Paradigm Shift
Chapter 7: The Clock Hits Midnight
"Yeah, there is something," Snotlout said as he met Brynhilda's icy glare.
The young Viking paused for only a second before he said, voice shuddering slightly, "I lied yesterday."
Like a giant, evil cat, Brynhilda purred, "Is that so?"
Hiccup's wings and tail started to tremble; the leaves around him wiggled in response. The dragon forced himself to take a slow, silent, deep breath.
"Yeah," Snotlout said with a shrug of his shoulders. "I didn't run into the dragon on the way home from training. It was somewhere else."
Brynhilda's eyes sparkled and danced like fire on a torch. "Was it, perhaps, somewhere a bit more homely?"
Thankfully, Hiccup knew this region fairly well – he might be able to make a run toward the thicker woods behind him. But the chances of him outrunning the Vikings were practically zero. If only he knew how to fly. Hiccup cursed himself mentally; even his thoughts betrayed his nerves – the ideas rushed by in fuzzy, bewildered hazes.
Suddenly, like an arrow piercing Hiccup's heart, his cousin spoke, "What are you talking about?" The words bit like a snapping turtle. "Look, I was pissed yesterday, so I went looking for something to punch. Ran into a dragon and we had a scuffle." Snotlout punched the palm of his left hand. "Next time, I'll rip that stupid's lizard's nose off its face."
One of Hiccup's green eyes narrowed. Large, black ears perked up even higher.
Like two giant rocks rubbing one another, Hiccup could hear the grinding of Brynhilda's teeth. "What type of dragon was it?" she asked.
"Dunno, it was dark. Besides, who cares what the stupid creature was."
The grinding turned into growling, and Brynhilda, like the jaws of a crocodile snapped, "Let's talk about the here and now. Like, how about, we talk about the Night Fury that burned down your house?"
Gobber, examining a flaming piece of wood, said offhandedly, with a wave of a bulky arm, "We've been over this. A Night Fury didn't burn down the house – there is only one around here. The chances are tiny; a Monstrous Nightmare is far more likely."
Hiccup watched the large man; the light from the fire bounced off his gigantic frame and cast prancing shadows that looked like shape-shifting monsters in the night.
"There are two." Brynhilda wore a smirk.
Gobber blinked and turned toward the corpulent Viking, "Huh?"
The large, vindictive women sang, voice as sweet as a bird, "I was just correcting you is all. There are two Night Furies around, not one."
A loud crack thundered through the night, as Gobber snapped the flaming piece of wood in his hands. The two pieces fell to the dirt with a light plop. Hiccup could hear the one-armed Viking's heart rate accelerate as if it were an arrow shot out of a bow.
Gobber's voice was flat and unemotional, "You dare?"
At the same time, a chubby, snorting sound, like too much gunk was stuck in the nostrils, exploded out of Snotlout.
"Wait," Snotlout said with a snort. "Are you saying Hiccup burned down my house?" The young Viking rolled his eyes. "It would make sense if he weren't a spineless coward and an idiot."
Hiccup blinked from his hiding spot. His wings stopped twitching and his tail, which had been lightly tapping the ground, halted.
Gobber pointed at Brynhilda with a shaking arm. "You were at the meetin', Brynhilda!" the old warrior roared, before suddenly stopping. He raised his mechanical claw to his chin and rubbed thoughtfully. A smirk appeared on his face, and soon after the man spoke, this time with much calmer, almost mischievous tones, "Hiccup said he didn't know how to breathe fire. So, by saying that Hiccup learned how to in a few days, you're admitting you think he's competent. Right?"
Brynhilda's eyes opened comically wide, and the women hissed in displeasure. Hiccup swore he could see the hair on her head standing tall. "That's not what I said!"
Gobber just smiled. The kind of smile that only a winner can wear – a cheeky, egotistical, sneer-like grin.
The large women didn't immediately respond; instead, she glared at the deformed Viking with her frame shaking more than a tree in a hurricane.
"You can lie," Brynhilda snarled through clenched teeth as she furiously turned on Snotlout, "but you can't keep him hidden, nor safe, forever. The gods will smite you for your crimes, and I will laugh when that day comes."
And without another word, the women stomped away from the still-burning wreckage. Hiccup could feel her thuds on the earth long after she disappeared from the eerily red-orange glow of the fire.
"Just what did she mean by that?" Gobber asked with a blink.
Snotlout turned to the larger Viking and shrugged, but Gobber wasn't even looking at the teenager; he as still looking in the direction Brynhilda had disappeared.
For some reason, Hiccup found his breath even shakier as he lay in the itchy dirt. The black dragon closed his eyes.
"So what are you going to do now?"
Green orbs snapped open, and Hiccup peered between the vegetation. Gobber was talking to Snotlout with a comforting hand on his shoulder.
"Dunno,"
"Well, you could always crash at my place for a bit. But I warn ya, there is this smell; I might-"
Snotlout looked down at something in his hands and said, with far more emotion in his voice than normal, "I was thinking…."
Gobber waited a moment but when the young Viking didn't continue, he prompted with, "Yeah?"
"About going to The Outpost." Hiccup's cousin shrugged.
The Outpost was nothing special. When both Stoick and Spitelout were far younger, they had decided to build a cabin the woods by themselves. Not thinking it through, the two had constructed the small, wooden lean-to only a few miles from Berk. The proximately made it practically worthless, but Snotlout and his friends loved going there and toughing it out alone in the wilderness. Hiccup avoided it like the plague.
Still, Hiccup had to applaud his cousin; it was a decent place to go at the moment. Of course, with winter coming, the dilapidated structure was not a long-term solution but it would give them time to think.
"Huh? The Outpost?" Gobber asked. "Why?
Once again, Snotlout looked down at something he was holding and rubbed it with the care of a bird protecting its nest. "You know."
This time, Gobber noticed what Snotlout was holding, and a nostalgic frown arose on the large Viking's plump face. Gobber clapped Snotlout's shoulder with thunderous force.
"I understand." Then in little more than a whisper, Gobber continued, "You want me to come? Promise, I won't tell nobody." The voice was so quiet that Hiccup only made it out because he was no longer shackled to his human senses.
Snotlout shook his head. "Nah, it's fine. I want the time alone."
Gobber smiled as if proud. "Sure thing, but I will be checking up on you in the morning. Just promise me, you'll stick to the trail – your father would kill me if anything bad happened to you."
Any reasonable person wouldn't let Snotlout, who was obviously emotionally distraught, go wandering in the woods alone. Thankfully, Gobber was a Viking and Vikings were not prone to the wisest of decisions.
Thank Odin for small favors.
It took a long time for the Vikings to vacate the area: at least an hour, maybe more. In that time, the fire had consumed the entire structure like a Viking at a feast – even the crumbs were gone.
Eventually, the smells of sweat and body odor disappeared and were replaced by a light burning sensation that tickled Hiccup's nose. Only then was he confident enough to leave his hiding place.
Sneaking through Berk wasn't hard; Hiccup had already been on the edge of the woods, so all he had to do was follow them up and out of the town. Still, the actions were exhausting and the young dragon found himself breathing hard as he left the town behind.
Hiccup had no idea where Snotlout was and decided that simply heading toward The Outpost would have be the best move. He followed one of the many paths out of Berk, the most direct one to his destination: a winding trail that went up toward the pass in the north. The bumpy path was narrow and edged by conifer trees and spiky-tickly shrubs.
After a few minutes, the black dragon spotted his cousin on the road ahead, sitting on a large gray rock. It was dark but Hiccup managed to make out the teenager with no problem. The eerily glow of the moon above helped.
Snotlout looked defeated: his shoulders slumped; arms crossed as if he was hugging himself; his axe, attached to his belt, seemed forgotten; and his hair bristled in the wind under the horned helmet. The bandages, still wrapped around his face, and his empty eyes, accented the desolate look. In Snotlout's lap, like a child, rested a small, wooden figurine – the object the fool had risked his life over.
The ash hugging Snotlout's clothes tickled Hiccup's senses, and the dragon wiggled his nose to prevent himself from sneezing. One of Hiccup's sharp claws snapped a twig as he walked toward his cousin.
Like a rabbit, a horned head snapped in his direction.
"Hiccup?" the young Viking asked; his voice reserved not due to fear but rather, apprehension.
"Yeah," Hiccup responded.
"Good, you didn't get lost. Let's go." Gone was Snotlout's voice. Hiccup wasn't sure how to explain it, but it didn't have the same bubbling, light roar-like quality to it anymore; instead, it seemed to have an edge sharp enough to cut glass.
For a moment, Hiccup had entertained telling his cousin how stupid of a plan it was to wait, in the dark, in the woods, for him to just appear. The fact they found each other was, in part, blind luck. But, Snotlout's new disposition and the shame of burning down the house made the dragon swallow his tongue.
As they trekked through the winding path, Hiccup hummed a little tune – a sweet little tune, one that he mother had taught him but through a dragon's mouth, the tone changed from light and cherubic to earthy and thick. A large black tail wagged in beat with the melody. Hiccup's song worked two-fold: it took his mind off his aching muscles, and it made him think about something that wasn't Snotlout related.
His cousin, other than stiffening, made no comment about the queer song.
In the distance, wolves howled at the moon and interrupted his humming. Hiccup made no effort to start up again. Instead, he blinked, and focused on his cousin, who was walking across a log suspended over a small stream.
"Why'd you do it?" the black dragon asked suddenly.
Snotlout paused on the log. "Do what?"
"Not give me up."
Snotlout stared. Then without an answer, the Viking turned and continued onward.
The journey to the cabin wasn't long – a little over a mile but it was located high up in the pass that made it feel far more isolated than it was. It didn't help that the road was poorly managed, feeling far more like a game trail than anything used regularly. Fallen trees, rolling rocks, and small streams were all present.
Hiccup clenched his tail, and forced his complaining body over, yet another, boulder. His claws left deep gashes in the stone like gaping wounds.
"For what it's worth," Hiccup said between heavy breaths, "I'm sorry about the house."
Snotlout paused, and Hiccup sent a brief prayer of thanks to Freyja for the momentary break.
"Apologies are like…" the young Viking stopped and brought his left hand to his chin; his right hand still holding the carved figurine. "The first time you get a treat, it tastes great, you know? The second one's not nearly as good. By the time you get to the tenth, they just start to make you sick."
Hiccup felt his wings sag on his back. "Oh," the young dragon said.
They continued on in silence. Eyes, from various critters, twinkled at them out of the deep, dark woods like tiny, radiant stars
Hiccup, when his attention was not needed on the trail to climb over logs or boulders, found his gaze drifting skyward, where large trees periodically blocked parts of the moon above.
Suddenly, a large twang, like something snapped, and the flutter of leaves interrupted the night's harmony.
Body tensing, Hiccup heard his cousin screech and saw Snotlout's axe collide with a rock on the ground.
It took a minute for Hiccup to read the scene in front of him: Snotlout was dangling upside down, about six feet off the ground, with a rope wound around his feet. The rope was draped over a higher branch and held the young man high in the air. The Viking's twitching eyes and line-thin smile were absolutely murderous.
Once he realized what had transpired, the dragon couldn't hold it in and laughed out loud; his laughter sounded like a bird – a rumbling, deep-toned bird, but a bird nonetheless.
Caught up in his mirth, Hiccup, without thinking, said, "Did you really not see that?" Naturally, he didn't tell Snotlout that he hadn't seen it either.
Snotlout's glare could have scared Stoick if the Viking was standing straight up but from his upside down position, it looked hilarious.
Hiccup tried to hold back his laughter as Snotlout said, "Cut me down."
The Night Fury probably should have heeded Snotlout's rumbling, rage-building tone, but he couldn't help it. The opportunity was too good to pass up, and with how terribly the day had gone, he needed a good laugh.
"I don't know, maybe I'll leave you here; being held upside down in the cold, dark woods is good for a Viking."
"Hiccup." There was so much maturity in the voice that Hiccup's ears fell flat on his head and his wings froze like a berated child. He briefly wondered if Snotlout would ever be the rambunctious idiot he was even a few days before: he was acting far too much like his father right now, which made things even more awkward.
"Alright, alright," the dragon said and wandered over to the rope anchored on the ground. With one clean swipe, Snotlout came crashing to the ground with a loud thud.
As he did, something popped out of his grip and came to a rest at Hiccup's front paws.
It was a wooden carving – not expertly done – but the shape was still easily identifiable. A deer stood proud and majestic as it looked forward. The creature's antlers were gorgeous, and it had one hoof raised into the air. A myriad of scars, like the animal had been alive, married its wooden skin with a partially nasty one tunneled deep into the herbivore's chest.
Hiccup looked at his cousin as the Viking hurriedly snatched up the carving. "So," the dragon asked.
"None of your business! You've already done enough damage today." Snotlout said, his posture was as tight as a ship's sail. Without another glance, the Viking continued his shuffle toward The Outpost.
Hiccup sighed and followed after his cousin, heavy tail dragging behind him.
They had probably only gone a mile, but Hiccup's claws hurt badly – it felt as if the claws themselves were poking him like small pricks from a porcupine. His muscles were raging furiously – the pain hitting his body with the force of a waterfall. Hiccup did his best to ignore it and continue forward.
To distract himself, he forced his ears to stand up tall and listen to the woods. It was so easy to hear the scurrying of rodents, the hooting of owls, and the trampling of leaves. Even though it was dark, the forest had never felt more alive to the young dragon.
Not paying attention, Hiccup's black nose collided with something soft and bounced back.
"Why'd you stop?" Hiccup asked as he rubbed his nose with a paw.
"It's dark," Snotlout said with a look that proclaimed, moron. "I'm making sure we are going the right way."
Hiccup blinked and looked around. Sure it wasn't light but it wasn't that dark. It was still possible to make out the trees, grass, rocks, pretty much everything. "You can't see?" Hiccup asked.
A glare. "That's what happens when it gets dark, bladder-butt."
At least some of Snotlout's charm remained.
Large black, scale-encrusted shoulders shrugged, and leathery wings fluttered briefly. "Well, I can see fine," Hiccup said.
Under his breath, Snotlout muttered, "Idiot," before quickly choosing the left path and heading off again.
Hiccup raised a claw to his mouth: was it really that much easier to see in the dark as a dragon? He knew his vision was better – he remembered noticing when the Vikings abandoned him in the woods – but just how much better was it? The dragon tried to remember what having human eyes were like but found the comparison nigh impossible. Did they not see any depth in the shadows at night? Was the wood's darkness absolute or could they make out past the first row of trees? It was like Hiccup had already forgot what human senses were like – a thought that terrified the young Night Fury.
Soon, the two companions left the cover of the trees and started to head through a grassy plain; it wasn't tundra – they weren't nearly high enough for that – but it was a field near the top of the pass. To the left, the plains quickly changed into sharp cliffs that reached to the ocean. To the right, the plains became a series of steep, rolling hills before blending in with a large valley – the valley where most of Berk's agriculture happened.
They were nearly there. Through the plains and into the woods on the far side, a small stand that rested on the edge of the mountains, and they would reach The Outpost.
Snotlout kept strolling forward as if nothing was different.
Hiccup paused, one claw suspended in the air as if he was pawing at some invisible advisory. There was a feeling in his bones, an itch that he couldn't scratch, and it was giving him a very strange vibe.
Hiccup whipped his head back and forth, ears flopping on his head, and followed after his cousin.
A sound – low and earth shaking, a bit like growling – breached Hiccup's hearing, and the Night Fury's ears stood up straighter than a ship's mast. It was quiet, on the edge of his sensory range, but it made his wings shiver uncontrollably, and his eyes search wildly around the field.
"Did you hear that?" Hiccup asked Snotlout. Fear tickled his words.
Snotlout turned around and glared irritation at the dragon. "I am not in the mood."
Hiccup reared back; his ears fell against his head, and he glanced cautiously at his cousin. "I wasn't joking."
"Yeah, sure." The Viking sneered. "Your human ghost has come to haunt us, instead."
"That's not what I was going to say!"
Distracted by his cousin, Hiccup didn't even notice the trap under his feet, but he did notice when he the kicked the rock holding it down, and the rope viciously grabbed his feet, pulling them together in a vice-like grip.
Yelping, a cute meow-like sound, the dragon felt his body pulled upward by the rope, and he soon found himself dangling upside down above the ground. The most insulting part? The tree the rope was hanging from was the only dang one in the entire field.
Out of reflex, like a bird caught in a net, Hiccup's wings fluttered – he still wasn't used to flapping – which caused the dragon to swing in the air.
Like someone had cut the tension out of a fishing line, Snotlout's guffaws destroyed the serene night air. It was picturesque Snotlout: the Viking was rolling on the ground clutching his chest.
Naturally, it just took some Hiccup suffering to bring back a bit of his most hated rival's soul.
A black tail twitched, and Hiccup's ears fell flat on his head as he growled at his cousin's rough shriek-like laughs.
"Did you really not see that trap?" Snotlout did his best to impersonate Hiccup's voice, but the dragon was certain it wasn't that high-pitched.
"Like you could even see it!"
The dragon wiggled and tried to free his trapped legs. It didn't work, other than making the dragon swing more so in the air. Snotlout continued to laugh.
"I am so sick of ropes, blankets, and getting stuck in things!" Hiccup growled. "Why are there so many of these stupid traps, on the trail, anyway?"
Then Hiccup remembered: he was a dragon and dragons had sharp claws and could breathe fire.
Snotlout's laughs calmed down. "Don't worry, little dragon." The voice turned mocking, "Your hero is here to save you yet again."
"Hero?" Hiccup gagged. He then smirked at Snotlout. "I don't need you – I can free myself!"
Before Hiccup could even open his mouth, Snotlout roared out, his voice rushed and filled with concern, "Don't even think about breathing fire! The last thing we need is for you to set the field on fire."
His first instinct was to ignore his cousin; it was only a little fire after all, but images started to flash in his mind: images of Snotlout's house and how the fire had jumped, twirled and danced around on the wood as if it was alive. But most importantly, how the flame, like a man possessed, had simply refused to go out.
Large, black, leathery wings drooped as Hiccup pouted and fell limp in the rope's embrace.
As Snotlout gripped his axe to cut Hiccup free, a cloud covered the moon and dropped the visibility drastically – Hiccup could still see, but it was noticeable more difficult; for his cousin, the visibility had dropped to only a few feet.
Likely waiting for such an event, malicious growls suddenly blasted into Hiccup's ears.
Wolves. At least six of them had surrounded them and were looking at Snotlout with an expression that wasn't love.
In some twisted sense of irony, Hiccup realized that from his heightened position, the wolves couldn't reach him. The wolves were, instead, focused entirely on his cousin and didn't even spare a glance at the wiggling, trapped Night Fury.
Hiccup only had time to bark out a surprise before they rushed in to attack.
Snotlout immediately swung his axe around, and one of the wolves barely managed to dodge. Small pieces of fur waffled though the air. The others seemed to hesitate – their growls sounded almost like conversation as the creatures threw glares at one another.
Wasting no time, Snotlout charged the wolves. The four-legged mammals quickly scattered into the dark. Hiccup ignored the sound of wood plopping on dirt – the deer figurine falling out of Snotlout's grip – and focused on the assailants because while his cousin couldn't see them in the dark, he most certainty could.
Hiccup did his best to direct his cousin to where the attacks were going to come from, but it quickly became apparent that there were too many wolves to keep track of – yelling directions just made things more confusing.
As he watched his cousin fend off another wave of attacks, Hiccup quickly turned his focus to freeing himself. He looked at the rope and took a deep breath; the feeling of warm, smoky, clingy particles ticked his throat like a million tiny ants as the substance started to craw to freedom. Then, with a flash, an image of a burning house and Snotlout's devastated expression invaded his consciousness, and Hiccup lost control of the gas – choking and sputtering with indignation.
Coughing outrageously, Hiccup watched some of the gas meander out of his mouth but it had neither form nor structure.
He tried again, but no matter what the little dragon did, the gas refused to come – the images of Snotlout's house burned his mind more furiously than any real fire would.
Just then, three wolves made a simultaneous attack from different directions on Snotlout. The Viking managed to catch the first wolf on the head with his axe – the body crumpled without so much as a peep from the creature – and duck under the second wolf.
The third wolf, however, managed to drag its claws deep into Snotlout's left arm. Red blood erupted out of the wound and landed on the small wooden figurine at Snotlout's feet.
With a quick swing of his axe, Snotlout manage to prevent the wolf from doing more damage but his action threw him off balance, and the Viking started to fall down the steep hill that led toward the valley. Snotlout, reacting to his precarious position, started to run down until he could use his momentum to correct his balance. The wolves followed the young man into the dark and away from the dragon – their growls sounding more like chuckles.
Hiccup snapped his green eyes back to the rope holding him prisoner and once again tried to bring on the fire. He managed to bring up the gas but, yet again, the images branded his consciousness and Hiccup choked once more.
Yelling ravenously, Hiccup furiously looked around seeing if there was anything that could help him. His eyes came to rest on the small deer figurine. The antlers of the deer were soaked in blood, and the head was detached from the rest of the body – something must have stepped on it.
Snotlout cried out in pain and the wolves howling increased.
"You cowards!" Hiccup roared as he fluttered his wings feverously. The dragon, once again, started to swing like a pendulum.
Then, without so much as thinking, Hiccup tried to stretch his mouth out to bite the rope. The pain was tremendous – Hiccup had never stretched his neck and stomach muscles to such extremes before, it felt like something was choking him and punching his stomach repeatedly. Unlike the day before with the blankets, he didn't have the ground to push off of – the only thing he could rely on was his own strength. He ignored the vicious sensations and pushed himself harder. He was so close to freedom – the rope was only inches from his muzzle.
His cousin cried out again.
With one last, roar-encouraged lunge, Hiccup felt his teeth chomp down on the rope. The white incisors sliced through it like it was no stronger than twine.
Pressure released, the Night Fury came crashing down to the ground. He landed awkwardly on one wing. Ignoring the pain, Hiccup jumped up and bounced off toward where his cousin had gone, adrenaline fueling his drive.
Snotlout was still standing. He was missing his helmet, his vest was torn, the bandages on his face were unraveling, his breathing laborious, and his eyes were darting all around him as he looked for the wolves, but he was still standing.
Hiccup could see the wolves – there were still four of them, and they seemed very annoyed if their snapping jaws were any indication. The pack was slowly circling his cousin from just beyond the Viking's vision.
Without waiting for them to attack, Hiccup quickly caught up and launched himself at one of the mutts. He ignored the yelp of the wolf and used his claws, like he was digging through dirt, to dive into flesh.
Hiccup ignored the smell of sweat, dirt, and saliva; instead, he focused on filling the air with that strong, acrid, metallic smell that was rising like a plume of smoke.
He let all his anger, his rage from the recent events, flow into his attack. He bit, tore, and swung without mercy until it felt like he was attacking something after a rainstorm – everything slopped as if wet and the figure beneath him wasn't even twitching.
It was then that the clouds moved away and drenched the scene in moonlight.
As if something had drained him of all his energy, Hiccup felt his green eyes open in shock. He was an absolute mess. Thick globs of red clung to his black scales like panicked children – blood that was not his own.
Gagging, Hiccup spit out something that had been tickling his tongue and mouth: a large swath of fur splashed on the ground with a splat. From the smells beneath him, the Night Fury decided it was best not to look down and instead looked at his cousin.
Snotlout's mouth trembled lightly, and the Viking held the axe in front of him cautiously.
Hiccup smiled at his cousin.
With one look at the blood dripping from the sharp, reddened teeth and the fur dangling between the fangs like miniature tapestries, Snotlout took a reflexive step back.
It just so happened to be over the edge of a steep hill. Cursing, Snotlout tumbled down the side and out of Hiccup's sight.
With the adrenaline worn off, Hiccup now heard the complaints his body was filing against him with startling clarity: it raged, screamed and howled abuse at its master. Still, Hiccup managed to pull himself off the mess underneath him and crawl to the edge of the hill so he could see where Snotlout went.
He also took the time to spare a glance around. The three remaining wolves were watching him with great apprehension and had fallen back to the edge of the field.
A gasp of pain punctured the still air. Snotlout, all the way at the bottom, landed on a sharp rock and twisted his ankle, which cracked in a large pop like someone was snapping his or her knuckles.
Out of the edge of his vision, Hiccup saw one of the wolf's ears perk up. The mutt glanced at the black dragon before starting to move cautiously toward the wounded Snotlout.
Hiccup glanced at his cousin: he was at the bottom of the hill with a small gathering of large rocks and shrubs. There were trees to his left and right. Behind him, the hill smoothed out into the valley; Hiccup could see smoke billowing from one of the houses in the distance.
Snotlout held his left ankle. His teeth gritted in pain, and the young Viking forced his eyes to scan the horizon. There was no axe in Hiccup's sight.
Green eyes explored looking for a glint of metal among the natural vegetation. Eventually, the dragon found a glint of moonlight bouncing off a metal edge, a metal edge that was halfway up the hill.
As if they could read his mind, the wolves approached the downed Viking with more vigor, all the while keeping a keen eye on the black dragon.
"Snotlout, watch out! They're coming!" Hiccup yelled, his voice shockingly raspy.
Snotlout quickly started to look for something to defend himself – the only thing he could find was a stick, half as wide as his arm. The Viking quickly snapped off the little leaves and twigs, leaving behind a small club-like weapon.
The black dragon tried to ignore the pain in his muscles – the river running wild in his blood – but his body refused to listen. No matter how hard he tried to lift himself up, his limbs told him that such an action was impossible. He was simply too tired.
Like sharks scenting blood in the water, the wolves, still eyeing the small Night Fury, moved in on Snotlout.
As they got closer, their light howls turned into crass muttered before morphing into giggling growls almost like a pack of hyenas.
Hiccup focused on using everything from his wings to his claws to drag and roll down the hill toward his cousin, doing his best to ignore the rocks and twigs scratching and ripping at the membrane in his extra appendages. The dragon looked around, and the fins on his tail tightened.
There was no way he would be able to make it to his cousin before the wolves did.
A memory, like a visitor that walked in uninvited, suddenly appeared in his mind. It was of Berk; a Berk that was on fire as dragons swooped and swerved all over. Hiccup watched as both Vikings and dragons battled and destroyed. He even saw himself scrambling away from a Monstrous Nightmare like a blundering fool. But then he heard it. A shrill sound – one that made the hairs on the back of the neck stand on straight – rose up from a small blip to a raging roar before a massive bolt of blue energy rocketed into a tower. And just like that the vision passed.
Rapidly shaking his head back and forth, Hiccup cleared the imagery from his mind. The wolves were closing in on his cousin, and he tried to focus, ignoring their feral yaps and snarls.
A Night Fury had caused the blast that hit the tower; Hiccup was a Night Fury. In theory, he could do the same thing.
Hiccup stayed his slippery descent, took a deep breath and tried to bring up the fire – he felt the gas building up, but he had no idea what to do. He quickly lost control of the ignitable material.
Irritated, he slapped the ground with a forepaw and tired again, but he didn't even know where to start. It didn't make sense. How could he cause the gas to shoot forward? Did he condense it? Spit it? How did the blue, plasma-like fireball ignite? Did he have to do it while he ejected the gas? Or was it before that?
Snotlout was now yelling, telling the wolves to get back, panic palpable in his shaking voice.
Like all the air taken out of a sail, two large black wings wilted completely, and a strange, hollow whining, like a mourning bird, arose form Hiccup's mouth as he covered his head with a paw.
It was impossible.
He didn't want to watch his cousin die.
The clock hit midnight, and Hiccup heard the Viking call out his name for help.
Like Odin himself had rained inspiration on him, Hiccup threw his paw off and tried once more, willing it to work, believing it to work, even though he had no idea where to begin. Hiccup opened his mouth and-
A blast, a loud, shrill, hair-raising blast erupted into the field. Sparkling like a fallen star, the blue piece of plasma hurtled like lightning and smashed into one of the wolves just as it prepared to leap at Snotlout. The collision rammed into the wolf with the force of an avalanche and caused dust and rocks to explode up in a thick, wispy cloud. The only discernable thing that remained of the wolf was some blackish, red soot.
With their tails between their legs, the last two wolves turn and fled, disappearing into the woods.
Hiccup sputtered as he watched in shock. He blinked rapidly and felt his wings, itching all over, twitch lightly. He turned his head toward where the blast had originated. It hadn't been from him – no, he had failed yet again, choking on gas and images of burning buildings.
In the trees, on the edge of the field, was a large, black, majestic creature.
Hiccup felt his wings tighten as his tail snapped straight. He watched as the other dragon's green eyes drifted between Snotlout and himself, before, in a puff of smoke, the larger Night Fury disappeared back into the woods.
Cautiously keeping an eye on the woods, Hiccup forced his body to continue his crawl toward Snotlout. He used his wings to paddle like a creature in water and his tail to slither like a snake.
It took a while, but eventually, the small Night Fury collapsed next to the Viking with a crunch as twigs beneath his body snapped.
Out of the corner of his vision, Hiccup saw a pair of green eyes watching the two of them from just inside of the woods. The orbs glistened and shined. Of course, they disappeared into the darkness a moment later, so the small dragon wasn't sure if he had imagined them or not.
Still, why had the dragon saved Snotlout? That made no sense. Dragons were mindless killing machines that definitely did not save Vikings.
Hiccup rolled over and felt one of his wings flop onto his cousin in some weird semblance of a hug. It hadn't been intentional, but Hiccup was too tired to move it off.
Snotlout, sounding like he aged fifty years, turned his gaze toward the panting dragon and said, voice dry and pained, "Hiccup?"
"Yeah, it's me." Hiccup gasped out in between his breathing.
Snotlout, remarkably, didn't push the wing off and instead chuckled lightly. After a moment he asked, "Why is it, that everyone near you ends up nearly dying?"
"It's a talent."
The Viking tried to laugh, but it came out as more of a squeak.
Then Hiccup heard something he thought he would never, not in a million years, hear.
"Thanks," Snotlout said and closed his eyes.
Hiccup focused on his cousin's breathing – the rise and fall of his chest wasn't shallow, just tired. The black dragon lowered his head to the ground and tried to slow his labored wheezing.
Snotlout, voice sounding like it had just run a marathon, said, "You know, that blue fire thing was pretty cool."
Green eyes blinked as Hiccup realized that Snotlout thought he had shot the fiery bolt; still, right then, he saw no need to correct his cousin and instead answered with, "Yeah, it was."
It was probably a really stupid idea to fall asleep, but Hiccup couldn't keep his eyes open. They were just so heavy.
As he drifted out of consciousness, his last thought was that if something did go wrong, maybe the other Night Fury would save them again.
Author's notes:
I love this chapter. Sure it's not necessarily well written (I'll probably have to edit more later), but I enjoy the way it plays out from the conversation at the start to the symbology of the little deer figurine. It's also nice to get some actual action going rather than just dialogue.
Poor Hiccup; setting the house on fire affected him quite a bit. Now he will have to find a way to get past his sudden fear of breathing fire. Nothing ever is easy for him is it?
I hope this chapter wasn't too graphic for a T rating. If so, let me know, and I will tone it down. Although, I did love the "…used his claws, like he was digging through dirt, to dive…" simile that I used here. First time I wrote it, I literally cringed, as the imagery was so vivid in my mind.
There is some pretty heavy foreshadowing in this chapter – see if you can find it!
