The Inheritance Cycle belongs to Christopher Paolini. I do not own anything.

While walking back to her tent from the meeting with Nasuada, Eragon, and Saphira, Arya thought back on the day's events and was amazed how much had happened in such a short time. She had fought in the battle for Feinster, almost died while trying to bring the wall down, been rescued by Eragon and Saphira, killed a Shade, learned of the deaths of Oromis and Glaedr, and been illuminated about the existence of Eldunari. Arya shook her head and thought as she arrived at her tent, It is no wonder that I am so tired.

She entered the dwelling and whispered, "Brisingr!" to light a candle. In the illumination she glanced ruefully around the small space. The only two items in the room were a cot that could easily be folded up and a small bag of clothes. Arya was still carrying her sword and bow. Of the few tents she had seen, hers and Eragon's were the sparsest. They had been traveling for so long that they now only brought the essentials with them.

Sighing, Arya sat down on her cot and pulled off her Elvin made boots. Without even bothering to undress, she lay down on the cot and waited to fall into her waking dreams. She had hoped that she was exhausted enough to avoid her recurrent insomnia, but unfortunately, that obviously wasn't the case. Sitting up, Arya muttered, "Barzul." She knew what would come next.

Memories started to assail her, and she put her head in her hands, trying to stop them. Every night, Arya was forced to relive all of the losses she experienced over her century-long life. She saw her father, tall and proud, and then her mother coming to tell her he was dead; something she was too little to understand. Next came Glenwing singing to her and Faolin- Faolin. The elf she loved. Both of them lying dead on the ground with a dozen arrows in their bodies. Then Ajihad, Brom, and now Oromis and Glaedr. She remembered running to the dwelling of the ancient rider and his dragon to find comfort after yet another disagreement with her mother. She remembered Oromis' kind face smiling at her as he reassured her. She remembered Glaedr's calming presence. How could they all be gone? Almost everyone she cared about. No. Almost everyone who cared about her except for Eragon and Saphira…

Arya shivered as she remembered earlier in the night, crying in Eragon's arms. It had felt almost…right…to be comforted by Eragon. No. What was she thinking? This was not Arya. Arya was stronger than this. She never expressed her emotions, never even allowed herself to feel them, which, she considered, was probably why she was haunted by the past every night. Regardless, she knew she needed to get control over her emotions.

With a great effort, Arya forced herself to swallow everything she was feeling until she felt the blessed numbness sweep over her. The grief, exhaustion, despair, and fear seemed to fall away, but she knew it would be back, for it was not gone, but rather pushed deep down inside of her. Finally, she was able to lie back down for the second time, and this time she drifted into her waking dreams.