"The eels are pulling the ship down!" Fishlegs cried, horrified, and indeed the ship's deck was beginning to tilt alarmingly. The Vikings stumbled in a futile attempt to regain their balance, but the slope of the deck was quickly sharpening to vertical. They lost the battle with gravity, fell to the deck, and began to slide with terrifying speed.
Snotlout's scrabbling fingers found purchase on a bit of extruding wood, and he grabbed onto it tightly, securely. Relief coursed hotly through his veins as he secured his own safety, but the others, he realized, were not so lucky. They would slide cleanly on the unfortunately-flat surface of the ship's deck, and plummet smoothly into the icy waters below, where the eels were waiting with open jaws. But that was not an option. It was never an option.
All of this ran through Snotlout's mind in just a fraction of a second, everything within him working on overdrive thanks to the adrenaline. And so, it seemed to be immediately after his fingers found purchase that he yelled out confidently, "Fishlegs, grab my foot!".
Yes, they had gone their separate ways of late, each pursuing their own future, finding their place in the new Berk that had arisen out of the ashes of the Red Death. And although they had not been together as often as they once had, it came back like second nature. So Fishlegs reached, and Ruffnut reached, and Tuffnut and Astrid reached, too. Their hands gripped each other's in a long, saving chain, and it was just like it had always been. Looking out for each other. Working as a team. Strong by themselves, but even stronger together. Unstoppable. Unconquerable. Undefeated.
"Oh, you ate a full breakfast," Snotlout groaned as Fishlegs' weight pulled down on him, quickly followed by the weight of the others. "You ate everybody's breakfast." With the combined weight and the pull of the gravity that was working so fiercely against them, Snotlout felt himself slip a little, dangerously close to losing his grip. But as the boat continued to sink slowly but surely towards the icy waters, the weight hanging off of his foot suddenly ceased to be a hindrance. It was a motivator now - a strong one. The weight reminded him most aptly that it was not his own life at stake; he was not the only one in danger. He gripped the wood tighter - a strong, unyielding hold - as he felt the power that comes only with doing something for others, rather than yourself. It was not himself he was saving, it was them. And losing them was not an option. So he held on with all of his strength, the rough wood strangely comforting against his straining fingers. It was tough, but his resolve was tougher. There was no way he was letting go.