There is nothing more beautiful than the moon casting its glowing silvery shadow on a cool, clear, calm, glassy lake just a few hours before the sun would start to rise. Especially on the first day of spring. When the air is still cold but shows promise of warmth. The higher you go though, the colder the air gets. Rising by the power of her own wings, Saphira soared over the world below her. Her shining sapphire blue scales catching every little glimmer of light from both the moon and its reflection. Oh, how she wished her Rider could be on her back soaring along with her, but Eragon insisted on riding with his semi-elderly friend Brom on their excruciatingly slow horses. Well at least compared to her dragon speed they were slow.

Sure he rode with her occasionally, but those times were few and far between. She missed feeling the little weight he had on her back. But he felt he should be with Brom to protect him and learn from him. So she let him do as he wished, and just flew on her own. But she often enjoyed pretending that he was with her. They would talk through their mind link, but she would pretend he was shouting the words over the wind flying by his face as they soared. But sadly, it was not so.