In Eragon as a Mage

The sun rose steadily in the clear sky as Leo and his father set off on their journey back to the Spine. The wagon creaked under the weight of their supplies, the sound blending with the rhythmic clop of the horses' hooves on the packed dirt road.

The warmth of the morning did little to dispel the sense of unease that lingered over Leo. The necklace beneath his shirt felt heavier than it should, the strange whispers he had heard in Carvahall replaying in his mind. He had tried to dismiss the uneasiness as nerves, but as they traveled farther from the safety of the village, the feeling grew stronger.

"Stay sharp, Leo," his father said, his voice breaking through Leo's thoughts. He held the reins loosely, his eyes scanning the trees lining the road. "The wilderness can be unforgiving, especially this close to the Spine."

Leo nodded, his bow resting across his lap. Though the journey had been uneventful so far, he knew the dangers that lurked in the forests. Wolves, bears, and other predators were common, and the Spine itself had its share of mysteries.

The morning passed without incident, the only sounds the rustling of leaves and the occasional call of a bird. But as the sun began its descent, casting long shadows across the road, Leo felt the unease in his chest deepen.

His father pulled the wagon to a stop near a small clearing, intending to give the horses a break and check the supplies. "We'll stop here for a bit," he said, climbing down from the wagon.

Leo nodded and hopped down, stretching his legs. He wandered a short distance into the clearing, his eyes scanning the surrounding trees. The forest was quiet—too quiet.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He turned back toward the wagon, his hand instinctively reaching for his bow, but before he could say a word, a low growl echoed from the treeline.

"Wolves," his father said grimly, drawing the hunting knife from his belt.

The first wolf emerged from the shadows, its yellow eyes fixed on them. It was followed by another, and then three more, their movements sleek and predatory as they fanned out to surround the clearing.

Leo's heart pounded in his chest as he nocked an arrow, his hands steady despite the adrenaline coursing through him. His father moved to his side, his knife glinting in the fading sunlight.

"Stay calm," his father said, his voice low. "Aim true."

The first wolf lunged, its powerful body a blur of motion. Leo loosed his arrow, the shaft striking true and burying itself in the wolf's chest. The beast yelped and crumpled to the ground, but the others were undeterred.

Another wolf charged, and Leo's father met it head-on, slashing with his knife. The blade caught the wolf's side, and it yelped in pain, retreating for a moment.

Leo nocked another arrow, his focus narrowing to the third wolf as it circled to his left. He waited for the right moment, then released. The arrow struck the wolf in the throat, and it collapsed, its body twitching.

The fourth wolf leaped at his father, its teeth snapping inches from his arm. With a grunt, his father plunged his knife into its side, twisting the blade before shoving the beast away.

But the fifth wolf, larger and more aggressive than the others, seized the opportunity. It lunged at his father, its jaws closing around his forearm. His father cried out in pain as he struggled to fend off the creature.

"Father!" Leo shouted, dropping his bow and rushing forward. He grabbed an arrow from his quiver and thrust it into the wolf's side with all his strength. The beast snarled, releasing its grip on his father, and turned on Leo.

Before it could attack, his father, bleeding but determined, drove his knife into the wolf's neck. The beast let out a gurgling snarl before collapsing to the ground.

The clearing fell silent, the only sounds the heavy breathing of man and boy and the rustle of leaves in the breeze.

"Are you hurt?" Leo asked, kneeling beside his father.

His father grimaced, clutching his bleeding arm. "It's not too deep," he said through gritted teeth. "I'll be fine."

Leo tore a strip of cloth from his shirt and quickly wrapped it around the wound to stem the bleeding. His hands trembled slightly as he worked, the adrenaline beginning to wear off.

"We need to get you home," Leo said, his voice firm.

His father nodded, his face pale but resolute. "Load the supplies back into the wagon. We can't afford to stay here."

Leo moved quickly, gathering their scattered belongings and securing them in the wagon. The wolves' bodies lay still in the clearing, a grim reminder of the danger they had faced.

As he climbed onto the wagon seat and took the reins, Leo glanced at his father, who leaned back against the side, his injured arm cradled against his chest.

"We'll make it," Leo said, more to himself than to his father.

The journey home would be long and arduous, but Leo was determined. The Spine was their home, their sanctuary, and he wouldn't let anything keep them from it.

The forest around them seemed darker than usual as the wagon creaked along the uneven trail. The comforting chatter of birds and rustle of animals had disappeared, replaced by an oppressive silence that wrapped around them like a suffocating shroud.

Leo glanced over at his father, his heart sinking. His father's face was ashen, his lips set in a thin line as he clutched his injured arm. The makeshift bandage Leo had tied earlier was now soaked with blood, the crimson stain growing darker with each passing hour.

"You're pale," Leo said, his voice tight with worry.

"I'm fine," his father replied, though his voice lacked its usual strength. His breath came in shallow gasps, and his hand trembled where it rested on his lap.

"You're not fine," Leo muttered under his breath. He flicked the reins, urging the horses to pick up their pace. The wagon jolted and swayed as it rolled over rocks and tree roots, but they couldn't afford to slow down.

The sight of his father's condition gnawed at Leo's nerves. He had never seen the man—strong and stoic as the mountains they called home—look so fragile.

"We're close now," Leo said, trying to reassure both himself and his father. "Just a little farther, and we'll be home. You can rest."

His father gave a faint nod but said nothing.

The path ahead twisted and climbed, the dense trees forming an almost impenetrable canopy. The late afternoon light barely pierced through, casting long shadows across their path. Each bump in the road seemed to jar his father further, drawing a wince of pain that he tried to hide.

Leo's hands tightened around the reins. His mind raced, calculating how long it would take to reach the cabin. He glanced at the woods, half-expecting another danger to leap from the shadows.

"Leo," his father rasped, breaking the silence.

"Yes?"

"If anything happens... if I don't—"

"Don't," Leo interrupted sharply, his voice cracking. "Don't say that. You're going to make it."

His father gave a weak chuckle, though it turned into a cough. "Stubborn... just like your mother."

Leo clenched his jaw, his eyes stinging. "Save your strength," he said, his voice softer now.

The forest opened up slightly as they neared the final stretch of their journey. The familiar landmarks—an ancient, gnarled oak and a stream that cut through the trail—were a welcome sight, but the sight of their cabin was still agonizingly far away.

Leo glanced at his father again. His head had lolled back against the wagon's side, his eyes closed.

"Father!" Leo called, panic rising in his chest.

His father's eyes fluttered open. "Still here," he mumbled.

"Stay awake," Leo demanded. "We're almost there."

The cabin finally came into view, nestled against the mountainside. Smoke curled faintly from the chimney, the sight both comforting and urgent.

Leo guided the horses into the clearing and brought the wagon to a halt. He leapt down and hurried to his father's side.

"Let's get you inside," he said, his voice steady despite the fear churning in his gut.

His father grunted as Leo helped him down from the wagon, his weight heavy against Leo's shoulder. Together, they stumbled toward the cabin, each step a battle against time.

Once inside, Leo lowered his father onto the bed and began gathering supplies. He grabbed clean cloths, a bowl of water, and the small stash of herbs his father had taught him to use for wounds.

"You're going to be fine," Leo said, more to himself than to his father. His hands worked quickly, cleaning and re-bandaging the wound.

His father's breathing slowed, his face still unnaturally pale, but he managed a faint smile. "You've grown strong, Leo," he murmured.

Leo didn't reply, his focus entirely on tending to the wound. As he worked, a single thought repeated in his mind: I won't lose you. Not like this.

The night crept in, the forest outside alive with the sounds of predators and prey. But inside the cabin, the battle for his father's life had only just begun.