I flopped down on the ground, exhausted. We hadn't stopped at all for the whole day, except for short water breaks. It was evening now, and Saphira had found a clearing large enough for us to sleep in. She was curled up on one side, opposite me. The bottom of her tail was dripping water from when she had cleared the snow from the ground. Brom was sitting next to her, lighting a fire in the center of the clearing. Saphira had hunted down two deer, one she had eaten, and the other she had brought back for us.

Eragon stepped around me and set about skinning the deer, then he cut the meat into chunks that he wrapped in cloth and stuffed into his pack. He took out a pot and dropped an insanely large lump of salt into it. He placed the pot over the fire, tossed in a handful of snow, and dumped some meat into the mixture. I didn't see how that could taste like anything better than watery venison soaked in salt, but the aroma that wafted from the stew actually smelled nice.

Brom, who had been playing around with three large sticks, suddenly leaped up and tossed one of the sticks to me, another to Eragon. When I looked at the stick, I saw that Brom had fashioned it into a crude sword shape.

"Sword-fighting?" I guessed.

Brom grinned, an action which completely contradicted his personality. Or maybe he was just glad at a chance to beat me up. "Yes. If you're coming with us, you might as well learn too. Eragon, as a Rider, you need to know how to fight. Dusk goes first. Now, defend yourself!"

I stood with the stick in front of me. I wasn't going to underestimate him. If this old guy knew how to use a pretty red sword, a stick wouldn't be too hard at all.

We circled each other. I knew better than to attack first. I was just going to wait until he came for me.

He charged me. I parried his first blow, but his second one hit me in the ribs. I was pretty sure that there was going to be a nice-sized bruise there the next day, but I ignored the pain. Then I began hacking at him like a maniac, all defensive maneuvers forgotten .

"Guard yourself!" Brom shouted as he hit my arm, making me drop my stick.

"Shut up," I muttered, picking up my stick and dropping back into my fighting stance. I started going towards defense this time, only attacking when I had a clear shot.

"No, attack more! You can't win fights with just a shield!" the old man cried.

"Yes, you can!" I yelled back at him, but I began mixing up offense and defense anyways, like he had just told me to. "You just set the shield on fire and chuck it at the other guy!"

Saphira laughed: her lip curled and a low, coughing growl coming from her. She has a good point, Brom.

Brom growled and began attacking me even more viciously. Finally, when the stew was ready, he announced that my training session was over for that night.

I glared at him as we ate. I was tired, and there were bruises all over my hurting body. There was a nasty cut on my leg, and I licked it between famished mouthfuls of meat stew. Eragon and Saphira were watching me, amused.

"You actually managed to hit me your first time," said Brom, examining a patch of red skin on his arm. He sounded mildly impressed. "You learn quickly. Let's see if you can do better, Eragon. Arm yourself!"

I watched as Eragon was thwacked over the head by Brom and collapsed. Brom emptied his waterskin onto Eragon's head, and he came to, coughing and spluttering. Dried blood crusted his face.

"You didn't have to do that," he said angrily.

"Oh? A real enemy wouldn't soften his blows, and neither will I. Should I pander to your...incompetence so you'll feel better?" Brom picked up Eragon's dropped stick. He held it out. "Now, defend yourself."

Eragon shook his head and turned around, arms folded across his chest. "Forget it; I've had enough."

Brom hit him soundly on the back. "Never turn your back to an enemy!" he snapped. He tossed the stick to Eragon and attacked. Eragon retreated around the fire beneath the onslaught.

It was quite a while later that Brom finally allowed Eragon to get out his blankets. I filched one when he wasn't looking and curled up in it. It smelled like boys, but I was so tired that I didn't care. The last thing I saw before I fell asleep was Eragon's face turning red as Saphira told him something that I didn't quite catch.

I woke up sore and tired the next morning. Brom was already up and cooking some sort of mush. Eragon and Saphira were still sleeping peacefully. I got to my feet and dumped my blanket over Eragon, simply because I was too lazy to fold it and stuff into his pack. Then I sat down next to the fire, warming my cold hands and feet.

"You won't be able to go through Therinsford," Brom said, by way of a morning greeting. "You're barefoot, you have wings, you're an attractive young woman that's just about finished developing, and your clothes are of elven make."

"Really? Elves made these?" I asked, glancing down at my clothes.

"No human could ever produce silk so fine. Now, I was wondering if you could go with Saphira and learn to make use of those wings of yours. It will be safer for all of us."

I shrugged. "Sure, yeah, what the heck? So, we'll just wait for you by the road on the other side?"

"Yes. You wake Eragon and Saphira, we'll leave after breakfast," said Brom.