17ransokadj

Sassa circles over the Stronghold, anxiously looking into all of the different holes in the stone roof, looking for any hint of Eric. She had followed him for a few minutes by sound, but the castle had too many passageways. The echoes from Eric's running reverberated through the entire castle, making it near impossible to track him with absolute accuracy. The Stronghold is quiet now. She can't hear any sign of him moving anywhere. She continues circling, unsure of what else to do. Then in the faint moonlight, she sees him. He is in the bottom of one of the biggest holes in the entire castle, curled up on the ground. Sassa descends towards him. The hole in the Stronghold is just big enough for her to slip into. She glides in and lands on the floor of the crater, crushing some of the stone bricks scattered around on the ground. Eric doesn't react to her presence. She steps over to him, worried that it is already too late. He is still breathing, looking at the wall with an empty

Eric is cold. Not as cold as he was before, but still dangerously so. He listens for any noises, any sign that the dragon is still out there. He has been sitting in the room in front of the sturdy wood door for a while, listening and trying not to breathe. He risks shifting on the stone floor, stops, and waits for any noise... It is silent. He shivers, teeth chattering. The floor is cold, but it is warmer in here than out in the freezing wind. Feeling a little more secure that the dragon has decided not to come after him, Eric looks around the room. It appears to have once been a study. There is a warped and shattered desk in the corner as well as the remains of a cushioned chair. On the wall behind the desk, there is a thick holey tapestry on the wall. The designs on it are faded and impossible to make out. Hopeful, Eric gets up off the floor and hobbles over to it, legs and feet stiff from sitting still on the cold stone for so long. He reaches over the desk and grabs the tapestry.

The air is crisp, but refreshing. Eric takes a big swig of it, filling his lungs to capacity before letting out a cloud of steamy breath. He surveys the landscape below him, as happy as he can be. Winter is coming and his village is preparing for their annual harvest feast. In fact, it will be happening tonight in celebration of their good fortune with their cattle and crops. Eric sighs in contentment. He is out on a hike to get away from the hustle and bustle of the village and to see the view from the ridge one last time before the snows come into the valley. Eric is 16 years old and is the son of a shepherd and his wife. He has no brothers or sisters, but that is fine with him because he has his best friend Jeb to spend time with. His village consists of about a dozen cottages and their inhabitants. Eric looks out at the surrounding area and to the valley below him, before turning his gaze to his right, up to one of the mountains to the north. Sitting on the side of one of the