It was all a matter of sheer bad luck, really. They had started the day walking, working out the stiffness that came with sleeping on the ground—he could only assume that she was looking forward to sleeping in a real bed again as much as he was. This morning's Merida was her usual self, but with a shyness sometimes when she looked at him, a flush in her cheeks that he hoped was a good thing.
To distract himself from the thoughts filling his head he watched Toothless walking just ahead of him. He'd have to make some notes about the length of the flight and the time it took Toothless to recover; that was the sort of thing to put in the revised dragon book. The dragon in question seemed back to full strength now. Hiccup was about to suggest they start flying when Toothless raised his head, sniffing the air, and veered away from the path. "Where are you going?" Hiccup asked, following. Soon he smelled what Toothless had: the thick, sweet scent of honey. If there was a comb nearby, Toothless would find it; he might even share with them.
The beehive was at the base of a tree, apparently recently fallen. Toothless ignored the bees still buzzing around it to nose at the hive, trying to get at the honeycomb. Hiccup was content to let him try; if Toothless got stung by the bees it was his own fault, and it wouldn't hurt him much anyway. He turned to ask Merida what she called bees and saw that her eyes were wide, staring over his shoulder. A pair of bear cubs with dark brown fur were peeking from the underbrush near Toothless, making troubled small-bear noises. From a distance they were adorable, but Hiccup backed away toward Merida. The cubs were already frightened enough, and they didn't look very old; he hoped their mother was around somewhere. And then on second thought, he hoped their mother wasn't around after all.
"Toothless," he called quietly, still walking backward, "let's go." The dragon swung his head around, catching sight of the cubs as he did. Hearing their mewls he stepped closer to investigate, looking curious and concerned.
It was at that time that the cubs' mother appeared, rushing forward with a terrible roar, apparently thinking her babies in danger. Merida screamed a warning as the bear swiped at Toothless, ripping his hide, claws catching his wing. The dragon shrieked in pain and whirled around, rearing up with wings spread wide. The bear seemed taken aback for a moment but rose up as well, though she was far shorter than Toothless. Both struck out, clawing at each other, snarling fiercely.
Behind him Hiccup heard the squeak and slide of a bowstring being drawn back. Merida stepped around him, an arrow nocked and ready to loose, her face tense. There wasn't a clear shot, though, and she ran too much danger of hitting Toothless instead of the bear as they struggled. Toothless had the advantage of speed; he feinted suddenly to one side, and as the bear moved that direction he darted the opposite way, ending up behind her. Before she turned he let out a deafening screech that had her stumbling toward her cubs. While she shook her head, disoriented, Toothless rose into the air and swooped over Hiccup and Merida, catching them up and carrying them away.
He didn't make it far, only a few wingbeats through the trees, and only just released them before skidding into the ground, where he lay breathing heavily.
"Toothless!" Hiccup rolled to his feet and ran to Toothless, kneeling by his head and laying a hand on his neck. "I'm here, buddy. It's gonna be okay." Oh, gods, he hoped that was true. Without Toothless… He shook the thought out of his head.
There were bleeding claw marks on his flanks, front legs, and chest, from blows that Hiccup didn't doubt would have easily ripped him apart. Luckily dragon hide was thicker than human skin; the wounds, though welling blood, weren't very deep. A few were wide enough to need stitches, a task that Hiccup didn't look forward to with any relish, but as long as they were cleaned and kept clean, the wounds would heal with time. The other injury might be a different story. He'd seen the bear's paw batting at Toothless' wing, and wing injuries were much more serious. A downed dragon is a dead dragon, Gobber's voice echoed in his head.
Toothless hissed a warning, eyes slitted, as Hiccup reached for the wing. "I have to check it, bud," he said, struggling to keep his voice from breaking. "Please." Toothless' eyes stayed on him as he slowly extended the wing, praying under his breath. There were long slashes oozing slightly over both the bone and the membrane, but the membrane hadn't torn. He let his head drop against Toothless' side. "Thank you," he said, head swimming with relief. "Thank you." Then he stood and got to work.
He wished Fishlegs were there. They all knew basic first aid—you didn't last long as a Viking if you didn't know how to stop a cut from bleeding and set a broken bone—but Legs knew the most about dragon health and husbandry. If he were there he'd both fret with Hiccup and reassure him. Merida said nothing, her face pale. She ran to fetch water and tore a shirt for rags, but she stayed silent, not once touching him. When it became clear that there was nothing more she could do, she moved away and took up her bow, staring into the forest around them, ready to shoot at the first sign of movement.
He'd cleaned out the scratches and packed the deepest ones with moss, then built a fire near where Toothless lay. After that came the fun part. He upended his pack in searching for what he needed, finally pulling out the needle and thread. The needle was wicked, just sharp enough to use on fabric but thick enough for mending the saddle or harness. At least he'd had plenty of practice sewing, he thought humorlessly. Hiccup passed the needle through the fire before he threaded it.
"This is gonna hurt, bud, and I'm sorry for that. But you have to stay still, okay? Just for a little bit." Toothless looked so dejected and hurt that he wanted to cry. Hiccup steeled himself and started the first stitch, trying to ignore the low whine from the dragon.
When he was finished Hiccup stroked Toothless' head and then washed his hands and repacked his things carefully. Once he'd done all that he walked a short distance away and curled up on the forest floor. He didn't even try to keep from crying.
They stayed the rest of that day and all the next. When he'd returned to the campsite, eyes red, Merida had walked away into the forest. She came back later with some fish speared on a stick, which she handed to Hiccup wordlessly. Toothless still lay listless, but he ate the fish. By the time Hiccup finished feeding him Merida had returned and was cooking something in a pot over the fire. He watched her, feeling nothing but drained. She brought him the whole pot and set it by his feet where he leaned against Toothless; then she retired, bow again at the ready. The venison stew was no gourmet dish, though she'd added berries and roots for extra flavor. He ate until he was full and turned into Toothless' side, falling into a fitful sleep.
The pot was empty when he woke. Merida lay on the opposite side of the fire, frowning in her sleep, and guilt gripped him. As he checked Toothless' wounds he tried to think of some way to make it up to her, to apologize; they were supposed to be a team, the three of them together, and he'd taken her for granted in his worry over his best friend. He noticed Toothless watching him and gestured for him to remain quiet and watchful. Then Hiccup stole away, thinking that at the very least he could clean the pot and fetch fresh water for them.
He knelt on the bank and scrubbed the pot with a handful of grass. A small bird chirped on a branch above him; sunlight filtered through the canopy and small purple flowers grew near the stream. Now that they'd passed into summer the weather was fairer, slightly warmer and with fewer rain showers. If not for their near-death experience, he would think the place pretty.
Merida didn't even glance up when he returned. The sight of her face, creased with sleep, and the tangle of hair above it gave him an idea. He grabbed a rag and hauled the pot of water to her side, where he wet the cloth and dabbed it on her dirty face. Merida scowled and leaned away, but he persisted until she snapped "Stop" and shoved his shoulder. He had been expecting a reaction like that but let himself sprawl backward anyway as she rose and stalked away, toward the stream.
The neck of her tunic was wet and her face was scrubbed pink when she came back. Hiccup smiled, just a little, and beckoned her toward the log where he sat. She thought about it for a long moment, arms crossed tightly; in the end she joined him, walking with imperious pride—how had he not known all along that she was royalty?—and sitting at the far end of the log, glaring sidewise at him. This time he didn't even try to hide his grin as he moved to stand behind her, plucking bits of moss from her hair and then combing through it. Her shoulders tensed at his touch but she stayed put, and eventually relaxed.
"This is gonna be my go-to move, isn't it?" he asked rhetorically. "Every time I do something stupid I'll have to find a comb." He kept his tone light even as his heart sank at the realization that he might not have a next time to upset her.
Once he'd finished combing he tried a braid, mimicking what he'd seen her do before. It turned out a little lopsided, but it wasn't bad for a first try. "All done," he said, straddling the log next to her. This time she turned to him, her expression softer than before. "Merida, I'm sorry. I was so worried about Toothless that I ignored you. I didn't mean to; it's just that he's my best friend." She must have understood enough, because she nodded. Then, all at once, she put her arms around him, her head against his neck. Without hesitation he wrapped his arms around her, feeling a little less lost.