Hello! This is chapter two of the story. I hope you enjoy reading as much as I have writing. Please review. :) BTW:Sorry it's so short, but I have the next one well on the way

The bright light shone down into Eragon's tent the next morning, warming him up 'Quite nicely,' as he thought of it. The events of the previous day seemed less important now that something good was happening. Sure, he understood nothing of what the maiden had told him last night, but that mattered less now. Now the sun mattered a whole lot, and it was a very pleasant concept, unlike the torments of yesterday.

Unfortunately for Eragon that morning, the sun had a circuit to follow, and it followed it all too quickly away from Eragon's body. Slightly grumpy, Eragon got up and washed his face, then had a hasty breakfast of eggs and toast. Wishing he had a steed, he dashed off to do what duties awaited him.

The day passed quickly and without many interesting incidents. Eragons mind kept on returning to his experience on the river, and he kept on pondering what it could mean. Unfortunately for him, he also kept on coming up with blank answers to all of his vivid questions. He was rather frustrated by the time he had completed all of his work.

"I need to do something about this war… but what can I, a lone elf, do against so many dragons? I know this war can't be won by strength alone, but I can't see how else to end it!" Eragon paced in his tent, walking in a small circle around his bed which he had positioned in the center. "And that lady, she said I knew how to save the elves, but I don't!" Freezing mid-stride, Eragon gasped, "Or maybe I do." Resuming his frenzied pacing, he discarded the thought as another ill-placed thought of his overreacting imagination. "And then there's that blasted mission of mine. I really should carry it out quickly so I can tell Captain Vladime what he wants to know. It's no good tempering with his impatience, is there now?" Without missing a beat, Eragon stepped out of his pacing ring and grabbed a bottle of faelnirv, his thin sword, and his longbow. "I will begin tonight."

***********

The night came quickly, and Eragon blended well with the black. According to Vladime, the mission was simple. He just had to track a dragon back to a dragon lair.

"Very simple," Eragon grumbled to himself, stealthily moving towards the two-day-old battlefield. There was bound to be some sort of hint as to which direction he should go on the ground somewhere. Perhaps he would find a survivor he could force to help him. "Although," he thought, "surviving dragons will probably guard the necessary information with their lives, and they are far stronger than me. However," he sourly noted to himself, "the chances of me finding a way to the dragons' hideout is very slim. At least not now. After another battle, maybe, sure, but certainly not now."

Eragon inched around another dead dragon, surprised at his own wariness. The battle was over; he shouldn't have to worry about anything for now. But still… it was better to be safe than sorry. And besides, he was supposed to be tracking a dragon.

"Right. Where am I supposed to find a live dragon among the dead?" It was a rhetorical question, but Eragon didn't know where else to start.

Slowly but surely, Eragon made his way across the plain, examining everything that could possibly give him a clue to the whereabouts of the dragon base. Unfortunately, there was nothing, absolutely nothing on the entire battlefield that could help Eragon on his mission.

Dawn was nearing quickly, and Eragon began to despair. Nothing, not even a scratch in the dirt had given Eragon a clue as to the placement of the dragon's nests.

Angry and frustrated, Eragon kicked at a broken sword hilt and watched as it bounced away. A sudden rustling noise brought his attention to what he had presumed to be a hill which was now moving. It leapt up; its grass flashed out and began to beat at the air steadily. With wonder, Eragon realized it was not a hill, but a dragon. Why it was here, Eragon cared not. If he followed it to wherever it went, he would have a good chance of finding the nest, and then, upon returning, his mission would be fulfilled and he would be able to go beck to trying to answer that one question.

With his hope renewed, Eragon dropped to his fours, keeping his eyes upon the green dragon. He crawled for a time until he was certain the dragon would not pay him any heed, and then he got up and began to run, having a hard time keeping up. The dragon was clearly specially trained to fly quickly, and even though Eragon was the fastest scout he knew of, even he could not match the mighty dragon. He kept it within his sight, however, and was able to track it until the dawn.

The sun's rays grasped at the remaining night and tore it down, bringing on morn. The dragon dipped out of the sky and rocketed to the ground. Eragon threw himself into the grass, hoping he had not been noticed. The dragon landed with a loud thud, looked around alertly and then coiled up to sleep.

Eragon snuck up with fascination; he hadn't ever seen a dragon this calm and peaceful, and had never seen a dragon this close either. So, despite his weariness, he crept closer and closer until he felt it would be suicide to go further. Awe and wonder welled up in him, and he wondered what had ever come over Logan to hunt one of these majestic creatures.

Such were the thoughts of Eragon as he dozed off next to the magnificent reptile, staying awake enough so that if the dragon stirred he would be awakened so he might continue the chase.