Okay, I'm so, so, SO unbelievably sorry for leaving you guys hanging like that… Technically, our project isn't even half-finished yet (we're trying to write a book! How awesome is that?!) But I felt I owed it to you guys to continue.
On another note, I reread everything I'd already written for this…wow…I was such a creepy stalker… Such a USELESS creepy stalker, too… XP sorry to anyone affected, and now it's time for me to attempt my latest chapter! (Sorry if it's super-depressing, but I just got into that kind of style thanks to…um…a few shows I watch and a bunch of OneShots I tried writing…)

Arya's POV

A few weeks later, as the full moon was already high in the starry sky, Arya returned from various lessons with Eragon tired and a little bit humiliated. How on earth could she honestly be less experienced than him?
He's a fully-fledged dragon rider… her less arrogant side told her. Are you so vain as to believe that you have to be better than him already?
Was she? The elven princess didn't know how to answer that question. Then again, there were a lot of questions she couldn't answer lately…at least she had Fírnen.
At this stage of his life, the youngling could form short sentences and no longer had to rely on the tricky-to-manage mental images he'd originally had to use to communicate with his Rider, and he was almost large enough to ride in flight, but the Green Rider didn't want to test him in combat yet. He was too young to die…
Arya. This is war. The former hatchling nudged her shoulder as he thought that towards her. Let me help you?
A small laugh escaped Arya's lips and she was grateful that she was already in her sparsely furnished tent. No, Fírnen! I've told you I refuse to see you injured yet. As though that would help. Her dragon was an intelligent creature and instantly flooded her mind with memories of Glaedr speaking, of Saphira speaking, even of Eragon telling her the pair would be infinitely less vulnerable together.
"In any case," Arya murmured more to herself than to Fírnen, blocking the mental sounds with ease, "we leave for Dras-Leona at daybreak, and I need to pack and rest…" Fírnen gave a quiet sigh and stopped his more-or-less friendly mental onslaught, probably to think of a new tactic while Arya gathered the few belongings she would need.
Unfortunately for him, the elf woman wasn't slow to fall into her dream-like trance.

The next morning, the Varden were ready to move again. It DID take some time before everybody was alert, and the three Riders and their respective dragons had managed, despite all being utterly exhausted, to be the very first people in Feinster to wake, but they were all there nevertheless, with the main part of the army marching straight for Dras-Leona and a rather smaller segment left behind to guard Feinster. Eragon, carrying two Eldunarí, sat astride Saphira talking quietly with Arya and Murtagh, both on their respective dragons and with Arista easily keeping up next to Murtagh and looking as though she dearly wished it were otherwise.
Arya smirked mentally at this, causing Fírnen to snicker. Arya, she admonished herself instantly. You're getting petty, and over what, exactly?
Well, him, of course…but she was determined not to think about that. She couldn't afford to. So many lives would soon be in danger, and she couldn't watch one more person she loved die.
Was that selfish of her, she wondered? Never mind…she was exhausted, especially after the main issue the Riders had stayed up late to deal with the night before.
Thorn.

Thorn's POV

The young dragon, stuck in a body so much older than his mind, had finally had enough of being forgotten in his rather less comfortable prison cell – this in comparison to Murtagh's – and contacted his Rider, all the time wondering exactly why he was still able to talk to Murtagh mentally. Hadn't Eragon done something about that?
Apparently not.
Murtagh, he mentally roared, I thought we'd stay together? MY true name hasn't changed yet and I'm still bound to Galbatorix, while YOU are running around free… A small whimper made its way through Thorn's throat and out between his jagged predator's teeth as he sent the message towards his Rider. Not too long afterwards, by which one second precisely is meant, Murtagh answered him.
I…alright, we're on our way.