"Finn Hofferson! What in Odin's name do you think you're doing!?"

Valka was carrying a weeping baby in her arms, its mother lagging behind. The blond youth had charged past her, ax in hand, helmet brought down on his forehead. He had grown in the past year, but remained lanky, having not yet developed warrior muscles.

"They need warriors!"

"If the Blood Moons don't kill you then your mom will!"

"She's right boy," Gobber hobbled up, his mallet screwed onto his arm. "And I won't have Ingrid Hofferson murdering her own son out of fear that he almost got himself killed."

"But I can fight!"

"You're still just a lad. Let your elders fight this one."

"So you're going to let her fight?" Finn's nose scrunched up at Valka in distaste.

"Just shut up and get someplace safe!" She found herself shouting. The baby in her arms stared up at her with wide eyes before letting out a small giggle. Valka rolled her eyes.

Not even a baby can take me seriously…

Valka jogged up the slope towards the farms to where the unarmed were lowering themselves into trapdoors. She could hear the voice of her mother calling out directions. She could hear Lundy with the children whose parents had armed themselves for battle. Valka gave the baby to her with a solemn nod, reassuring the winded mother who trudged up the hill behind her.

"Are there any others?" Lundy asked.

"No, that's all of the unarmed."

The two girls glanced down towards the village. The Blood Moons had landed minutes ago, but the evacuation had started hours ago. The second a sail had been spotted by a lookout, Berk had been hurled into organized chaos. Valka herself had led the evacuation, having made five frenzied trips up and down the hills. She might not be strong, but she could run.

Fire exploded at the edge of the village, down by the docks. Lundy and Valka winced.

"Are you sure your dad's coming back with them?"

"He has to be, he left two days ago."

"Maybe they won't believe him…how did he know about this again?"

Valka furrowed her brow. "They'll be here. They will. Now get inside."

"What about you?"

"There's something I have to do-"

"Are you crazy!? You can't fight down there!"

"Just stay here!"

"Valka!"

But Valka had already started off at a sprint. Despite the stiffness in her legs there was breath in her lungs. No one could catch her, and no one stopped her. There was no one to stop her; everyone left on Berk was tucked away or in the throng of battle. It had become apparent during the evacuation that Berk was severely outnumbered.

"There's no way," Gobber had told her. "Blood Moons are crazier than Berserkers. We'd need a miracle on our side."

Well, I'm working on that miracle, Valka thought as she ran.

And she'd probably be dead because of it.

Oh well.

She moved parallel to the bulk of the village, keeping the growing inferno within her sights at all times. Figures danced against the flames, metal meeting metal with each clash of weapons. Odina had practically flown into battle, like the Valkyrie she would no doubt become one distant day. The older warriors had suited up and formed an impatient queue at Gobber's shop.

"I need to get myself an assistant!" he had groaned as sparks flew from the grinders. Valka had volunteered, but the brusque Viking had shooed her away saying: "I don't trust you around sharp things."

So instead, she had doubled her evacuation efforts. They could not dock the ships on the other side of the island, nor could they sail away in time. Safe spots were marked on maps, beginning in barns before heading deeper into the forest. If they could not fight, the villagers would run, at least until reinforcements arrived… if they did at all.

"Come on daddy…" Valka exhaled as she ran. The chained dome of the arena came into view over the crest of a hill. She shifted her trajectory towards the bridge. The fight had not reached the arena, at least not yet. The ring's weapons had been distributed among able bodied Vikings save for one: a staff.

"You can't kill a dragon with a staff…" Stoick had told her their first day in the forest.

"But it's a start," Valka growled as her feet went from grass to stone. Even from a short distance away, Valka could hear the distressed cries of the dragons locked away, agitated with their blindness at the events unfolding outside their cages. Valka raised the gate to the ring, slowing her gait to a timid walk. It was dark and, save for the yellow eyes of the dragons, she was alone.

Suddenly, she was afraid.

"Gods," she sucked in a breath. She reached behind an empty crate for her staff, the same one that she had been using in her training sessions. It felt familiar to her, her hands found the small grooves her grip had made. With a gulp, she stepped towards the locked gates. The cries had died down, as though the dragons knew who approached.

This time though, Valka was not a deliverer of food.

"Thor help me," she whispered, her hand falling on the lock to the Nadder's pen. The latch released, and the door slowly, painfully opened.

Valka trembled. Out of the shadows, a pair of venomous yellow eyes glared at her. The Nadder squawked low, a warning, before its talons clacked onto the stone feet away from where Valka cowered. She could hear its spines clacking, its poison filling the quills from base to tip.

Careful to not startle the beast as it stretched its body, Valka crept over to the Gronkle's pen. The round dragon rolled over, its tiny wings limp and momentarily useless before it hovered. Valka dodged out of the way of its bumbling body in order to release the Zippleback, who emerged from its cage in a shroud of smog.

All four dragons glared at Valka, their jaws quivering as if debating whether or not to fire.

The only positive Valka saw was that there was no Nightmare.

Run! Every instinct, every cell in her body screamed at her, but Valka was frozen. Despite the heat emitting from the beasts before her, she felt cold to the touch, her boots blocks of ice.

"Oh gosh…oh gods…"

The Nadder squawked, silencing Valka immediately. She raised up her staff in alarm, holding it against her chest in a vice grip, but that only agitated the dragon further. Certain that it would lunge towards her, Valka dove, curling herself into as tight of a ball as possible. Only in the silence that followed did she peek: the dragons stared at her, but their attention quickly turned to the open gates.

Was it possible for dragons to smile? All four heads glanced at one another, their mouths opened it what appeared to be grins of joy. The Nadder moved first, practically flying as he ran, followed by the trotting Zippleback and the bounding Gronkle. Once they had cleared the gate, their wings spread victoriously as they took to the darkened sky.

Valka trembled.

"No…" she whimpered, her legs too numb to stand. "No, no, no! Come back! Help us!"

Of course they wouldn't help, why would they, why should they? Valka had foolishly believed that freedom, and the hunger for a fresh meal might entice them to at least stick around. Perhaps the fires would encourage them…level the playing field…but no.

Valka sobbed.

"All my fault…this is all my fault…."

If only she had not been born—

No. A voice commanded her from within. Valka grit her teeth. Though the shock of the previous moments had left her weak, she pulled herself up with her staff and stood tall.

Valka Jorgenson may have been born because of a mistake, but she was not a mistake. She was not useless, she was not weak. She would accept oddball and strange…but not hopeless.

We'll make a warrior out of you yet…Stoick had told her three years ago, as he had stared at her, impressed with her tenacity.

"No time like the present," she murmured.

Staff in hand, Valka marched out of the ring, the distant fires of Berk burning in her eyes.

Mudpie Lufthead was dead…Valka tried to hold down her vomit as she stood over the bruised and bloodied body of the baker. Mudpie had been soft in the body, as well as a touch soft in the heart…but still he had suited up when Berk needed him. No more delicious treats from the bread making Viking…but Mudpie had one final gift to give to Valka.

"I'm sorry Mr. Lufthead," Valka whispered as she reached into his belt. His primary weapon may have been taken from him, but he still had a knife on him. It was a start.

The battle had shifted: bodies were strewn across the paths like stars in constellations. Valka recognized some of the fallen, others were complete strangers. Valhalla would be busy tonight, as Odin welcomed Midgard's finest warriors. She wondered if there was rivalry in the heavens…if a Berkian and a Blood Moon would sit side by side at the feasts without issue. Was all forgiven? After all, you could not control what tribe you were born into…like her mother.

Ursula, a Blood Moon…Valka never would have guessed. She was too gentle for Berk standards, but for Blood Moon? The thought was laughable.

A footstep landed near her as she crept. Staff at the ready in her trembling hands, the knife within reach, Valka jumped to face her opponent, only to meet Odina's icy blue gaze.

"Loki's loins Valka!" The girl spat, tossing her hair out of her eyes. She rolled her axe in her hands, which were covered in blood. A cut spread across her cheek; her bottom lip was swollen. "What are you doing out here? Where's Lundy?"

Valka relaxed, but only slightly. "Up with the others."

"Which is exactly where you should be!"

"I had to do something first-"

"Then do it and get lost! You'll just be in the way."

"I can fight-"

"HAH!" Odina winced at her volume. "That's hysterical."

"Stoick's been teaching me-"

"Ahh, so that's why our chief bid on you. What exactly has he been teaching you huh?"

Despite all of her instincts telling her not do, Valka pushed her staff up against Odina's collarbone, pining her against the wall. Odina's icy glare turned into white hot fury.

"It is nothing—like-that." Valka sneered.

"You're right," Odina smirked. "He'd never want a fish bone like you."

Valka spun her staff until the tip was up against the fleshy underside of Odina's throat.

"I suggest you shut your mouth before you see exactly what he's been teaching me."

Oddly enough, Odina nodded weakly, her hands up in surrender. Valka relented.

"Where is everyone?"

Odina caught her breath. "Village circle: they're making their way towards Mead Hall."

"Gobber still up?"

"Yeah he's up…can't say much about his technique but-"

"Finn?"

Odina grinned. "Fearless Finn? He's like a Berserker out there. Little brother has guts."

Valka sighed in relief, but she dared not ask about anyone else. Instead she started off, Odina on her heels before overtaking her. Valka had a feeling that the girl did not like anyone outpacing her, so instead she fell back into Odina's footsteps, as they ran towards the awaiting arms of chaos.

"We're too late-" Smitelout exhaled grimly, his eyes locked on the fire and smoke rising from Berk. Stoick stood beside him, his red brows furrowed in thought. When Smitelout Jorgenson had showed up on Meathead Island, Stoick had thought it was all a false alarm…but then the man had confessed to his true crimes, and everything had horrifically started to make sense.

A lesser chief would have executed a traitor on sight, but Stoick stayed his hand. Spitelout was there, red faced and outraged, and Stoick could not trust his judgement. Besides, perhaps it was all a mistake; why risk executing an innocent man? Now, gazing at his village burning, Stoick realized the gravity of it all, that the man bound beside him really was a traitor.

But the horror in his eyes, the fear that turned his complexion pale…Stoick almost pitied him.

"They don't know we're coming," he answered. Glancing behind him, Stoick saw not only his ship, but a fleet of Meathead boats: reinforcements. He beamed. The night sky and the smoke from the fire provided enough coverage to sail in undetected. If Gobber had organized the villagers to fight towards the docks, and if Stoick and his men fought from the docks, the Blood Moons would be stuck.

"Chief?" Smitelout called. Stoick nodded in response, though he did not look at the man.

"My family is innocent in this…Spitelout and…and Valka. I dragged Ursula into this with my foolishness…it's my fault and mine alone. Please…don't punish them for my stupidity."

Stoick exhaled deeply through his nose. He wished Gobber was there with him; Gobber was the water bearer to Stoick's fiery temper, the one who could douse the inferno. He wanted to hate this man, to deny him his every request for the horror he had brought to his people, for the death of his father…but he could not, nor could he give a reason for his placidness.

"My first priority is Berk," he answered firmly. Smitelout nodded, lowering his eyes in shame. A chill ran from the base of Stoick's skull all the way down his legs. Stoick had never realized that Smitelout had given Valka his eyes; that cool sea glass shade of green that reminded him of waves preceding a storm. Quiet fury, muted strength, beautiful danger.

"Valka will be safe," he said suddenly. "As far as I'm concerned she is an innocent in this."

Smitelout looked close to tears. "Thank you, chief. Thank you."

"Tell me," Stoick continued, clearing his throat. "Did my bidding upset her that much?"

"Huh?" Smitelout raised a graying eyebrow. Stoick looked away, his hands falling on his axe, testing the blade.

Keep your head about you man, he chastised himself.

Smitelout remained silent, eerily silent. When Stoick glanced over his shoulder, he saw the man glancing up at him, with a crooked, all-knowing smile on his lips.

"There's too many of them!"

"Keep fighting!" Valka called over her shoulder to Odina. Their branch of the battle had one goal: to keep the Blood Moons away from where the civilians were hiding. It was a small, battered bunch; most of Berk's force had been deployed to defend the bulk of Berk, including Mead Hall. Over the throng of battle Valka could hear Gobber hollering orders.

"Come on dad…" she muttered, teetering on hopelessness. Over the course of the battle Valka had gone from staff to knife to sword. The steel of the sword was heavier than the wood of her staff, but it caused greater injury to her opponents. Once, after she had knocked a Blood Moon warrior out with the pommel, Valka had caught Odina practically beaming at her with pride. The moment was short lived, however, as Odina had swung her axe into the spinal cord of a hammer wielding foe, her warrior sneer reemerging.

"We need reinforcements," Odina ran up to Valka, breathless. The handful of other Berkians gathered around them, wounded and winded. Some needed medical attention, but they refused to leave the crux of the battle.

"Should we move the others?" Drool Fjordman asked, leaning against his hammer.

"That'll take too long," Odina said coolly, though Valka could hear the worry in her voice. "We need to rejoin the other warriors and make a full front."

"We'll just exhaust ourselves faster," Drool countered. Umber Blight and Hedda Welch nodded in agreement. "We need to start thinking about a retreat."

"Only cowards retreat," Odina hissed.

"No one is retreating," Valka interrupted. To her great surprised, everyone stopped and listened. "Odina is right, we need to assist Gobber's branch and attack them head on. Think about what the chief would want us to do until he gets here."

Heads began to nod, understanding.

"If Stoick and the others are coming," Hedda began, "How are we supposed to know? We can't see anything in this smoke."

Valka smiled, "Leave that to me."

Every muscle in her body screamed in protest. Every bone felt as though it was going to crack, but still Valka climbed. She knew this forest, she knew which tree was the tallest, and she knew that if she could get herself high enough she could look out above the smoke and see the leagues of open ocean that surrounded their island.

She caught her breath, leaning against the trunk of the tree about midway up. On her back, she had a bow and three arrows wrapped in damp cloth. In her pocket there was flint rock. Her code was simple: a lit arrow meant help was on the way, and nothing meant…nothing.

Already she was higher than the tree she had hung from just over a week ago. Heights never bothered her, but a new fear was brewing: falling. Her mind told her to not look down, but instinct told her to do just the opposite.

"Don't be stupid, don't be stupid, don't be stupid…" she muttered, focusing on the placement of her hands. The branches were thinning, but there was still a ways to go.

"Oh Valka," she began, chuckling weakly. "What have you gotten yourself into now?" She inched up. "Halfway up the tallest tree with an arrow you're not sure you can ever shoot…not sure if your dad is even on his way…but hey, could be worse right? You could be talking to yourself."

She giggled in a singsong voice, "Oh Vally you're delirious."

Grunting with effort, Valka broke through the tree line of the surrounding forest. The view was intoxicatingly beautiful: the wind felt so crisp it made her eyes water…but it was still not high enough.

"Come on girl," she grit her teeth. "One of your bright ideas has to work tonight."

SNAP! A branch had splintered in her hand.

"Oh gods oh gods oh gods oh gods!" Valka gasped, throwing herself against the trunk until her body steadied. She had tried sarcasm, she had tried encouragement…but she had not tried pleading.

"Odin, if you're listening, if you help me," she went up another branch, "I swear I'll do whatever you need me to do. I'll take the damned cooking lessons, I'll dress like a girl, I'll even dance with Stoick…I just want to get out of this tree alive-"

Air.

Valka gripped air.

There was nowhere left for her to go; she had reached the top.

Stunned, Valka moved quickly. The slightest breeze sent the treetop into a frenzy. She glanced north, then west, then south…until her eyes landed on the east.

Valka had never smiled so widely before in her life.

With trembling fingers, Valka wrapped herself around the thin trunk, and knocked an arrow. She grabbed the flint from her pocket. The cloths on the arrows had been doused in oil, and though it took a few strikes, the cloth lit.

"Okay, okay, okay…" she muttered, exhaling sharply. The fire spread rapidly, blinding in the darkness. She had hoped that the light would be enough for her fellow villagers, but she knew that there was one final step.

With all the strength her fingers could muster, Valka launched the arrow straight towards the sky.

"What is that?" Spitelout whispered in wonder. He had been the first to spot the light rising up into the sky, but his transfixed gaze had alerted the others to its presence. Stoick stomped toward the bow of the ship, narrowing his eyes at the sight. He could not explain why, but the sight of the light felt reassuring, like a beacon welcoming him home.

"Please tell me you saw that," Valka clung to the tree, having nearly sent herself backwards from the launch. She had dropped the bow, but that was unimportant now. She had done her part: her father was bringing the others home.

The time came for her to climb down, a feat easier for her muscles but harder for her mind. Each step felt precarious, her fingers felt practically numb. She started to count her steps down, but that proved to be too much on her mind. Instead, she began to sing.

"Yaks milk, fresh eggs, bacon on the sidddde; nothing beats breakfast, when it's cold outsidddde…" she chuckled at the childhood song her mother would sing to her as she would descend the stairs in the morning. She was nearly halfway down, and though her nerves were racing, her mind was at least preoccupied.

"Oh my wife is a riot, never is she quiet, we always have a fight when I come home late at night!" That one was a jaunty song Spite had taught her; her father had not been too pleased when he heard little Valka skipping and singing that one, considering it was a drinking song.

Her father's song was her favorite. For the longest time, Valka only knew the tune, for Smitelout would only whistle it. It was only when Valka was older and sleepless, that she had heard her father and mother dancing downstairs. Curious, Valka had peeked.

"And love me for eternity…"

"Smite," Ursula had said, "Is this really our song?"

"Of course it is…I wrote it just for you."

"Sometimes I forget-"

"Thorgrimma hated music; the only time I got her to dance was when I won a dance with her. I had almost forgotten how to dance until I met you."

Ursula had hummed at that.

Valka sighed, stealing a brief glance down: one more song and she'd be on solid ground.

"I'll swim and sail on savage seas, with ne'er a fear of drowning..."

She stepped down onto another branch; her singing had muted the crack.

"And gladly ride the waves of life, if you would mar-"

The branch fell out from beneath her, and sent Valka plummeting towards the ground. She didn't even have time to scream before her world went black.