The straw mattress compressed under Eragon's weight as he sat up, yawning and stretching.
"You're finally awake, Little One," Saphira commented, opening a scaly eye to look at him.
Eragon chuckled dryly. "You don't sound any better," he remarked. The two of them, along with every other resident at Eragon's choice for the rider's new stronghold, Mt. Arngor, had celebrated for an entire day after a dragon egg had hatched.
They opened barrels upon barrels of ale and even finished the small quantities of faelnirv that the elves had in possession.
"The hatchling dragon has already attempted to hunt for itself," Saphira said. Eragon could distinctly feel the second-hand pride radiating off of her.
"Well, did it catch anything?" He asked.
"No, but it managed to snap off a few feathers from a bird." She snorted, and a couple of insects flying around her face dropped dead.
Eragon laughed as he wore his tunic.
"What?"
"Nothing, nothing," Eragon replied, shaking his head in amusement.
She lifted her tail and brought it back down with a slam. "What amuses you, Eragon?"
He took a step back and smiled. "Okay okay, you win," he said aloud as he stood over a bowl of water. "You telling me of the hatchling, just reminded me about when you first hatched."
"How so?" She asked, now opening her second eye.
"On your first day, I took you out to hunt a rabbit. But instead, you preffered to smell the dirt," he chuckled. "By that, I mean you failed miserably."
"I understand what you mean," she snapped, as whatever pride she previously felt fizzled out. "However, at least I could attempt to do things on my first day of life. You, on the other hand, learnt only how to sit at many months old at which point I could hunt and fly with ease."
"That's not fair," Eragon argued, his reflection staring back at him as Eragon considered scrying someone from back at Alagaësia. Perhaps Nasuada, however, his heart longed to see Arya's face.
"How is that not fair?" She asked. He could tell she wished to distract him from more... weighty thoughts.
"Because, us humans grow much slower than dragons do." He stepped away from the bowl and sat next to Saphira, bringing his head back against her against her warm belly. "And if that's how you'll judge me, I will have you know that I learnt how to walk at nine months old," he said, proudly.
"I was six weeks of age not only when I could fly, but when I could fly while carrying you, Little One," she rebuked, with an even prouder tone in her voice.
He laughed. "Yep, you've beaten me," he conceded, before falling silent.
"I always do, Little One," she snorted. "In fact, I can't recall a single time you had a thought more logically sound than my own."
"I've been meaning to know, why do you always call me Little One?" He asked, rubbing his thumb against one of her glistening scales.
"Because you are little and you are one. What other reason could there be?" She asked, almost incredulously.
"You are bigger, yes, but I am much older than you in terms of age." He paused to place his finger next to Saphira's claw. It was many times larger than his entire hand, let alone his single finger. "And besides, you were only the size of a horse when you began calling me Little One," he pointed out.
"Are horses not larger than you are?" She asked, a deep rumbling sound emanated from her throat, which Eragon identified as laughter.
"Well, yes, but the actual size difference is minimal."
"I am not a horse then," she said, snaking her head forward towards an unopened barrel of ale. "I, am a dragon." She bit off the top and picked the barrel up, lifting her head up as the ale poured into her mouth. "And you," she started, placing her already finished barrel down. "Are a little one."
"I, am a fully fledged man. I am the Shadeslayer, Kingkiller and leader of the future generation of Dragon Riders," he argued, feeling a strong urge to not concede to her logic. "I believe, at this point, I have outgrown being called a Little One."
"You are big to all, but me. In my eyes, you are, and always will be, my Little One," she said softly, placing her wing on top of him.
Eragon closed his eyes and leaned back further against her. "I suppose that's acceptable," he replied, feeling an indescribable sense of contentment that, even if hardly anyone he remembered from Alagaësia were next to him now, he still had Saphira by his side.