Well, I lied. Here is another chapter and the movie is not out yet. I want to write one tomorrow, too, if I remember.
A little bit of Toothless fluff, since there has been a lack of it in my stories so far. Some of the sentences came out kinda awkward; I messed with them and messed with them and they would not get a hold of themselves. Sorry.
Disclaimer: I don't own HTTYD. Or Barlowgirl's song of the same title as this chapter.
Enjoy!
Chapter 10. Never Alone
A true friend is someone who reaches for your hand and touches your heart.
-Heather Pryor
I cry out with no reply, and I can't feel You by my side, so I'll hold tight to what I know: You're here, and I'm never alone.
-Barlowgirl, "Never Alone"
He stumbled blearily through the forest, dragging his palms over the tree trunks, leaning against them. The moon was full, sprinkling little scatters of light over the earth beneath his feet, so he could see, vaguely, where he was going. He was too exhausted to care, though; away was all he wanted.
Half the time the world had no room for him, and the other half it was much, much too vastly big. At this hour of the night, when the day had worked him up and he couldn't sleep, it was almost both.
His eyelids were getting heavy as anvils (and he should know, working where he did) as he reached a clearing in the trees. He had been thinking about just lying down somewhere and trying to fall asleep again, because it was so late and he was so tired, but he wasn't sure he liked that lonely idea, and then he was met with the sudden rise of boulders and a drop of the forest floor.
He scrambled through the bushes and under the rocks. He slid down the dusty bank and dropped to the ground right where he landed, curling up. His eyes closed at once and he waited for sleep. It did not come.
There was the sound of tiny waves driving up and down a shoreline, over and over, over and over. Restless time passed and then, off somewhere else in the valley, there was the sound of large movement. Coming slowly closer. He scrunched up a little smaller and held his breath for an anxious minute.
Snuffling, familiar rustling, the smell of water and sky and deep, glowing fire. It gathered itself around him, breathing hot air over his face.
He knew this valley. Of course he did. He knew who was here. He relaxed against the warm side of the dragon as soft leathery wings spread out, and he ran his fingers along night-sky blue scales. "Hey, buddy," he murmured.
The dragon's nose nudged affectionately against his shoulder.
"Thanks," he added, smiling, then was caught by a massive yawn.
The Night Fury's breath was steady and followed the rhythm of the waves coming in from the lake. Somewhere a cricket chirped faintly, and wind whispered in the trees. It was dark and still and peaceful.
Some Vikings counted sheep; he never did. He counted dragons. Tonight, he could count only one dragon; one because that marvelous dragon was right there beside him, just when his boy needed him, and he knew he always, always would be…
And one,
because he was fast asleep before he made it to two.
God bless!