Author's note: I take claim of nothing ye hear! The characters herein belong to Disney/Pixar, DreamWorks, William Joyce, Cressida Cowell and all the other respective owners.

Big thanks for making me check twice after posting here and to my sister for some casual ideas… and for knocking my noggin' around so I'd sit down and write this down.

February 5th 2014 - 21:36 - Twenty two hours before the match

Jack chuckled at his friends laughing and singing. To be flying in first class for a little match in England only made the mood grow more. Who'd have thought that a bunch of teens would travel to Europe just to play ice hockey at the Russian Olympics anyway?

"We'll make those brits know what real pain is, am I right guys?" A boy yelled from the back.

"Yeah, they'll never see it coming!" Another one replied gleefully while the rest of the team raised their drinks. Jack raised his hockey stick along with a quiet yet warm laugh. The 'staff' as everyone called it. They said he made magic with it, and funnily enough, he often believed that too.

"No team is match for the Burgess Fucking Winter Wolves!" The group boomed loudly. "Yeah, not while we have the Jack Fucking Winter Frost with us!" Another cheer thundered across.

He couldn't hide his smirk at that title; he'd never tried to. Jack sank deeper into his seat and set his mind loose to drift away looking around while the rest of the team began to sing again, the smile growing wider. Three years ago he got into the local team as a complete nobody and slowly made his way up till he became the best one around. He was a natural, but never bragged about it. He just wanted to have fun, and he always had it.

When he peeked through the window he felt like being in the middle of a dream. It was night, there were no clouds around and hundreds of glimmering stars completed the sky. He tried looking down into the ocean but he saw nothing but darkness. Then his eyes widened when something else caught his attention. Something not so different from the stars yet somewhat greater and more beautiful reflected in his blue eyes. The greatest full moon he had ever seen hung in the middle of the night sky. It was so big and it was so bright. The stars were but mere lanterns against it. This was a light he'd never seen before. The longer he stared the bigger it got, and he felt submerged in that light. A warmth he'd never sensed before touched his very centre. Alas, the warmth disappeared as the captain announced that they were going to land soon.

And when they did, the light vanished as well. And the dream ended.

As soon as he got outside the plane, he noticed it.

The moon shone over the asphalt floor as the team slowly walked out of the plane. Jack's brow furrowed as he looked around searching; there was nobody outside. No workers or guards or even friendly faces waiting for their arrival. Not even a single soul was there.

"Something's up…" The words were just a whisper in the cold night, he wasn't even sure if he had said those words.

He shifted his bag over his shoulder and began to slowly lead the group inside the airport, stopping in front of the large doors and tightening the grip on his stick unconsciously. It felt like hours had passed between the landing and now. When he finally opened them, a horrid crescendo of hundreds and hundreds of terrified shouts stunned the boy.

It was chaos. The lights were out, the once warm rays of the moon now felt cold and grim. It was a maze of people in complete desperation, screaming and crying, crawling and running under the dim lights. They were only but mere dark blurs in Jack's eyes, just as ghosts in a nightmare. Little by little, the light revealed someone: a little girl standing motionless in complete shock, just like him. They locked eyes for an eternity, then a sudden mob appeared from the darkness and she was gone. What was happening? If she screamed he couldn't hear it, there was too much noise. His heart froze, his brain was screaming at him to move, to run. But his legs didn't respond.

Thank God somebody grabbed his shoulder from behind and pulled him back into reality.

But when the grip turned to pain he reacted and glanced back. Jack found that he was alone; his friends weren't behind him anymore. Tracking the dark hand that clenched the flesh of his shoulder he found him.

No, it couldn't be a him. It couldn't be human. It wasn't alive.

The white eyes staring at him lacked any sign of life. The light of the moon slowly revealed the torn clothes and rotten skin. A low moan escaped that mouth, filling the air with the stench of death. It sent shivers down his spine, and at that moment somehow he felt in control of himself again; felt the stick in his hand, and knew what he had to do. He didn't hear the hit, but he knew-felt that it was doing it. And he did it again. And again. And again. And again. He closed his eyes as his arm kept moving, and then felt that it wasn't standing there anymore. It was probably lying on the floor dead… or whatever it was now.

When he opened his eyes breathing deep pants he found the bodyon the ground just as he thought, but when he noticed the pool surrounding it realization hit him. That was blood, rotten blood by the stench of it, and it wasn't just on the floor with that thing; there were stains all over his stick, his hands and his clothes. He just stared at it in shock, to take a life was something he never even imagined doing. But that wasn't alive, he didn't kill it, it was already dead. His mind began to spin along with his stomach before he fell to the ground on his knees, his hands never dropping the weapon, and fought the sick feeling rising inside. He had to leave this hellhole.

He looked around for a way out, an exit, an escape. He saw blurry figures engulfed in darkness again. And then, for the second time, the fragile light of the moon shone through the large windows showing him the way.

He got on his feet trembling, the air feeling heavier and thicker, and dashed forward, dodging and bumping whatever things were in his way, and broke the crystal in a shout.

But even though his legs kept running, the noise never faded away. The screams were still there; inside his mind and on the streets. Those eyes were still there, haunting him. It didn't matter anymore, he just kept running.

He didn't look back.

February 7th 2014 - 14:42 - Two days after official announcement

Looking back around her shoulder she found nothing but snow, the sky was grey and the freezing gust was unbearable. She had never been this cold in all of her life. Her tore coat did a poor job at maintaining the heat and the snowstorm was too much for her; struggling was pointless.

Memories flooded her mind as she dropped to the frozen floor. The snow covering the streets slowly reached her knees that were held close to her chest shaking, her blonde hair covering her shoulders and back.

When Rapunzel saw the news on TV she didn't believe it. It was like in the movies. She stared at the screen in disbelief until reality hit her and the mug in her hand fell: Flynn hadn't returned. He was supposed to be back already. He was outside In the middle of the chaos. This shouldn't be happening. They were on a small trip for crying out loud.

Her heart pounded with the strength of a hammer when fear began to grow. She shook her head not even daring to think the worst. It didn't matter what he'd say, she wouldn't stay there doing nothing.

There was no time. She put on her coat and placed Pascal on her pocket before hurrying outside their room. Her braid began to loosen as she almost tripped dashing down the stairs, blonde locks flying behind her before she hastily opened the door to the entrance room.

The lounge which was usually full with tourists and groups and couples laughing and chatting about their everyday lives was completely empty. The windows were broken, the large curtains tore apart and the floor was full of blood-Oh gosh there was so much blood-Rapunzel tried to avoid it and carefully made her way outside. She couldn't even look at it. The feeling rising through her throat was as awful as the smell of the entire room.

She didn't notice her bare feet until a chill ran down her spine when she stepped outside. She forgot to wear her shoes again. She always did. Mother never objected about that anyway, her home was always warm and cosy. But now it was cold, and without realizing it she was in the middle of the havoc, fighting through the crowd to find him.

Her green eyes widened at the giant painting: buildings on fire, people breaking into stores, cars blowing up, hundreds of undead chasing people at horrid speed, police officers barely holding off both the panicked crowd and the infected, dead bodies over the snow. The image was as horrible as it was surreal.

And then she saw him.

It all happened too fast. The fright in Flynn's eyes when they met hers, the way they shouted their names, their hands reaching out in desperation, the unbearably vast distance between them, the incessant struggle, the sirens, the undead, the crowd splitting in two, the rising fear turning into panic, her heart in her throat when she found him again, his screams of pain, the moans of them, all the tainted snow…

A strong gust blew wild in the blizzard throwing her into the present. She didn't cry; tears had run out long ago. Her closed eyes were pressed tightly against her knees as the pain and hunger overwhelmed her numb body. Pascal was shaking inside her pocket. She couldn't feel her hands or her feet anymore. This was it. At least she was with a friend.

She opened her eyes barely to take in the scenery for one last time. It was all white; the hail filled the air and the ground. The only sound was the roar of the wind. But in all that, she noticed something else. Her eyes recognised a dark shape at the distance. With what little strength was left, she struggled up to her feet to get a better look, that little spark of hope barely alive in her chest, but it was pointless. Maybe it was one of those things, maybe she was meant to be like that, like one of them. Shutting her eyes again, Rapunzel apologised to her mother for one last time with a whisper before her will gave up and she passed out dropping on the floor.

She didn't feel being wrapped around arms that lifted her off the street. She didn't feel the movements or the shadow's voice in the raging white.

April 12th 2014 - 18:30 - Roughly a week after Military Containment Plan's fourth attempt

Those things weren't supposed to be so bloody fast anyway.

And even though Angus had outrun them with ease, she knew she couldn't be riding him all night long. They both needed rest. The horse was lucky actually, being able to eat grass and all that. Merida on the other hand had to hunt something down or find a town soon, heck even a bird would do. Who knows, maybe she'd sneak up on one of those bandit camps scattered over the road, or with her luck a rescue party would be able to find her and take her to one of those refugee areas... or maybe Angus would sprout wings and fly to France to greet her family for a cup of tea.

Her face betrayed a sad smile at the memory of them. It had been months, but they should be alright. She was glad she'd been able to phone them when the news reached the house before the lines and satellites were out. They were in a type of underground bunker hidden in the European Committee, and assured her that they were completely safe. Unfortunately they couldn't travel back home until the situation was under control. And if something went wrong down there, she told herself there was nothing to worry about. Dad knew how to survive and she trusted Mum to take the right decisions, more so after the 'incident' a couple of years back; even the triplets could handle themselves now that they'd grown up a wee bit. They'd protect each other just as they've done before.

The setting sun over the west was unhurriedly darkening the land and turning the skies red. The rocking pines and green grass completed the picture with the horse slowly making its way along the path with steady and sound paces.

Due to past events, they've been avoiding the main roads. The woods had always been her second home, and now her current one. It took less than two months for all the supplies to run out. Then, with her dad's personal hunting armoury, she formed search parties to find food and survivors. A couple of weeks after there were almost a hundred refugees working together.

Alas, the worst had to arouse sooner or later.

Maybe it had been her fault; she was too tired and hungry to personally check for injuries that time. She only remembered flashes about it all now. Why someone would lie about that was still something her brain didn't understand but she felt sorry for that poor lad and all the lives lost. The few survivors left panicked and ran away, leaving the lass all alone with nothing left but rotting corpses and walking dead in the Main Hall. Luckily Angus was still with her.

And even if she enjoyed her privacy, the manor had been her home for her entire life—and for every DunBroch for that matter—nonetheless Merida knew that staying there was pointless, especially now that it was no longer impenetrable. So with bow in hand and her dad's personal rifle at her back she rode away. At first she went to the nearby cities and towns getting food amongst other supplies and camping in the wilderness with Angus; Mum would object at that of course, but it was her choice. Some weeks after a not so friendly encounter occurred with some scavengers, in which she regrettably exchanged the gun for food that lasted less than she had hoped for. Now they were making their way south to rack up yet again.

In truth, she didn't know what to do in the long run

A thin black column caught her attention while she was staring at the skies, the red now turning to a shade of blue. Maybe he would sprout wings after all; the camp couldn't be too far. Without hesitation she dismounted the horse and they walked towards the rising smoke.

Angus knew to stay hidden when they caught sight of the fire a few meters away, she had done this before and it was for the better to stay out of harm's way.

Hiding behind a tree with an arrow ready in her bow, Merida's sharp cerulean eyes scanned the camp. There was no one at the clearing. With the scent of smoke and burnt meat filling her lungs she reached the fire, logs and rocks placed around probably as seats, and her stomach rumbled at the sight of a couple of clumsily cooked bunnies ready for dinner. Her legs betrayed her and she stumbled to the ground, landing on her knees. She pulled her hood off revealing the wild mop of red curls before quick hands grabbed the sticks instinctively and she stuffed her gob like old times. If only Mum were here, she'd probably give her a lecture about being—

"Hey! That girl is eatin' up our food!" A voice sounded from behind. Three figures approached from the west, their faces dark. What was left of the sun's light behind them turned their shapes in mere shadows.

"Hey mate, ain't that the same bitch from last time?" More bandits again… Looks like they've lost some men too- Wait, why wasn't she moving?

"Well I'll be damned, guess we have to teach—"

The arrow pierced right in his left arm and he tumbled to the ground groaning, cursed hunger.

The remaining two hastily surrounded her as she readied another arrow. This time it struck right in the left one's chest while the other ran at her with a blade.

Barely dodging the blow she threw him off balance with a knee in the gut and a hard bow on his back before beginning to create some distance for one last shot.

"You're a fiery one eh twat?" A forth one came up from behind and grabbed her by the arms, the grip growing painfully as she struggled groaning. The other one got up and laughed quietly at the sight between heavy pants before walking towards her, flashes of reflected fire coming from the new dirty blade in the young night.

Then she saw the one with the arrow in his arm standing at the distance and pointing a rifle at her, fighting to maintain a steady arm. Now there were three pissed off crooks after her, two of them armed.

"Och sod yeh!" She cussed and stomped the fourth's foot so hard it hurt her own ankle. Fortunately she reacted faster than everyone else. The shot boomed through the air as Merida threw herself to the ground, blissfully avoiding the bullet. She gripped her bow tightly and reached to grab another arrow, but they were scattered around thanks to all the rolling and dodging.

A neigh echoed through the woods and to her surprise, her horse was stomping the back of the gunner mercilessly; she'd thank him later for not being the baby he usually was. Shoving the bandit aside with another hard swing of her bow she turned and grabbed an arrow as the other charged with the blade. In a flash of a second he dropped it and fell soundly, flooding the ground in blood with an arrow sticking out of his neck. Suddenly another scream caught her attention and her eyes widened.

The runners again, the noise of the rifle lured them here. That's why she used arrows in the first place. Angus hurried over to her neighing in worry while the gunner slowly stood up between curses and coughs. Merida managed to get some arrows back before the man readied the rifle and aimed, only to miss the shot as an avalanche of death ran over him.

There was no time, she slung her bow around her shoulder and climbed back on her horse before taking off with a trail of runners dashing after them. As they were leaving the glade, she felt a jerk at her side. Looking over she recognized the bandit from last time gripping the saddle and trying to throw her of the horse. Between kicks and punches they struggled for what felt like an eternity, the Clydesdale galloping in the night through bushes and jumping logs.

Thunders roared across the sky announcing the impending storm. There were now infected at both sides, running using both hands and legs like beasts. They pushed the horse off the path while trying to get the bandit and the rider, scratching her left leg in the process. One hand was clutching the reins while she tried to defend herself with the other. For a moment she became too focused on the infected that she didn't notice the man grabbing a thick branch. With a hard swing and a worst hit her head began spinning. The lass fell and rolled down a hill into the darkness losing consciousness.

April 13th 2014 - 06:47 - Fourth day of the journey

Dawn.

The docks were empty.

He stretched his arms trying to supress the marooned feeling again and the sighs that came along with it, leather creaking with the slothful movements. It wasn't loss of hope, he was too stubborn to give up, even after his twelfth... no, thirteenth attempt to find a way back.

The sound of the waves filled his ears along with the morning breeze, that and the black furry beast breathing at his side. It was just like being there again, but lacked everything that made it his. The shimmering waves reflecting the blue sky announced the arrival of the upcoming sun.

He didn't remember the last time he'd seen it, in fact he didn't recall seeing one at all.

Sunsets though, sunsets were a complete different thing. He remembered most of them to say the least.

Such a charming view...

And even if he didn't remember the first time he'd seen one, he knew that it had happened at home, alongside his family, when he still had the two of them.

He did remember watching it alone, waiting by the entrance of the field, in his room studying and re-reading books to escape reality before a sleepless night, walking by the cliffs near the docks when everybody else was hurrying away.

Then the other times flashed through his mind. When he still had his leg, working with Gobber in the garage till midnight, walking Toothless near the woods…

It was funny really, to be thinking about the ending when it was just the beginning.

And he imagined how his first time would be. It wouldn't be now, it wouldn't be here. His green eyes caught a small flash of gold over the horizon.

It truly would be a sight to behold.

So he closed them and waited; waited for that delicate moment to pass. He wanted to witness it again where it mattered. He spied the scent of the sea, the air, the sand and the salt; spied the sound of the zephyr, of Toothless, the waves and the passing time.

But time was something completely different now.

There was nothing but fog behind them, swarming with riddles and uncertainties of the past, the memories of those who were and weren't, all the wrong decisions he'd taken. And he felt a slight shiver from the cold, the same one he'd felt since the very beginning of all this-a remainder that he would never forget. The weight of the skies became heavier over his shoulders; the sound became noise as fear and longing began to grow back again.

Then a warmth rose from underneath, and the fog began to clear.

It rose from his feet to his legs and to his stomach. His chest rose when light stabbed it and filled his lungs with morning air. Then the lump in his throat faded with every new breath, his lips weren't dry anymore and the numbness finally left him as the sun touched his face.

And he finally greeted the whole star hovering over the horizon.

The bark of his friend reminded him of their endeavour and he patted its head with a chuckle, greenish eyes meeting his. He took a more careful look at the abandoned docks before walking towards a black bike leaning by a streetlamp and grabbed the open bag resting over the seat.

From it he took a map, a compass and a pencil. He sighed marking the place they were in with a cross and began to draw a route heading south over some roads and cities, then he circled the dots representing London and Folkestone. There were a lot more crosses in the northern-west side of the island. Now that there were no planes and no boats, it wouldn't be such an easy task.

It never was. But they had to try.

Toothless nudged his side with a low snuffle, waving its tail and tilting its head, as if knowing what was going on inside his mind and wanting to give his friend confidence.

"Hey, it's okay," He reassured with a smile and looked over to the sea again. It would take weeks, maybe more to get to the capital itself. "Looks like it's the long road for us…" He trailed off putting his things back in the bag and shifting it over his shoulders.

He picked up his helmet from the ground and mounted the bike starting the engine; Toothless hopped on behind him as he fastened his jacket and secured the straps of its collar. Placing his prosthetic in the pedal with the usual metallic sound, the bike roared and the soft breeze soon became gust.

They were nothing but distant blurs down the road now. The bike at full speed never stopped sounding so familiar in his ears, a remainder that he always found a way out, no matter how crazy it was.

And as the earth below felt like air and the wind rushed past them, he couldn't help but smile at the thought, ironic as it was.

The road back home always felt shorter.