This chapter is dedicated to my mother. A feisty beast of a woman trapped in a 5'0'' body.

Chapter Four: Stubborn

Astrid set the leg down upon her bed so she could rub her exhausted face clear of stiffness. She groaned as she arched her back, cracking it in several places, before she stooped down again over the metal and wooden contraption. She grabbed her needle threaded with sinew and continued her work, silent and focussed.

It had been five days since the maypole dance, and five days since she had seen Hiccup after his infamous fall. It had also been five days since she asked Gobber for supplies. The next day, she stealthily stole a whole new set of leather to replace her botched first attempt. Today, she refused to stop until her alterations were complete, but through her quiet work, her mind wouldn't shut up.

Hiccup's words echoed through her head every time she thrust the curved bone needle through the leather. His anger, his mortification, all painted over his face so everyone could see it in the dark. The way he shoved the leg into her gut when she tried to comfort him made her tense, and made the needle finally break through the tough leather hide. She put the other end of the needle through her teeth and pulled it through, her fingertips too sore to do the task.

She knew he wasn't mad at her specifically. But… it didn't make her feel any better.

Sigourney peeked around the corner of the doorframe to Astrid's room. Her doe-brown eyes lingered upon Astrid's hands as she stretched them open and closed. She groaned and inhaled sharply as her bandaged knuckle popped and cramped. But she commenced her tailoring mission, refusing to be distracted.

"My babe," Sigourney murmured, careful not to make her daughter reflexively jump (a trait she had inherited from her father). Astrid looked up for a brief moment before she re-adhered her sight to the leather pinched in her fingers.

Her mother sighed quietly and walked in, crossing the room until she could sit upon the bed. She did so, planting herself in front of Astrid, who tried to ignore her. Sigourney watched her work and admired her determination as the two pieces of leather slowly – but surely – embraced through the sloppy stitches.

"I'm almost finished," Astrid muttered. She tied off her sinew and bit it clean before she showed it to Sigourney for inspection. Sigourney took it from Astrid and with her one arm, she turned it in the light. The metal leg, by Astrid, had been altered to include a leather compression piece, designed to apply adequate pressure around his stump and to make it stronger so he could walk on it. It was inspired by the compression piece her mother had to wear after her own amputation.

"It's coming together," Sigourney said, impressed. She handed it back to Astrid. "Just make sure the belts won't tear from the leather when you pull on them."

"I could sew a second set of stitches around all three belts," Astrid replied. Her mother almost stopped her, ready to say she could try something a little easier, but Astrid had already begun fortifying the belted straps without another word, or even a complaint.

She wanted Hiccup to feel better. She needed Hiccup to feel better. She couldn't get his face out of her head – the face of someone who felt useless and shameful. Her desperation, fuelled by her experience with her mother and the struggles she faced, was poured into the handiwork. She was never one for creation – more for destruction – but she refused to give up. Not when she could help. It just… took her longer than most. And an exceeding amount of effort.

The only thing that could, and did, stop her was her mother. As she tried to push the needle through the second piece of leather, her mother rested her hand over her daughter's. She pulled her hands away from her work and cradled them, palms up. She tsked. Astrid didn't care that her fingertips were hot and pink from days of stitching, unstitching. Her mother trailed a thumb over Astrid's raw index finger as Astrid trailed her tongue over her swollen gum, caused by biting the sinew and accidentally catching it between her teeth.

Sigourney knew her daughter better than anyone, and she knew without speaking that Astrid would keep her path true and strong until she either completed her task or split her fingers open. So she left the bed and left the room, retrieving the hvönn tea. She ladled some into a small wooden bowl over a clean rag. Yellowed roots fell into the brew before she placed the spoon down and returned to Astrid, who had stubbornly recommenced her work. Sigourney sat once more and put the bowl upon her lap. She grabbed the boiled rag with her hand as if the heat didn't faze her, and squeezed it out the best she could.

"Hand, now."

Astrid groaned and dropped the leg onto her lap. She gave her hands to her mother. She draped the rag over one of them and squeezed it gently.

"You didn't have to use your hvönn for me," Astrid said tiredly.

Sigourney chuckled and raised her eyebrows as she massaged Astrid's hand with her single hand. "I don't grow it just for me."

Whenever her mother's arm irritated her, from the day she lost it to today, hvönn would always calm her. Used to speed the recovery of its user, it became a staple medicine to the Isle of Berk. Unfortunately, after the Red Death, the numbered of injured ran the resources dry. But since Sigourney used it so often, she had the foresight to grow it upon her casement. It should have made Astrid happy, but it only made her wish the healers would listen to her mother more often. They merely wrote her off, even though she had adapted to her new life the best she could.

Astrid felt her raw fingers tingle and numb at the tips. A small sigh of relief passed her lips.

"So," Sigourney supposed, "you haven't seen Hiccup?"

Astrid shook her head, making the wisps of loose blonde hair around her face sway gently. "No. Not since Ostara."

"And you've tried?"

"Everyday since," she admitted. She pursed her lips towards the leg in her lap, her crossed legs creating a nest around it. "But… nothing. Not even the healers can get into the house."

Sigourney rewetted the rag and wrung it out before she placed it over Astrid's other hand. "He needs the support of his family, and his friends."

"All he has is Stoick."

Sigourney snorted and shook her head, her jaw tense and her countenance peeved.

"If I could give him a piece of my mind," she muttered, the tip of her tongue flicking off her teeth, forcing her consonants into sharp staccatos.

"Mum –"

"Forcing him onto the stage in front of the village –" Sigourney leaned back and sucked in a breath to calm herself. "Sorry."

Astrid warily observed her mother. She didn't get angry too often, but when she did… well, people could tell she was Astrid's mother, to put it bluntly.

The pair of them quieted as Sigourney let Astrid's skin revive under the rag. She pulled it forth and dropped it back into the bowl. She looked up as Astrid grabbed the leg once more, ready to continue.

"Perhaps a little persuasion would help," Sigourney pondered, looking up to the ceiling in thought. Astrid scoffed and shook her head again.

"Yeah, unless I can use my fists or my axe… persuasion is not one of my fortes."

"Astrid Sigourney Hofferson," Sigourney bluntly exclaimed, forcing her daughter's head to snap up. "Since when, in all your life, have you ever backed down from a challenge?"

And she ran from the room, muttering under her breath excitedly as Astrid watched, her lips parted and eyebrows furrowed. She could only imagine what sort of scheme her mother was planning.

The next day, Astrid knocked on the Haddock house door, her sore hands stuffed into her armpits from the chill of morning. She waited as patiently as she could, though she shifted from side to side. The floorboards of the house's threshold creaked under her boots caked with mud. She nervously looked at the back of her bandaged hand, still sore from hitting Snotlout. She dropped it as soon as she heard heavy footsteps approach on the other side of the door.

The door unlatched and opened, revealing Stoick's huge frame. He looked over Astrid's head before he looked down, expecting someone taller. He blinked and sighed, relaxing his shoulders.

"Astrid. What can I do for you?" he asked with the etiquette of his title.

Astrid bit her lip. "…Hiccup?"

Stoick shook his head, clicking his tongue. "As I have said yesterday – and the day before that – he does not want visitors."

Astrid's face fell, her hands still wringing each other. She exhaled heavily and pursed her lips. She hated feeling helpless. She should have broken into his home and chased after him the night of the maypole dance. She knew he couldn't fly away to the privacy of the cove, and she knew he had shut himself away. But she also knew she could help.

Stoick rested a massive hand on her small shoulder and gave it a squeeze. He lowered his voice comfortingly.

"I've tried," he said. "But Hiccup won't. He hasn't even flown that Night Fury of his since Ostara. I've had to turn away the healers. He won't have any of it."

Astrid crossed her arms and looked up at her chief. "My mother can help. I can help. I'm his friend."

"Aye, and a good one at that." Stoick released her shoulder and motioned to her knuckle. "Heard about what you did to my nephew."

Astrid blanched. She reflexively covered her hand with the other, hiding the evidence. Was she in trouble?

"I would have expected nothing less," Stoick said simply.

Astrid softened and she licked her lips. "Stoick – chief – if there's anything you need…"

"I know where you find you," Stoick finished. He gestured to the pathway. "Trust me, your offer hasn't left my mind since you first mentioned it. But for now, my hands are tied. And until I can sort this out with the other clans, they remain as such."

Stoick turned and tried to shut the door between them. But Astrid quickly wedged her foot between the wood of the doorframe and the door, her hand pushing back against it.

"Wait," she said quickly, holding up her other hand as Stoick's face hardened out of annoyance. She craned her neck to look up at him, and she cowered slightly at the sight of his eyes glinting from the sunrise. She scrambled for words. When her mother said 'persuade Stoick the Vast', she should have believed the task was futile. But here she was, and she couldn't really go back.

She snatched the small pouch at her belt and thrust it into Stoick's hand. He blinked and grunted, looking at his palm, his eyes glaring at the rough pouch.

"What is this?" he asked.

"Hvönn," Astrid replied promptly. "My mother grows it for herself. It's a medicinal herb that will help. Boil the roots for tea and put it on his leg as much as you can to draw out infection and to numb it. He can also drink it as a tea to put him to sleep, and to help his healing."

She relayed the words so fast that Stoick barely heard them. But he glanced down at the pouch in his hand and gave it a long, hard look. He looked back to her, his stoic gratefulness seeping past his stiff jaw in a thin trickle.

"You said… your mother grows this?" he asked quietly.

"And I have more," Astrid continued. "She and I can help. And not just with the leg, but…"

He knew she was talking of the night terrors. She didn't need to say it. It was common knowledge that Sigourney suffered one night here and one night there. No one talked about it, but they knew.

Suspended in impatient wait, she refused to look away from Stoick in case her offer fell through for the umpteenth time.

But to Astrid's surprise, Stoick left his house and shut the door behind him so Hiccup couldn't hear him.

"Let's say you can help my son," Stoick pondered.

Astrid raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms again.

"When he fell, I may have said a few things to the other clan members," Stoick sighed gruffly. "And I may or may not have insulted one of the clan leaders."

Uh oh, Astrid thought immediately.

"Gothi claims through her magic that if I don't sail across to the east and make amends, then…"

Stoick rolled his eyes, as if the entire debacle was ridiculously asinine.

"But I can't leave Hiccup alone to sail over."

"Oh, but it was different at the maypole dance?" Sigourney yelled.

Astrid jumped and flinched as her mother marched up to the threshold, her face red as a lobster, her nostrils flared, and her hand clenched into a fist. Stoick stepped back as the Hofferson matriarch raised her hand and smacked his arm.

"Mama!" Astrid gasped as Sigourney delivered blow after feathery blow to Stoick's forearm.

"You – stupid – stupid – fool!" She punctuated every one of her slaps with her words until Astrid seized her wrist and shoved it down. Stoick, who had reflexively leaned away to protect his face, frowned at her, bewildered and abashed.

Astrid cowered and hissed to her mother. "He's the chief!"

"He can be Odin, I don't care," Sigourney retorted haughtily, her curls splaying from its loosened bun, gold slicing the black of her half-cloak. "Stoick the Vast against a one-armed healer with back problems? I'm sure he'll live."

"What in Thor's name –"

"You leave the gods out of this," Sigourney scolded, wrenching her hand from Astrid's grip. She thrust a finger under Stoick's nose, her body stretching onto her toes to get as close to her face as her petite body would allow. "I will have words!"

"Is that all?" Stoick asked exasperatedly, opening his arms in sheer disbelief.

Sigourney grunted and smacked his chest. Astrid covered her face with her hands, groaning. This – this – was where she got it. Not her dragon-slaying father with the scar across his face and the burn marks on his scalp, but this. Her feisty tiny mother. A Red Death trapped in a mouse of a woman.

"What made you think that was a good idea?!" she yelled. "Sending your boy onto the stage, parading him about like a thrall bought for our entertainment?!"

"That's an exaggeration –" Stoick argued.

"Oh, if Valka were here, she'd have your head. Did you lose your senses like he lost his leg?!"

Stoick looked away and sighed heavily as Sigourney threw her loose hair over her shoulder in a flourish.

"That boy needed to stay in bed and rest," Sigourney said, serious and stern. "It's not easy losing a limb, especially when everyone is looking at him."

"You're right," Stoick sighed.

"I'm not challenging your parenting," Sigourney followed up with. "But out of the bad decisions you've made, doing that was one of them. Why haven't the healers been in to see him?"

Astrid felt her heart flitter against her ribcage and crossed arms as Stoick weighed the pouch in his hands. The tension could break stone. She peeked behind her protective bangs as her mother latched her eyes onto Stoick's. Sigourney was never going to back down, and she knew Stoick knew that.

"I have tried bringing healers into my house. Hailaga is out of the question, Borgný is busy with marriage negotiations, Gothi is tending to a pair of sick babes –"

"You'd think they'd make time for the son of the chief," Sigourney spat.

"It's not that they didn't, it's Hiccup," Stoick groaned. The bags under his eyes became more prominent, like two baggy sacks of blue and purple hanging under his lower eyelashes. "He doesn't want help. I've tried forcing it, but everything they've tried doesn't help, and no one but Hailaga is stubborn enough to talk some sense into him."

"If you actually tried to force it, I wouldn't be here," Sigourney laughed sardonically. "I don't care if Hailaga is your last resort, she should be in there forcing medicine down his throat, why are you catering to Hiccup now when you never did before? Why are you suddenly allowing him to refuse care?"

Astrid gasped so hard she made an audible squeak. She wasn't sure if Hailaga was on the top of the People to Throw off Berk list anymore. The way she snapped her question around like a Hideous Zippleback's head made the air stand still and cold. No one dared to breathe as Astrid awkwardly leaned over to her mother.

"I think… he was going to let us help…" she whispered, darting a glance at Stoick, who looked at the pouch in his hands sadly.

Sigourney didn't relax, but she pulled her half-cloak around her other arm to hide the emerging stump beneath it. Stoick looked up at her apologetically, his eyes half lidded, unimpressed and irritated, as Sigourney placed her hand on her hip.

"Oh, I already knew that," Sigourney muttered. "But I made promises to Valka, and Stoick knows full-well of them. Which is probably why he never came to me for help."

Stoick sighed, in no position to argue with her as his mistakes rested between them, exposed. He looked down at Astrid and looked at her up and down before he rolled his eyes and stepped around them, pressing the pouch into Astrid arms.

"I'll see you in a few weeks. I'm heading east."

And Sigourney marched into the Haddock house before Astrid could stop her, and before she could see the chief rub his forearm with a grumble in his throat.

Hiccup awoke in his bed, as he had for eternity. He opened his eyes to the stoney wall directly in front of his face, and winced as his leg burned and cramped. It used to hurt him randomly, but now, it was constant. Angrily hot, fiery red, swollen.

Why did he have to wake up? He asked himself this question with every ragged breath, and he pulled his blankets over himself as a shiver rolled through his sweaty body. His hair clung to his forehead, his shirt clung to his back, and nausea clung to his throat.

"If I can find his old pedal, I can take him out for a flight," he heard someone whisper. Was it another dream? A vision? A trick?

"We can worry about that later," another voice replied gently. "But for now, we need to break his fever."

Hiccup strained his back to roll over, to see who was speaking, and why the voices didn't belong to his father.

"He's waking up," the first voice said, closer. As if disconnected from his body, he felt hands touch him, pull his blanket down, a hand against his forehead.

"Hiccup?"

His eyes focussed upon the familiar face of Astrid. At first, he saw her in her flower crown, her fair face beamed down at him as if she was illuminated by the summer skin, her cheeks pink and healthy, her lips moving delicately over her teeth. When he blinked, the apparition changed to the present. Her flower crown faded, and sunlight transformed into firelight. He groaned, cold, and tried to grab his blanket feebly. But it was gone.

He reached down even further, reached for his knee, and felt a rag pressed against it, hot and painful. He tried to grab it, but Astrid firmly pushed him back into the bed.

Gasping in jagged, hoarse breaths, Hiccup frantically darted his eyes around the room until they fell upon Sigourney, who brought a bowl to his lips. He tasted the bitter liquid and tried to spit it out, but resorted to choking it down. He wanted to fight back. He shoved the bowl away, gasping in a breath.

"Get off me!" he wheezed. He threw his fist out, and it connected with something.

But Astrid loomed over his face, her hands pinning his wrists at his sides as he struggled against her.

"Stop moving," she demanded. The bowl met his lips again. He clamped his lips down, too delirious to understand Astrid was trying to help. She grabbed his nose and pinched it shut. Forced to breathe through his mouth, he gasped and the hvönn tea cascaded to the back of his open throat. He coughed and sputtered as the liquid forced its way into his body, warming his fiery insides like liquid embers. The bowl left his lips and he choked and coughed. A rag wiped his face and neck dry.

"Stop," he whimpered. "Go."

"Sorry, Hiccup. That's not an option."

He felt the tea work its way into his blood. How could it have worked that fast? Or had he fallen asleep or faint just now? He tried to reason as it dragged his body down.

Pain brought him back from his sleep. Something wrenched against stump, constricting against it and strangling it. He groggily cried out, throwing his hands into nothing.

"I'm sorry," a voice repeated over and over again. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Another pull, another constriction, sent Hiccup into madness. He screamed and howled, his back arching off the bed, as his stump contracted and pushed against the bandages.

"More pressure," the other voice said.

"N-no –"

Another yank strangled the cries locked in his throat before tendrils of darkness enveloped him and dragged him down again.

The Red Death met him in the blackness, her beady eyes each glaring at him, watching his every move. Hiccup tried to run, but he had no leg. He fell onto his chest as his weight dropped suddenly. He flipped over and scurried back on his backside.

"No, NO!" he cried. The Red Death opened her mouth, filling her mouth with noxious gas, her jaw dislocating to open it to its full capacity. Hiccup rolled over, frantically trying to escape, his breaths too fast, his body pouring sweat, bile rising up in his throat. He looked up as the Red Death's teeth encased him, a cell of darkness slamming all around him, deafening him, puncturing him, protruding from either side of his body.

He couldn't breathe, he couldn't speak. Trapped in the belly of a dragon, bloody foam seeping through his clenched jaw as he tried to move, broken and shattered all over again. He closed his eyes and trembled, begging himself to wake from this nightmare.

"I'm here," a gentle voice whispered to him.

He peeled his eyes open. He rolled over timidly, the blood gone as if never there to begin with. The belly of the beast had transformed into a sky, the clouds surrounding him gently.

"Do you know where you are?"

The voice echoed off the clouds. Hiccup turned on his feet, the pain almost entirely erased, his breaths calmed and his sweat dried upon his skin. He swallowed.

"Do you know where you are?" it repeated.

"T-the clouds," he replied.

"What do you see?"

Hiccup didn't see anything but clouds, his heart slowing from his panic, only slightly. His cramped chest relaxed as a wall appeared in front of him. The familiar stonework forced his hand towards it. He pressed his palm against it. It was cold. It was solid.

"A wall," he breathed. He looked up and watched the sky fade from empty blue to solid wall. A ceiling. Wooden slats bathed in warm light. "My house."

"What do you feel?" the voice asked.

Hiccup felt his body grow heavy as it sank down, his back pressing itself onto an uneven surface. His head lolled to the side as his cheek pressed into a boney shoulder. A warm cheek rested upon his forehead, and he heard the distinct thrum of a heartbeat against his ear. And across his thighs and hips, the handle of an axe tied with blue and red cords weighed him into his bedframe, tethering him back to reality. How could he fall if he knew he was on the ground?

He sucked in another breath as an arm squeezed around his shoulders. In front of him, Sigourney sat in a chair, her head in her hand, as she snoozed softly. Next to her was a clutch of supplies – vials completely empty, a pile of soiled bandages.

He was about to look up at the person holding him, forgetting he had seen Astrid's face just moments ago, not realising days had passed since. He felt his eyelids grow tired, and he slept.

Astrid poured another batch of hvönn tea over a blanched rag as she stifled another yawn, her tired arms struggling with the weight of the cast iron pot. When she finished pouring, she placed the pot back over the fire and carried the bowl to Hiccup's bed. She set the bowl down on his bedside table, sitting herself in a chair, and dug her palms into her eyes, attempting to scrub away her exhaustion. She had been awake for days, only getting an hour of sleep here or there.

It had been a long week since Stoick sailed from the port, and since Sigourney and Astrid took over his care. Days of screaming, crying, and night terrors kept her awake, and kept her busy.

She regretted sending her mother away at that moment. But her mother needed to sleep in her own bed. She needed her health. Astrid, however, was young, and young people could apparently take the beating a lot better. She scoffed. It was all yakcrap in the grand scheme of things, she thought as she shoved the last of her breakfast bread into her dry mouth.

She chewed it lazily as she pulled Hiccup's blankets away from his leg. His fever broke a couple days ago, and the tea had drawn out the infection. The swelling had gone down, and Hiccup didn't have a night terror the night before. Things were looking up for him. Finally.

Just as her mother had taught her and shown her, Astrid untied the taught bandages constricting around his stump and pulled them free. The pink stump, still raw from the damage caused by Hiccup pushing his abilities too hard and too fast, remained pink and tender. But the gashes had finally closed, and the pockets of ooze were gone. For now, the hvönn brew helped take his healing to that final step, to help avoid any chance of the infection returning.

She wrapped the hot rag around his stump and rested her hands overtop of it, pulsing little amounts of pressure around the muscles. He shifted slightly, a gentle moan escaping his parted lips. She dipped the rag back into the hot water and repeated it as many times as she could before the water lost its heat. Then, she rewrapped his leg as tight as she could, applying the right amount of strength. She tied it off and sat back.

Her eyes drifted up to Hiccup's face. He didn't flinch this time. He didn't bolt awake or try to hit her, or scream or cry. She went to the hearth and refilled her bowl with clean and hot hvönn tea, returning to her chair. She absentmindedly brought the rag up to her shoulder and pulled the side of her shirt down to expose it. A blue bruise had formed over it, and she pressed the rag to it. She smirked. She had never expected Hiccup's fist to be so strong, but then again, he had a knack for surprising her.

Hiccup opened his eyes and found Astrid sitting in the chair, her back arched slightly as she stretched her spine. She had the rag in her hand, the shoulder of her shirt loose around her upper arm. She dragged the rag up to her stiff neck and sighed deeply, thankful for the warm relief. Her hair had loosened from its braid and her ragged appearance made his heart jump. How could he interrupt her when she looked so peaceful? His eyes lingered on her as she brought the rag up to her face, wiping it down.

She then unceremoniously tossed the rag into the bowl and sat back, her eyes running up his body before –

"Hiccup!" she gasped, jumping upright in her chair. She quickly took the bowl from her lap and put it on the bedside table, reaching for Hiccup's hand as she pulled her shirt over her shoulder without another thought.

"Astrid?" he asked weakly. "What – what happened? What are you doing here?"

"Your leg got infected," she replied. "Stoick asked my mum and I to help. Well, sort of."

Hiccup struggled to sit up, his arms weak and his back stiff. Astrid helped him to his backside, propping a bundle of blankets behind him. He pulled his blanket aside and saw his freshly bandaged leg, his forehead wrinkled.

"I thought the healers didn't have anything that could help," Hiccup murmured as he rested a hand on his thigh.

"Thankfully, when you're ostracised from the healers," Astrid muttered sourly, "you get overlooked when you have the right medicine. My mum harvested what we had from the garden and your dad is east."

Hiccup looked up. "Why?"

"He told the eastern clan leader to leave after you fell?"

"In that many words?"

Astrid snickered. "No, more like: 'suck the eggs of Eostre and all things holy, get the Frigg away from my son and if I ever see your face again, I'll use it to plough the fields for sowing.' Or something along those lines."

Hiccup snorted weakly and coughed, clearing his dry throat. Astrid handed him a cup of water to wet his tongue, which he did. He pulled it from his lips gently, another thought tugging at his mind.

"Did I have any nightmares while I was out?" he asked, embarrassed.

But Astrid shrugged a shoulder and made it to her feet, heading to Toothless as he licked his paws clean. "You did," she replied softly. "But it takes a lot more than that to scare me away."

"I heard you," he noted, staring into his mug.

"I ask questions to my mother when she has her night terrors," Astrid admitted. "I remind her that she's not there anymore."

Hiccup was quiet for a moment before Astrid whirled around, hands on her hips and her face moulded into a frown. Hiccup blinked at her.

"You punched me!" she yelled.

Hiccup balked and sank into his bed. "What?"

"You hit me, right here!" she specified, jabbing a finger at her own shoulder. "All I did was help you and you – you – hit me! And that was after you left me at the maypole dance. After I beat the 'snot' out of 'Snotlout' and broke my hand and everything."

She broke into a grin and crossed her arms, cocking her hip into the air. Hiccup was absolutely taken aback. "You broke your hand? Snotlout? What? I'm sorry?"

"So how are you going to make it up to me?" she dared ask, egging him on.

Hiccup couldn't keep up. "I don't know, I didn't –"

Astrid put up a hand and reached down. "Oh, I forgot. I already know what I want you to do."

And she pulled his altered leg into his sight and grinned.