"I thought you were a master tracker," Tuffnut huffed, a grimace upon his face that spelled both frustration and exhaustion as he made wild, and unnecessary, slashes against the forest foliage with his seax. They had been searching for hours. Night had long fallen and the forest they were trekking in was lit only by the light of the bright moon.

Astrid kneeled down to examine if any bushes or twigs had been disturbed by a certain lanky boy that may have crossed here the night previous. Unfortunately she came up empty. No trace of Berk's heir had been found all night. It was as if he simply vanished.

"Anything?" asked Fishlegs, who looked just as put out as the twins, but with a hint of worry that had been steadily increasing as the night wore on.

Astrid sighed. "No. Nothing."

"Ugh, this is pointless." Ruffnut complained, rubbing her arms together to help warm herself from the freezing night chill. The action did not go unnoticed to the much stockier teen standing across from her.

"H-hey Ruff. You know if you're cold you can use my fur coat," Fishlegs offered hopefully, already shrugging it off and tossing it to her before she had a chance to reply.

Ruffnut gave Fishlegs an incredulous look, the same one she gave her brother when she suspected he was trying to trick her or play some practical joke at her expense. Was the oversized squeaky teen of all people mocking her now? "What, you think I can't handle a little cold?!"

Fishlegs frowned. "No, I was just—uff." Before he knew it he had a face full of fur, much to the amusement of the crazy teen's male counterpart, who cackled almost maniacally.

"Come on Astrid, this is pointless," Ruffnut reiterated. "We don't even know if the fishbone went into the forest. Maybe he got blown off a cliff."

"Yeah, or eaten by a dragon!" her brother chimed.

"Or struck by lightning!"

Astrid's frustration was mounting. The twins had spent most of the night either complaining or making bets on what horrific fashion Hiccup had died. And Fishlegs, though trying to help, was having a hard time trekking through the thick foliage, made all the more difficult with the low visibility of the night. She probably could have covered twice as much ground if she were on her own. The others were slowing her down.

"…or mauled by wolves."

"Will you two shut it?!" Astrid nearly yelled. "Every minute we spend arguing is another step closer to losing him."

"So?" Ruffnut crossed her arms.

"Yeah, so what if he's dead?" The Thorsten brother plopped down on a nearby log as he twirled his seax lazily through the air. "What are we even doing here? It's the middle of the night. We could be sleeping right now."

"He's the son of the Chief," Astrid answered, hands on her hips. "We have a duty to Stoick and to our tribe." She turned to the large blond for support. "Right Fishlegs?"

"Well, they kinda have a point," Fishlegs answered as he donned his coat again. "Statistically speaking, the odds of finding Hiccup's cor… uh, finding Hiccup in a forest this vast is… not good."

"See!" Ruffnut exclaimed. "Waste. Of. Time."

"No one's holding you here Ruff," Astrid replied tersely, turning to examine more underbrush. "Just go back."

Ruffnut huffed. She did not like being dismissed like a little girl, especially from 'Miss Perfect Hofferson'. A part of her wanted to challenge the uptight teen to a duel for the blatant disrespect, but the more rational part of her mind knew how that would end up. She did not relish getting her ass handed to her on top of everything else from the day. "Whatever. Come on Tuff."

"Finally." The other teen hopped up from his log, sheathing his machete as he joined his sister's side. "Legs' you coming?"

Fishlegs' gaze darted between Astrid and the Thorsten twins uneasily. On the one hand, he wanted Hiccup to be found alive and in one piece. Unlike the others, he had never harbored any ill will against him, and certainly no reason to wish harm upon him. Fishlegs really didn't get all the resentment directed towards Berk's heir. Sure, the smaller teen may not have been good at swinging a sword, but neither was he. Yet he never suffered the same kind of scorn that his childhood friend faced on a routine basis. And yes, sometimes Hiccup caused the odd catastrophe or two, but again, so did the twins, on purpose, and yet the village never held onto the same kind of animosity for the Thorsten siblings as they did for the heir, who was only trying to help. Everyone messed up now and again, but for some reason Hiccup's failures seemed to be amplified.

It was an unfortunate reality, because, Fishlegs admitted to himself, he rather liked the quirky and intelligent heir. In many ways Fishlegs felt that he could relate to Hiccup more than the rest of the gang of teens that he hung around. They both would rather avoid a violent conflict if unnecessary. They both were literate and well learned compared to other Vikings. And they both had an innate curiosity about how things worked and how such knowledge could be used to their advantage. However, despite this, Fishlegs knew that if he tried to rekindle his old friendship with the Chief's son then his reputation would take a serious hit. He stole a quick glance at the irate female Thorsten, the moon's light flickering off her light-blonde hair and highlighting her sharp, angular features.

He wasn't willing to risk it.

And there was the other fact that, all things considered, the twins were right; finding Hiccup in a forest this vast was extremely unlikely. And Fishlegs doubted that Hiccup's absents was merely a case of getting lost; the Berkian heir probably knew these woods better than anyone.

Plus, he was really, really tired. Perhaps they could resume search tomorrow, during the daylight. He addressed Astrid sorrowfully. "Hey, look Astrid, I know it's our duty and all, but we might have better luck if we wait tomorrow after we've had some rest."

Astrid returned him a scowl. Not one of anger, but instead of disappointment. "If you were the one missing," she fired disdainfully, "Hiccup wouldn't have given up on you."

And Fishlegs suddenly felt terrible. Because, he knew, she was one-hundred percent correct. "Astrid, I'm just being realistic—"

"You know what, it's fine, really," Astrid interrupted. She exhaled deeply. "I'll be faster on my own anyway."

Ruffnut snorted. "Hey, don't get all high-and-mighty on us Astrid!"

Fishlegs frowned. Clearly the lack of sleep was making the Viking girl quite testy. Ruffnut went on.

"I know why you're doing this! You can fool these two idiots but you can't fool me."

Astrid crossed her arms defensively. "What?"

"You're trying to act all honorable and duty bound and stuff but I know why you really wanna find the fishbone."

Fishlegs quirked a brow, observing the Hofferson teen and… what? Was she… blushing? His eyes must have been playing tricks on him. Astrid Fearless Hofferson does not blush.

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't act all innocent!" Ruffnut continued. "You wanna find him, so you can suck up to Stoick and get all the glory for yourself!"

For a brief second, Fishlegs noticed with curiosity, Astrid did not seem upset at the accusation, but instead… relieved. Strange.

"Whatever you say Ruff." She turned around and started heading further into the forest, but a distant, feral growl, high above the canopy, stopped her.

Fishlegs and the twins heard it too. They all looked up, trying to gaze past the open areas of the tree tops. One could just barely make out tiny shadows gliding across the cloudy night sky.

"That sounded like…"

The great horns blared off, echoing across the forest loudly and clearly even at such a great distance. All the teens looked at each other with wide, shocked eyes.

"Raid!" Astrid yelled, unslinging her axe and darting towards the village. "Come on!"

They all followed without question, their previous arguments forgotten. Fishlegs, not the most agile of Vikings by any means, huffed vigorously as he tried to keep up with the others. As he ran, his thoughts dwelled on the truly dire situation Berk found itself in. Not only was the raid occurring right after a natural catastrophe, leaving much of Berk's defenses either damaged or destroyed completely, but many of the warriors were currently scattered throughout the island, looking for Berk's missing heir. And the village's food supply was already so low, there wasn't much they could afford to lose.

The dragons couldn't have come at a worse possible time.

By the time Stoick got back to the village, multiple buildings were already on fire. The people of Berk had put up an admirable resistance since his absence, but with many of Berk's best dragon killers still in the woods, and with the defenses in their current sorry state, it was mostly a futile effort. The dragons clearly had the upper hand, and were ransacking much of the village's already very limited food stock pretty much unencumbered. His heart sank. At this rate many of the villagers may very well starve to death, even before the coming of winter.

And… and his son. He had hoped that with much of the island's help he would be able to track Hiccup down quickly. His son was alive. He had to be. Stoick refused to entertain any other possibility. Perhaps Hiccup was trying to help with the recovery, and inadvertently got lost in the woods. But then, why did he stuff his pillows beneath his sheets, as if to hide his actions? And there was that testimony from the foreigner, the night previous. Plus, Hiccup was just too smart to get lost in the forest. His son was an excellent navigator, and Stoick was sure he knew these woods like the back if his hands.

Maybe this was some kind of sick prank? A practical joke Hiccup thought would be fun to pull on the village? But Stoick dismissed that idea as well. Hiccup may have an affinity for sarcastic quips, but he would never do such a thing. He was a Haddock! Not some crazed Thorsten. The village always came first.

As the night wore on though, Stoick became increasingly distressed. And, he began to have doubts. What if…

His gut wrenched. No. No, no, no.

He had to put all of this aside for now though. He was the Chief; he didn't have time to wallow in his doubts, even for his own son. As he rushed to the village square he spotted a gronkle carrying off another sheep. Unslinging his axe, the Chief lined up a shot mid-stride and threw the weapon with all his might. Stoick's aim was always exceptional, and this time was no different. The axe flew straight into its target, impaling deep into the gronkle's skull. The dragon was killed instantly, and fell back to the ground 30 feet below. Unfortunately so too did the sheep, landing on the hard dirt with a sickening crunch.

Hoark was near the village center directing the defense as best he could, Stoick running towards him as fast as his feet could carry. On his way, he shouted at the determined but unfocused Vikings passing by to 'leave the homes be' and 'form barriers around the stock houses'. From the looks of their faces, the warriors didn't much like the idea of leaving their homes undefended, but they obeyed the Chief regardless. Their hesitance was understandable; it was their homes after all. But houses could be rebuilt, and the women and children were likely already safely secured in the Great Hall. If they lost too much of their food however, people could starve.

He had to dodge a few of the fire-breathing beasts before finally reaching his third-in-command. Hoark had just instructed one of the leaders of the catapult crew to re-adjust their angle of attack further to the east, where many of the dragons were hogging the sheep pens. Unfortunately only two of the catapults were in use, as the others were still in repair. He sighed in relief at seeing Stoick approach.

"Chief, the villagers are secured in the Great Hall, but we're losing a lot of resources. We—"

"Look out!" Stoick bellowed. A nadder flew wildly by, carrying a swine it had impaled with its hind claws. The two warriors were forced to dodge out of the way.

"Damn." Hoark covered an unseen cut bleeding underneath his bushy black beard. "We don't have the manpower to fight them all! If everyone wasn't out there looking for…"

A cold dead stare silenced Hoark immediately. Stoick stood tall and straight. "Gather the fighters we have and form a defensive front around the stock houses. That's the only thing that matters right now."

"Aye Sir," Hoark obeyed, but added, "What about our homes?"

"There's hardly any dragons here!" During most raids the dragons would normally go to wherever they could find food. But after the storm Stoick had ordered that all livestock be gathered in a few different locations to help with the recovery, and make them easier to protect. Perhaps the decision was paying off, as it seemed that the dragons were hardly interested in the residential area. In fact there were very few fires around them at all; the dragons focused almost all of their efforts on the fireproof stock houses. He could use this to Berks advantage.

"The dragons are only going after the animals. See?" He pointed to the locations where an exceptionally large number of the flying beasts were gathered. "They're all bottlenecked at a few places. It'll make it easier for us to kill'em in bulk. We'll round the archer teams together and fire synchronized shots in succession. Now go! Relay the orders."

"Aye Sir!"

Stoick watched Hoark go, then went to retrieve his axe, still imbedded in the gronkle. With a powerful tug, he yanked the weapon free from the dragon's skull, producing oozing blood and brain matter from the dead beast. He heard pathetic yelps a few paces away from the dragon's side. Ah, the sheep. Poor bastard survived the fall, and was flailing helplessly on the ground, but was undoubtedly injured beyond saving. It was a miracle the thing was even still alive. Stoick did the merciful thing and brought his axe down, ending the animal's suffering.

Across from the plaza other voices caught his attention. Many of the Berkian teens, led by the Hofferson girl, had gathered around the square with buckets of water, dousing out the flames as best they could to prevent more homes from burning. Another tug plucked at Stoick's heart. Even though Hiccup was not part of the fire prevention team—he had ordered Gobber to keep him indoors during the raids—the whole 'fire squad' concept was Hiccup's idea. The teens who were old enough to hold more responsibilities but had not yet gone through dragon training were part of the fire teams that went around Berk dousing flames during the raids. The concept had saved Berk a lot of property damage.

He unconsciously glanced at the Forge, empty and dark. With a heavy sigh, Stoick put his feelings behind him and marched to the closest stock house, where the archer line was beginning to form.

He did not allow himself to worry again that night, until every last dragon was driven out.

For much of Berk, the sun after the raid arrived far too early.

The sound of a hammer striking against wood woke her up, the vibrations reverberating through the walls of the Hofferson Hall and into her room. With an irritated moan, Astrid rubbed her eyes and forced herself awake, despite her aching body's protest. Light flickered through her open window in soft orange hues, signifying it was still very early in the morning.

Beyond tired didn't even approach what Astrid was feeling. She was at least thankful that the dragons were pushed out long before the sun breached the horizon, allowing her to get a few precious hours of sleep before the start of the next day. She knew she could have slept in; the other teens were going to, and her parents would allow it. But Astrid would refuse. Sure, she was tired as Hel, but warriors didn't always have the luxury of a good night's rest, even after a long day's work. If she couldn't handle a little sleep deprivation, how was she going to be tough enough to slay Nightmares and Nadders?

She stood up, reaching high for the thatch ceiling as she stretched out the many kinks in her stiff frame. Her morning stretch routine helped alieve some of her soreness, but she still felt like she had gotten crushed by a ten ton gronkle. By the gods she was exhausted. She had been awake for more than a full day and night, toiled endlessly during the recovery, and then spent her remaining strength looking for Hiccup and, finally, putting out fires around the village. Her stamina was thoroughly spent, and right now her straw bed seemed so very inviting.

Astrid ignored her body's plea and got dressed, put up her hair, and proceeded into her home's main room. She found her mother sweeping the floor while her father was repairing the front door, which had come unhinged from the storm. Immediately the scent of baked bread filled her nostrils, causing her stomach to growl rather obnoxiously. Ugh, when was the last time she ate? Astrid honestly couldn't remember. So it was no surprise that when her mother, Brunhilda Hofferson, offered her a piece of warm bread with yak cheese, she devoured it with little decorum.

Brunhilda chuckled. "Oh Astrid, you're so much like yer father," she said humorously.

Astrid tried to reply, but with her mouth stuffed full of the delicious food all that came out was unintelligible mumbles, much to her mother's amusement. Astrid scowled indignantly, offended that her mom often still treated her like a child. At this though, the older Hofferson only laughed harder.

Her mom went back to sweeping as Astrid sat at the table. Her initial appetite slightly satiated, she consumed the rest of her morning meal at a more leisurely pace, downing it with a glass of honey mead. The minor but very delicious breakfast gave the Viking teen a much needed energy boost. Her mom's cooking was superb. It was a trait that Astrid did not share.

"You were up all night dear," her mother began. "I'd have thought ye still be resting."

And yet, Astrid noticed, she had made her breakfast and left her a glass of honey mead on the table. Her mom knew her well.

"The village is a wreck mom," Astrid said between sips. "I can't just sleep around all day."

"Ha, that's my girl!" her father, Haldor Hofferson, shouted between hammer strikes. "Always thinking what's best for the tribe. Gulli told me how you took command of the fire teams. The village is proud of ya Astrid," her father beamed.

"Still," her mother said, "ya should take it easy today hun. No need to burn yourself out."

Astrid sighed. Why did her mom still treat her like a child? For goodness sake, she was almost a full-fledge warrior! It was only just a few more months until dragon training officially started, and Astrid felt like she had been training for it all her life. She was ready—more than ready. She would finish as the top warrior. She would be the best. She owed that much to her uncle Finn. She just hoped her mother's old axe would be ready before the training officially started, so she could present it to her family when she won. Astrid frowned. Oh, right. Hiccup.

Foolish Hiccup. Where the Hel was he? Astrid had not found a trace of him anywhere, and she was really good at tracking. How can someone just disappear like that?

"Any luck finding the Haddock boy, dear?" Her mom asked. Astrid met her concerned, knowing gaze.

"Uh-uh."

"Humph." Her father stopped his hammering to wipe the sweat away from his brow. "That boy was always such a nuisance, right Astrid."

"Y-yeah." Astrid agreed uneasily. Her dad never much cared for Hiccup, and was rather happy when she grew apart from the Chief's son. In fact, her father had a lot to do with why she stopped hanging around Hiccup altogether.

"We'll find him dear. He's as stubborn as his old man." Her mother smiled, staring blankly at the wall as if in deep recollection. "And he has his mother's intelligence. Wherever that boy is, he'll survive."

Astrid nodded. She couldn't remember too much about Valka, but she knew that Hiccup's mother and her mom were strong friends since childhood. Their mom's often got together to do chores while she and Hiccup played together. That was a very, very long time ago.

All this thinking of the past wasn't doing Astrid any good. With a sudden urge to do something active, she grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl and jumped up from her seat. Before she made it out of the house though, her mother addressed her.

"I mean it Astrid. Take it easy today."

"I'm just going for a jog mom. I'll be back soon."

A wordless nod from her mother, and Astrid was out the door.

It was a surprisingly beautiful day, if a little on the chill side. That is, of course, if one didn't take into account the massive heap of damaged rumble that was her village. The past few days had not treated Berk well. And while they were initially making good progress on the recovery, the dragon raid put everything into a temporary halt.

All told, the raid ended up being a relatively minor one. No one had died, and with the food being stored in centralized locations, not a too much had been snatched away from the dragons. Not that there was a whole lot to take in the first place.

Astrid ran her normal route, which took her through the village square and out through the farm fields. On the way she had to take several detours due to the cleanup and many dragon carcasses that littered the streets. Thankfully most of the dead dragons had already been dumped over the cliffs into the ocean, but there was still plenty that remained, which was unfortunate, because there were few things worse than the smell of rotting dragon meat.

She was nearing the edge of the fields, along the forest tree line, and was just about to turn around, when to the left of her vision she spotted a sheep roaming freely out of its barn shed. Odd. After the raid the village had gathered up all of animals and secured them in holding pens. How did this one manage to get out? Regardless, Astrid veered off her track. Best to return the sheep back to the barn before it stumbled into the forest and got lost.

When she approached, the docile animal brought its head up, dropping the bundle of grass it was chewing.

Baaaa.

"Hey buddy. How did you get out?"

Baaaa.

The female sheep had dark wool with a few brown spots in some areas, which was quite rare. And oddly enough, two differently sized ears, the left being slightly smaller than the right.

Wait.

"Nanna?"

The sheep's ears perked up. Baaaa!

Astrid smirked. "I guess Fishlegs was right. You are lucky." She would tell the large teen of his favorite pet's survival when she next saw him. For now, she needed to secure Nanna back with the other animals. Tugging the sheep by the neck, she led the obedient animal back towards the barn shed. As soon as she rounded the corner she saw that the large front swing door was slightly cracked. Maybe someone forgot to close it? She was about to enter, until she heard voices from the inside.

"…and with Hiccup gone, his…is assured," someone whispered in a hushed tone. Astrid stopped dead in her tracks. The anonymous voice sounded vaguely familiar.

"Don't give… assurances you aren't sure… can keep," A much raspier voice responded. Astrid kneeled and inched closer to the entrance. She was having a hard time hearing. "Stoick's as stubborn as… come. He won't just give up his… even with… runt dead. Not without force."

Huh? What were these two talking about?

"I know how to deal with Stoick." The first voice said, sounding quite agitated. "You just play your part. Plant the seeds of doubt."

Nanna nudged her from behind.

Baaaa!

Astrid shot up, glaring at the sheep. "No, Nanna! Shhh!" But it was too late. She heard movement from inside the barn shed. Quickly, the teen ran around the corner and hid behind some old farming equipment, just in time before the door swung open.

"Just a sheep," she heard a voice say. It definitely sounded familiar. Very high pithed in fact, could it be…

Astrid risked peeking around the corner, to find Berk's second-in-command, Spitelout Jorgenson, scowling at the discolored sheep. The large Viking grabbed Nanna by the neck and pushed her back in the barn. "Lock the sheep up before you go. We'll talk later." Spitelout turned the corner, barely giving Astrid enough time to retreat.

Her heart was pounding. She didn't know why she was hiding; it's not like she did anything wrong. But something about the whole situation just felt incredibly wrong. And her uncle Finn had always taught her to trust her gut.

When Spitelout passed her by, Astrid pressed herself behind the farming equipment as best she could and held her breath. Thankfully, the Jorgenson Patriarch was oblivious to her presence, passing by and heading back towards the village. Astrid sighed in relief, allowing herself to relax a little, until she heard more noises from the barn.

"Damn sheep!" the craggy voice admonished. "Get yer damn rear end… there." A few moments later, after some more ruckus, another man walked out, heading in the opposite direction of Spitelout. Astrid peeked again, and snorted in discuss at the retreating form. She only saw his backside, but she would recognize the smelly old farmer anywhere.

Mildew, what a true blight to Berk. Astrid honestly couldn't find one redeeming quality about the man. He was a crude, despicable excuse of a man who cared only for himself and somehow managed to get on everyone's nerves. She disliked him so much she even refused to eat his cabbages. Thankfully the old man's farm was far away from the village, so she didn't have to see him much.

After some time, when she was sure she wouldn't be seen, Astrid left the hiding spot and began her jog back to the village. She tried to make sense of what she had just heard, going over the limited patches of conversation over and over in her head.

She was honestly confused. What could Spitelout Jorgenson possibly want with Mildew? Maybe they were just talking business—Mildew was a farmer after all and food on Berk was growing scarce. But… why the whispering and secrecy? And they were talking behind Stoick's back. A warrior, especially one as high up as Spitelout, a relative even, should never talk behind the back of the Chief.

And they seemed pretty certain that Hiccup was… gone.

Astrid's stomach twisted. When Hiccup was found she was going to string him up and beat him to a bloody pulp for making her worry so much.

Her uneasiness didn't lesson when she arrived back home. She was uncertain what she had witnessed and what she should do about it. And Astrid hated being uncertain about anything. Should she tell Stoick? What if the whole ordeal ended up being totally innocent? Was she the one who had did wrong here? Eavesdropping on the Jorgenson warrior? Too much uncertainty. Too much to think about. She decided to help her parents with repairs and chores to distract herself. Her dad was just happy to have an extra pair of hands, but her mom seemed to pick up on her unease, though thankfully she did not pry.

Later, Astrid decided that she would keep a closer watch for Spitelout and Mildew. She knew it wasn't her place, but her gut told her that whatever these two were planning, it couldn't be good.

The Chief had called for a village-wide meeting as dusk approached.

Not everyone had to attend of course. Sometimes these meetings were rather sparse; a discussion of things that, while important, were very mundane. But usually every household sent at least one person to the meeting so that their Hall would not be left out of the loop.

This time though, the Great Hall was packed. The villagers knew things weren't looking too good heading into winter. As soon as Astrid entered with her parents it was apparent that everyone was anxious. Berk's food supply was undoubtedly the biggest topic of discussion among the Vikings before the meeting started. But there were also concerns about the damaged harbor, trading with the other tribes, reconstruction, and of course the dragons.

It wasn't too long before Stoick shouted from The Table, Spitelout and Gobber by his side, silencing everyone's bickering. "Everybody quiet down."

When the whispers finally dissipated Stoick continued. "I know many are concerned about our food stock for the winter. Unfortunately with the storm and raid striking us at once, our resources have become exceptionally depleted. Because of this the Council and I have agreed to send an envoy to our allied tribe of Freezing for aid and possibly to negotiate better trade deals that will help us through the winter."

Many seemed relieved at the news, but not all. "How can we be certain Freezing will help?" one of the Vikings asked.

"Freezing is still in our debt from several winters ago, when we offered them some of our warships to help repel piracy from around their shores," Stoick replied. "And the Chief of Freezing is a close friend of mine. He is an honorable man and will help us. I'm sure of it."

"What about the raids?" another asked. "Our defenses are still in shambles." There were more murmurs of concern.

"We're reallocating labor from lower priority areas to assist in rebuilding the catapults, torches, and archer towers. We're also increasing our lumber output to help with the repairs. It shouldn't be more than a week or two to get everything up and running."

"As for the Harbor, the cleanup is progressing quicker than we thought. It should be fully functional soon. Once it is so we can start large scale fishing again."

Astrid looked around. Many Vikings were no longer looking nearly as antsy as they were when she entered.

"Now, for the other important matter," Stoick went on, looking suddenly depressed. "As you know, my son is still missing." Many villagers spared the Chief sympathetic looks. Indeed, not everyone had a negative opinion of the Haddock son. However, Astrid saw that there were just as many who appeared indifferent or uncaring at the news. She glanced at her father and frowned when she noticed that he was among the latter group. A few moments later she felt a firm hand on her right shoulder, her mother giving her a comforting squeeze.

"We will not pull back our efforts to find Berk's heir," the Chief said. "Hiccup is a survivor. He's smart and cunning and we'll not rest until he is found."

Astrid was glad that no one was protesting.

"Now wait just a stinkin' minute!"

Oh, she assumed too soon.

Mildew weaseled his way through the crowd, pushing to the forefront of the table. He pointed his crooked cane at the Chief angrily. "You can't doom us all for the sake of one little runt, Stoick. Son or not! He already cost us enough food last night as it is."

The Chief no longer looked depressed; he now looked positively vicious. Stoick leaned forward. "You wanna run that by me again Mildew?"

"I'm only sayin' what needs to be said!" Mildew spat. "Cause of yer boy's incompetence most of our warriors were out lookin' for him when the beasts came! How much damage woulda bin' stopped had they all not been searchin' for the little runt?"

Dishearteningly, Astrid saw that some of the Vikings were starting to nod in agreement.

Mildew wasn't done though. "Smart and cunnin' you say? I think not! We all know Berk could do better."

Astrid clenched her fists. A commotion arose from the crowd, some shocked that anyone, even Mildew, would say such a thing. But some were also audibly supportive of the crusty old man's assertion.

"Enough!" Stoick bellowed. "Blaming my son for the dragons!? You truly are thick in the head!"

The old farmer ignored Stoick, continuing on his tirade. "And you want us wastin' our precious resources lookin' for him while we all starve?" Again, Mildew was getting considering looks from a number of villagers. He snorted in disgust. "That runt aint gonna lead nobody! Perhaps that storm was punishment from the Gods for havin' such a weak heir. Swept him away I bet they did. The Gods only favor the strong!"

Astrid swore she could see veins popping from Stoick's face. The Chief placed his hand on the hilt of his axe, perhaps to intimidate. Or maybe he planned on caving in the man's skull right there. Regardless, before he had a chance to draw it Spitelout spoke up.

"Shut your trap Mildew!" The Jorgenson barked across the tense room. "You got no respect for your Chief or his bloodline. Why I oughta cut out your tongue for such treasonous words!"

The Hofferson girl was surprised to see Spitelout of all people come to Hiccup's defense. She knew he had disdain for the Haddock boy just as much as his son did. And… wasn't he potentially conniving with Mildew early that day? Astrid narrowed her eyes in suspicion. Something definitely wasn't right.

Gobber chimed in as well. "Just say the word Stoick," the blacksmith said, patting his hammer attachment. "I'll teach tha' bastard some respect!"

"You gonna silence me for speakin' the truth will ya," Mildew said, unperturbed by the threats.

"Not another word out of you," the Chief roared menacingly. This time he did draw his axe, and promptly slammed it deep into the table near Mildew. The silence in the room was palpable, and for the first time, the cabbage farmer actually looked cowed. "You should be thankful, Mildew, that I allow all opinions during these meetings to be heard. Other Chiefs would have banished or gutted you already for your blatant disrespect."

"But I am the Chief," Stoick went on. "And I, along with the Council, make the final decisions around here. You are free to hate my decisions all you like, but you will obey them. Anything else is tantamount to treason." He narrowed his eyes. "Do I make myself clear?"

Mildew crossed his arms. "Perfectly."

"Searching for Hiccup hardly requires much of the village's resources anyway," Spitelout said. "And even if it did, we would still keep looking. Hiccup is our blood, and we look after our own!"

At this many of the Vikings actually cheered, a slew of 'we're always with you', 'loyalty to the end', and 'we stand with you Chief' being tossed around the room.

No matter their opinions, Berkians were always, always loyal to their Chief. Astrid was heartened by the show of loyalty, until she remembered whose words they belonged to.

Stoick nodded to Spitelout, a silent thanks for having his back, to which the Jorgensen warrior acknowledged in kind. Mildew was fuming, but had a good mind not to say anything else; the crowd had so clearly turned against him. Well, most anyway. There were still some that seemed to be considering his words.

Spitelout and Mildew. They appeared to be enemies now, yet just this morning they were making secret plans together. Or at least, that's what it sounded like to Astrid.

She didn't trust them. Something wasn't right here, and although she didn't know what it was, she was determined to find out.