The first time he tripped, he remained on the ground for a good five minutes. The quick sensation of falling had been all too familiar for the young viking, but the jarring motion of the moment when his body hit the ground had come as a vague surprise. He had almost forgotten what that felt like. He hadn't made it all the way to the floor in ages; Toothless was always there to prevent that. But not this time. Not now.

And so he laid there, sprawled ungracefully on the unforgiving earth, clothes dirty, knees bruised, and palms stinging and probably bloody, too. He could have gotten up. Brushed the dirt off his clothes, ran his hands under some water, walked away no worse for the wear. He was fine. Except that he wasn't - not with Toothless gone. The absence of his dragon had pained him immediately, as soon as he had lost sight of his Night Fury over the curve of the horizon. But this pain now was different. Like Toothless' absence hadn't really sunk in before. Not until this very moment, lying on hard ground, bruised and scraped up beneath the cold gray sky that had never seemed so distant.

After a while, Hiccup gathered what willpower he could find within himself, and pushed himself up onto his knees. Another minute, and he found the will to stand. He frowned; getting up had never been so difficult.

With a sigh, he turned to face the ocean. A gentle breeze greeted him, gently moving his hair out of his face, like the caring touch of a lover. He closed his eyes. Gods, how he missed the sky. And gods, how he missed his dragon. The breeze picked up then - more of a hurried wind now - and Hiccup opened his eyes. One last sigh, and he raised himself to his full height, pushing the constant pain of his dragon's absence to the back of his mind. Right now, there was work to be done. Evidence to be found. Dragons to be brought home. Because that was exactly what he was going to do, no matter how long it took, no matter what he had to do.

"See you soon, buddy," he whispered to the breeze, a small smile playing on his lips. "I'll be back for you. Just like I promised."

…

Toothless had never really given much thought to what his life would be like without Hiccup. Such thoughts became even rarer as the two became closer; life without Hiccup was something too unpleasant to think of. However, when he had thought of it - in the very early days of tentative trust, frustrating miscommunications, and hidden coves - he had always figured that the thing he would miss most was his flight. He had imagined that Hiccup's absence would be most strongly felt when he looked up at the sky, or when he was doused in shadow from a dragon flying happily overhead, or when he felt the stirring of the wind that he had once been master over.

But all of those speculations had been wrong. He missed his flight - of course he did. But, musing to himself on the remote rocky island that was far too distant from his human, he realized when Hiccup's absence was really most strongly felt.

It was when the rising sun stretched its golden rays across the horizon, and woke Toothless from his sleep. Or, more accurately, the moment after that, when the sleepy morning haze vanishes in place of reality. The moment when Toothless looks around and sees not a warm wooden house, but a cold empty cave. There are no floorboards; there is no window; there is no bed. And, painfully, there is no Hiccup. No sleepy, teeth-filled human smiles. No kind gestures or warm words. No "good morning, bud". Not today.

And so Toothless sat on the edge of the island, head bowed in sadness, eyes gazing forlornly over the ocean waves. He stared in the direction of Berk, wondering vaguely if Hiccup was thinking of him now, or if his rider missed him as much as he missed Hiccup. A discontent grumble escaped the Night Fury's throat. He remembered when he used to enjoy mornings. Then realized, with a start, that that had not been too long ago. But it felt long. Too long…

The gentle ocean breeze suddenly kicked up a notch, and Toothless, inexplicably, was suddenly reminded of Hiccup's last words to him. "It's gonna be okay, Toothless," he had said. "Trust me."

Trust me.

And suddenly, the prospect of the next morning did not seem so horrible. Yes, opening his eyes to an empty cave would sting him nonetheless, but another morning meant another day closer to Hiccup's return. "I'll be back for you," Hiccup had said. "I promise."

Trust me.

The wind died down to a gentle breeze once more, and Toothless felt himself relax with it. Because he could lose his flight; he could lose his energy; he could lose his life, even. But he would never lose his trust in Hiccup. So, Hiccup would be back. It was a simple matter of trust - something the two of them knew extremely well. Hiccup would be back. Toothless trusted in him.