As usual, I am late. I am really bad at sticking with this fanfic. REALLY bad. So I apologize. Again. Hopefully the New Year's Resolution will keep the chapters coming at least twice a month... of course at that rate the story will be done before the Summer vacations! Yay! That will be a happy day, should it come to pass ;) So... please don't kill me? Thank you sincerely for not... killing me. (Or is it too late to apologize?)

The hunter returned an hour later, with a doe over his shoulder.

Squeaky had been sleeping innocently as ever, scales reflecting on the walls from the fire, fluctuating as he breathed, making him look like a giant jewel on display.

Eliana had been analyzing the situation from the moment she had heard Eragon's gasp. She knew he was extremely wary of the dragon, and she knew that in many ways he was right. There had to be a way to communicate, because elvish had clearly not been doing the trick.

She was remembering stories her father had told her of magic and the forest, how her father had seen the forest but been at home, how her father had been a squirrel, a bird, an ant, running along the leafy floor even as he sat on the sitting chair when Eragon popped his head through the door and asked for advice.

She crawled outside of the igloo and saw his catch, laid out lifelessly on the snow. Eragon wanted to know how they should cut it, which parts to keep and if they should keep the hide and how and what etc.

"You expect me to know any more than you do on the subject?" she asked him, and he just shrugged and said,

"You have to eat too, and I'm not sure you'd like to eat this." He held up an unidentifiable yellow blob of... well, it was unidentifiable, so Eliana didn't want to know what it was.

"Um... don't you just eat the meat?" she asked timidly, thinking of the dwarves and how proud they were of their roasts.

"That's the question, is this meat, or is this just some internal organ?" Eragon shook his head and tossed the object away into the snow. "I've got this feeling that anything Squeaky will eat, we can too, but if he eats that, he can have the whole thing."

"Let's not eat the internal organs, please," Eliana said weakly, the sight of the deer guts all over the snow not doing anything wonderful for her dead stomach.

"Nah. I think dwarves define meat as muscles. So that's what we'll eat," Eragon had cut off all the skin, and had placed that a safe distance away from all of the organs, muscles and bones. "And I think they add spices to their meat too. I was thinking we can use the last swallow of the faelnirv and add it to water if we boil the meat in water..."

"How else are you going to boil something if not in water?" she asked to get her mind off of the task Eragon was working at.

"Magic," Eragon said, wiping his hands off in the snow. The bones still had chunks of muscle and tendon hanging on to them, and the hide was far from clear of remaining deer-parts.

"That is disgusting. Talk to you when you're finished," Eliana grimaced and ducked inside.

Eragon sat back and wiped at his face with the clean part of his sleeve.

"Leave all the gross things to the men, shall we?" He looked at the mess sitting around him in the snow. "Boiling won't be an option, we don't have a pot. Guess it'll be over the fire for us..."

He cleaned the hide and packed it into a block of snow, tossing the bones and leftover meat a safe distance from their igloo so the scavengers could feast without any disturbances.

Standing up, he looked about for some sort of spear that could be placed over the fire, and two branches with prongs. A frozen branch caught his eye, and for the sake of practice he broke it off with a simple spell. He stabbed the larger portions of muscle and hid the rest in another snow-block. He searched for two y-shaped sticks, and after finding two that satisfied him he crawled into their home cautiously, eyes latching onto the dragon as soon as they spotted it.

Wordlessly, he stabbed the pronged sticks into the snow at opposite ends of the fire, and balanced the spear on them, creating a makeshift spit. He slid the meat to the center of the branch where the heat was more concentrated.

"I see Squeaky sleeps." Eragon began to ever-so-slowly twist the spit, causing the meat to rotate.

"Since you're so amazing at noticing such a great and simple thing about him, perhaps you could conjure up an appropriate name for him," Eliana remarked, pulling her knees up to her chest.

Eragon said nothing, but watched the flames lick up at the venison. A thousand thoughts poured through his mind, only two or three of them having to do with Eliana's request. He vaguely registered Squeaky rumbling; his thoughts meandered on the bank of an impassible river.

"How are you so sure it's a he?" Eragon finally asked.

"It's the assumption of female intuition," Eliana responded quickly, watching Squeaky intently. "There's no way to check, anyways. My guess will have to do."

Eragon let his lips curve into a smile. Eliana had a self assurance of her correctness that inspired him.

"Since you're so sure, I guess my suggestions will be male. How about... Prometheus?" His grin faded as his mind took on the challenge of a decent name. "Eleazar? Frawn? Untrow?"

"Too average," Eliana responded, putting her chin on her knees as she watched Eragon struggle with his imagination.

"Ropter? Danivus? Cornelius? Oh come on!" He grinned as Eliana shook her head ever so slightly at each of his new suggestions. "Why have I been charged with coming up with a name? I'm sure you have some good ideas!"

"You need to have a connection with this dragon, and a good way for that to happen is for you to name him. Continue," she said with a wave of her hand, and Eragon's brain began storming anew.

"Kruther? Ashian? Hm."

"Hm is not a name," Eliana snickered.

"You know," Bid'Daum could not resist commenting, "as easily as you gave me a name, you sure are having a hard time right now. Is it because it has to please... a lady?"

"You know what, Bid'Daum? You can just—" Eragon's thought stopped abruptly, and cautiously, he suggested again,

"Bid'Daum?"

Inside Bid'Daum was shrieking that Eragon had no right to give away his name, to make him a blasted dragon and no longer a part of Eragon's consciousness. Eragon smirked smugly when Eliana didn't shake her head immediately, and shut out Bid'Daum's protest.

"It's quite different from all your other proposals," she said slowly.

"That's because it's the dumbest-sounding name I could come up with on a night I'd rather not remember," he thought to himself.

"It actually sounds pretty dumb," Eliana frowned, "but it would suit him well I think."

"Take that Bid'Daum! You're a dragon," Eragon laughed at the sleeping lizard on the other side of the fire. Then, turning to Eliana, he asked, "How the blazes does a name suit someone?"

Eliana smiled, and eyed the meat hungrily, but gave no answer.

"Well?" Eragon added a moment later.

"It's a well kept secret. You're only allowed in on it if you know the secret."

Eragon stopped rotating the spit and stared at her dubiously.

"So how does one get in on this kind of a secret?"

Eliana smiled smugly and said one word: "A secret kind of magic."

With a huff of amused frustration, Eragon rolled his eyes and returned his eyes to the meal.

"How does one learn the secret magic?"

"By knowing the secret."

"You're just trying to annoy me," Eragon grunted, twisting the spit violently.

"I'm trying to not focus on my growling stomach," Eliana protested.

Eragon rolled his eyes yet again, and they bantered in a slightly more friendly manner for until their first meal of meat was done. It was a chore not to scarf it down within a minute, but with a lot of effort they managed and were satiated by the time they were done. Bid'Daum slept peacefully, and Eragon was content with this solution to his schizophrenia. The annoying voice was no longer present in his mind, and he was also more relaxed with having a dragon sleeping next to him—with having Bid'Daum sleeping next to him.

Eliana napped until sunrise, and Eragon dozed on and off while roasting the rest of the meat so that it wouldn't rot raw. When the light was penetrating the icy sheets about them Eragon began packing, allowing Bid'Daum and Eliana to remain asleep for another twelve minutes.

Bid'Daum was awake first, and he pawed around looking for the meat. Eragon tossed him a few chunks, which the little dragon eagerly pounced at. Eliana was awakened by a steady vibration coming from the chest of a fed reptile.

"He's awake, I see," she muttered sleepily, sitting up and giving the baby dragon a once-over. "A little violent, isn't he?"

Bid'Daum was growling at his reflection in the ice, snapping his tiny jaw together angrily and trying to head-butt the smart-alecky dragon in the mirror. How dare it mimic him so!

"He's practically crackling with magic though," Eragon remarked. In his mind's eye, he could see the waves of magical power rippling out of the creature, causing it to seem to glow. "I'm surprised he hasn't exploded."

"He's a dragon. How many exploded dragons have you seen?"

Eragon was about to answer, but Eliana cut him off.

"Didn't think so. He'll probably explode us sooner than himself. Dragons can breathe fire you know."

Instead of making a remark about ice and fire not going well together, Eragon suggested that they get on the move. The elf camp was still presumably within a reasonable distance—all the more unreasonable thanks to their newly hatched cargo.

Neither of them thought that carrying a baby dragon was such a good idea, so they stepped outside to discuss travel plans. Bid'Daum stumbled into the daylight and blinked twice, looking around him. Apparently he had taught his reflection a lesson.

"Maybe he'll just follow us," Eliana suggested hopefully.

"He might, but he probably can't go as quickly as we need to," Eragon grunted in reply.

"So what's your recommendation, genius?"

Eragon sighed, lifting his head to the sky. A dozen ideas ran through his head, each more ridiculous than the last. Well, ridiculousness had gotten them into this mess, maybe it would get them out.

"We could make a cage for him, attach it to a pole and carry him that way."

"Right. With what? He can burn through wood you know. Fire kinda does that to sticks," Eliana retorted.

Bid'Daum made a sort of hiccuping noise which returned the attention of the travelers right back to him. He had seen a butterfly and was... well, Eragon wasn't quite sure what Bid'Daum was trying to do. His mouth was open and smoke was pouring out of his nostrils, like the butterfly had made him super mad.

"Eragon..." Eliana said slowly.

"Of course! He's too young for fire! I hope," Eragon added as an afterthought. But of course, it made sense! Just like young boys can't grow beards, so perchance young dragons couldn't spew fire.

"Eragon!" Eliana yelled. "It's the middle of Winter, or haven't you noticed? What in the world is a butterfly doing here?"

Eragon stopped and stared at the fluttering insect. Eliana was absolutely right. Butterflies didn't stay for Winter. Bid'Daum was still smoking, but now his curiosity had been diverted to a flower sticking its blossom out of the snow. Eragon's mind raced.

"Any theories?" he asked.

"Um. We're all hallucinating because of tainted meat? Bid'Daum killed us last night and there is an afterlife?" Eliana glared at the butterfly and began listing off a dozen plausible reasons for it to be there.

"Where do butterflies go in the Winter, anyways?" Eragon interrupted. Eliana glared at him.

"Where there's no Winter, duh." Eragon saw a shadow in the corner of his eye, and was about to turn. "I think Winter looks a little bit like this," Eliana was saying, but then her voice disappeared and where a snow-covered forest floor was green grass appeared, where their igloo had been a leafy hut appeared, and the flower Bid'Daum had taken interest in turned into a small tree. Her face drained of all color and she crossed her fingers across her chest. "Damn, there's a reason elves don't eat meat! And it's not because we're animal-lovers!"

Eragon kneeled, and let his fingers brush against the grass. The shadow was forgotten, his mind preoccupied by this. Bid'Daum turned towards them, also acting confused. Smoke reeled from his nostrils, covering his eyes with a black screen. A growl came from his chest.

"Eliana, I think that if we were hallucinating we wouldn't know it," Eragon muttered softly.

"Are you suggesting that I'm wrong?"

"I am suggesting that it's not Winter, and that somehow we have stumbled upon a garden of magic, where the conditions are proper for the butterflies to stay for all seasons."

"I'm now convinced you are even more intoxicated than I am!" Eliana exclaimed. Bid'Daum tried to climb a tree, and fell onto his back. Undeterred, he jumped up again and again. Eliana's voice resounded quietly between the two of them, a quiet note of distress glancing her vowels. "Eragon, there is no way someone could do this with magic. And there is no way that if this is magic, the grass stays this short on its own. Either we are super-dead, super-intoxicated, or are about to get zapped by a thunder-cloud for trespassing!"

"Trespassing?" Eragon opened his eyes as an idea crossed his mind. "Eliana..."

"Too late, bird-brain, here comes a sorceress now! I will inconspicuously hide in this igloo made of leaves." Eragon turned and watched as Eliana dived into the hut. This whole sorcery business really had her worried. Eragon looked over in the direction Eliana had pointed to. Sure enough, a tall figure in a white dress approached him. Bid'Daum looked down at him from a branch and growled vociferously.

"She's right, he is a violent character," Eragon thought to himself, glancing up at Bid'Daum. He re-focused his attention to the place he had last seen the sorceress, but saw only an empty, sun-filled glade. "The lady by the water? The silhouette that followed me to the battle with the dragons? An enchantress whose power I will never even be able to dream of?" Eragon was filled with wonder by this person he had never met.

Bid'Daum snarled fiercely, and leaped from his branch. Spreading his wings, he glided down in a spiral quite close to Eragon's feet.

"What the devil are you doing?" he asked the dragon, who made straight for him. "If you take one more step little mister, you are in soooooo much trouble!"

Bid'Daum acted like he hadn't heard, didn't understand, or didn't care and continued waddling towards Eragon with the expression not dissimilar to a mother bear's whose cub is about to be mauled.