From what she saw on their walk, the village had no castle or walls. The endless sea was one deterrent, she supposed, and the dragons another. She'd always thought that dragons were terrible beasties, carnivorous and cold, rampaging indiscriminately; here they waddled through the streets, perched on roofs, swooped overhead with gusts of wind in their wakes, and no one was fleeing in terror or being eaten alive. None of it was what she would have expected. She tried to look around without gawking, to notice without being noticed, to keep herself composed. Head up, shoulders back, her mother's voice reminded her; if you carry yourself with confidence, you will feel confident.

Outside the largest building they stopped while Toothless continued on his way. Most pets didn't just wander off from their masters like that, at least not in DunBroch. She cocked an eyebrow at Hiccup, and he shrugged first, then flapped his wings like some kind of lanky bird—a heron, maybe. Of course the dragon would go out flying. Merida watched him go, wondering if he came when Hiccup called.

This building seemed to serve the same purpose as the great hall at home, with tables around a huge circular hearth, and carved and painted decorations covering the walls. Stoick waited inside with an old woman who carried a long staff, an old man, thin and stooped, and a blond boy built like Young MacGuffin, though with a ready smile. They all but ignored Hiccup in favor of staring at her. It made her glad he'd found the comb.

She stood beside Hiccup as he spoke to them; all she understood were the names she'd learned and the word mother. Merida watched the old woman, wondering if she was a witch. The others respected her, that much was clear, even though she hadn't said a word yet. Wouldn't a witch be able to understand her, or do some magic that let them communicate? This time she had nothing to offer in return, and she wouldn't want Hiccup to give something up on her behalf. Besides, Merida wasn't sure she'd ask for help from a witch again—especially not one she couldn't understand.

The old man spoke then, and Hiccup seemed excited at whatever he was saying. The man turned to her, made a bit of a show of warming up, and let forth a torrent of noise. Sometimes the boys talked to each other in their own language, and this sounded a bit like that; the last time she'd heard anything similar from an adult had been one of her kidnappers getting seasick in the storm. The noise changed to something more pleasant and rolling, and then to a pounding chant. It was obvious from the others' expressions that they were hoping she'd understand something of it, but though she listened carefully, there was nothing that even came close to her earlier discovery with Hiccup.

He looked so dejected as she shook her head apologetically. The poor lad was trying so hard, and it seemed like there was nothing she could do to help. At a few words from Stoick he looked up, though, producing a small book and a stick of charcoal; and when the old woman spoke he brightened considerably—and then looked embarrassed immediately after as the woman laughed.

Hiccup moved to sit at one of the tables nearby and she followed him, sitting and waiting as he tapped his fingers against the scarred wood, deep in thought. Then on a blank page of his book he sketched a skinny body with an artificial leg that was obviously an oversimplified version of himself. "Hiccup," she said. Next to it he added the large figure of his father, and she laughed. "Stoick." Around the pair he drew their house; then the rest of the village, then the surrounding area. Though he drew quickly, his movements were fluid and his face was relaxed. Just watching him draw was calming, the flick of his wrist and the faint scritch of the charcoal over the paper.

They were on an island, she learned, and he even drew a curly-haired figure on one part of the coastline. She frowned in mock outrage at the little Merida and he apologized until he looked up and saw her grin. When he realized she was teasing him he rolled his eyes and grumbled. "You're a dear wee lamb," she cooed, patting him on the cheek, and his face flamed violently.

Once he'd finished, Hiccup indicated that she should do as he had. She was no great artist, but hopefully she'd be able to show something that made sense. She started with herself, curls and a dress; her mum next, then the boys, then her dad, complete with his wooden leg. That surprised Hiccup.

She turned back to his picture and pointed to father and son. "Hiccup, Stoick; Merida, Fergus. Father."

"Faðir," he said, peering at her family. The resemblance between their fathers was a bit odd, really, though Stoick was more reserved than Fergus. But that was understandable: her dad would be less joyful, less outgoing, less everything if anything happened to his wife. Hiccup pointed to the figure of her mum then and said, "Moðir."

Merida nodded. "Elinor." She swallowed the lump of loneliness in her throat at the thought of her mum.

Hiccup studied Elinor's smooth hair and the head of frizz she'd drawn on her dad before he reached out and tugged carefully at a lock of hers, asking, "Fergus?" She had her father's hair, all right, and from the look on his face he'd known that and asked anyway. If he'd been trying to make her feel better, it worked.

She went back to drawing. Apparently they were standing on the wall that surrounded the castle. She added the lake, lots of trees, the hills off in the distance, but she couldn't show a defined border—she really ought to have paid more attention in her lessons instead of daydreaming and doodling. After a moment she shrugged.

Hiccup slapped himself on the forehead and showed her his picture. "Berk," he said, putting a name to it. She hadn't heard of any Berk in her geography lessons—and she vowed never to let her mother know how much she was currently regretting her inattention—but it was becoming clear that she was far from home.

She tapped the kingdom and said, "DunBroch."

While Hiccup relayed the information to the others, the big lad, Fishlegs, sought something out in one of his books. When the others had said nothing of consequence, Hiccup turned to Fishlegs and spoke fervently.

The boy looked at her map and to his books, comparing and flipping pages. He didn't look up as he asked a few questions. This time all of them stared until he looked up; then he smiled sheepishly and sketched a river in the corner of the page. Well, who knew they'd want the river as well? She added it in, off where it started in the mountains and to where it met the loch. Fishlegs laughed happily as she joined the two.

He held up one of his books, where a castle nestled in the hills by a loch. It was DunBroch, right enough. She nodded her head, grinning, and patted Hiccup's arm. Despite her poor drawing, they'd found her home. Hiccup looked almost as excited as she felt, and when he praised Fishlegs, the other boy smiled.

Stoick asked a question and Fishlegs turned pages. He pointed to an island, far out in the ocean, then trailed his finger down the page. And down, and down some more. Her heart sank when she saw how far from home she'd ended up. But they had a dragon, and a dragon flying had to be faster than a ship.

As if he'd heard her thoughts, Hiccup shook his head. Whatever he said didn't sound that encouraging, either. She looked at Stoick; his expression was unreadable, which didn't strike her as a particularly good thing. He said something and Fishlegs stood, gathering up his books, while Hiccup closed up his sketchbook.

She followed them out of the hall, not sure how she felt. On one hand, they hadn't come up with the easy solution that she'd been hoping for, but on the other, they knew more than they had before. She decided that a little optimism wouldn't hurt; it may have been a small victory, but enough small victories could win the war.

Besides, they were in the middle of the village now, and there was a lot to see. Fishlegs and Hiccup talked quietly as they walked, but she paid no attention. Fishlegs took his load of books in one direction, and she and Hiccup continued down the path. It was a lovely day, and even though she knew people were staring at her, she didn't mind. Why shouldn't they stare? She was a stranger in their home; if someone new had shown up to DunBroch she'd certainly be interested in them.


A loud voice called Hiccup's name from behind them and he groaned. They both turned, and over his shoulder Merida saw a thick-set boy with spiky dark hair and an unpleasant expression. He joined them, barking at Hiccup until his eyes drifted to her. His expression changed, though it wasn't much of an improvement.

Hiccup greeted him and introduced Merida; the boy responded by shoving him out of the way and grabbing her hand with surprising quickness. It took all of her self-control to keep from punching him in the face as he kissed the back of her hand. It didn't help that Hiccup was watching and looked almost amused by her discomfort. When the boy looked up she gave a short nod, more than he deserved, and he finally dropped her hand to cross his arms over his chest.

Hiccup's answer to the boy's question included Toothless' name, and she nodded. Whatever he'd said, Toothless was better than spending more time with this lout. The boy stared at them, confused and a little suspicious, and Hiccup took advantage of it to grab her hand and pull her away.

He didn't drop her hand as they walked, and she swung their hands playfully. Hiccup started pointing to things and talking, even knowing she wouldn't understand; if it made him happy, she wouldn't try to stop him. People stared at her on the path and from their doorways, looking at her dress, her hair, her hand in his. When he noticed that he dropped her hand and pointed at a bird, and she hid a smile.

Shouts and clanging were coming from a nearby shop and he swerved toward it instinctively. He paused at the door and a voice called out; Hiccup answered, leading her forward. The man who appeared was blond and burly (though burly seemed to be normal here in Berk), with a large hammer where his left hand should be. When she got home she'd have to tell her dad that his wooden leg was old-fashioned.

The smith looked her over briefly, then he and Hiccup bickered familiarly. He stuck out his hand, introducing himself as Gobber.

"Merida," she said, and Hiccup added DunBroch to that.

Gobber ushered her in to the building. It was a forge, warm from the fires and full of tools and bits of metal. There were two boys lurking, staring at her, and Gobber put his hand on one's head, calling him Wart, and the other Squatwiggle. At least she thought those were their names; it was a little hard to tell sometimes. They weren't like any names she knew.

The boys—apprentices, probably, because neither of them looked like Gobber—were older than the triplets, but they had the same enthusiasm and energy. They watched her keenly as Gobber showed her around. A pair of half-finished knives sat on a small anvil, the apprentices' current project; around the shop there was work both functional and fine. It was all very nice, and she liked Gobber and his assistants as they bustled around, proud of their work. Then Gobber knocked his fist against a barrel full of arrowheads and a grin spread across her face.

"Have you got a bow somewhere?" she asked. "I swear, if I'd had mine that day I never would have been taken hostage. I'd love to shoot again if you've got one. You needn't worry, I'm a dead shot. I won't hit anyone I'm not aiming for."

They stared, uncomprehending. Merida sighed and moved automatically into shooting position, left arm extending and right pulling the invisible string back. At that Gobber answered, and stomped out of the shop and across the way. Through the open door she could see all kinds of wooden objects and she shuddered, hoping there weren't any bears. There was, however, a bow hanging on the wall, strung and ready to shoot; below it was a wooden bucket filled with fletched shafts. Gobber was arguing with the other craftsman, but all she wanted to do was shoot. Everything would feel better once she got the bow in her hands, felt the tension in the string against her fingers, heard the arrow sing through the air.

Eventually the woodworker returned to his shop and brought out a bow and a quiver of arrows, offering them with bad grace. Merida accepted them gratefully nonetheless, running her hand down the curve of the bow. It was a bit long for her, and stiff with newness. Now all she needed was a target.

She looked down toward the sea, the way crowded with houses and people, then back up the way they'd come. Midway up the hill a roof beam protruded, dark against the grass behind it, and she plucked up an arrow and fired. An ache inside her didn't disappear altogether, but eased. She sighed and smiled.

When she looked back Hiccup's mouth was hanging open. Gobber and the other man looked shocked as well, and to hide her laugh she schooled her features into a solemn expression and nodded her approval of the bow. She didn't want to relinquish it, but she had nothing to give in exchange, so she held it out again. None of the men moved; they spoke to each other quietly. Finally Hiccup stepped forward and pushed her hands back. She pulled the bow close, wild hope blooming in her, and he nodded. To them it probably wouldn't make any sense, but this far from DunBroch, the bow in her hand made her feel whole, and grounded, like a piece of her—of her soul—that had been missing was returned.

She threw her arms around Hiccup. He stiffened briefly as she murmured "Thank you" into his shirt, and she let him go, not without noticing the red flooding his face. She embraced the woodworker as well, who was perhaps even more terrified than Hiccup had been surprised.