I smiled as I stretched back into a tree, Amy sitting to my right and passed her Connor, all of us giggling and stretching. The stone was set firmly in front of Amy, and we were currently making fun of an especially pompous girl at the barn who treats Connor like dirt and whines in a grating voice that serves to remind me of how my parents wished I were. As far as they know, I am how they wish I was. I've got to remind myself of that a lot, especially when I'm with Amy.

Amy is pretty much everything I wish I could be, and therefore everything my parents hate in a girl. She's got these crazy teal tips on her hair and, when she isn't riding, she wears long, free-flowing skirts and protest shirts about recycling and 'the man.' She's obviously been raised by hippies, and attends New York City protests regularly. God, I love Amy.

"So, what do you think this stone is made of, Lily?" Amy gestured the stone, "Like, do you think it's some crazy alien rock, or are you rich people just that weird that you could drop this thing and not notice?" I ran my tongue carefully across my teeth as I considered the possibilities, while Amy kept listing things, "Or maybe we found some crazy new metal, or…"

"I don't think it's alien," I interrupted, leaning forward and tapping the stone with my fingernail. A few feet away, tied to a nearby tree, Pappy's ears perked at the new sound, his eyes searching for the source. I ignored him as I continued, "And I highly doubt we've found some new metal. I think someone just wanted to get rid of it."

"Maybe its bad luck," Connor suggested, "You know in Ireland, its bad luck to deny a hungry man food during a time of famine?"

"Yeah, that's called Karma," I giggled back at him, and added, "And if it is bad luck, then you're going to have to take it-" Not over my dead body; this rock was meant for me. "-cause you've got the luck of the Irish. Yeh?" Next to me, Amy's nose wrinkled at my impersonation before we all dissolved into giggles, which were promptly cut off by a standard jingle from my cell phone; was I late to be picked up? I slid open the phone, not bothering to look at the number before I answered, "Hello?"

"Liaden? It's Garrett," I heard the deep, baritone voice of my sort-of boyfriend respond as I stood, ambling around for a place to talk, "I, uh, I think we still need to talk. Are you alone?"

"We don't need to talk about anything – I'm not your girlfriend, remember," I questioned, my voice icing over as I leaned against the tree Pappy was tied to, stroking his velvety nose in an attempt to calm myself down. "We're not under contract; I'm not tying you down. Jen ties you down, though; she ties you down real tight. I'm surprised your blood is circulating."

"Lee," Gar responded, his deep voice betraying his anger and frustration, "Lee, don't start with me; you know I'm just not in the mood for it." Of course he wasn't in the mood for it – he'd had a bad game last Saturday, and was apparently epically failing at practices all week. I don't feel sorry for him; it's not like when he fails everyone freaks out at him that he can't do anything right. He's got plenty of support to not earn my sympathy.

"Oh, why, because you hit a foul ball today? A single foul ball? Well, let me tell you something about foul balls-"

"Lee, I'm going to break up with Jen," Gar cut me off, in a hurried way that suggested if I didn't shut up soon he would change his mind. My hand, which had been happily stroking Pappy's ear, stopped short, my nails immediately flexing in an effort to find something to dig into. "I, just… not before prom. I don't think she can take it – she already has a dress, and a tiara-"

"A tiara? You're ditching me because your bitch-girlfriend has a tiara?!" I took another deep breath, and heard Garrett take a similar one on either side of the line. I knew that Connor and Amy were listening, and I knew that Amy was reminding herself of every peaceful thought in her body to not rampage through the forest in search for him. "I… I guess I understand," I finally managed.

"You do?" In all honesty, no I don't. A tiara? Doesn't that sound a little gaudy to anyone else, because it screams drama queen to me. Literally, a queen, with a tiara. Really. "I'm so glad; you 

know this is one of the many reasons why I love you; you're so kind and understanding. Right after prom, though, I promise."

"Yeah, yeah," I responded, my face visibly falling as I threw my whole body to lean against Pappy's ornately large head. He pushed his nose forward in response, into my belly, and nickered. "I, just, I have to go now, alright? I'm kind of in the middle of something, and it really shouldn't have been interrupted…"

"You're with that Connor kid, aren't you? I can hear his Irish giggle in the background," Garrett accused. It's weird – Garrett is completely fine when I hang out with any guy at school, but he's extremely defensive about Connor. I'd say he were the jealous type, if he only got jealous over anyone else.

"He doesn't giggle," I defended, "And yes, I am with Connor; him and Amy are out on the trail." As if in response, or to qualify my statement (wouldn't my English teacher be so proud?), Pappy pushed his nose into my stomach again and nickered, this time it sounding the slightest bit panicked. I ignored him, turning and pushing my finger into my ear, "So I've got to go. Love you."

I slid the phone shut and hit my beautiful little red button; the hang up button. I wish I could hang up on Garrett in general so easily. "Ugh, Lily, that was disgusting," Amy moaned. She has very very hateful, very very un-hippie-like and very very best friend-like, feelings towards my half boyfriend, half lab partner. I appreciate them, when I'm not totally falling for him or when I just don't really need to be comforted.

"Why do you call her Lily," Connor changed the subject as I rejoined them, deciding against sitting with them and instead falling onto my butt and palms next to the egg. He smiled carefully at me, as if to be sure that I didn't want to talk about my supposed relationship. If only we all lived in the blissful state of Connor-ignorance. Yes, it's a relationship.

"Cause it's what her parents want her to be – a precious little Lily," Amy squawked the last half in mock of my mother, and I burst laughing. Sure, the nickname hurt a little, but only because it's so true. A beautiful little lily – like Lily Potter or Lily… alright, I don't know anyone else named Lily. Sue me.

"Ah," Connor said, obviously not quite comprehending. I don't want him to, either. My parents are my parents are my parents; I tell who I want to tell. It was time for another subject change when, from immediately next to me, came a loud, wailing shriek.

I screamed, scrambling away from the sound. I looked around, my red hair quickly escaping from parts of my ponytail and obscuring my vision as Amy screamed fearfully, pushing into the tree, "Oh my God, what is that?! Is that the freaking STONE!?" The wailing died before another screech filled the air, and I looked down at the egg, which was shaking wildly.

"I… I think so!" I continued to scramble backwards while the egg rocked more violently, the cries momentarily silenced as with one definite –crack- a small leg broke through the… egg. It was an egg; Connor had been right! Lord knows what kind of animal this is.

Its single leg was a shimmering green, the same as the egg. The screeching started again, quieter this time, so that the horses' panicked whinnies could drown it out. The egg continued to rock, and I looked to Amy and Connor for a cue. But they just sat and watched with horrified, amazed faces. Part of me didn't want to know what was in the egg; it just wanted to jump on Pappy's back and ride back to the stables and forget all about the egg. The mother would find it, surely. The way this baby cries, the mother would have to be deaf not to hear it.

With a gasp, the other leg broke, followed by a green, shimmering, scale-covered head. A lizard! For a moment, the large, green eyes stared at me, the same sparkling color of the egg. They were breath-taking, and mesmerizing. Immediately, though, the eyes snapped shut and the lizard started to cry again, reminding me of a petulant, newborn baby.

Of course, that's exactly what it was – a newborn lizard, who happened to be crying a lot; therefore, petulant. And here we were, watching this miracle take place – and we didn't even have to watch that disgusting video they show us in health with the human baby and the actual giving birth! It's pretty awesome, if not a little weird and annoyingly loud.

With one final, tensed push, the lizard broke free, rolling onto its side and cracking the egg's shell. I sucked in a breath – most of its body was covered in the vibrant-green scales that shone, and along its neck were small, miniature pearl-white spikes. Its underbelly, which I could just make out as it stood on wobbly feet and shook it's long, elegant looking face, was silver, reflecting light I didn't even know existed.

I let out a breath as the horses continued to paw out the ground and whiney around us, but it didn't seem to matter. Just like on the bridge, with the egg. I was… enthralled; like under some sick spell. Maybe it was the way the lizard sparkled; maybe it was the way it wobbled before finally falling on its butt and spreading its wings wide, licking them clean of any liquid.

I took another deep breath, Wings! The… the.. "It's a dragon," Connor questioned, more than obviously horrified. Another shuddering breath and I looked over at my friends, who were gawking at the dragon, much like I had been a few seconds ago. Pappy reared, ripping his reins from the tree, the sound forcing me to scream in shock since it sounded an awful lot like a baby dragon attacking my throat.

The sound drew the dragon's attention, and for one horrifying moment our eyes locked once again. My throat went dry, and I felt oddly… comforted. With a squeal of what could almost be joy, the dragon started towards me, prancing happily as it went. With another scream, I joined my friends in the mad scramble for our horses. Pappy was rearing, stomping on the ground with both of his front feet when I reached him, and I tried to get a hold of his reins.

As Pappy's hooves hit the ground one final time, I heard the saddest little squeak I'd ever heard from behind me, and I turned quickly to see the baby dragon, looking more depressed than I'd ever seen, well, a baby dragon ever look before. It continued to walk towards me sadly, its head hung low and its movements cautious.

I knew my friends were already on their horses, yelling at me to get on as the dragon continued to waddle towards me. But the dragon was just, so… cute. And, well, it's only a baby dragon – there are barn cats bigger than this dragon. And just look at those eyes – what could be evil and still have those big, round eyes?

Slowly, the dragon reached my side, and I clutched Pappy's reins in nervousness, but I was determined not to run away. I mean, it's probably not even a dragon – it's probably a bad joke. Courtesy of Jen and her friends, or our rival High School. I mean, dragons are myths. We would know about them otherwise, wouldn't we? I mean, where in the world do you hide a dragon?

The dragon paused, looking up at me with wide eyes. You're a boy, I realized as it stared up at me, not bothering to blink. I don't know how I knew, but I was absolutely certain; this dragon was a boy, and he wasn't spiteful or hungry or violent. He was just… a baby. As if he sensed my acceptance, the dragon yipped in joy and jumped up, touching its nose to my hand.

With a scream, I was engulfed in a flash of white, and a burning hot pain shot through my body, originating at the hand the dragon had touched. I felt the energy slowly started to drain from my body, my left hand still clutching to Pappy's reins as I fell against his long nose in exhaustion. I could only manage a last thought before I passed out, Damn boys.

The wind was hot; stifling so. Through my eyelids, some sunlight still managed to sneak through. Strike that; it burned through. My skin, spoiled and pale, was already tingling with a sun burn, and I whined as I rolled onto my stomach, flinching desperately at the sand my arms pushed through. It's like I'm in a frickin' desert, or something.

As I turned, I felt something push against the top of my head, squeaking at me curiously. I groaned, cracking my neck as I bent it to look into emerald eyes. They lit up excitedly, and I remembered the dragon. I was just about to jump up and run away, crying and screaming, when the dragon gently leaned forward, touching its nose to mine.

Its eyes, transforming from excited to sad, blinked once at me as a bright light exploded from our noses. I felt a small whimper pull from my throat as my energy started to fade, the world darkening as the dragon slowly faded away from in front of me.

When I finally pulled my eyes open, I was freezing. My breath came in small gasps, and every bit of my body ached desperately. I groaned as I yawned, the realizations rolling over me lazily; It was just a dream. A God damn horrifying dream, I realized, thankful. I must have passed out when Pappy reared during the explosion. I probably fell into the river – I'm lucky I survived.

But a flinch of the elbow reflexively confirmed my worst fears; I was lying in sand. It was one of the few things I could still remember from the three seconds I had been awake before. There was sand and heat and sun. Looking around, now; it was probably night, and just a few feet away Pappy was sprawled on his side, breathing shallowly.

I sat up, my palms slipping and stinging through the sand. So where was the dragon? Maybe that part was a dream. It's… not feasible. Nothing about this is logical at all, and I should be having a panic attack. But far away, very far away, I felt a calming presence, like an itch in the back of my mind that kept me from curling up into a ball and crying in the fetal position.

There was nothing around me, save for a few stereotypical shrubs and cactuses. And far off in the distance, I could see a great mound of something, slowly moving towards me. People? Civilization? A rescue brigade? No, no, it was too tall for any of those things, and even from the distance I was at I could hear its thundering.

The dark mound seemed to stretch all the way to the sky. It was nearly two hundred yards away, and it was moving fast. I sniffed, trying to figure out what it was. It was… familiar, but not something I'd actually seen before. But still, I could recognize it. A hundred and fifty yards now, and moving fast. God, what is it?

My arms tightened, and I remembered, from years of forced studying and reading, what it was; at a hundred yards away, the sandstorm thundered across the desert, and here I was without shelter. Well, except for my nearly-dead horse, but I'm more concerned about him living through this than I am about me living through it.

Fifty yards, and my Lord I've got no ideas. I mean, what can I hide behind? That particularly large cactus? Can I get away with just a duck and cover? I could, and if I'm careful enough I won't breathe in too much sand, but then again I'll still be exposed and it'll probably hurt a lot. No scratch that, it will hurt a lot. I shouldn't leave room for doubt.

I could just feel the sting of the first few grains of sand when something very, very large landed in front of me, wrapping itself around me and Pappy and closing out what little light there had been. I screamed as I heard the storm violently smash into our suddenly-there shelter, covering my ears after I crawled to Pappy's side, pushing my face hopefully into his side. Everything was slowly heating up around me, to the point that I was sure that the dragon had killed me and this was hell, complete with sound effects and brimstone.

An eternity could have passed before the storm did and my shelter uncurled itself from around me. It was at that moment, free from the fear of being killed by a sandstorm or horrified at the sounds and storm around me, that I realized with a sickening feeling that my shelter was alive. What in the world could have been large enough to completely cover both me and my horse?

Feeling very nauseous, I turned and looked up, eyes the size of baseballs and made of emeralds sparkling back at me hopefully. Of course, I pushed my gaze passed the eyes and nearly fainted – a fully grown dragon. Oh God, it must be the mother – I'm screwed! It's going to eat me!

"I didn't mean to steal your baby," I cried, backing away and hoping against all reason that it understood English. I mean, these things are supposed to be freakishly smart, right? All wise and evil and hungry and carnivorous and such. I mean, it should get English, right? Oh God, let it get English. You've been so cruel to me today; I deserve something.

'You didn't steal my baby,' a male voice explained coolly in my head. I let out a deep sigh of relief before starting to scream wildly at the realization that there was a male voice in my head, a sure sign of insanity. I suppose the wild screaming doesn't help my case, but still. 'Calm yourself, little Rider. You are not crazy,' the voice encouraged, a calm feeling being shoved into my mind.

The dragon poked its head towards me encouragingly; its eyes warming as it touched the very tip of his nose carefully touched my hand. I screamed, awaiting the searing hot pain that accompanied every touch of a dragon. But instead, the dragon's nose filled my palm before just a moment before pulling away, looking me deeply in the eyes. I knew those eyes; could it be… "Are you… but you couldn't be."

'I am the dragon that hatched for you,' the voice confirmed, the dragon nodding in time to the words, and I gripped my head desperately. Why is there a voice in my head? Why is there a guy voice in my head? Why aren't I running away and crying yet? Why is there this calming presence in my-

"Oh my God," I realized, "You're in my head!" The dragon nodded as I continued to scream, trying to back away and tripping painfully over Pappy's large girth. Using my hands to drag myself through the red-gold sand, I grimaced against the stinging that radiated through my palms. I sputtered for a few seconds, "Well, get out!"

'I can't; you'd have to close your mind. You are my Rider; I'm eternally bound to you, our minds forever connected.' The dragon stepped lightly towards me, trying to nudge my food in an attempt to be comforting.

"Fuck that," I cried frantically, "I don't know what the hell you're talking about, I just want you to get out!"

'You don't know where you are, do you,' the dragon questioned smartly. I scowled, glaring at him.

'Whether or not I do, I don't need your help,' I thought stubbornly, before a deep, rumbling laughter filled my head, I jumped, and then grimaced at the pain that shot through my body. The laughter quieted, followed by an apologetic, sad feeling, the same emotion reflected in the dragon's eyes.

'I am sorry that you are in pain; it was necessary to fuel my growth.'

"Fuel your growth," I questioned, my voice quivering as I brought my knees up to my chin, "Wait, how do you know I'm in pain? I never said anything about being in pain!"

'I can feel it, just like you can feel most everything about me; my emotions, my thoughts. I didn't know using your energy to bring us here and fuel my growth would hurt you so much. I might have been more careful had I known.'

"Using my energy? To bring me where?!" I was fully aware that I would absolutely hate what I was about to be told.

"To my homeland: Alagaësia."

Murtagh sighed as he felt Thorn's body buck and his wings pump purposefully beneath him. Nearly a week of searching, and they still hadn't found the egg. How far could the damn elf have sent it? He was nearly dying; he only should have had enough energy to send it no farther than maybe twenty miles, if the elf had been lucky, and Murtagh's estimations were generous.

Thorn was in equally obvious distress, and spoke to Murtagh in an annoyed tone, 'We've done nothing but search for a week. We need to take a break.' Murtagh sighed, imagining the look on Galbatorix's face when he finds out that Murtagh is slacking. The pain, the punishment, Thorn's anguished cries as Shruikan bit viciously into his neck and tail and soft belly.

Murtagh shook his head, 'No, no, Thorn; you know we can't stop. Not until we find the egg.' Thorn growled under him, quite aware of his Rider's apprehensions but wishing that, for once, Murtagh didn't care for him so much. He was sure that if Murtagh would take the risk, they could find a way out of their allegiance. Anything to escape their cruel, sadistic master.

Shutting his eyes, Thorn flew straight for their home, despite having to pass through a sand storm. Murtagh sighed, knowing right where his dragon was heading and reaching dutifully for his battle helmet. It was only fair – Thorn was too rebellious to not retaliate Murtagh's tired determination. They'd go back to his home, they'd spend the night sleeping soundly whenever the Urgals weren't bothering them with questions, and tomorrow they'd search further North.

Murtagh flinched at a sudden contact with his mind; far away, and faint, but at the same time desperate and horrified. Leaning into Thorn's neck in an attempt to escape the sting of the sand, Murtagh shoved the contact away. A small animal, probably, scared of the storm. Not anything to pay attention to.

A minute or so later, Thorn emerged from the storm, stream-lining his body to speed home and sleep. Murtagh felt his body aching, compounding with Thorn's pain pounding through his body desperately. 'You know I wish things were different,' Murtagh offered lamely, hating to think that Thorn, the one thing he carried about anymore, was angry at him, 'I wish the Varden had stolen your egg; I wish I'd found you earlier. I just… I can't change what's gone on.'

Thorn flew on stubbornly, determined to reach Adurna without a successful apology. Murtagh sighed, sagging against Thorn's neck for a few seconds before straightening up and removing his helmet. Biting his lip as his Gedwëy Ignasia flowed with the magic that he used to float his helmet gently down next to Zar'roc.

'That was smart,' Thorn commented sarcastically, and Murtagh smiled grimly as Adurna came into view. With a large yawn, Murtagh's grin fell and he replaced it with the forced, callous look he'd learned made the Urgals respect him as a General, and often got him to bed all the quicker. Think in short, snippy sentences. End everything with a degrading insult or the necessary respectful terms. And whatever he does, he must never look anyone in the eye.

I can't escape this hell, so many times I've tried
But I'm still caged inside - somebody get me through this nightmare
I can't control myself
Animal I Have Become by Three Days Grace