They sailed for nine days before the captain called for the men to drop their oars. By all their calculations they should have been within flying distance of land, though the horizon was as featureless as it had been for the past week. If their figures had been wrong, it would mean a watery death for all three; but there was nothing to do but try.
Hiccup checked the extra straps where they hooked onto Merida's harness for a third time before she gently swatted his hands away. The sailors handed up their sacks as Toothless wiggled impatiently.
"Good luck," the captain said.
"Same to you." Hiccup sketched a salute before patting Toothless' neck. "South, bud," he said, and they took off.
This was not like racing across the island, or swooping between the rocks in the bay. This was, without a doubt, the most boring flight he'd ever had with Toothless. Sure, the dragon sometimes rose sharply to ride down an air current, but there was no unnecessary motion. Not that Hiccup wasn't grateful for Toothless' skill; he supposed he was just spoiled by all of their previous excitement together. Now Merida napped behind him as they flew and Hiccup stared at the horizon until it blurred and swam before his eyes. In the afternoon he was slumped forward, memorizing the patterns on Toothless' hide and wondering how much longer it would be before he went crazy.
A short nap held madness at bay until he woke to Merida shaking him and calling his name. She leaned over his shoulder and pointed excitedly as he rubbed his eyes. There was a dark stain far off at the edge of the sea; Hiccup squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again, and it was still there.
"D'you see that, Toothless? Land." Toothless nodded shortly and carried on as he had done for hours, but Hiccup felt immensely more cheerful.
It was completely dark when they landed. Toothless, deservedly exhausted, stood until Hiccup had removed the saddle, and then collapsed, rolling halfheartedly for a moment. He ate a few salt fish and drank a bit of water and promptly fell asleep. "So I guess this is camp for the night," Hiccup said.
He piled their equipment near Toothless' head, figuring it was the safest place for it all. Merida was yawning and he fought not to join her; instead he gently extended Toothless' wing and showed her where to sleep. The wing would act as both camouflage and insulation during the night. While she settled down cuddled against Toothless' side, he sat by the dragon's feet, intending to stay on watch for a while. But the night was quiet and calm, and Toothless' steady breathing and familiar bulk soon lulled him to sleep.
He woke to an unwelcome light mist on his face. Toothless was still asleep, steaming slightly; when he peeked under the wing Merida was both asleep and completely dry. Before he could think better of it Hiccup burrowed under the canopy of the wing and drifted off again next to Merida.
The second time he woke because Toothless moved. One minute he was in a snug, warm, dark place; the next he was exposed, that mist covering him. He groaned and flung an arm over his face, listening to the sounds of Toothless moving away, followed by a splash. Hiccup sat up, groaning again, and then went to rummage through their packs for the waterproof cloaks there. It looked like they'd be coming in handy. Behind him Merida sat up suddenly. He glanced over his shoulder; she was looking around wild-eyed, like she didn't know where she was. She probably didn't, for that matter.
"Good morning," he said, tossing her a cloak. "Hope you slept well."
She grumbled something in return and pulled the hood over her head as he saw to it that their store of bread didn't get soggy. Toothless returned, dropping a mouthful of fish on the ground and lighting a small fire before wandering off again to get his own breakfast. Once Hiccup's belly was full of roasted fish he felt much more prepared for the day; Merida too looked more alert and less murderous.
To let Toothless rest they walked, the bags over the humans' shoulders. They'd landed on an island—that was obvious, as it was bare of any trees, just rolling hills covered in grass. They plodded on and on, climbing small slopes and sliding down the other sides, hopping over ditches filled with water, and seeing nothing but rabbits hopping away from them. No one spoke as they went; the mist never dissipated, and occasionally it turned to actual rain. Hours passed with the only sound their feet squishing over the damp ground.
They walked as far south as they could, down a narrow spit of land. In the distance, over the grey water, there was a dark spot that may have been another island. At the sight of it Toothless snorted, shaking water from his snout, and turned back, walking a few paces the way they'd come. He breathed fire on the wet ground and turned a circle before settling down. Hiccup looked at Merida, huddling miserably in her cloak, and pulled her to Toothless' side. The dragon lifted a wing and they leaned their backs against him, side by side under the shelter of his wing.
The next morning they flew the short distance to the next island and walked across it, then repeated the process on the subsequent island. Each day Toothless was able to fly a little farther; by the afternoon of the fifth day Hiccup felt confident that they'd made it to the mainland, wherever that was. Soon they alternated flying and walking. As they made their way further south and further from the coast there were more trees. The presence of the trees made everyone happier: Hiccup and Toothless because of the protection from the elements, and Merida for some reason he didn't understand, though he took it as a good sign. In the evenings, after they'd made camp, Hiccup would tend the fire while Merida and Toothless hunted. Usually they returned with at least some rabbits or fish, but one evening they came back triumphantly with a deer over Toothless' back, an arrow through its heart.
The forest here wasn't much different from the ones at home, but it wasn't much the same, either. There were trees that didn't grow at home and strange birds sat in them, which he expected, but in some indefinable way it all just felt different. He'd never imagined that he wouldn't feel at home in a forest, and it reminded him of how far from home he really was.
As they flew on the seventh day, Hiccup tried to orient them with Fishlegs' maps. It was a little difficult to hold the map and look at the land below at the same time, but he managed. When they made camp that night he pulled out his sketchbook and updated the map, sketching in all the details he could. He leaned back against a tree trunk, turned to a fresh page, and began a map of the islands; after a few minutes he closed his eyes, picturing the islands beneath them as he tried to remember how many they'd crossed.
He woke to the smell of roasting rabbit and Merida holding the sketchbook, flipping through it idly. She sat in front of the fire and a bit to his left; he could just make out the drawings and notes on the pages as she turned them, not spending too long looking at any one thing. Until she reached a recent page and stopped.
"Um," he said, sitting up abruptly. The Merida he'd drawn leaned on the bow planted in the ground. She was in the dress she'd been wearing when they first found her and her hair hung in the plait over her shoulder; even though all he had was charcoal, he'd still tried to show the way the sunlight made her curls glow. Her expression was content, though her eyes looked far off into the distance. In his own opinion, it was one of the best things he'd ever drawn. He hoped she agreed. Merida bit her lip as her eyes raked over the drawing. She didn't seem about to hit him, but he'd been wrong about that so many times before.
Hiccup opened his mouth, but none of his words would mean anything to her. Anyway, there was nothing to explain—it was right there on the page for her to see. She stared, tracing the line of her cheek; in the light of the fire it was hard to tell if her face was as red as his own would be were their positions reversed. Though he'd been waiting for her to react, it caught him off-guard when she did, turning to face him. With the fire behind her, he couldn't read her expression. She looked from him to the picture and back again. Until she said something, did something, he wouldn't be able to breathe.
Merida took one last look at the picture. Then, carefully, she shut the book, rose and crossed to him, and placed the book in his lap. She knelt in front of him and pressed her fingers to her lips. "Mór," she said, laying her hand over his heart, looking up at him shyly. Just as he started to move, to catch her hand and wind his fingers around hers, she stood and went back to the fire. She brought him a spit of meat and settled next to him, leaning against the tree, almost close enough to touch.
It wasn't close enough at all.
