Answers to reviews:
Shaonics6: Things like that take time.
Archangel Xireon Chaos God: Be patient, will you? Do remember, Saphira is not the same breed as Tamriel's dragons. She can faintly understand the meaning of the Dovahzul, but that doesn't mean she can speak it. And Daemon will use his Shouts eventually, just not now. Using that powers draws big fucking attention, which they can't afford right now.
Disclaimer: I do not own The Inheritance Cycle or The Elder Scrolls series.
When Daemon awoke that morning, he knew it was still early judging from the darkness still noticeable outside. Taking a glance to where Eragon was sleeping, Daemon quietly got out of his bed and took a look outside. Indeed, it was still early in the morning. The sun hadn't even begun it's ascent into the sky but the Dragonborn knew it would do so soon. But that wasn't on his mind at the moment, he had a dragoness to meet up with.
Getting dressed into casual clothes rather than his Nightingale outfit, Daemon left the room quietly. He wouldn't need any weapons with him as he would be spending the day in his dragon form, and be with Saphira. He had his claws, teeth and fire should he need to fight a threat if there is any that presents itself, which he strongly doubted will happen.
Having been a master at stealth thanks to his teachings in the Thieves Guild, Daemon was able to leave Jeod's house without making a noise. Once, he had been as stealthy as a bear wandering into someone's home, being a novice at the skill of stealth at the time. But with the combination of what he knew from the Dark Brotherhood and the Thieves Guild, he could easily slip by without making a single sound.
Daemon made his way through the streets of Teirm, the city very quiet. There was not even a single sound to break the silence, save for the quiet, calm wind. No birds, no dogs, nothing.
As Daemon passed the gates and left the city, he began going over things in his head. For some reason, he had been wanting to impress Saphira lately whenever they spent time together. He had noticed how he'd do some tricks in front of her while they were in the air, hunt for her more often even though she told him he didn't need to but he had said he wanted to be nice and he was a bit of an early morning person, so why not grab prey for her while he's hunting as well?
Reaching the base of the cliff that Saphira had chosen to stay at while they were at Teirm, Daemon gripped the rocky wall and began climbing. He could just call for her, but she may probably be still sleeping and he didn't want to wake her up just to come down and get him. When he reached the top, he peered over to see if Saphira was awake only to blink as he found himself nose to nose with a scaly blue snout, sapphire-blue eyes staring at him with a twinkle of amusement.
Good morning. Saphira chuckled softly.
Did I wake you? Daemon asked as he pulled himself up, Saphira backing up to give him space.
No, I had woken the moment I smelled you coming.
Smelled? Daemon frowned and sniffed himself. I don't smell that bad, do I? I mean, I haven't bathed in a while...
Saphira let off a quiet rumbling growl, her mouth curling to reveal her teeth in a fanged grin. I don't mean that way, silly boy. I meant your scent.
Oh. Now Daemon understood. It's not a bad smell, is it?
No. It smells like the woods near Eragon's home, with the addition of fresh snow. It's quite... nice. Saphira shifted a little as she said this, her gaze adverting shyly. A silence came between them as they looked out to the sea and saw the faint, very faint that human eyes wouldn't notice, light of the sun beginning its ascent. Saphira cleared her throat. Shall we?
Daemon looked at her and nodded before walking over to a nearby log. He removed his coat, followed by his shirt, and placed them on the log. He then became aware of eyes on him and turned to see Saphira staring at him intently.
Saphira, please stop staring. He requested.
Saphira blinked before amusement flashed across her eyes. Don't tell me you're a shy male, Daemon. She looked his partially exposed body up and down, and her tail gave a playful twitch.
No! it's just... not used to having a female stare as me as I take half of my clothes off. Daemon huffed, taking his boots and socks off. His pants were tight that they'd be fine during the transformation and when he'd change back. So, he focused and the transformation began before Saphira's eyes. The dragoness' eyes widening as she watched his body shift, twist and turn as the man was replaced by a smooth-scaled black dragon, who stretched his legs, tail, neck and wings out to get rid of any stiffness. Better.
He turned to see Saphira staring at him with an agape expression on her face that incited a chuckle from him, realizing it was her first time seeing him transform properly. The first time he did, during the storm, he had done it quickly and she hadn't exactly been paying attention at the time. As for the other times while they travelled to Teirm after Yazuac, Daemon had transformed when he went to go hunting, and it had been early in the mornings so Saphira had not been awake to see him transform.
Saphira, are you going to keep staring at me, or are we going to go flying? Daemon asked, his tone that of amusement as he looked at the dragoness who snapped out of her state upon him speaking.
Saphira shook her head, getting her composure back. Yes, let's go. As she spread her wings, a competitive gleam entered her eye and she looked at him. Prepare to lose to me for the sixth time. She took off into the air.
Daemon laughed and took off after her. Oh no you don't!
It was late in the morning when Eragon woke. The first thing he noticed was Daemon's absence but remembered that he was spending the day with Saphira. Eragon didn't see any issue with this, he was happy that his dragon and his best friend were spending time together and bonding. Daemon was like a brother to him, he was family just as Saphira was. That's what they were; family. A family who would take on whatever the world threw at them and have each's others backs to the end.
Eragon dressed, washed his face in the basin, then held the mirror up and brushed his hair into place. Something about his reflection made him stop and look closer. His face had changed since he had run out of Carvahall just a short while ago. Any baby fat was gone now, stripped away by traveling, sparring, and training. His cheekbones were more prominent, and the line of his jaw was sharper. There was a slight cast to his eyes that, when he looked closely, gave his face a wild, alien appearance. He held the mirror at arm's length, and his face resumed its normal semblance—but it still did not seem quite his own.
A little disturbed, he slung his bow and quiver across his back, then left the room. Before he had reached the end of the hall, the butler caught up with him and said, "Sir, Neal left with my master for the castle earlier. He said that you could do whatever you want today because he will not return until this evening."
Eragon thanked him for the message, then eagerly began exploring Teirm. For hours he wandered the streets, entering every shop that struck his fancy and chatting with various people. Eventually he was forced back to Jeod's by his empty stomach and lack of money.
When he reached the street where the merchant lived, he stopped at the herbalist's shop next door. It was an unusual place for a store. The other shops were down by the city wall, not crammed between expensive houses. He tried to look in the windows, but they were covered with a thick layer of crawling plants on the interior. Curious, he went inside.
At first he saw nothing because the store was so dark, but then his eyes adjusted to the faint greenish light that filtered through the windows. A colorful bird with wide tail feathers and a sharp, powerful beak looked at Eragon inquisitively from a cage near the window. The walls were covered with plants; vines clung to the ceiling, obscuring all but an old chandelier, and on the floor was a large pot with a yellow flower. A collection of mortars, pestles, metal bowls, and a clear crystal ball the size of Eragon's head rested on a long counter.
He walked to the counter, carefully stepping around complex machines, crates of rocks, piles of scrolls, and other objects he did not recognise. The wall behind the counter was covered with drawers of every size. Some of them were no larger than his smallest finger, while others were big enough for a barrel. There was a foot-wide gap in the shelves far above.
A pair of red eyes suddenly flashed from the dark space, and a large, fierce cat leapt onto the counter. It had a lean body with powerful shoulders and oversized paws. A shaggy mane surrounded its angular face; its ears were tipped with black tufts. White fangs curved down over its jaw. Altogether, it did not look like any cat Eragon had ever seen. It inspected him with shrewd eyes, then flicked its tail dismissively.
On a whim, Eragon reached out with his mind and touched the cat's consciousness. Gently, he prodded it with his thoughts, trying to make it understand that he was a friend.
You don't have to do that.
Eragon looked around in alarm. The cat ignored him and licked a paw. Saphira? Daemon? Where are you? he asked. No one answered. Puzzled, he leaned against the counter and reached for what looked like a wood rod.
That wouldn't be wise.
Stop playing games, you two, he snapped, then picked up the rod. A shock of electricity exploded through his body, and he fell to the floor, writhing. The pain slowly faded, leaving him gasping for air. The cat jumped down and looked at him.
You aren't very smart for a Dragon Rider. I did warn you.
You said that! exclaimed Eragon. The cat yawned, then stretched and sauntered across the floor, weaving its way between objects.
Who else?
But you're just a cat! he objected.
The cat yowled and stalked back to him. It jumped on his chest and crouched there, looking down at him with gleaming eyes. Eragon tried to sit up, but it growled, showing its fangs. Do I look like other cats?
No...
Then what makes you think I am one? Eragon started to say something, but the creature dug its claws into his chest. Obviously your education has been neglected. I—to correct your mistake—am a werecat. There aren't many of us left, but I think even a farm boy should have heard of us.
I didn't know you were real, said Eragon, fascinated. A werecat! He was indeed fortunate. They were always flitting around the edges of stories, keeping to themselves and occasionally giving advice. If the legends were true, they had magical powers, lived longer than humans, and usually knew more than they told.
The werecat blinked lazily. Knowing is independent of being. I did not know you existed before you bumbled in here and ruined my nap. Yet that doesn't mean you weren't real before you woke me.
Eragon was lost by its reasoning. I'm sorry I disturbed you.
I was getting up anyway, it said. It leapt back onto the counter and licked its paw. If I were you, I wouldn't hold on to that rod much longer. It's going to shock you again in a few seconds.
He hastily put the rod back where he had found it. What is it?
A common and boring artifact, unlike myself.
But what's it for?
Didn't you find out? The werecat finished cleaning its paw, stretched once more, then jumped back up to its sleeping place. It sat down, tucked its paws under its breast, and closed its eyes, purring.
Wait, said Eragon, what's your name?
One of the werecat's slanted eyes cracked open. I go by many names. If you are looking for my proper one, you will have to seek elsewhere. The eye closed. Eragon gave up and turned to leave. However, you may call me Solembum.
Thank you, said Eragon seriously. Solembum's purring grew louder.
The door to the shop swung open, letting in a beam of sunlight. Angela entered with a cloth bag full of plants. Her eyes flickered at Solembum and she looked startled. "He says you talked with him."
"You can talk with him, too?" asked Eragon.
She tossed her head. "Of course, but that doesn't mean he'll say anything back." She set her plants on the counter, then walked behind it and faced him. "He likes you. That's unusual. Most of the time Solembum doesn't show himself to customers. In fact, he says that you show some promise, given a few years of work."
"Thanks."
"It's a compliment, coming from him. You're only the third person to come in here who has been able to speak with him. The first was a woman, many years ago; the second was a blind beggar; and now you. But I don't run a store just so I can prattle on. Is there anything you want? Or did you only come in to look?"
"Just to look," said Eragon, still thinking about the werecat. "Besides, I don't really need any herbs."
"That's not all I do," said Angela with a grin. "The rich fool lords pay me for love potions and the like. I never claim that they work, but for some reason they keep coming back. But I don't think you need those chicaneries. Would you like your fortune told? I do that, too, for all the rich fool ladies."
Eragon laughed. "No, I'm afraid my fortune is pretty much unreadable. And I don't have any money."
Angela looked at Solembum curiously. "I think..." She gestured at the crystal ball resting on the counter. "That's only for show anyway—it doesn't do anything. But I do have... Wait here; I'll be right back." She hurried into a room at the back of the shop.
She came back, breathless, holding a leather pouch, which she set on the counter. "I haven't used these for so long, I almost forgot where they were. Now, sit across from me and I'll show you why I went to all this trouble." Eragon found a stool and sat. Solembum's eyes glowed from the gap in the drawers.
Angela laid a thick cloth on the counter, then poured a handful of smooth bones, each slightly longer than a finger, onto it. Runes and symbols were inscribed along their sides. "These," she said, touching them gently, "are the knucklebones of a dragon. Don't ask where I got them; it is a secret I won't reveal. But unlike tea leaves, crystal balls, or even divining cards, these have true power. They do not lie, though understanding what they say is... complicated. If you wish, I will cast and read them for you. But understand that to know one's fate can be a terrible thing. You must be sure of your decision."
Eragon looked at the bones with a feeling of dread. There lies what was once one of Saphira's kin. To know one's fate... How can I make this decision when I don't know what lies in wait for me and whether I will like it? Ignorance is indeed bliss. "Why do you offer this?" he asked.
"Because of Solembum. He may have been rude, but the fact that he spoke to you makes you special. He is a werecat, after all. I offered to do this for the other two people who talked with him. Only the woman agreed to it. Selena was her name. Ah, she regretted it, too. Her fortune was bleak and painful. I don't think she believed it—not at first."
Emotion overcame Eragon, bringing tears to his eyes. "Selena," he whispered to himself. His mother's name. Could it have been her? Was her destiny so horrible that she had to abandon me? "Do you remember anything about her fortune?" he asked, feeling sick.
Angela shook her head and sighed. "It was so long ago that the details have melted into the rest of my memory, which isn't as good as it used to be. Besides, I'll not tell you what I do remember. That was for her and her alone. It was sad, though; I've never forgotten the look on her face."
Eragon closed his eyes and struggled to regain control of his emotions. "Why do you complain about your memory?" he asked to distract himself. "You're not that old."
Dimples appeared on Angela's cheeks. "I'm flattered, but don't be deceived; I'm much older than I look. The appearance of youth probably comes from having to eat my own herbs when times are lean."
Smiling, Eragon took a deep breath. If that was my mother and she could bear to have her fortune told, I can too. "Cast the bones for me," he said solemnly.
Angela's face became grave as she grasped the bones in each hand. Her eyes closed, and her lips moved in a soundless murmur. Then she said powerfully, "Manin! Wyrda! Hugin!"
The gentle wind caressed the scales of the dragons as they laid side-by-side together, staring out at the city and the vast sea that laid before it from their position on the cliff that overlooked the city. They had returned from their race not too long ago, both of them exhausted, and were taking the time to relax and regain their breath. while enjoying the view and the others' company.
Daemon shifted his shoulder a little, which had a obvious scratch with dried blood stains on his black scales. Their first race had ended in a draw, so Saphira demanded a rematch which Daemon obliged her with. The second race ended in a draw once more, but only by an inch as both of them argued that they crossed the finish line first and their playful argument led to a playful brawl to try and even the score. Saphira managed to beat him in the first brawl, but he got her back in their rematch. After that, they hunted some deer for lunch and simply passed the time chatting, Daemon showing Saphira some of his many adventures back in Skyrim.
After they were full from lunch, they took a simple flight, often performing maneuvers around each other which led to another series of races between them, with Saphira winning two and Daemon winning one, so Saphira was in the lead in terms of their races. The score for their brawls were even at eight.
Thank you, Daemon. Saphira said, breaking the comfortable silence and drawing the black dragon's attention to her. I had fun today.
Daemon chuckled softly. As did I, Saphira. I always enjoy our little races and playful brawls. And it feels nice to spend time with another dragon.
Agreed. Saphira hummed. She had been elated at the thought of spending time with another dragon, after believing herself the last free one in the land. But to know that there was dragons out there, albeit very far away but out of Galbatorix's reach, it brought relief to her to know her race was not on the verge of extinction. And Daemon was a special circumstances, given that he had been born with the blood and soul of a dragon but the body of a mortal, a blessing bestowed upon him by his land's god.
Nevertheless, he was a dragon.
A very striking, handsome young male at that.
A red hue appeared on the dragoness' cheeks as she thought of that. But it was the truth. Her eyes flickered over his scaled body, taking in the muscles, the sharpness of his claws, the build. She had liked Daemon since she met him, and they had become good friends on their journey, his past as Dragonborn and slaying their kin did not affect her opinion on him. He had shown her what the dragons of Skyrim were like and she understood why he had to do it. She was still a little put off at his ability to absorb a dragon's soul though and gain their knowledge, which he said was not a very comforting feeling.
Every time he killed a dragon, it felt like a betrayal, it made him feel... less. They were essentially his own race just as humans were. But he did give a choice to those that followed Alduin's way; leave the innocent alone and survive... or push and be put down.
Not all of them had been wise enough to take the merciful option.
Despite all of this, Saphira enjoyed spending time with him, but she couldn't help but notice things were becoming a little different. It had started on their journey to Teirm, but Saphira had written it off as her merely enjoying herself. But as she laid here with him, looking at him, she was beginning to see him in a different light. He made her laugh, he always got her breakfast even when she didn't ask but he'd have it there for her when she'd wake up, he'd offer to get her lunch, he played with her to keep their bodies in shape and their skills sharp. It was causing something to change between them, something to bloom within her, that warm, tingly feeling in the pit of her stomach...
She knew what she felt wasn't romantic feelings by any measure, but they were simple feelings of friendship either. She took another glance at him.
He really did make a handsome dragon. She subtlety shuffled closer to him, her companion oblivious as he continued to stare seaward, until their shoulders touched. He turned to look at her in silent question, but she simply smiled back.
Their brief staredown was broken when they felt something wet hit the top of their heads, and both of them looked up to see dark grey clouds had rolled in, and with it came the rain. Soon, it began to lightly drizzle.
Ugh, I hate the rain. Saphira groaned. She was about to suggest they find a place under thick leaves for shelter when the rain stopped hitting her. She looked up only to see Daemon's wing draped over her, shielding her from the rain. She looked at him, surprised, only to see him giving her a fanged smile.
Better? He asked.
Thoughtful of you, but what about you? You'll get wet.
He shrugged his broad shoulders. The rain has never bothered me. He started to turn his gaze back to the city when Saphira darted her head forward and gave his neck a quick, small nuzzle.
Thank you, Daemon. She whispered.
Daemon almost shifted, that warm fuzzy feeling in the pit of his stomach returning, but he ignored it as he looked into her soft, beautiful sapphire eyes. Anytime, Saphira. He whispered back, mustering the strength to pull his gaze away from her, mentally asking himself. What is going on with me lately?
Saphira wasn't aware of this as she laid her head down, tucking it underneath his wing and allowed the sound of the rain hitting his wing membrane, combined with his subtle scent and his warm bulk to let her drift off into a peaceful slumber.
The words rang in Eragon's ears; he recognized them from the ancient language and realized with apprehension that to use them for magic, Angela must be a witch. She had not lied; this was a true fortunetelling. Minutes slowly passed as she studied the bones.
Finally, Angela leaned back and heaved a long sigh. She wiped her brow and pulled out a wineskin from under the counter. "Do you want some?" she asked. Eragon shook his head. She shrugged and drank deeply. "This," she said, wiping her mouth, "is the hardest reading I've ever done. You were right. Your future is nigh impossible to see. I've never known of anyone's fate being so tangled and clouded. I was, however, able to wrestle a few answers from it."
Solembum jumped onto the counter and settled there, watching them both. Eragon clenched his hands as Angela pointed to one of the bones. "I will start here," she said slowly, "because it is the clearest to understand."
The symbol on the bone was a long horizontal line with a circle resting on it. "Infinity or long life," said Angela quietly. "This is the first time I have ever seen it come up in someone's future. Most of the time it's the aspen or the elm, both signs that a person will live a normal span of years. Whether this means that you will live forever or that you will only have an extraordinarily long life, I'm not sure. Whatever it foretells, you may be sure that many years lie ahead of you."
No surprises there—I am a Rider, thought Eragon. Was Angela only going to tell him things he already knew?
"Now the bones grow harder to read, as the rest are in a confused pile." Angela touched three of them. "Here the wandering path, lightning bolt, and sailing ship all lie together—a pattern I've never seen, only heard of. The wandering path shows that there are many choices in your future, some of which you face even now. I see great battles raging around you, some of them fought for your sake. I see the mighty powers of this land struggling to control your will and destiny. Countless possible futures await you—all of them filled with blood and conflict—but only one will bring you happiness and peace. Beware of losing your way, for you are one of the few who are truly free to choose their own fate. That freedom is a gift, but it is also a responsibility more binding than chains."
Then her face grew sad. "And yet, as if to counteract that, here is the lightning bolt. It is a terrible omen. There is a doom upon you, but of what sort I know not. Part of it lies in a death—one that rapidly approaches and will cause you much grief. But the rest awaits in a great journey. Look closely at this bone. You can see how its end rests on that of the sailing ship. That is impossible to misunderstand. Your fate will be to leave this land forever. Where you will end up I know not, but you will never again stand in Alagaësia. This is inescapable. It will come to pass even if you try to avoid it."
Her words frightened Eragon. Another death... who must I lose now? His thoughts immediately went to Roran, Brom, Saphira and Daemon. Then he thought about his homeland. What could ever force me to leave? And where would I go? Skyrim?
Angela rubbed her temples and breathed deeply. "The next bone is easier to read and perhaps a bit more pleasant." Eragon examined it and saw a rose blossom inscribed between the horns of a crescent moon.
Angela smiled and said, "An epic romance is in your future, extraordinary, as the moon indicates—for that is a magical symbol—and strong enough to outlast empires. I cannot say if this passion will end happily, but your love is of noble birth and heritage. She is powerful, wise, and beautiful beyond compare."
Of noble birth, thought Eragon in surprise. How could that ever happen? I have no more standing than the poorest of farmers.
"Now for the last two bones, the tree and the hawthorn root, which cross each other strongly. I wish that this were not so—it can only mean more trouble—but betrayal is clear. And it will come from within your family."
"Roran wouldn't do that!" objected Eragon abruptly.
"I wouldn't know," said Angela carefully. "But the bones have never lied, and that is what they say."
Doubt wormed into Eragon's mind, but he tried to ignore it. What reason would there ever be for Roran to turn on him? Angela put a comforting hand on his shoulder and offered him the wineskin again. This time Eragon accepted the drink, and it made him feel better. He looked at the bones again and noticed something peculiar, one that Angela hadn't touched upon. it laid in the middle, somehow managing to touch all the others around it.
"What's that one? You didn't mention it." He pointed to it.
Angela looked at it and frowned. "I never mentioned it because it is yet another I have not seen before. It is the symbol for the celestial mirror. See how it lies in the middle touching the others? It means that someone you know, or will know, shares almost the same future as you do; the fate, the romance, and the betrayal."
"After all that, death might be welcome," he joked nervously.
"It might be," said Angela solemnly, then laughed slightly. "But you shouldn't fret about what has yet to occur. The only way the future can harm us is by causing worry. I guarantee that you'll feel better once you're out in the sun."
"Perhaps." Unfortunately, he reflected wryly, nothing she said will make sense until it has already happened. If it really does, he amended himself. "You used words of power," he noted quietly.
Angela's eyes flashed. "What I wouldn't give to see how the rest of your life plays out. You can speak to werecats, know of the ancient language, and have a most interesting future. Also, few young men with empty pockets and rough traveling clothes can expect to be loved by a noblewoman. Who are you?"
Eragon realized that the werecat must not have told Angela that he was a Rider. He almost said, "Evan," but then changed his mind and simply stated, "I am Eragon."
Angela arched her eyebrows. "Is that who you are or your name?" she asked.
"Both," said Eragon with a small smile, thinking of his namesake, the first Rider.
"Now I'm all the more interested in seeing how your life will unfold. Who were the two men with you yesterday?"
Eragon decided that two more names couldn't hurt. "My friend Daemon. The older one is named Brom."
A guffaw suddenly burst out of Angela, doubling her over in mirth. She wiped her eyes and took a sip of wine, then fought off another attack of merriment. Finally, gasping for breath, she forced out, "Oh... that one! I had no idea!"
"What is it?" demanded Eragon.
"No, no, don't be upset," said Angela, hiding a smile. "It's only that—well, he is known by those in my profession. I'm afraid that the poor man's doom, or future if you will, is something of a joke with us."
"Don't insult him! He's a better man than any you could find!" snapped Eragon.
"Peace, peace," chided Angela with amusement. "I know that. If we meet again at the right time I'll be sure to tell you about it. But in the meantime you should—" She stopped speaking as Solembum padded between them. The werecat stared at Eragon with unblinking eyes.
Yes? Eragon asked, irritated.
Listen closely and I will tell you two things. When the time comes and you need a weapon, look under the roots of the Menoa tree. Then, when all seems lost and your power is insufficient, go to the rock of Kuthian and speak your name to open the Vault of Souls. Oh, and tell your Dragonborn friend to listen to his heart's desire.
Before Eragon could ask what Solembum meant, the werecat walked away, waving his tail ever so gracefully. Angela tilted her head, coils of dense hair shadowing her forehead. "I don't know what he said, and I don't want to know. He spoke to you and only you. Don't tell anyone else."
"I think I have to go," said Eragon, shaken.
"If you want to," said Angela, smiling again. "You are welcome to stay here as long as you like, especially if you buy some of my goods. But go if you wish; I'm sure that we've given you enough to ponder for a while."
"Yes." Eragon quickly made his way to the door. "Thank you for reading my future." I think.
"You're welcome," said Angela, still smiling.
Saphira awoke to the lack of a warm bulk at her side, causing her to open her eyes and see that Daemon was not at her side. Instead he was over at a nearby log, finishing up on putting his boots on his now human feet. A pang of disappointment hit the dragoness, who had hoped that he'd spend a bit more time with her before eventually going back to the city. She arched her back like a cat and stretched, letting out a yawn and drawing Daemon's attention.
"Sleep well?" He asked with a slight laugh at her actions.
Very well. She said privately to herself. To him, she said. Yes, thank you. I appreciated you providing your wing as a 'blanket'. Daemon looked to the ground, a slight smile on his face at her words. He honestly did not know what had come over him, but he had done it before he could even realize what he had done. A similar sensation appeared when her head rolled next to his and he didn't move in fear of waking her. And then there's that thing he did while she slept...
He shook his head before he gestured to something on Saphira's left. "I figured you might be a little hungry when you woke so I went and brought you some lunch."
Saphira followed his point of direction and saw a perfectly nice doe laying there.
I got a little hungry myself and went hunting, but felt guilty that I didn't wait for you so I brought you a snack... He trailed off as Saphira looked at him with a longing gaze, causing him to advert his eyes, feeling his cheeks begin to heat up.
You're sweet, Daemon. She hummed.
The two then felt the familiar mind of Eragon reach out to them, and Daemon went to check his friend while he climbed the cliff as Saphira began feasting on her lunch. Eventually, Eragon made it to the top and joined his companions, recounting the day's events to them including his meeting with Angela and the werecat, Solembum, as well as his fortune being told to him and the werecat's message. Daemon was confused about the message, the part referring to him, but listed it as a mystery for another day.
The three sat and talked some more as Saphira finished her meal, both parties detailing other things about their days. Eragon was treated to a humorous sight as Daemon's went red when the dragoness 'thanked' him for dinner by leaning over and giving him a quick lick. When Daemon saw Eragon snickering, he nudged his friend in the stomach while grumbling 'females'.
Bidding Saphira goodbye, the two went back to the city and to Jeod's house where the man himself along with Brom went over how their day had gone, which was not that great. Dinner was served, though Daemon would honestly admit that he'd rather be with Saphira than in a room filled with tension between Jeod and his wife, Helen. Brom told Eragon that he would begin learning how to read the next day,
After dinner, Daemon and Eragon turned in for the night and collapsed in their beds, instantly falling asleep.
And that's it for this chapter.