In Eragon as a Mage

Leo and Eragon moved quietly through the forest, the dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy above. The sounds of the Spine surrounded them—the chirping of birds, the rustle of leaves, and the distant trickle of a stream. Leo glanced back at Eragon, who was gripping his crude bow tightly, his face a mix of determination and nervousness.

"First thing," Leo said in a low voice, crouching down near a patch of disturbed soil, "is to learn how to read the signs animals leave behind. See here?" He pointed to a set of small tracks. "That's a rabbit. Look at the shape of the paw prints and how close they are together. It's been hopping, probably not long ago."

Eragon knelt beside him, studying the tracks with wide eyes. "How can you tell how fresh they are?"

Leo reached out and touched the soil. "It's still soft, and there's no debris settled into the tracks yet. The rabbit might still be nearby. Come on." He stood and began following the trail, motioning for Eragon to stay close.

As they moved, Leo spoke in hushed tones. "Hunting isn't just about shooting an arrow. You need to understand the habits of the animals you're tracking. Rabbits like to stay near cover, so they'll stick close to bushes or thickets. If you're too loud or move too quickly, they'll bolt before you even see them."

Eragon nodded, his footsteps becoming more deliberate and quiet. "I never thought about it like that. I just figured I'd get lucky if I waited long enough."

Leo smirked. "Luck doesn't put food on the table. Skill does."

They continued following the tracks until Leo held up a hand, signaling Eragon to stop. He pointed to a patch of tall grass where a rabbit was nibbling on a stem. Eragon's eyes widened, and he slowly raised his bow, nocking an arrow.

"Wait," Leo whispered. "Watch it first. See how it moves. Rabbits are fast, and they'll dart in unpredictable directions. You need to aim where it's going to be, not where it is."

Eragon lowered the bow slightly, watching the rabbit as it twitched its nose and hopped to another patch of grass. He nodded, taking in Leo's advice. Slowly, he raised the bow again, pulling the string back as quietly as he could. He held his breath, his focus narrowing to the rabbit.

The arrow flew, striking the ground just inches away from the rabbit. Startled, it darted into the underbrush and vanished. Eragon groaned, lowering his bow. "I missed."

"You got close," Leo said, clapping him on the shoulder. "For your first real attempt, that's not bad. You'll get better with practice."

Eragon sighed but managed a small smile. "Thanks. I guess it's harder than it looks."

Leo chuckled. "It always is. Come on, let's find another trail. We'll keep at it until you get your first rabbit."

As they continued through the forest, Leo shared more tips, showing Eragon how to move silently, how to use the wind to mask their scent, and how to spot subtle signs of animal activity. The younger boy soaked it all in, asking questions and trying to mimic Leo's movements.

By the time the sun began to dip lower in the sky, Eragon was starting to look more confident. Though they hadn't caught anything yet, the progress was clear. Leo felt a small sense of pride watching Eragon's determination. It reminded him of his own early days in the Spine, learning these same lessons from his father.

As they returned to the clearing where they had started, Eragon turned to Leo. "Thanks for teaching me. I didn't realize how much there was to learn about hunting."

"It's not just about the hunt," Leo said. "It's about understanding the forest and the creatures in it. Once you do that, hunting becomes second nature."

Eragon nodded thoughtfully. "Maybe next time, I'll actually hit something."

Leo grinned. "You will. Just keep practicing. Now, you'd better head home before it gets dark. The Spine isn't the safest place after sundown."

Eragon gave him a grateful smile. "See you around, Leo."

"See you," Leo replied, watching as the boy headed back toward the outskirts of Carvahall. Once Eragon was out of sight, Leo turned and began making his way home, his thoughts drifting back to the compendium and the whispers that still haunted his mind. The forest around him seemed a little quieter, a little darker, as if it, too, was waiting for what was to come.

The sun dipped lower on the horizon, painting the sky in hues of amber and violet as Leo finally parted ways with Eragon. The boy had listened intently to every piece of advice Leo had given, but now it was time to leave the fields behind and return to the mountains.

The weight of his pack pulled on his shoulders as he took the first steps back up the rugged path. Every muscle in his body ached, the aftermath of his encounter with the Roc still lingering. He adjusted the strap of his bag, shifting the uneven burden of the harvested Roc parts and the meat he'd managed to secure earlier.

The cool mountain air bit at his face as the forest canopy thickened above him. Shadows lengthened, and the once-familiar trail seemed more ominous in the dim light. Each step up the incline grew heavier, the crunch of his boots against the gravel path the only sound breaking the eerie silence.

The compendium was silent now, tucked safely into his bag, but its cryptic whispers lingered in his thoughts. A price paid. A debt owed. The words sent a chill down his spine. It had absorbed the blood of the Roc, but what had it taken from him in return?

Leo shook the thought away. Now wasn't the time for such questions. His father would be waiting, likely preparing the cabin for another cold night. The thought of a warm fire and his father's steady, quiet presence spurred him onward.

As he ascended higher, the path became treacherous. Loose rocks slid underfoot, threatening to send him tumbling back down the mountain. He tightened his grip on the walking stick he'd carved years ago, using it to steady himself.

Halfway up the climb, he stopped to catch his breath. The forest opened briefly to a rocky outcrop, and Leo took the opportunity to rest, sitting on the edge of the cliff. From here, he could see the faint glow of Carvahall in the distance, the village he had left behind hours ago. It seemed so small from up here, its bustling life reduced to pinpricks of light.

For a moment, he let himself relax. The silence of the mountains enveloped him, broken only by the rustle of leaves and the distant hoot of an owl. But even in this stillness, a sense of unease lingered. He felt the weight of his decisions, the risks he had taken and the secrets he carried.

The journey resumed, the familiar landmarks of the trail gradually appearing as the stars began to dot the sky. The soft glow of moonlight illuminated the cabin as it finally came into view. Relief washed over Leo at the sight of its sturdy wooden walls and the faint flicker of firelight visible through the window.

When he reached the door, he paused, his hand resting on the worn wood. The events of the past days felt heavy on his shoulders—the Roc, the compendium, the secrets he carried. He pushed the door open, the warmth of the cabin greeting him like an old friend.

His father looked up from his place by the fire, his expression as stoic as ever but his eyes betraying a flicker of concern.

"You're late," his father said simply, setting down the knife he'd been using to whittle a piece of wood.

"I ran into trouble," Leo replied, his voice weary. He dropped his pack by the door and moved to sit near the fire.

His father studied him for a moment before nodding, accepting the explanation without pressing for details. It was their way—words weren't necessary when silence said enough.

As Leo warmed himself by the fire, his thoughts drifted back to the compendium. Its secrets were dangerous, but they were also his. And with each step he took, he felt himself drawn deeper into its mysteries, unable to turn back.

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