Ok, so I've been working on this for the past month or two. I like it, and i hope you guys will too. Spoiler: Prologue Prologue"Hello, my friends. If you could spare me only a little of your time, and I will spin you a tale. A tale of adventure, of flight, and most importantly, of Dragons. Ages ago, our people dwelt in the skies, far above the surface of this world. We harnessed the power of flight, and mastered the art of building in the clouds. Some say it was magic, others say our distant ancestors had technology we could never dream of. No one knows exactly how the cities in the clouds were built. Every person believes differently. But listen now as I tell you of the Fall..."It was night-time and the stars were shining, constellations glimmering in the midnight sky. Far above the surface of Erymor, the city of Fahrendair gleamed with the soft white lights of moonstones. The streets were still bustling with people, even at this late hour. The quiet lanes and busy thoroughfares of the city were well lit from stones set in pillars lining the roads. Near the edge of the city, in a small house on a quiet street, a beautiful young woman watched the silent, impassive stars. She couldn't have been more than twenty cycles, and her long, thick red hair curled around her shoulders, falling to the small of her back. Large, luminescent green eyes were set above a button nose and her full lips. She was slender, and of average height. She leaned against the sill of her window and sighed softly, thinking how wonderful it would be to see the surface far below, despite the elders proclamations of the evil heathens and dangerous beasts that dwelt there."Kay, come on in and close that window; you'll catch a cold standing there in only your nightgown!" came the loud, strident voice of her Aunt Mai."Yes, Auntie," she called back. "One day I'll see what's down there!" she whispered to herself as she shut the window and turned away.Just as she closed it, a winged shape detached itself from the darkness of the sky, and the silence was broken by an ear-shattering roar. Kay let out an involuntary scream and spun, her hair making a bright red arc behind her back. The roar came again, sounding vengeful and powerful. She wrenched open the window and screamed again. A massive beast hovered in the air above her house. It was a deep blue, almost black in the light of the moonstones. As she watched, it turned its head and roared again, lashing its barbed tail at the houses below. The streets darkened as it smashed the pillars with the moonstones set into them. It turned and looked directly at her, and she could see the cold intelligence in its eyes, along with an all consuming hatred that was plainly directed at her."Al nehrak skudeveir?" it snarled, and Kay almost screamed again when it spoke, for not only was it speaking, its words were directed at her. "Al enkraith deveir, Curaithnir?""I... don't understand!" she gasped, almost incoherent with fear."Has it been so long you have forgotten our tongue, Mortal?" it asked, its deep voice echoing down the streets. All throughout the city alarms were going off, and the sound of terrified screams echoed through the air."I dont know what you're talking about!" she cried."Da skudevier! The Dragontongue! Has it been so long you have forgotten the deveir, the Dragons?" The dragon’s voice was so powerful it shook the house, almost making her lose her balance. It roared and lashed its tail again, taking the roof from a nearby house."I... don’t know," she whispered, then screamed for a third time at what sounded like an explosion. she spun, and took off down the hall to her parents room. She stopped short of her aunt's doorway when say the door had been ripped off its hinges, along with a good bit of the house. She rushed to the stairs and almost fell down them in her haste. Kay slammed the front door open and ran into the streets. She froze when she saw the devastation the dragons had caused... entire houses were leveled, countless more were on fire, and she heard the terrified screams that echoed through the air thick with smoke. Dragons circled in the sky, bringing with them destruction. As she watched, one of them exhaled a massive jet of fire, destroyed half a block of houses. Suddenly she heard her name being called. As if in a dream, she turned and saw her neighbor Merla running towards her. “Kay!” she called. “What are you doing just standing there?” “I…” she said, unable to say more. “What…?” “Hush, love. Just come with me. We must go to the Citadel.” Suddenly a tremor went through the city. Kay staggered, unable to keep her balance as the city itself shuddered. “What’s going on?” Merla shouted. Kay screamed as the entire city listed to the side. Then it began to fall… Fahrendair fell through the night sky slowly, gaining speed as it fell. Kay’s hair whipped around her as if in a gale. The stars grew distant as the city fell through the clouds, and the air grew hot around them. A great boom sounded as it crashed into the ground. Dust arose in a massive cloud, and many buildings collapsed instantly. The last thing Kay saw before she blacked out was the distant shape of a dragon, and then darkness. ...Kay’s eyes flickered open, and she sucked in a deep breath. The air was hot and heavy, clogged with moisture. It felt harder to breathe for some reason. It’s never been this hot in Fahrendair, she thought. Then suddenly she remembered. The sight of the stars growing distant as the city plummeted from the sky, the smell of burning houses, the sound of the flames, and the sight of the dragon winging away as the city fell from the sky. She looked for it, but it was nowhere to be seen. The sky was a light blue, and clouds drifted across. The sun burned, and heat assailed her. “Where am I?” she muttered. “It’s so hot…” She looked around. There was no one in sight, and smoke curled up from the shattered buildings. She climbed shakily to her feet and looked around. She stopped, and gazed around. Everything was so different here… the trees reached high into the air, and mountains reared their crowned heads in the far distance. “Kay! There you are,” came a voice from behind her, startling her. It was only Cyra, her best friend. “I’ve been looking all over for you. The entire city fell out of the sky.” “How though?” Kay asked. “We were always told there was no way the city could ever fall.” “Well it looks like we were wrong. What were those flying things?” Cyra cast a worried look into the air, plainly terrified they would come back. “Dragons,” Kay answered, so softly she could barely hear herself. Cyra leaned forward. “What? I didn’t hear you.” “What? Oh, it was nothing. Just me thinking aloud..” Kay told her, her mind buzzing with fears of how they could survive down here in this world of thick air and tall trees that blocked the stars. Spoiler: Chapter 1 Chapter 1 “And so it went,” the old man said grandly. “The story of the Fall.” “But where is the city that fell?” The question was posed by a pretty girl with long red hair. “Ah, that, nobody knows. But legend has it that it still lies in ruins, buried beneath the earth, waiting for some brave soul to find it.” “And where did the dragons go?” she asked, curiosity evident in her voice. “Ah, curious young Leyanne. Always asking questions. No one knows. Some say they took the cities in the sky as their own. Others say they died ages ago. Others maintain that they never existed at all.” the storyteller answered, pushing his long white hair out of his face. No one knew exactly how old he was, or where he came from. He just appeared in Elden one day, telling his stories and legends. Leyanne loved to hear him talk, how his voice changed when he began to spin his tales, drawing them into the world he was describing. She saw his words, and felt sorrow when he finished. “That’s it for now,” said the old man, taking a bow. “Thank you, friends, for giving me your time. I thank you again and bid you good day.” The crowd that had built up around him dispersed, going back to work, or home or wherever they needed to be. Soon, only Leyanne remained. “Ah, young Leyanne. What can I do for you, young one?” “Why do you tell these stories?” she asked. “Surely you can’t enjoy spreading tales of sorrow and death?” “Perhaps not. But I tell them because they must be told. Lest we forget,” the old man said, looking towards the sky longingly. “You are the spitting image of Kay.” he told her. “Who?” “Ah, you haven’t been told? The girl of my story, of my history, you are her mirror image.” Leyanne shook her head. “No, I was never told. How do you know what she looks like?” She asked. “Ah, now if I told you that, there would be no surprises left for you.” the old man said, tipping her a wink. “Now, I believe my tea is calling my name. ‘Jormun’ it calls ‘come to me’” She laughed, a clear. musical laugh. Jormun smiled, as a grandfather might, with decades of kindness and wisdom. “Leya!” she turned, and saw her friend Bran coming towards her. “What’re you doing?” “Talking to the storyteller,” she said, turning to point. But Jormun was gone without a trace. He had disappeared in the few seconds it had taken for her to reply to Bran. “Storyteller? That old coot? He’s off his rocker, and no mistake about it!” he said, grinning at her. “He’s not a coot! she said, swatting Bran on the shoulder. “And he’s not crazy either!” “He is, and you know it,” Bran said. “Want to go fishing?” “No, I’m tired, I want to sleep.” she said, politely refusing. He was always trying to get her to go fishing, or running in the woods with him, but today she had no desire to go with him. She turned and made her way home, lost in thoughts. Was it just a story? Or were there really cities floating in the sky? Also, were there such things as dragons? Were they truly evil? Everyone had been told when they were little that if they weren’t good, the dragons would come and take them away. They were regarded as bad luck, pure evil, the be all and end all of destruction. She arrived at the house, and found no one home. Not wanting to sleep, she left the house and went toward the forest. She often walked in the trees, feeling as though they understood her, with their quiet acceptance of the world, knowing they could do nothing about it. They calmly accepted her. Lost in her thoughts, she suddenly realised that she was deeper than she had ever been. She stepped into a clearing, and her eyes were drawn to a perfect oval stone half buried in the fallen leaves. She moved cautiously over and knelt down by it. “What are you?” She whispered. She hesitantly put out her hand and touched it, then snatched her hand back. She brushed the leaves off of it, then gasped. It was the most beautiful stone she had ever seen. It was a deep black, marbled with orange, smooth and perfectly shaped. She nudged it, then when it didn’t react she gingerly picked it up, and turned it over in her hands. It weighed several stones, and was smoother than a marble. She stood, wondering whether or not she should take it home. Was it worth anything? Was it even natural? It seemed to have an aura of age and experience, even though it was a stone… Suddenly it moved in her hand. She yelped and dropped it. It hit the forest floor with a thud, and just sat there. Leya knelt, and cautiously lifted it, holding it in both hands, turning it over and examining it. The black and orange stone just rested in her hands impassively, and it seemed to be appraising her, although she knew that it was impossible for a stone. She turned and walked home, the stone still clasped to her breast. When she got back home, she placed the stone on the shelf beside her bed, and sat down, studying it intently. Where did it come from? Why did she of all people find it? She had walked in the woods often, and had never seen another stone even close to it. It was beautiful and mysterious. She felt something like intelligence in it… something no rock should make her feel. It was uncanny and it bothered her. Maybe Jormun would know what the stone was. She considered taking it to him, but she had a strange feeling that she shouldn’t show it to him. She headed back home, with the mysterious stone held to her breast. She left her room to find her mother Aelise in the kitchen kneading dough. “Hello, mother,” she said. Her mother looked up and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Oh hello, Leya. Where were you?” “I listened to a story and took a walk in the woods,” she answered. “What’s that you’re holding?” her mother asked, curiosity evident in her voice. “Oh, it’s just a stone I found in the woods,” Leya answered, showing the stone to her mother. “I thought it looked interesting so I picked it up. Maybe it’s worth something” “Oh, it’s definitely pretty,” her mother said. “What are you going to do with it?” “I’m still not sure,” she replied. She didn’t think she would sell it or trade it. It just felt wrong to get rid of it. It was like some part of her subconscious was telling her she should keep hold of it.... That night, she laid in her bed, staring at the stone. She followed the marbled orange patterns that swirled across the perfectly smooth black surface. They seemed to draw her in. “Hello,” The word resonated in her mind and she jerked back, looking wildly around, trying to locate the source of the voice. “Who’s there?” she asked, glancing everywhere as she tried to find the speaker. “Where are you?” “Right here” the voice said. It was unmistakably male, with a resonance that seemed to have a melody to it, a deep bass rhythm. “I don’t see anyone,” she said. “Where are you?” Suddenly the stone rocked forward, almost falling off the bed. She watched as a deep crack ran across it, then yelped when it shattered, sending fragments of shell flying everywhere. It was shell, she realised. An egg… A dragon egg. Spoiler: Chapter 2 Chapter 2 The dragon just sat in the middle of the floor, unmoving. She stood and stared at it. It was the same color as the egg, black with orange marbled scales. She crouched and tentatively reached towards it. Her finger jerked back as she touched it, and felt a blinding hot pain in her finger. She cried out and jerked her finger back. When she looked at her hand there was no mark… But she felt something in her mind, another presence that had not been there before. “You seem frightened,” the bass voice came again. She realised with a jolt that it belonged to the dragon. Somehow it was in her mind. “How are you in my head?” she asked. “You are my partner. I chose to hatch for you,” the dragon said, its voice reverbrating through her head. “The deveir do not hatch for anyone. I have been waiting for millennia.” “You can speak… but you were just hatched. It doesn’t make any sense. And you didn’t tell me how you got into my head,” She said shakily. “I am deveir. We are born in the egg, and do not hatch as you do, with no intelligence.. We hatch with intelligence.” Leya marveled at the dragon. It seemed as if it had the wisdom of ages, even though it had only been in this world mere minutes. It began flailing around, trying to learn how to move in its awkward body. “Do you have a name?” she asked it. “No. The deveir do not give one another names. We know each other by scent, or by sight.” The little dragon told her. “You need a name… Just so that I can know you by something.” “If you think so,” he answered. “What do wish to know me as?” “I don’t know…” she answered. “But we need to get you out of sight before anyone sees you. The people here fear dragons. They try to drive you away or maybe even kill you.” “I do not understand,” the dragon replied, his deep voice sounding bewildered. “What reason do they have to drive me away? What have I done to them?” “Dragons caused us to fall from the sky,” she answered. She briefly told the little dragon of the Fall. “The deveir lived in the skies long before you mortals did. We have existed for countless ages.” the dragon answered. “How do you know?” she asked, “That was centuries ago. You’re only a few minutes old.” “Deveir are born with the knowledge of our kind.” he answered simply. “I see...?” she replied hesitantly. “In any case, let’s get you somewhere before anyone wakes up. I know a place you can go that is away from the wolves.” She took the little dragon and held him in her arms, heading into the woods. She went to a clearing that was ringed with brambles, with a cleverly diguised entrance. Only someone familiar with it could get into it without tearing their clothes and scratching themselves bloody. “I’ll be back later with some food, okay?” she said. “Will you be safe on your own?” “I will be fine. Thank you for the concern,” he replied. Leya left the clearing, still bewildered by the fact that she had a dragon. Despite all she had been raised on, it was not inherently evil. Or at least she didn’t believe so. It seemed so vulnerable, even with razor sharp claws and needle-like teeth that could tear into skin and bone with no effort at all. She returned to her house, and saw a thin curl of smoke coming from the chimney. Suddenly she realised it was daybreak, and she hadn’t slept at all. She would have to do her chores today without the assistance of a good nights sleep. She opened the door to her mother washing clothes. “What’re you doing up so early?” “I… couldn’t sleep” she answered, and yawned to prove her point. Her mother looked at her and shook her head. “Go get a few hours of sleep, Leya. You’ll be needing it. We’re going to Deyra to sell. You’ll need to be at the top of your game to get a decent deal there.” her mother told her. “When are we leaving?” she asked. “In a few hours. Now, shoo. Go to sleep.” Her mother said. She wondered how far the link would stretch between her and the dragon. She still had no idea what she was going to name him. She sighed. Such thoughts were better left for after sleep. She fell into bed and sleep took her immediately. ... She woke to her mother calling her name. “Leya! Come on, wake up. It’s time to leave if we want to make it on time.” She groaned and sat up, then swung her legs out of bed and into her boots. She usually wore men’s clothing, disdaining the frilly dresses that were popular with the girls her age. She had few friends, as most did not have the patience for her wild and impetuous nature. Leya was quick to anger and slow to forgive, as many of the others in the village had learned. She was apt to give a tongue lashing to those who got into her way. She stumbled to the washbasin and splashed water on her face, then brushed her hair quickly, twisting it up and putting it into a ponytail. She emerged from her room, shaking her hands to remove the last traces of water from them. “Have you decided what you’re going to do with that stone?” her mother asked. Leya froze for a moment. The she replied, “It broke, so probably nothing.” "That's disappointing," her mother said. "It may have been worth something but if it broke that easily I guess not." “Yeah,” Leya answered, shrugging her shoulders. “Alright then, let’s go. We don’t want to be late do we?” Leya shook her head, then followed her mother to the wagon she had packed. Months passed and the dragon grew. Within a month, Leya no longer had to bring him food. After two, he was taller than her. His body became streamlined, and he learned to fly. He hunted for his food in the Urgard mountains, where no one could see him. And still he had no name. Try as she might she couldn’t come up with a name. Then, on a crisp autumn day six months after the dragon had hatched, she decided to confide in Jormun. She had no idea how to take care of a dragon, nor the first thing about them, other than little things she had picked up. Maybe he could help her. That morning she woke up early and ran down to the village. She ran into Elma, Loredale’s baker, almost causing her to drop her basket. “Whoa there lass!” She said with a laugh. “Where ye rushing off to at this early an hour?” “I’m looking for Jormun,” Leya answered. “Do you know where he is?” Elma shook her head. “No, I’ve not seen him. Ye could try The Red Boar. I’ve seen him in there many a mornin’” “Okay, thank you,” Leya said over her shoulder as she headed off toward the village pub. She opened the door and stepped in, wrinkling her nose at the pungent scent of alcohol and sweat. The barkeep looked over and smiled. Lars was fond of Leya, and treated her like his daughter since his own died in a rockfall in the mountains, along with Leya’s father and half a dozen other villagers. “And what brings you here, Leya? Bit young for what we sell aren’t you?” He said, his booming voice rising over the chatter of the drinkers and gamblers. “You know you’d give it to me anyway,” She replied with a teasing grin on her face. “Perhaps, but not in sight o’ your mother. I prefer my manhood the way it is.” They both laughed, then Lars said, “So why are you here? I know it’s not to pay my ugly mug a visit.” “I’m looking for Jormun. Elma said he might be here, so I swung by to check.” She answered. “And of course I would pay you a visit, ugly mug or not.” “Aye, he’s right over there with the traders that arrived last night. Not sure what they’re goin’ on about, but they’ve been goin’ for hours.” Lars said. “Think he’s trying to get ‘em drunk out of their minds, the amount of beer he’s been buying is crazy.” He shook his head. “Ah, well. It’s none of my business. You hungry, lassie?” She shrugged her shoulders. “Not really. Why, you got somethig special cooking?” Lars nodded. “Got a nice venison roast in. You and your mother are welcome to eat with us tonight if you want. We have plenty of room and plenty of food.” “I’ll talk to her. We’ll probably come, I don’t think we’re doing anything special tonight.” Leya said. “Which table is Jormun at?” “He’s right there by the hearth. Loudest bunch there, half of them are stupid drunk by now. ‘Course, Jormun’s probably stone sober.” Lars said, shaking his head. “It never ceases to amaze me how much he can put down… Has a better head for alcohol than me, and I run the damn place.” Leya smiled, then turned and headed over to the table. Sure enough, at least one of the traders were drunk, barely able to stay in his seat, and Jormun was just sitting there, an intent look in his eyes as he surveyed them. “Now, gentlemen, as we were discussing, how much for that stone? I think twelve crowns is a fair price, what of you?” Leya noticed the stone sitting on the table and started. It was a stone almost exactly like what the dragon had hatched out of, varying only in the coloration. This one was a forest green with deep blue streaks running through it. Jormun set a purse on the table and pushed it towards the traders a little. “Twelve crowns, for a stone nobody will want, despite how pretty it is. I think that’s more than fair, don’t you?” He said, addressing the trader on the left, a wiry man with spectacles that were hanging off his face. He blinked stupidly at Jormun. “Say wha..?” He slurred. “Wawassat?” “You have stone. I have money. You take money. I take stone.” Jormun said, as if addressing a simpleton. “I give you twelve crowns, I take stone. See what I’m saying?” The trader looked at him as if Jormun had four heads and a lobster tail. “Ye gods you’re useless.” he muttered. The trader shook his head, trying to clear his mind. “Twelfe?” He said. “Twenny fife.” “Twenty-five crowns for a stone nobody will buy. How long have you had it? Three months? Five? Maybe a year? You’re getting desperate to sell, aren’t you? You need my money. I’ll give you sixteen.” Jormun countered. The trader looked at him, took a sip of his beer, started to speak, then passed out, his head hitting the table on the way down. Jormun looked at him, shrugged, then turned his attention to the next one, who was so fat his backside drooped over the sides of the chair. “As it appears your comrade is indisposed, I will bargain with you now. Will you take my offer of sixteen crowns for this stone?” he asked. “Why do you want it so bad?” the trader asked. Leya’s mind whirred, trying to put herself in their spots. If she were the trader what would she do to drive up the price? Inversely, what could she do to get the price as low as possible? As a young woman, she had a slight advantage, as most traders were men, and she could lower the price with a few winks. Not too much, but it worked. “It’s an oddity. It’s pretty. It will look nice on my shelf. What more reason do I need to have?” Jormun answered. “What say you to twenty-two?” the trader asked, taking a small sip of wine. Judging by the spilled cup of the other trader sprawled on the ground snoring, he had not been the one Jormun was buying the beer for. “Twenty-two. A mite bit tempting, but not as tempting as say… eighteen,” The old storyteller replied. The trader studied him, as if he was trying to figure out Jormun’s intent for the stone. “You drive a hard bargain, talespinner. Nineteen and a flask of this wine and it’s yours.” The trader said after a few minutes of thinking. “We have ourselves a deal.” Jormun counted out nineteen crowns and reached beneath his chair and lifted two flasks. “Take another as a gift, my thanks for your time and business.” “It was a pleasure doing business with you, talespinner. Haven’t spent that long bargaining in ten years. If I ever happen to buy another of these stones, I will keep you in mind.” The trader lifted his cup. “To a bargain well made.” “To a bargain well made,” Jormun echoed, tapping his cup against the trader’s. “And now I must bid you good day. I believe I have a dire appointment with my blanket. Good day, and may your coffers be overfilled with gold.” “Yours as well. Thank you again for the wine. It is exceptional. I may have to buy a few flasks from you. Do you make it yourself?” “No, you want to talk to Lars, the bartender. He makes all the town’s alcohol, with a little assistance from his wife, Taryn.” Jormun said as he stood. “Ah, my old bones detest sitting down for too long. I do believe it’s going to rain soon. Good day to you.” Leya moved to catch up with Jormun before he left the bar. “Jormun!” She called. The old storyteller was either ignoring her or didn’t hear her. She hurried after him and caught him just before he exited the bar. Leya caught his sleeve, and said, “Can I talk to you about something important?” Jormun looked at her curiously. “And what might that be?” Leya looked around, making sure no one was in earshot. “About what comes out of those stones,” she said softly. Jormun started, then looked at her sharply. “Come with me. It appears we have much to talk about, and little time if you are to make it to your dinner on time.” “How did you know about the dinner?” she asked. In response, the old man just tapped the side of his nose, and smiled his mischievious grin at her. When the reached Jormun’s house, he began fumbling in his pockets for his key. “Blast and botheration! Where is that thrice-damned key?” he mumbled. “Ha! Got you, you little bugger.” He inserted it into the lock and turned it, then opened the door. It was pitch black inside, and Leya marveled as he moved around so surely, especially when he sparked a light and the piles of oddities and junk was revealed. The house was a mess, piles of books and parchment scattered over the table and the floor. Leya’s eyes were drawn to the sword and dagger that hung on the wall, along with a bow and quiver of black shafted arrows. “Where did you get those?” she said, curiousity overpowering everything else. “Oh those? I picked them up off a trader who didn’t know the first thing about weapons. They’re made of bluesteel.” He said, lifting the dagger and pulling it a little out of the sheath. Sure enough, the metal had a blue tint to it. “Incredibly rare and valuable, but I got them for cheap. I like to keep something in case someone has a very personal grudge with me. Don’t quite feel like getting knifed in my sleep.” He returned the dagger to its place on the wall, then pulled out a chair and sat. “Take a seat. It’s time we had a chat.” Leya looked around, trying to find a seat that wasn’t covered in parchment or various knickknacks and bits of junk. “Tea?” he asked her. “Uh… sure” she said, wondering whether he would get mad if she moved some of the clutter off the chair. “You can move stuff if you need to,” Jormun said over his shoulder as he moved into the kitchen. “But mind you’re careful. Some of that stuff is very valuable.” Leya gingerly lifted a stak of books from a chair and set them on the table, suppressing a sneeze at the cloud of dust that arose from it. She sat down, listening to the sounds of Jormun tinkering in the kitchen. She picked up a book and opened it, scanning the words on the page. Jormun entered just as she closed it, holding a tray with tea and cookies on it. “Interesting book, that one.” He said. “One of my favorites, actually.” “What is it? I couldn’t understand a word of it. It’s in some strange language.” She said, taking the cup of tea he offered her. “It’s written in an ancient language long since forgotten. It tells of dragons,” Jormun said, studying her. “But then you already know something of if I am correct.” “I…” Leya hesitated, unsure how to respond. Should she go ahead and spill it all? “Da deveir fyoren skatha.” Jormun said. “The dragons still fly.” “What language is that?” she asked. “Da skudeveir. The dragontongue,” he answered. “Few still remember it and fewer still speak it. It was forgotten ages ago.” “How did you learn it then?” she replied, her curiosity piqued. “An old friend of mine.” he responded. “Someone very dear to me. Now, how do you know what comes out of this stone?” “I found one in the forest, months ago. The day you told us the story of the Fall.” she said. “I went walking in the woods and found it. It hatched that night.” “What?” Jormun said sharply. “It hatched, you say?” She nodded. “He talked to me. In my head. He said that he chose me, whatever that means. He said he was my partner.” “He?” Jormun asked. Leya nodded. “It’s male. I can tell by the voice. I can show you to him if you want.” Jormun looked off into the distance, a wondering look on his face. “I would.” he said. “I would indeed.” … sorry fi the spoilers didn't work out quite the way i wanted them to. Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it.
Thanks, it's a work in progress. I'm uncomfortable witht he fact that it looks like its turning into eragon with a chick...
