faster than any animal anyone had seen before. They could emit this poisonous gas in their breath that could swipe every living thing dead for 100 yards. But when the Ra'zac War ended there were no eggs left to merge with the dragon eggs and since the Satini couldn't reproduce they eventually died and were seen no more. But what the group of men, the Santari, that had created them, didn't know was that there were Ra'zac eggs that had survived the war and in fact are still in existence today."

"Wait. That can't be possible. Eragon killed the last two Ra'zac and they had no eggs. There couldn't possibly be any left."

"Oh, but there is. The King Galbatorix found some that had survived long ago and he hid them so he could hatch them at the precise moment. But he never got the chance to. I assume that he didn't know about the Satini though, because he did have both a Ra'zac egg and a dragon egg in his possession and he didn't make one."

"Maybe he didn't know the ritual."

"Maybe."

"Where do you think the Ra'zac eggs could be now?"

"Anywhere."

"Anywhere," he repeated.

"And most important, with anyone."

"How many people know about the Satini?"

"Only a handful of people, actually. They have become part of legends that have been left mostly untold for centuries. But once you hear about the Satini your mind finds them hard to forget. And there's also another handful of people who are . . . hmm. What's the word? Crazy, maybe, or superstitious, like me. Oh, wait." Thomas snapped his fingers. "Off is the word. They are off, but only to the common man's standards of course."

"You consider yourself to be crazy."

"No! Of course not. I am no common man."

Walker tried to stop his lips from smiling. This man, Thomas, was unlike anyone else he had ever known. He was very unpredictable and uncanny and made Walker's skin crawl in a way he liked it. Every single word that fell from his tongue mystified him and had him on his tiptoes eagerly awaiting to hear what else Thomas knew of the Satini.

"Do you really think that someone would make a Satini?" he asked Thomas.

"Walker." He turned toward Vesta who was standing over him and Thomas with her hands placed on her hips. "Both you and I have heard enough of this nonsense. It isn't real. And I'll prove it to you."

"And I'll tell you Vesta that you must say 'that this is what I tell all of the Riders I meet' because you do." Thomas said.

"I only end up telling this to every Rider I meet because you, Thomas, always tell that story to every Rider you meet. That story about the Satini is a load of rubbish and then I have to clean it up."

"Go ahead with what you were saying. But remember how to begin it." he replied.

Vesta struggled to keep her calm as she turned back to Walker. "The Satini are rubbish. They are a made-up story made by some half-crazed lunatic man. Nothing more." She glanced once at Thomas to emphasize the fact that she didn't use his chosen beginning. "Firstly, as Thomas said: there are only a handful of people who have actually heard about them. If something so fearful actually had existed then I doubt people would forget such creatures so quickly and in such a short span of time. Some stories are as old as Time himself and have still not died out to this day. Secondly, there is no evidence that the Satini ever did exist. None. And lastly, to conjoin two different species from their eggs would take a spell that would cost an enormous amount of energy. It would cost too much energy and the spellcasters would have died before the spell was completed. Especially if they were mere men. I of all three of us should know this. So do you see, Walker? It's a myth. An old wives' tale. It will do you good to dismiss it. Now, Excuse me." She walked away and Eridor got up and followed behind her through the camp toward their tent.

Walker felt tossed upside down. "I've never seen her act like this before. I don't know what's with her," he said.

"Tsk. Women."

Did you like it? Did you like the song? If you did (or if you have any suggestions about the story) please, Please, PLEASE review. I would absolutely love it if you did.