Prepare for feels, here comes Gustav's funeral. Also, I realise I forgot to answer all the reviews I got for the last chapter, so I will be answering them here. Sorry, I just really wanted to get that one out there!

Music I listened to to write this (this guy is an absolute genius, I love his music):

watch?v=wKmNRPDy5Vo

Eel Nadder: Hmmmm... I can't say anything, it ruins the plot, but hmmmm...

Guest: Thank you! That makes me feel better about leaving you guys hanging for a while. However, I'm not going to stop trying to update as quickly as possible, as you will hopefully see.

Hiccupisnotuseless: Awh, thank you! I'm glad somebody likes Gustav, I wouldn't want him to be hated by everyone. However, I just find him kinda annoying.

Guest: I'm so glad somebody thinks it was worth it! It makes it worth it for me!

Guest: Sorry! Someone had to die, the song that chapter was linked to ended really sadly!

A blanket of soft, pale morning light lay over the town of Berk. A light mist weaved its way between the houses, turned golden by the first rays of the sun. The clouds were woven with silk above the small, huddled figures amassed at the cliffs. The day was cold but clear, the sea flat and calm, sparkling at the horizon. In places, one could see straight through the water onto the rocks below.

The dragons that usually gave the town its noisy, bustling life were still and silent, huddled together on the rooftops, watching the quiet human procession through the streets, the small figures of women and children gathered together, the men holding their hands tightly. Somewhere down on the beach, six young teens carried a small pallet between them, covered with perfect white cloth. The form of a tiny boy lay underneath, his helmet on his chest, a few others carrying his worldly possessions behind him. Before them, a small boat lay, ready to take Gustav Larson to the next life.

It was made of a light, sandy-coloured wood, used to teach children the ways of sailing the seas. Decked out on the most beautiful arrangement of flowers and shrubbery, a raised plinth stood at its centre, and it was on this that the young boy was laid, as though he were sleeping, with his toys and blankets placed around him. Each person could now pay their respects before leaving the tiny boat to sail away into the arms of the gods.

Snotlout was the first to stand upon the deck. With tears in his eyes, he said his strangled goodbyes, reaching out to touch Gustav's cold, pale hand.

"Stay strong, buddy. I'll see you again, someday." He whispered, looking down at the floor. "Goodbye, Gustav. You were... you were awesome..."

The rest of the procession went by in a blur for the Jorgenson boy. He sat alone on the cliff edge, his knees tight to his chest, trying to hold back the tears as the chief lit the funeral pyre and pushed the boat out into the welcoming arms of the ocean. Watching the smoke float away, Snotlout prayed for his lost friend's soul.

"It's not fair..." He choked as Hookfang came to lie beside him, crooning softly. "He never really had a life. He was gonna grow up to be just like me, with a dragon of his own. He was gonna have such a great life, but now... now it's been stolen away..." He reached out and wrapped his arms around Hookfang's snout, unable to hold back his sobbing, just glad no-one was around to hear. However, as the gathering dispersed and headed back towards the village, he mounted up on his dragon, urging the Nightmare into the air. "Let's find Sophie. She'll understand how I feel... I hope..."

The ride to Sophie's clearing was one of the hardest Snotlout had ever made. His chest ached painfully, his hands gripping Hookfang's horns tightly. He longed for the comfort and kindness of the girl who lay in wait for him. And, most of all, he was tired. He hadn't slept at all in the last, painful night, as he was making preparations for Gustav's funeral.

He slid out of the saddle as his dragon landed carefully and looked about himself. Sophie was no-where to be seen, her fire wasn't smoking at all, meaning that it hadn't been lit last night and her bed looked as though it hadn't been slept in. Suddenly, he found a knot of worry forming in his stomach. Kat had flown this way when she made her escape. Had she found Sophie? Was the girl alright? In his emotional state, he hadn't thought to check on little Sophie, out here all on her own.

"Sophie? Sophie!" He called, searching around for her. Still, there was no sign. He checked inside her shelter, in the trees surrounding the clearing, around the river, everywhere he could think of. His mind was racing. Where could she possibly be?

"Sophie! Where are you?" Suddenly, his eyes caught on the log upon which they had sat that first day he had met her. He crept closer, looking about all the while. Would she really be hiding in a log? Would Sophie do that to him? Biting his lip, he peered inside, calling for her once again. Something seemed to glimmer back in reply. His brow creased. What is that?

Reaching inside, Snotlout drew out a long, beautiful piece of metal. A weapon. A sword, it's blade decorated with twisting symbols, a black leather hilt, little chains hanging from the grip. He recognised this, he thought with horror. Kat's sword! Where did Sophie get her sword from? He looked into the log again, taking out the sheath as well.

"Snotlout?" The soft voice behind him made him jump.

"Sophie! There you are, I've been looking for you!" Snotlout stood up to greet her, but there was a hard look in his eyes. "Where have you been?"

She quickly reached up to squeeze a little water from her dripping hair. "I was having a wash in the lake, hence the wet hair, and the towel."

Snotlout blushed bright crimson as he realised she wasn't wearing anything but a piece of cloth wrapped tightly around herself. Instantly, he turned away in embarrassment. "I-I... uh... sorry..."

"No worries, you weren't to know," She laughed, heading over to her shelter and disappearing inside. While she changed, Snotlout found himself looking the sword over more closely. It glinted with a sort of nasty malice, and yet it was so very beautiful to behold. It was weighted perfectly, and he found he couldn't resist swinging it around a little to test it. He could now see how Kat was so good at sword fighting. Anyone could be with a sword as good as this. He wondered where she could have got it from.

"Having fun, my dear?" His attention snapped back to Sophie, who had emerged with her hair tightly braided down her back and a gentle smile on her face.

"Sophie, this is Kat's sword. Where did you get it?" Snotlout slid it back into its sheath, narrowing his eyes slightly. Her face fell and took on such a look of surprise that he instantly felt bad for accusing her.

"Why, I found it in the forest. It's possible Kat dropped it or lost it. I'm not sure, but it was just too beautiful to leave out there, don't you think?" Her expression changed inexplicably. "Something's bothering you, I can see it in your eyes..." She crossed the distance between them, siding her hand under his chin. "Pray tell me what it is..."

"Ugh..." Snotlout turned his head away, tears threatening once again. He heard Sophie give a little gasp of surprise. "The fires Kat made last night, one of them caught the Larson's house. It went up in smoke before anyone could do anything about it and... and... though Mr and Mrs Larson got out okay... the little boy... Gustav... he..."

"He didn't make it, did he?" Sophie's face crumpled in concern as Snotlout trailed away. He slumped down onto the log behind him, tears beginning to slide down his cheeks. For some reason, he didn't feel ashamed to weep in front of Sophie. She sat next to him, pulling him closer and letting him cry himself out against her breast.

"It's not your fault, darling. You couldn't have done anything." Sophie tried to reason with the stricken young boy, but to no avail, and so she quietly sat and stroked his shoulder until his tears dried. Her hand softly ran through his long, thick hair.

"You look tired, Snotlout. Go home and sleep, you need it."

"Okay, okay..." Snotlout was too exhausted to argue. He sighed deeply. "I'm taking the sword with me. Without it, Kat is useless."

Sophie jumped to her feet as he stood, looking shocked. "Wait, can't I keep it? I found it!"

"Babe, I'm doing this for both of us. Once she's dead and we're safe, you can have it back. Promise. But if she comes looking for it, she might find you and then you could get hurt."

Sophie nodded, sighing and looking longingly at the beautiful blade. There was nothing Snotlout wanted more than for her to have it, to make her happy. There was only one thing standing between them.

"I'm gonna kill her. I'm gonna kill Kat for what she did." He whispered quietly, after a long silence. Sophie cringed, looking away.

"What if... what if she didn't mean to kill him? Or anyone? What if she wants something else?"

"She tried to kill Fishlegs, sent Astrid spiralling to the ground, and then Hiccup and Toothless crashed because of her, and now this. No, she wants to kill. The question is, why?" He looked down, staring hard at the ground. "What motive could she possibly have for all this chaos?"

That's it, folks! If I succeeded in making anyone cry, I want to know how and why, because I love writing emotive texts and making the reader connect with the story, which means I'm always looking for ways to improve. So help me out!