What hope do we have? (During feast)

[Rhaxta]

Saphira's wings carved sluggishly through the still, cool air of the early evening. The sun was just sinking below the horizon casting it's rays onto her sparkling-pale underbelly.

She was still wing-sore from their intense trip back from Vroenguard, the old home of generations of great riders and dragons. Her heart was also heavy with the emotion and horror tied in with the place- the skeletons of gigantic dragons littered the island, their bones bleached pale by the weak sun and the fauna of the island slowly creeping over them in an attempt to blot their existance from history.

There had been intense elation on their trip back - they had returned with just under a dozen dragon eggs. She was thrilled - overjoyed - that there may be a chance for her race after all. Yet the news Nasuada gave them of the battle of Belatona smothered any hope that gave her. Although the prospect of their extinction was less likely, they knew now that for any hope of overcoming Galbatorix they would need more than a dozen hatchlings. An unspoken fear and hate had twisted and risen in her since she had been told of the sheer size of Galbatorix's eldunari horde.

Saphira shook her graceful head and slowly began to glide back down to the earth, the great expanse about a mile from Belatona where the stink of blood and battle was still heavy. She hoped Eragon would join her again soon - he was due to return from his visit with Hyperion any time now. He knew to meet her here, as neither had the heart of the will to show themselves within the keep where the celebratory feast was kicking off.

[Wikvaya]

Leona Lake...

Something of a gem, right in the middle of Galbatorix's so called "empire." Its cool waters glimmered like citrines in the sunlight and diamonds in the moonlight, and its cool currents even now washed over Siomothet's feet as he lay next to it, watching it with unblinking eyes.

He had always appreciated this lake. Not many Wild Dragons flew in these lands in the days before Galbatorix's bloody conquest, and not many saw a need to. They preferred instead to keep to Du Weldenvarden, the Hadrac, or the Beors. This far west held no appeal to them, infested with humans as it was. Livestock worth taking were rare, and eventually there would be a mob to meet you when you tried if there were.

Killing Humans never did make the Riders happy...

But the Age of the Old Riders was now past, if this battlefield was anything to judge by.

Siomothet lazily looked back at the carnage. Some of the dead still lay there, picked apart by carrion birds, disgusting creatures that they were. They didn't seem to mind their means of survival, however, as they still littered the battlefield, pulling strips of flesh off the dead and feasting on innards. It made Siomothet glad he could just swallow his prey whole.

The Blue Sapphire known fittingly as Saphira appeared and glided down. She was a handsome specimen, slender and toned yet muscled without fault from long hours of exercise and travel. Siomothet envied her, to an extent. She never knew the pain or destruction of Galbatorix's take over. She didn't have to watch her race be ripped apart and destroyed. After they discharged their Eldunari, of course.

Greetings, Sapphire One. Siomothet reached out with his mind.

[Rhaxta]

Saphira's conciousness jarred when another mind pressed against hers.

Greetings, Sapphire One.

It took her a moment to recover and realise it was a conciousness she had indeed felt before. A jolt of elation and something close to dread ran through her. In her musings, she had completely overlooked even the enormous dragon- then again his colour did provide him some camoflauge against the sandy landscape.

A shrill, throaty cry escaped Saphira and she tilted her wings until she was nose down. A shallow but swift decline and she alighted, skidding across the sand slightly and her forlegs paddling into the water. She had landed a respectful distance from the ancient dragon and proceeded only a little closer on foot. There she sat, placing her rear so her haunches were pleasantly covered in water from the lake. A small trail of smoke escaped one of her nostrils and she sat there, for a moment wondering how to address him.

She simply bowed her head. 'Greetings, Elder. Might I join you while I wait for Eragon?' [/color]

Her own eye was caught by the movement of the carrion birds. There were lots of the sleek black ones - and a few dedraggled things that looked old and mishapen - on the ground they lacked the grace they had in the air and lumbered[/]. How can a bird be anything but graceful?

As was with her slightly rebellious nature, she arched her head up into what she thought was a regal pose and sent a single jet of blue-orange flame from a nostril towards the closest cluster of ugly-lumbering birds.

All the birds nearby scattered instantly, leaving Saphira feeling slightly ashamed but guiltily proud. Those tattered vultures gave all flight creatures a bad name in her eyes - yet she felt superior to them which pleased her - though she would never admit it.

She was licking at a claw on her left forleg before all the birds had even cleared, trying not to feel or appear embarassed by what she had done.