Nightmare hummed softly, the sound often interrupted by Dream as he responded in kind, the two playing their own sort of tune between themselves. A low thrumming and high chirping, branches creaking in tandem as the leaves rustled as well.

The wild music was interrupted by an abrupt screech, the treeskeleton shooting Roran a look that went unseen as he shifted on his tree stump, every movement producing the same painful shriek each time he shifted. Even Eragon winced from his place leaning on Saphira, the dragon flicking her ears irritably.

As it was for the time being, Eragon had just finished recounting the day to Saphira. This was typically unnecessary, but due to him having to shield his mind, they were unable to share their experiences internally.
After a few minutes of silence, Saphira yawned enormously and responded.
Cruel and evil they may be, but I am impressed that the Ra'zac can bewitch their prey into wanting to be eaten. They are great hunters to do that…. Perhaps I shall attempt it someday.

There was a pause, Eragon mentioning something to the dragon before she replied, amusement in her voice. People, sheep: what difference is there to a dragon? She laughed, a low staccato rumble like thunder.

Shaking his head, Eragon leaned forward to pick up the hawthorn staff beside him. Roran had given it to him, saying it was made by Fisk. The name had amused the treeskeleton, as it was only a single letter away from a much more widely known name that every Sans or equivalent knew.

They shifted in place as they peered at Eragon, the human suddenly raging with confused emotions- many negative. Something had whipped his mind to a frenzy, and what they could glean from it was that the source of it stemmed from Murtagh.
Eragon. Saphira quietly intervened.
He peered at her gratefully before the camp fell to silence once more.

Just as everyone had relaxed again, the faint sound of something like a sword scraping against it's sheath as it was drawn jolted them all, humans lunging as they yanked out their weapons and faced the invisible enemy.
The god stared at them blankly as the dragon sniffed inquisitively.
I smell nothing. Saphira told them, settling down somewhat.
"We sense nothing." Cicállaé added, branches swaying.

After about a minute, Eragon let down his guard just enough to state a spell, forming a red werelight as he searched the area.
He followed Roran as they hunted through the brush.
There was a pause, Roran bending down before the noise was repeated.
They returned to the hollow they camped in, somewhat disappointed.

"Well? What was it?" The god asked.
"Shale. It fell and made the sound that disturbed us." Eragon muttered, his cousin bobbing his head along.
It was a moment before Roran spoke up.

"Do you see them?"
"Who?"
"The men you've killed. Do you see them in your dreams?"
Cicállaé blinked, Eragon responding quietly.
"Sometimes."

Roran gazed off a little emptily, the vivid remains of the dying flame illuminating his face from below, leaving his eyes and forehead in shadow.
"I never wanted to be a warrior. I dreamed of blood and glory when I was younger, as every boy does, but the land was what was important to me. That and our family…. And now I have killed…. I have killed and killed, and you have killed even more." He stared off into the distance.
"There were these two men in Narda…. Did I tell you this before?"!

Nightmare was about to say that yes, he had mentioned this to them, when Dream insisted he stay quiet, Eragon shaking his head.
Roran continued distantly.
"They were guards at the main gate…. Two of them, you know, and the man on the right had pure white hair. I remember because he couldn't have been more than 24, 25. They wore Galbatorix's sigil but spoke as if they were from Narda. They weren't professional soldiers. They were probably just men who had decided to help protect their homes from Urgals, pirates, brigands…. We weren't going to lift a finger against them. I swear to you, Eragon, Lord, that was never part of our plan. I had no choice, though. They recognized me. I stabbed his chin…. It was like when Father cut the throat of a pig. And then the other, I smashed open his skull. I can still feel the bones giving way…. I remember every blow I've landed, from the soldiers in Carvahall to the ones on the Burning Plains…. You know, when I close my eyes, sometimes I can't sleep because the light from the fire we set in the docks of Teirm is so bright in my mind. I think I'm going mad then."

The combined twins decided to keep their silence as Eragon tightened his grip on his staff, speaking up himself.
"Aye. At first it was just Urgals, then it was men and Urgals, and now this last battle…. I know what we do is right, but right doesn't mean easy. Because of who we are, the Varden expect Saphira and me to stand at the front of their army and to slaughter entire battalions of soldiers. We do. We have." His voice cracked slightly and he went mute.

Saphira kneaded the rock for a moment before speaking.
Turmoil accompanies every great change. We have experienced more than our fair share, for we are agents of that very change. I am a dragon, and I do not regret the deaths of those who endanger us. Killing the guards in Narda may not be a deed worth of celebration, but neither is it one to feel guilty about. You had to do it. When you must fight, Roran, does not the fierce joy of combat lend wings to your feet? Do you not know the pleasure of pitting yourself against a worthy opponent and the satisfaction of seeing the bodies of your enemies piled before you? Eragon, you have experienced this. Nightmare, Dream, surely you have as well. Help me explain it to him.

The treeskeleton recoiled at being called out, before shaking their leaves, darker making himself heard.
"Indeed, there's a savage joy to be felt, something to make your pulse pound within you like a song of the damned ascending to a place of nothing but bloodlust and furious delight. But both humans have fair points. One can be lost to this, and become a dastardly beast of war and violence. Care not to lose yourself to the glee, for it is no good thing. Merely a fundamental part of all that lies dormant in civilized folk until the fierce clamor of battle awakens it. Even so, it is not always so. Emotions, they are the guide of all spirits. They direct your Souls down their path, no matter how convoluted they may seem. Both positives and negatives balance out each other, though what they will tell you will never be simple. It is simply up to the individual to decipher what they mean, then to decide their actions."

The hollow fell silent.

After several minutes, Eragon stood up and grabbed a pottery jar from the saddlebags and unstoppered it, taking two gulps and passing it to Roran, who downed a large portion and offered it to the treeskeleton, who blinked at it.
"Surely even gods enjoy a drink every now and then."
They hesitated, caught between what to say.
I mean, I've had martinis?
I'm more of a wine person. Red wine.
Well of course you are, grapes are grapes.
….Ah hell.

Just as Roran made to hand it back to Eragon, a branch wrapped around his wrist, bark scratching his skin as another snaked over the first and wrapped around the neck of the bottle, leaves catching the light at odd angles before it retracted, Roran letting it take the jar with a slightly bemused expression.
The look quickly turned to shock as they downed nearly half of the drink, coughing slightly before passing it to Eragon, who blinked owlishly as he took it.

"Is that raspberry?" They queried innocently, holding back a smile at the stunned silence.
"How thirsty were you?" Roran questioned in response, nodding distantly.
"Not as much as you think; we were just surprised at how much we liked it."
Eragon snorted slightly as he quaffed down some more. "I thought you preferred wine."
"One of us does."

Shrugging, the Rider set the jar aside, glancing at Cicállaé suspiciously as they eyed it curiously.
"Maybe leave some for the rest of us?" He asked, laughing somewhat at the greedy expression.
With a snort, they looked away. "We will, we will."
Silence reigned in the hollow.

Eventually, Eragon spoke up again, changing the topic.
"We may have a problem tomorrow."
"What do you mean?" Roran immediately replied, already tensing.
The human Rider glanced around before continuing. "Remember how I said that we- Saphira and I- could easily handle the Ra'zac, give or take some extra help on Cicállaé's part?"
"Aye." "You did."
And so we can. Saphira said.

"Well, I was thinking about it while we spied on Helgrind, and I'm not so sure anymore. There are almost an infinite number of ways to do something with magic. For example, if I want to light a fire, I could light it with heat gathered from the air or the ground; I could create a flame out of pure energy; I could summon a bolt of lightning; I could concentrate a raft of sunbeams into a single point; I could use friction; and so forth."
"So?" Roran questioned as Cicállaé shifted around nervously, concerned about what the other's point was.

"The problem is, even though I can decide numerous spells to perform one action, blocking those spells might require but a single counterspell. If you prevent the action itself from taking place, then you don't have to tailor your counterspell to address the unique properties of each individual spell."
"I don't understand what this has to do with tomorrow." Roran explained.

I do. Saphira spoke after. It means that, over the past century, Galbatorix "may have placed certain wards around the Ra'zac" that will protect them against "a whole range of spells. I probably won't" be able to kill them with any "of the words of death I was taught, nor any" attacks that we can invent now and then. We may "have to rely-" "Stop!" Roran interrupted the pair desperately, waving his hands before flashing them a weak smile.
"Stop, please. My head hurts when you do that."

Eragon stared at Roran with his mouth agape as his and Saphira's behavior set in. Nightmare snickered, Dream giggling internally as the human was pleased by it.
With a chuckle, he responded rather amiably. "Sorry. What I'm worried about is this: if Galbatorix has the foresight to take certain precautions, then force of arms may be the only means by which we can slay the Ra'zac. If that's true-" "I'll just be in your way tomorrow."
"Nonsense. You may be slower than the Ra'zac, but I have no doubt you'll give them cause to fear your weapon, Roran Stronghammer."
The Rider's cousin smiled slightly at that.

Eragon went on. "The greatest danger for you is that the Ra'zac or the Lethrblaka will manage to separate you from Saphira, me, and the Twins." The closer we all stay together, the safer we'll all be. Saphira and I will try to keep the Lethrblaka occupied as the Twins take on the Ra'zac, but some of them may slip past us. Four against two are only good odds of you're among the four."

There was a moment of silence before Eragon faced Cicállaé. "Is there any chance you could separate? It would give us better odds if there were two of you again."
Nightmare hesitated, glancing at the dirt as the branches shifted around.
"We have been.. worried about that. You see, we have a sensitivity to the emotional balance in any world we reside in- you know this." Eragon nodded as Roran blinked.

"As such, even after a certain point, Negativity can become so intense it has adverse effects on my health. Dream already couldn't handle even half of what I am able back in the Multiverse. That resilience has improved a great deal since arriving in Alagaësia, as has my own tolerance of Positivity. But needless to say, that fragile ability was set entirely off balance by the battle a few days ago. The Negativity spiked to tremendous levels, and rose even higher as it ended. If we try to separate- at least now- it would likely send Dream into a coma. Then, we would both be weaker and far less helpful."

We have to be patient. Dream added mentally.
Roran blinked, this being the first time really hearing Dream's voice.
Eragon sighed, rubbing his face. "I understand."
The conversation lapsed.

"This magic is a tricky business." Roran commented, the log screeching as he leaned his elbows on his knees.
"It is." Agreed the Rider, glancing at the treeskeleton. "The hardest part is trying to anticipate every possible spell; I spend most of my time asking how can I protect myself if I'm attacked like this and would another magician expect me to do that."
"Could you make me as strong and fast as you are?"
There was a long pause before Eragon answered.

"I don't see how. The energy needed to do that would have to come from somewhere. Saphira and I could give it to you, maybe the Twins, but then we would lose as much speed and strength as you gained."

"Then can you teach me to use magic?"
Eragon balked slightly at that question, Roran quickly continuing. "Not now, of course. We don't have the time, and I don't expect one can become a magician overnight anyway. But in general, why not? You and I are cousins. We share much of the same blood. And it would be a valuable skill to have."

"I don't know how someone who is not a Rider learns to use magic." Eragon admitted. "It's not something I studied." He looked around, picking a rather smooth stone off the ground and tossing it over, Roran snatching it out of the air easily. "Here, try this: concentrate on lifting the rock a foot or so into the air and say 'Stenr risa'."
"Stenr risa?"
"Exactly."

Roran stared intensely at the rock in his hand, his face scrunching up before he commanded with the greatest authority. "Stenr risa!"
It was still.
The human scowled further and announced once again, only for once more nothing to happen.

"Well, keep trying." Eragon explained. "That's the only advice I can give you. But," he lifted a finger. "If you should happen to succeed, make sure you immediately come to me or, if I'm not around, one of the Wyrdaí Islingrya or a magician. You could kill yourself and others if you start experimenting with magic without understanding the rules. If nothing else, remember this: if you cast a spell that requires too much energy, you will die. Don't take on projects that are beyond your abilities, don't try to bring back the dead, and don't try to unmake anything."

The human nodded without taking his eyes off the stone. Nightmare started absently shoveling his shoe into the earth as Dream fluttered the leaves curiously. Eragon continued.
"Magic aside, I just realized there's something far more important that you need to learn."
"Oh?"
"Yes, you need to be able to hide your thoughts from the Black Hand, Du Vrangr Gata, and others like them. You know a lot of things now that could harm the Varden. It's crucial, then, that you Master this skill as soon as we return. Until you can defend yourself from spies, neither Nasuada nor I, nor even the gods can trust you with information that might help our enemies."

"I understand. But why did you include the Du Vrangr Gata in that list? They serve you and Nasuada."
Eragon grimaced as he responded. "They do, but even among our allies there are more than a few people who would give their right arm to ferret out our plans and secrets. And yours too, no less. You have to become a somebody, Roran. Partly because of your deeds, and partly because we are related."

"I know. It is strange to be recognized by those you have not met."
"That it is." The Rider agreed. Cicállaé huffed slightly, unable to relate in the slightest as their branches spread out around them airily.

Both humans regarded the merged god, knowing their reason to find humor. Eragon then turned back to his cousin as the conversation continued.
"Now that you know what it feels like when one mind touches another, you might be able to learn to reach out and touch other minds in turn."
"I'm not sure that is an ability I want to have."
"No matter; you also might not be able to do it. Either way, before you spend time finding out, you should first devote yourself to the art of defense."

Here, the haggard human raised an eyebrow. "How?"
"Choose something- a sound, an image, an emotion, anything- and let it swell within your mind until it blots out any other thoughts."
"That's all?"
"It's not as easy as you think. Go on; take a stab at it. When you're ready, let me know, and I'll see how well you've done."

With this, Nightmare let his and his brother's consciousness seep into Roran's slightly, unnoticed as the man quickly focused on the one he loved, thinking only on Katrina. They backed away as Roran snapped his fingers at his brotherly cousin, observing as Eragon brought the full force of his mental strength to bear, only to falter at their presence and fall apart against the steely barrier.

There was nothing but Roran's absolute adoration and desire for Katrina, greater than any other they had yet witnessed.
But to his misfortune, the wood screeched beneath him as he shifted, his barrier shattering and inadvertently letting the others in.

What was… Blast! Don't pay attention to it; he'll break through. Katrina, remember Katrina. Ignore Eragon. The night she agreed to marry me, the smell of the grass and her hair… Is that him? No! Focus! Don't-
He was frozen as Eragon held him in place.
You understand the basic concept. The Rider explained.
But you struggle with maintaining your focus. Dream added before he could continue.
But as it is, your strength is admirable. Even the two of us can shield each other in this current form and leave the other to operate freely. As of now, your first time is remarkable.

They ceded themselves to Eragon, who hesitated before explaining out loud. "You have to learn to maintain your concentration even when you're in the middle of a battle. You must learn to think without thinking… to empty yourself of all hopes and worries, save for that one idea that is your armor. Something the elves taught me, which I have found helpful, is to recite a riddle or a piece of a poem or song. Having an action that you can repeat over and over again makes it much easier to keep your mind from straying."

Glancing between the treeskeleton and Rider, Roran murmured. "I'll work on it."

"....You really love her, don't you?" Eragon mumbled. "How did it happen?" His emotions swirled in complex currents, something normally rather indecipherable to the Twins, but to their amazement, it was shockingly clear to their senses, strangely delectable.
"I liked her. She liked me. What importance are the details?" Roran explained bluntly.
"Come now." Eragon spoke. "I was too angry to ask before you left for Therinsford, and we have not seen each other again until just four days ago. I'm curious."

Hesitating, Roran rubbed his temples. "There's not much to tell." He finally relented, thoughts flitting about, driven by a pulsing Determination that Cicállaé found fascinating, leaning closer in intrigue.
"I've always been partial to her." Roran continued. "It meant little before I was a man, but after my rites of passage, I began to wonder whom I would marry and whom I wanted to become the mother of my children. During one of our visits to Carvahall, I saw Katrina stop by the side of Loring's house to pick a nose rose growing in the shade of the eaves. She smiled as she looked at the flower…. It was such a tender smile, and so happy, I decided right then and there that I wanted to make her smile like that again and again and that I wanted to look at that smile until the day I died."

His eyes glistened with unshed tears. "I fear I have failed in that regard."
His love, his fragile heart, his desperate need, the terror that gripped this simple man was so utterly, sickeningly delicious of a combination, the merged being leaned forward, both Souls pounding as they trembled slightly in disgust of themselves.
Then Eragon spoke, wary of their change.
"You courted her, then? Aside from using me to ferry compliments to Katrina, how else did you proceed?"

"You ask like one who seeks instruction." Roran answered curtly.
"I did not." Eragon flatly denied, despite his emotions spiking, drawing the attention of the God of Emotion as the outer, darker half smirked.
Eragon nearly stuttered before he tried to continue. "You're imagining-" "Come now, yourself." Roran accused lightly.
"I know when you're lying. You get that big foolish grin, and your ears turn red. The elves may have given you a new face, but that part hasn't changed. What is it that exists between you and Arya?"

Here, the knowing smirk vanished with an audible flinch, leaves jolting as Eragon gasped.
"Nothing! The moon has addled your brain."
"Be honest. You dote upon her words as if each one were a diamond, and your gaze lingers upon her as if you were starving and she a grand feast arrayed an inch beyond your reach."
Saphira choked, smoke shooting out of her as a dark blush erupted from the treeskeleton at the implications of that mostly innocent statement.

Roran at last noticed them curiously as Eragon argued. "Arya is an elf."
Immediately forgetting the god, he replied. "And very beautiful. Pointed ears and slanted eyes are small flaws when compared with her charms. You look like a cat yourself now."
"Arya is over a hundred years old."
Here Roran's eyes bulged. "I find that hard to believe! She's in the prime of her youth!"
"It's true."
"Well, be as it may, these are reasons you give me, Eragon, and the heart rarely listens to reason. Do you fancy her or not?"

If he fancied her any more, Saphira addressed both humans. I'd be trying to kiss Arya myself.
Eragon gasped as he swatted her. Roran grinned slightly before facing the slightly cringing treeskeleton. "And you. What of your opinion in this? Your face glows like a yellow and purple tinted window in full sun. What's the meaning of that?"
Eragon froze as the other shifted awkwardly.
"Your cousin is not alone in his affections for Arya."
To this, the human froze, mouth agape in surprise. "Oh."

Then he shook his head, speaking in a slightly lower tone.
"Have any of you at the very least spoken to her or her family about this? I have found it's unwise to let such matters fester."
"Aye. I spoke with her." Eragon stated as the treeskeleton nodded sharply. "As did we."
"To what end?"

When no reply was immediately forthcoming, Roran grew exasperated. "Getting answers out of you is harder than dragging Birka through the mud."
Eragon chuckled, getting the reference as Roran turned to the dragon. "Saphira, will you solve this puzzle for me? Otherwise, I fear I'll never get a full explanation."
"To no end. No end at all. She'll not have me." Eragon muttered, his words hiding the vicious agony roaring within him.

Roran glanced at the combined Twins, then bowed his head and spoke to Eragon softly. "I'm sorry."
"It happens." Eragon answered mournfully.

"I know it may seem unlikely at the moment, but I'm sure you will meet another woman who will make you forget this Arya. There are countless maids- and more than a few married women, I'd wager- who would be delighted to catch the eye of a Rider. You'll have no trouble finding a wife among all the lovelies of Alagaësia."
"And what would you have done if Katrina had rejected your suit?" Eragon replied.

Roran froze, trying to wrap his mind around the sudden and jarring concept. Eragon continued in the same quiet voice.
"Contrary to what you, Arya, and most everyone else seem to believe, I am aware that other eligible women exist in Alagaësia and that people have been known to fall in love more than once. No doubt, if I spent my days in the company of ladies from King Orrin's court, I might indeed decide that I fancy one. However, my path is not so easy as that. Regardless of whether I can shift my affections to another- and the heart, as you observed, is a notoriously fickle beast- the question remains: should I?"

"Your tongue has grown as twisted as the roots of a fir tree." Roran complained. "Speak not in riddles."
"Very well: what human woman can begin to understand who and what I am, or the extent of my powers? Who could share in my life? Few enough, and all of them magicians. And of that select group, or even of women in general, how many are immortal?"

Roran burst out in deep, baritone laughter. "You might as well ask for the sun in your pocket or-" He froze, utterly still.
"You cannot be."
"I am."

After a minute of fumbling with words, Roran begged the question. "Is it a result of your change in Ellesméra, or is it part of being a Rider?"
"Part of being a Rider."
"That explains why Galbatorix hasn't died."
"Aye."

The fire popped as Roran pondered the subject.
"The idea is so… vast, it's almost inconceivable. Death is part of who we are. It guides us. It shapes us. It drives us to madness. Can you still be human if you have no mortal end?"
"I'm not invincible. I can still be killed with a sword or an arrow. And I can still catch some incurable disease."
"But if you avoid those dangers, you will live forever."
"If I do, then yes. Saphira and I will endure."
"It seems both a blessing and a curse."
"Aye. I cannot in good conscience marry a woman who will age and die while I remain untouched by time; such an experience would be equally cruel for both of us. On top of that, I find the thought of taking one wife after another throughout the long centuries rather depressing."

"Can you make someone immortal with magic?"
"You can darken white hair, you can smooth wrinkles and remove cataracts, and if you are willing to go to extraordinary lengths, you can give a 60 year old man the body he had at 19. However, the elves have never discovered a way to restore a person's mind without destroying his or her memories. And who wants to erase their identity every do many decades in exchange for immortality? It would be a stranger, then, who lived on. An old brain in a young body isn't the answer either, for even then with the best of health, that which we humans are made of can only last for a century, perhaps a bit more. Nor can you just stop someone from aging. That causes a whole host of other problems…. Oh, elves and men have tried a thousand and one different ways to foil death, but none have proved successful."

"In other words," Concluded Roran. "It's safer for you to love Arya than to leave your heart free for the taking by a human woman."
"Who else can I marry but an elf? Especially considering how I look now." Eragon peered at the flames, fingers twitching as he went on.
"When I lived in Ellesméra, it was easy for me to accept how the dragons had changed my appearance. After all, they gave me many gifts besides. Also, the elves were friendlier toward me after the Agaetí Blödhren. It was only when I rejoined the Varden that I realized how different I've become…. It bothers me too. I'm no longer just human, and I'm not quite an elf. I'm something else in between: a mix, a half-breed."

"Cheer up!" Roran insisted suddenly. "You may not have to worry about living forever. Galbatorix, Murtagh, the Ra'zac, or even one of the Empire's soldiers could put steel through us at any moment. A wise man would ignore the future and drink and carouse while he still has an opportunity to enjoy this world."
"I know what Father would say to that."
"And he'd give us a good hiding to boot."
They both laughed, remembering the man that'd raised them both, despite not quite being Eragon's father.

When silence had intruded upon them again, Cicállaé shifted their branches, a soft lightening of the air hanging about them before they spoke.
"You should go to sleep. It's getting late, and we all need to be awake and replenished by tomorrow morning."

Eragon glanced up at the sky as Saphira snorted. "Sound advice." He agreed. "I just wish we had a few more days to rest before we storm Helgrind. The battle on the Burning Plains drained all of Saphira's strength and my own, and we have not fully recovered, what with flying here and the energy I transferred into the belt of Beloth the Wise these past two evenings. My limbs still ache, and I have more bruises than I can count. Look…." He loosened his left shirt sleeve and pushed the fabric back to reveal an ugly yellow streak from his shield.

"Ha!" Roran barked. "You call that tiny little mark a bruise? I hurt myself worse when I bumped my toe this morning. Here, I'll show you a bruise a man can be proud of."
He undid his shoelaces and pulled up his trousers to reveal a blackened stripe on his quadricep. "I caught the haft of a spear as a soldier was turning about."

"Impressive, but I have even better." Eragon wriggled free of his tunic and pulled his shirt up to reveal a blotch spreading from his flesh covered ribs and stomach. "Arrows."
Roran promptly revealed a forest of blue-green spread across his left pit to his spine, attained from falling on rocks and armor.

"Pshaw, those are pinpricks!" Eragon mocked. "Did you get lost and run into a rosebush? I have one that puts those to shame." He carefully extricated himself of his boots and plopped his trousers down in a most undignified manner to reveal the inside of his thighs patterned with rotten green to blackened purple.

"Ouch." Roran stated, clearly impressed. "What happened?" They ignored the god desperately struggling to not laugh in the background.
"I jumped off Saphira when we were fighting Murtagh and Thorn in the air. That's how I wounded Thorn. Saphira managed to dive under me and catch me before I hit the ground, but I landed on her back a bit harder than I wanted to."

Roran shivered, wincing at the same time. "Does it go all the way…?" He gestured upwards.
"Unfortunately."
Here, a chaotic snicker escaped them as the treeskeleton fell backwards, branches moving to avoid damage as they giggled as one.

"Oh, this is funny to you?" Eragon asked.
"You have no idea." Nightmare gasped, twigs twitching in tune with wheezing laughter.
"Have you any bruises to boast, then?" Roran challenged.

"Sadly, not many. We heal at a faster pace thanks to our nature…. Hell, if we didn't, these limbs would have been sheared away several dozens of times and still be regrowing." Nightmare explained of the branches. "We both suffered terrible injuries- much worse than either of yours. But because I find negative environments to be healing, you see none are left behind, and Dream- well, he doesn't even have a body at this moment." He snickered, then a branch hit him. He just cackled, ignoring the extra limbs that now attacked him.

"But you do realize, that given our more resilient nature," He spoke after recovering, branches giving up and curling in on themselves. "A bruise for us is very different. Even between us in comparison to less godly skeletons. No doubt that if Dust had a bruise, he'd be bemoaning about it for days- unless he was healed since then. But for your information, us having no cushioning results in less bruising and more breaking. That's why skeletons heal so quickly or manage with extreme injuries so well, we'd be long extinct if we couldn't handle a broken arm."

He paused, then waved a phalange. "However, if you manage to slice or break more than half their ribs, a skeleton isn't likely to survive for long. It's mostly blood loss that would get to them first, unless they're very unlucky and suffocate."
"How would a skeleton suffocate?" Roran pondered curiously.
"Because our version of lungs resides in the ribs. We need air like you do- we can just hold our breath much, much longer. Did you think we didn't have any semblance of life because we look like fleshless humans or elves?"

"More like dwarves." Eragon snarked, pulling his clothes back on. The god snorted. "True. Most you've seen so far are pretty short- but you wouldn't think that if you saw a Papyrus. Any Papyrus. It just so happens that most skeletons tend to be taller than the majority of those you've seen. You, Roran, you know Alter."
The human nodded.
"Very lanky- though feminine fellow."
"Ah, it's just who he is. He is a queen, after all. Not king."

"True enough." Roran agreed quietly, thinking.
"Well." The human rose, eager to change the topic. "You may have the biggest bruise out of us, Eragon, but the Ra'zac dealt me a wound the likes of which you cannot match, since the dragons, as I understand, removed the scar from your back." He'd removed his shirt as he said this, now moving further towards the faint glow of the red coals.

Dream's shock at the wound overrode Nightmare and a choked gasp sounded from them before the darker blinked and stood, studying the grievous scar intensely, trying to understand the biology of the human to comprehend the injury.
The skin was puckered, shining an angry red in the firelight as it wound around the collarbone and stopped just beyond the middle of the other's arm. A grotesque mound bulged under the skin under the scar, above it the skin sinking in about an inch below the rest of the surrounding flesh.

"Roran!" Eragon exclaimed. "You should have shown this to me days ago. I had no idea the Ra'zac hurt you so badly…"
"You had skeletons with you. Alter, of all people. Why was this not healed properly?" Nightmare demanded.
"He had been gnawed on by the Ra'zac himself, and had found that any wounds they inflict are impervious to magical healing." Roran explained.
Cicállaé blinked in surprise before Eragon hesitantly pressed.
"Do you have any difficulty moving your arm?"

Waving his arm, Roran described his ailment. "Not to the side or back. But in front, I can only lift my hand about as high as… midchest." He winced as he let it fall. "Even that's a struggle; I have to keep my thumb level, or else my arm goes dead. The best way I've found is to swing my arm from behind and let it land on whatever I'm trying to grasp. I skinned my knuckles a few times before I mastered the trick."

As Eragon quietly convened with Saphira, the treeskeleton approached Roran.
"No scripture we have yet read from the elves has stated that injuries caused by the Ra'zac are impervious to healing, so perhaps Galbatorix managed to find some sort of diabolical ward that they are now beholden to, or this is a matter of how our slightly clashing magics operate. Either way, it is likely we can fully heal this wound with a spell, so that you are unbothered tomorrow."
Roran blinked. "You can do that?"

Eragon stepped forward. "We can certainly try it. I'd like to do the honor, since we are family."
The god stepped away, nodding.
"But now?" Roran asked. "Is that wise?"
"As Saphira said, better I tend to you while I have the chance, lest your injury cost you your life or endanger the rest of us."
Understanding, Roran drew nearer, letting Eragon rest his hand on his shoulder. Cicállaé hesitated when they sensed him reaching out to the rest of the glade. The Rider paused, suddenly recognizing their dual consciousness and regarding them as they immediately found his reason to do this in his thoughts.

If you intend to save your energy by taking it from others, then take it from us.
And risk weakening you when we need you tomorrow? Eragon argued despite their tremendous power flickering in his consciousness.
Our energy comes from everything around us already. Dream explained softly. You know this; we exist far beyond our bodies, they are merely the place in which our main consciousness resides. Nightmare added.
And it's safer, because nothing dies when feeling. It is given freely.
After a hesitation, experiencing the great ocean of power rolling just beyond his mind, Eragon relented.
I know a majority of your power stems from negativity at the moment.
Yes. Our relationship with that which is our power is a very complicated one, but is fortunate enough to allow us to tolerate the extremes together.

Narrowing his focus upon the combined pair, Eragon set about healing Roran's shoulder, blinking rapidly as the distracting and musical notes of the dual consciousnesses echoed loudly at him, the overwhelming energy flooding his consciousness in a dizzying rush as a chorus of thoughts weighed upon him. The human squirmed in place, throwing back his head in the extreme discomfort of the magic as it took effect, flesh writhing grotesquely, a sight disturbingly similar to maggot-ridden meat.

Then the ordeal ended, Eragon recoiling from the god's minds, Roran's shoulder as good as new as he rolled it around, windmilling as he burst into a grin. "It's as good as ever! Better, maybe. Thank you."
"You're welcome." Eragon murmured.
It was the strangest thing. I actually felt as if I was going to crawl out of my hide. And it itched something terrible; I could barely keep from ripping-"
"Get me some bread from the saddlebag, would you? I'm hungry." Eragon asked in the same weak voice to no one in particular.

"We just had dinner." Roran explained as Cicállaé reached into the packs, understanding their effect of unguarded exposure.
"I need a bite to eat after using magic like that." Eragon explained, swaying slightly as the slight pallor in his cheeks faded somewhat.
"You're not ill, are you?" Roran asked in concern.
"No." Eragon reached for the mead, only for a single claw to pin it firmly to the ground, holding it there as she blinked at her Rider.

The treeskeleton easily picked up and took the pottery jar away from him for themselves as Eragon accepted he shouldn't drown his disturbed feelings in alcohol.

As the god busied themselves with the drink they had found they were fond of, Roran grinned and took advantage of their distraction.
"Wouldn't you rather have some venison? I didn't finish all of mine." He offered a juniper stick holding dripping deer meat.
"It's still warm."
Eragon stared at it longingly before turning away. "Just give me the bread."

Unfortunately, the god was too distracted by the drink to bother handing over the sourdough, branches spreading around them almost defensively of the raspberry mead.
"Are you sure? It's perfect: not too tough, not too tender, and cooked with the right amount of seasoning. It's so juicy, when you take a bite, it's as if you swallowed a mouthful of Elain's best stew." Roran coaxed of his cousin.
"No, I can't." Eragon explained, exasperated.
"You know you'll like it."

"Roran, stop teasing me, and Nightmare! Please give me the bread."
Seeing the potential here, he stayed silent and kept on drinking, though not without a smile.
"Ah, now see, you look better already. Maybe what you need isn't bread but someone to get your hackles up, eh?"
Eragon glared at him, stomping over to the merged god, who only tripped him with a branch and cackled as he landed hard on his back with an oof.
"Just hand over the bread!" He begged from the earth.

Their collective aura roiled in waves of amusement as the merged god laughed.
"Do you possess the desire to hunt down your meal as is wont of he who hungers?" Nightmare quested intelligently, humor alight in his bluish purple eyelight as Dream gazed out the right side.
"Just because I won't kill for a meal doesn't mean I am no less a hunter for it." Eragon growled before launching himself at them without second thought. He landed on a mess of sharp twigs and bruising branches, leaves fluttering around him as he grabbed the loaf from the grasping phalanges.
Then he hesitated as he realized their position.

"You really should have put more thought into that before throwing yourself on top of us." Dream muttered to the human Rider, faces inches apart, the only thing between them being the multiple wooden limbs. Eragon gaped mutely, not knowing how to respond.
"Can you get off before this starts looking like sexual tension?" Nightmare hissed.

With a panicked yelp, Eragon shoved himself away, crab-walking away before his back encountered Saphira's side, the dragon chortling softly.
"That wasn't my intention, falling on you like that." He frantically apologized, Roran quietly laughing into his hands as Eragon fumbled with his bread.
"Relax, we know. Just don't let it happen again." Cicállaé sighed, retreating into a wall of leaves as they clutched the as of yet unfinished raspberry mead.

There was a pause, then Saphira snorted, puffing smoke from her nostrils as she regarded Roran's venison. Then she reached over and snapped it up, charred stick and all. With a pleased him, she spoke.
Mmm. You did not exaggerate. What a sweet and succulent morsel: so soft, so salty, so deliciously delectable, it makes me want to wiggle with delight. You should cook for me more often, Roran Stronghammer. Only next time, I think you should prepare several deer at once. Otherwise, I won't get a proper meal.

Roran froze like a deer in headlights, trying to discern whether or not she was serious, and how he could escape the situation if she was. He shot Eragon a look much like that of a caged animal, sending the Rider into fits of laughter.
The dragon wasn't far behind in joining, her thunderous voice grating alongside Eragon's as the treeskeleton fell to laughter as well, the jovial sounds ringing throughout the surrounding gultch around them.
The combined Twins could not help the wide smile they bore on their shared face.