I already have one Sheepbiter here,” said Eragon, and laid a hand on Saphira. “Why would I need another?”
Angela broke out into a wide smile. “So you’re not entirely devoid of wit after all! There just might be hope for you.” And she danced off toward the keep, twirling her doublebladed staff by her side and muttering, “Fire? Bah!”
A soft growl emanated from Saphira, and she said, Be careful whom you call Sheepbiter, Eragon, or you might get bitten yourself.
Yes, Saphira.

Author: Christopher Paolini