Astrid shivered in the chilly night. Although she had her hood on, the cold pricked her bare arms and wove through the skin on her face. And there was a wind: a howling wind that swept through the woods with its fury, collecting brambles and twigs, and disposing them far away.

So what was she doing here, again?

Astrid hugged her knees together, bracing against another round of icy gale. The sky had erupted in fiery colors of orange, tinged with pink, and the sun, though present, did not bring warmth to the island of Berk. And Astrid remembered why she was sitting on this cliff again.

She had hoped the bite in the air would cleanse her rampant thoughts. That was one reason. The other reason, however, lay in the neverending sky above her. She closed her eyes and inhaled, savoring the sharp sweetness of the air tickling against her nostrils, and the cool rush through the inside of her head: the coldness had brazenly whisked away any trace of fire and pain from her mind and brought a state of relaxation to her muscles, which she hadn't even noticed were stiff and tense a moment before.

"Good evening, milady."

His voice was hoarse, and he sounded tired. When had it become the usual?

He sat down beside her, with one knee up. "Are you cold?"

"Not anymore," she whispered to herself, shyness creeping up her face. "Not really," she said aloud, "Aren't Vikings tough against the cold?"

"Yes, but I'm an exception." He managed to laugh, but there was no mirth nor warmth in it. "And it's colder than usual."

Hiccup stared at the dazzling sight of the sky, eyes mesmerized. "Do you remember?" he said. He sounded like he was in a distant place, somewhere Astrid couldn't reach with just the hands folded in her lap. No, she needed much more than that, a stronger, more impulsive force, to drag the boy back to the familiarity of Berk and out of the blurred reality Hiccup was living in at the moment.

"Remember what?" She didn't mean to paint her tone with a scathing sharpness, but it came out without her control. Astrid was furious at herself; she mentally whacked herself and forced her mouth to repeat the sentence, with a much gentler voice.

Astrid knew it would take some time for him to come out of the warm, secure cocoon he had built around himself.

"The first time you flew. The sky looked the same as now, all bright colors and swirls." He scratched his head, bashful. "Though it was prettier than this one, because it was the first time I flew with you."

She resisted the strange feelings bubbling up from her stomach and pouring into her chest. Her throat tightened, and while she wanted to consolidate him, she was afraid that the moment she opened her mouth, her voice would hitch and her emotions would all rush out in a single, twisted outburst mingled with moisture from her tears. So Astrid merely hit his side lightly, her mind was elsewhere. Had she really exited the comfort of home just to see this?

She heard Hiccup's blissful voice somewhere in the back of her mind. "It would be nice if we could do that again... "

Her hand clenched into a fist, and Astrid swallowed down the urge to cry; she had already done that this morning and was determined not to do it again. Her fingers picked straws of grass aimlessly; before she knew it, she had closed her entire hand over the grass and patches of it flew out into the air. The bitter wind came back, and it wasn't until the sun started setting that Astrid noticed the glistening in Hiccup's eyes.

"Are... are you okay?" Astrid pressed, turning her head to face his. What she was met with was a face shining with rivulets of tears, his cheeks red as the racing paint he once wore proudly to each and every race he could make time to attend.

"I... I forgot..." A tear rolled down his face. "He's not here anymore. He really isn't here anymore."

Here it was. The telltale twinge in her gut gave her a sign that a storm was soon to come. She slid closer to him and let him cry on her shoulder, as she felt her own eyes well up. His sobs echoed in the still night.

She would never be able to fly again, to feel the wind blasting at her face, to grasp freedom in her insignificant, human hands - she would never feel the joy of seeing her dragon in the morning, who perked up whenever she caught sight of the Viking and would run over. She would never experience anything close to that ever again... because none of the dragons were left on Berk. And it must have been their mistake that led to this tragedy; how else could Astrid describe the squeeze of guilt in her chest?

Toothless meant a lot to Hiccup. Losing his best friend was like tearing his heart apart and trying to put them back together, only to notice that parts of it were missing and would remain missing for the rest of his life. Astrid witnessed the pain poured out in the wracked sobs Hiccup gave out; his breathing had fluctuated so much that he would die from not getting enough air, if he had let his cries melt into his subconscious process.

And she let out the most painful, wild cry you could ever imagine.

Her tears, warm as they were, slid down in big, fat drops on cold skin. Her hands pressed against the uncomfortable prick of grass and dirt as she began ripping the foliage into shreds. She pushed as much sorrow from her heart over the cliff, and let the words fall into the roiling sea below, not caring if anyone heard her.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as Hiccup, still crying, looping an arm to hug her around her waist. Her hand reached out to him as well. Slowly, but surely. Her fingertips touched the leather, and his sobs seemed to lessen, just a bit. Astrid bit her bottom lip, and gave a small, shaky smile.

The sky had darkened since, an empty cavity of space with pinpricks of light. And for a moment, Astrid swore that a shadow of a Night Fury crossed the stars.