Found

Stoick the Vast, chief of the Hairy Hooligan tribe, flew along in a silence that was his namesake. The biting wind felt like daggers stabbing at his hands and exposed upper arm. His heavy fur coat and cloak kept his torso and shoulders warm, and the wool-lined spike-studded bracers on his forearms provided some protection, but this was a far cry from proper flying gear in the freezing arctic winds.

Looking to his side, he could see that his companion was even less adequately dressed and was shivering in the cold. A while ago, they had stopped to kill a polar bear, and before feeding, the dragons allowed Stoick and Gobber to field dress it. Gobber had wrapped himself in the hairy hide - with the hair on the inside because the raw, untreated underside was uncured and disgusting - and secured it with some rope, but the uncured pelt was only a temporary solution at best.

"Gobber," Stoick shouted over the wind, "it would be a shame to die to the cold for nothing. You really should go back. Skull and I will be fine."

Gobber snorted, which turned into chattering teeth. "D-Don't be s-silly!" he shouted back. "We're c-c-close. Right, Skullcrusher?"

The dragon on which Stoick rode locked his wings closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He gave a rumble and started flapping again with renewed vigor.

"Atta boy!" Stoick shouted as he jovially slapped the thick carapace plates on the back of his dragon's neck.

His eyes drifted past his dragon to the icy floes below. Most of the sea was completely frozen over, but something caught his attention. There was a peculiar pocket of irregularities in the ice. Stoick leaned forward and his dragon descended for a better look.

On closer inspection, he could see broken ice where it was thin, cracks radiating out from a central point. Looking around, there were a few signs that something had impacted the ice. Surrounding each of these were several deep grooves that must have been gouged by claws.

Gobber snorted. "I wonder what happened here? Dragons jus' fall from the sky an' fly off again?"

Something black caught Stoick's attention. It was floating on the water between the ice floes. He guided his dragon to swoop down over it, hooked a foot through a large iron ring on his saddle, and leaned over and down to snatch the object. Pulling himself back up, he looked at his catch. It was a helmet. It was a black, leather helmet covered in Night Fury scales.

It was Hiccup's helmet.

Skullcrusher snorted and craned his head around, and Stoick thrust the helmet forward so his dragon could get a good sniff. Gobber just stared at the thing in gloomy silence. Nothing needed to be said. Both of them knew what was going to happen. They would track down Hiccup, rescue him if he wasn't dead already, and personally find and kill every living creature that ever dared to threaten or harm him.

Up ahead, a strange-looking iceberg loomed. It was unusually tall and had large, icy spikes jutting out from the sheer walls. Their dragons alighted on a ledge that led into a tunnel large enough to accommodate a dragon of any size. Every surface of the tunnel was covered in claw marks and scorches that gave Stoick an uneasy feeling.

Stoick whispered, "Skullcrusher, Grump, keep quiet. Don't reach out to any other dragons nearby with your mind or whatever it is you normally do. We want to remain undetected by anyone."

Both dragons gave a light grunt to confirm they understood. Stoick quietly unsheathed his sword and grabbed his large shield. Gobber quickly twisted and pulled the blunted hook from an ingenious socket he had attached to the stump of his maimed arm. In its place, he inserted the shortened handle of a double-bitted battle ax that he grabbed from his dragon's saddlebags. His good hand grabbed his shield and he followed close behind Stoick, keeping a sharp eye behind them.

The four silently crept along the tunnel with Skullcrusher in the lead with his nose to the ground, followed by Stoick, then Gobber and Grump. Light filtering down through veins of ice in the ceiling helped in navigating the uneven terrain, but Stoick was cognizant of how visible they were. To his relief, Skullcrusher headed them down a smaller tunnel that seemed to be less traveled as he sniffed out Hiccup.

They made good progress and avoided detection until they rounded a tight corner in the tunnel. Stoick heard something bump into Skullcrusher and fall to the ground with a squeak of surprise. He raised his shield and pressed the flat of his sword against its edge, ready for any fight.

From below Skullcrusher's snout, a feminine voice said, "Who are- How did-" She suddenly stopped.

Stoick recognized that voice. His senses battled against old memories of past losses. He couldn't believe it, literally, so he took a step forward and leaned over to peer past his dragon's head. Darkness greeted his eyes.

"Skull, light, please," he whispered.

The dragon opened his mouth and a small fire burned within to cast a dull orange glow. It was a trick Stoick never knew his dragon could do until a year ago when Skullcrusher took the initiative to help his stumbling rider in a dark cave.

Sure enough, Stoick's eyes confirmed what his ears heard. Rushing to her feet was the slender form of Valka. His wife.

His dead wife.

The shock made him drop his sword. His shield ended up flopping like a fish as it hung on his limp wrist. Valka dropped the bone staff she was holding. Stoick opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out.

A dragon rushed up and clawed to a halt just behind her. It had bronze scales, wide horns that jutted out to the sides of the head, and a large, boney crown that fanned out from the back of its owl-like head. Stoick recognized this dragon. It had almost killed his son. It was the one that attacked him and plucked his wife away to take her to an unknown fate at the dragon nest, or now that he understood better, the Red Death.

It wasn't until Valka used her staff to knock Stoick's sword aside that he realized he had picked it up and started to rush the dragon. There was no way her slender form could have stopped him, but the gesture was enough to give him pause.

"Peace!" she shouted. "Calm! Peace!"

She urgently hissed and gestured at the dragon behind her and it backed away and around the corner, out of sight.

Stoick could only stand there and stare with his mouth agape. His dead wife lowered the staff and stood there with a sullen and guilty look on her face. What was this, a taunt from the gods? A draugr? A mockery of what he lost half a lifetime ago?

"I know what you're gonna say, Stoick," she said in a tense voice. "How could I have done this?"

Still, Stoick couldn't find his tongue. Valka was tense, scared, rattling off what seemed to be a well-rehearsed entreaty.

Valka continued, "Stayed away for all of these years and why didn't I come back to you? To our-" she shuddered. "son." Even in the dim light, Stoick could clearly see guilt in those wide eyes, but also a steely resolve.

Down the tunnel and around the corner, Stoick recognized his son's voice shouting, "Mom! Dad is close. Toothless says he sensed- Oof! Uhh, hi there, Cloud."

In the gloom, the black dragon on which he rode was almost invisible but Stoick recognized those green eyes that caught every stray speck of light. Hiccup hastily slid down to the ground.

"Uhh, hi Dad?" he squeaked out.

He walked up to stand next to… well, his mother, apparently.

Stoick could only stare at the sight of his boy in black leather and a weave of shed Night Fury scales, standing next to a woman adorned with shed carapace plates from various dragons. What was clear to see when Hiccup was an infant was so much more plain to see at that moment. The boy had her eyes for sure, and her chin, and her hair.

Hiccup eyed his lost helmet that Stoick had secured to his waist. He started to reach for it but stopped himself.

"Listen," he said with trepidation, "I can explain. I couldn't just sit… around…"

He faltered at the lack of acknowledgment from his father. Stoick could see only his dead wife brought back to life. This woman standing before him was carried off to the nest by the dragon calmly standing behind her. How? For the past three years, Hiccup and a few other riders on Berk have been able to communicate with dragons. Through Hiccup, Stoick heard the dragons tell him about their past lives. Any villager plucked up by a dragon was dropped into the waiting maw of the Red Death. If they were lucky, they died before that happened.

Hookfang, the Monstrous Nightmare that Stoick's nephew rode, fessed up to carrying off certain villagers who were lost to raids. The dragon was under the mind control of the Red Death, of course, but the poor thing was determined to make amends. The apparently flawless memory of the dragon, along with a strong nose, allowed him to figure out who was the surviving kin of his victims he had dropped into the Red Death's maw.

He spent weeks upon weeks hunting and diving for fish, bringing back every scrap of meat he could get his claws on as a tribute. The Ingermans, Iridottirs, and Bollissons were hopelessly overwhelmed with tributes of fish, bear, elk, and boar. That was before anyone on Berk could hear dragons speak, but it was enough to communicate with those whose father or husband was carried off to the nest. They had to ask around for help in dressing and processing all the animals that dragon dropped at their doorsteps. Their neighbors were paid handsomely with a portion of the goods, of course.

If it wasn't uncommon for a Viking to be snatched up in a raid and fed to the Red Death, how was Valka standing there? How was the dragon that took her away protectively wrapping a tail around her?

Stoick blinked. How did that sly devil creep up to do that without him noticing?

"I… I…" Valka trailed off.

Stoick could practically see the platitudes and justifications spilling out all over the ground. Already, pieces started to fall into place. His wife was carried off by a dragon, but she was not harmed. For some unknown reason, the dragon took her somewhere other than the Red Death's nest. She obviously formed a bond with this dragon. Given the look on her face and the words she was clearly trying to force out, she must have had ample opportunities to return home.

Still, all Stoick could do was stare in dumb silence like a fish out of water. Hiccup drifted backward to give them some space, anxiety and trepidation plain to see on his face.

"I… I…" Valka sucked in a deep breath. A single tear streaked down her cheek. "What sign did I have that you could change, Stoick? That anyone could?" The floodgates opened up and she started to pour out her heart. "I pleaded so many times to stop the mindless fighting, to find a better answer, but did any of you listen? No! You wanted your glory!" She pointed a shaky finger at him. "You wanted your war! You wanted blood and that's what you got!"

Gobber muttered, "This is why I never married. This, and one other reason."

Stoick tried to speak. He tried to ask her what was going on. He tried to demand to know how Valka survived. He tried to confront the dragon that robbed him of his wife. Nothing came out.

"No, you never listen," she said. She sucked in a deep breath to control her quivering. "You wouldn't hear it. When your own son tried to show you a better way, you almost got the whole tribe killed before-" she faltered, took in a deep breath, and closed her eyes. A single tear rolled down her cheek. "I know that I left you to raise Hiccup alone, but I thought he'd be better off without me. And I was wrong. I see that now, but…"

She drifted off again, unsure of what else to say. Stoick took a step forward and stared deep into her eyes.

"Oh, stop being so stoic, Stoick," she said, her face betraying her true feelings, that she desperately craved some sort of resolution no matter what it was.

Stoick slowly and carefully raised his large hand, drawing it closer to her face. The weight of a sudden realization crashed down on him. He stared at the many scars on his hand, the thick calluses, the wrinkles around the joints. After all these years, Valka didn't seem to have aged at all. Those wide, green eyes, set in a face almost completely devoid of any wrinkles, poured out a torrent of pain and indignation in equal measure.

"Go on," she pleaded. "Shout! Scream! Say something!"

Stoick gently touched his fingertips to her cheek and she shuddered. He knew he had to say something. Anything! He finally found his tongue and whispered the first words that came to mind.

"You're as beautiful as the day I lost you."

Suddenly, everything collapsed. All the tension released as Valka silently cried as she melted into Stoick. He could tell she was deeply conflicted. She wasn't immediately cast away but that was not a statement to confirm some sort of resolution to this situation.

The situation was so strange that Stoick didn't know what to do, but he had to do something. Gently, he placed a hand under her chin and lifted it up to make her look at him and leaned his head in a little. She leaned back into him and they embraced in a kiss.

As they pulled apart, Hiccup's sarcastic voice caught their attention. "Ha, ha, very funny, Toothless." He was batting at his dragon's wing and pushing past. "Toothless recently saw Helga cover her children's eyes when I kissed Astrid and now he thinks he needs to do likewise for me."

Hiccup looked at his father and mother with a big smile on his face. "So, Dad, Mom, what do you think?"

"I can't believe it," was all Stoick could say. He looked down at his son and frowned. Focusing on something he understood quite well helped him deal with this strange situation. "But you still disobeyed me. Again."

"But Dad," Hiccup whined, "I found Mom."

"That doesn't justify disobedience," Valka said.

"And it's clear she was not lost but hiding." Stoick softly said, casting a sideways look at his… long-lost wife. She couldn't meet his gaze.

Questions whirled around as this was an unprecedented situation. Could she still be his wife? No, she was declared dead and Stoick a widower. The law and the gods recognized her departure. Then again, were the gods so easily fooled? Would the marriage still be valid in their eyes even if not the villagers? Did she love him? Did he love her? He couldn't tell on all accounts and suddenly regretted going straight to kissing her.

"How would you normally punish him for disobedience?" Valka asked, obviously sidestepping the dilemma they both shared.

"Do you regret being found?" Stoick asked more easily than he anticipated he could.

"Wh-what? No! Of course not! But Hiccup needs to learn discipline. How would you normally handle this?"

Stoick blinked and forced his mind to focus on the here and now. Valka was taking on the role of a parent, trying to slide in as Hiccup's mother as if she was only gone for a trading run and wanted to catch up on recent developments she missed.

Stoick shrugged. "Tell him what he did wrong and ground him for a few days."

"That it?"

"A week?"

"And before Toothless?"

"Stick him inside and tell him to stay put whenever a new invention of his wrecks something. Make him help clean things up."

Valka snorted. "I can see that worked brilliantly," she said sarcastically. "That it? No actual discipline?"

"I can't spank him or something like that. I'd break him!"

"Not hard! Works on dogs, dragons, and humans alike. You discipline the mind that thinks but not the heart that feels. Hiccup feels, but does not think."

Hiccup said, "You know I'm standing right here?"

"Well, what would you do, say, when Hiccup flies off when I tell him to stay put?" Stoick shot back.

"I told her about it and she hit me with her staff," Hiccup whined. "I got a bruise on my arm and Toothless allowed it!"

"He's a child!" Valka hissed. "You're too lax with him. He won't mature until you make him. If I saw that in a day, you should have seen it in the past twenty years!"

Stoick threw his arms out in exasperation. "Look, I'm not the best father in the world! I get it! I wasn't supposed to be doing this alone! What was I supposed to do, watch over him day and night? I had a tribe to run! Disputes to settle, fallen warriors to send off, food stores to manage, houses to rebuild…"

He stopped because he noticed that Valka was crying. He wrapped an arm around her and said, "Sorry, that was a bit callous of me."

"My fault," Valka softly said. "Could have come back. Didn't. Scared."

"It's alright," Stoick said. He didn't know why he said that. Twenty years was a long time, and how much longer would it have been if Hiccup didn't stumble across her hidden home?

"No! Not alright!" she insisted.

"No," Stoick agreed. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Now he knew why he was willing to comfort her about this. She knew well enough to recognize wrongdoing when she saw it. "That dragon took more than just my wife from me."

It was true. When he lost his dear Val, he simply broke down. He lost his confidence as a father who could protect his family. Everyone around him still saw the stern-but-fair chieftain but he was dead on the inside. He was woefully unequipped to properly raise his son with discipline because what worked on Stoick when he was a child clearly didn't work on Hiccup.

"So I've heard," Valka said. It was obvious by the flicker of her eyes and the twitch of her lip that she wanted to say more but thought better of it. Finally, after a lengthy silence, she said, "And if I came back right away, maybe a year later, knowing dragons were people who just fell in a bad way?"

Stoick deflated. Nobody present had any doubt what would happen if Valka returned to Berk during the dragon war. The chief disowned his son when he tried to pet a Monstrous Nightmare, and then proceeded to almost get every able-bodied warrior roasted by a mountain of a dragon. What greater stunt would Valka have been driven to perform to plead on the behalf of the dragons? What greater madness would Stoick have been driven to? Would the Red Death still be alive and the dragons still raiding to this day? Most likely.

For Valka to stay away from Berk was objectively the best decision and it pierced Stoick's heart to recognize that. She was driven away by what would certainly happen if she came back. Hiccup's lack of discipline and habit of disobedience was solely his father's fault.

Stoick closed his eyes. He couldn't bear to see the hurt in her eyes as she must have followed the same line of thought. She suffered as much as him, perhaps, even more, having no human friends. Dragons were fine and all, but they couldn't pour a drink for a woeful heart.

He paused in thought. It felt wrong to just declare that they were husband and wife again. Regardless of whether the law allowed such, his heart wasn't so sure. Then again, he couldn't ignore that hopeful look in Hiccup's eyes. He wanted to acknowledge the possibility, but he didn't want to raise anyone's hopes unduly.

Finally, he said, "If one loses his favorite ax, he learns to live without it."

"He would get himself another," Valka immediately retorted, eyes downcast.

"There is no other."

She locked eyes with him. "If he found his ax sometime later, would his son benefit from taking it home?"

Stoick twitched his lips into a faint smile. "Our son would benefit, yes."

########


########

Eret was awoken from sleep by the screeching sound of his cell door grinding open and someone shouting, "Get up! Move it!"

Rough hands pulled him and the riders out one by one and bound their wrists behind their backs. Once bound, the prodding of spear tips marched them out of the holds and up onto the deck.

Above deck, it was clear that they were moving at an unnaturally rapid rate. Drago's flagship that was serving as their prison was speeding along faster than any wind could carry them, not that the ship had any sails in the first place. In front of the ship, the back of the massive bewilderbeast led the way, breaking up the sea of ice as it moved and towing the ship by massive chains.

At the bow of the ship was Drago discussing something with a group of what must have been captains and other leaders in his war effort. The large man spared a moment to sneer at the prisoners before ignoring them as if they weren't even worth his attention.

"What gives?" Ruffnut asked as the cold wind bit at them. "I was having the most pleasant dream where I was-"

A guard leaned over and whacked the butt-end of his spear into her stomach, sending her collapsing to the deck.

"Move!" another guard shouted as he grabbed her braids and hauled her up to her feet.

Tuffnut looked like he was about to say something but Eret fervently shook his head. That and the tip of a spear pressed against his back convinced him to hold his peace.

Astrid leaned over and whispered, "Where are they taking us this time?"

The guards were marching them along the edge of the ship toward the stern, around boxes, barrels, and dragon cages. Eret gulped as he realized what was going on.

"They're going to kill us," he whispered back. "Walk the plank. No bodies to dispose of, no muss, no fuss."

"They can't do that! We gave Drago what he wanted!" Fishlegs whimpered.

Eret shrugged. "That's Drago for ya, but he should still need us to help with the search for this Bewilderbeast. We made sure he saw value in keeping us alive. I wonder what has changed?"

One of the guards said, "Let's just say our beastie sniffed out your beastie. We're gonna go and kill it. And then we'll take back all the dragons you lost to incompetence. Too bad you won't live to see it."

"Quiet!" another guard snapped at him. "No talking to the shark bait."

Eret idly eyed the dozen steel dome traps that lined the way in a grid. They were a wonderful invention that could hold two dragons of any size up to Monstrous Nightmares. The trap would be left out somewhere with one dragon shackled down and the hemisphere lids opened to the sky. Any dragon passing by would be lured in by the shackled dragon in distress and would enter the dome to investigate, then a trigger would slam the top shut, trapping both inside.

In past years, Eret had considered commissioning such traps to be made for his own dragon trapping business. However, such a device took all the fun out of trapping. He preferred to rely on his strength, wits, and bolas. Well, that and he couldn't afford something made from so much steel… And he couldn't hire all the men it would take to haul such a heavy thing around… And he would need larger ships… Yeah, definitely a solution for milk-drinkers.

All the traps were closed up for now. From inside one of them, the angry roar of a Monstrous Nightmare rattled the steel dome. It banged against the walls but it was to no avail; those traps were secured quite well to the deck.

Another trap they passed by emitted the trilling of a Deadly Nadder. Astrid stared at the trap and whispered under her breath, "Save your strength for a good opportunity and then leave nothing but cinders, girl. Do me proud."

It wasn't until Eret noticed the calls of a Zippleback and a Gronckle, as well as the sullen reaction from the riders, why they were taken this way to walk the plank. Usually, Vikings loved to kill their enemies in a much more showier and bloodier execution. However, before the riders died, Drago wanted them to see that their dragons were trapped and helpless. He wanted them to know that their deaths have accomplished absolutely nothing and would be recognized by nobody. Even the fact that Drago wasn't there to watch them die was a slap in the face, a clear message that even their deaths weren't worth a moment of his time.

It was working, too. Fishlegs was silently weeping, Snotlout and the twins were staring at their feet in utter dejection, and even Astrid looked like a kicked puppy. That wouldn't do, though. Eret wouldn't go down without a fight. He needed the other riders to provide a distraction but he couldn't exactly share any sort of plan with them without the guards catching on.

That, and time was almost up. Not too far ahead, a simple gangplank extended from the starboard side of the ship.

"This isn't happening," Fishlegs muttered.

"You're looking pretty calm for one who is about to die," Eret casually said to Ruffnut.

She glared at him but said nothing. Eret glared right back. When he had a moment that the guards weren't looking at his face, he winked at her. He knew Astrid was plenty sharp to instantly respond to an escape opportunity. Snotlout was too dim and Fishlegs too timid to be relied upon. The twins, though, seemed to have an intuitive understanding of each other to instantly work in unison without any noticeable communication, so hinting at Ruffnut that he had a plan would inherently do likewise for Tuffnut.

"You're one to talk!" Ruffnut shouted at him. "You led us here!"

"Astrid made me!" Eret shouted right back.

"This can't be happening," Fishlegs said. Tuffnut kicked his shin and he yowled in pain.

"We're here," one of the guards said. He gestured to the plank. "You will start walking now or my spear will make you."

"Could this day get any worse?" Snotlout muttered.

"Uh, let me see," Tuffnut said. "We're about to jump into freezing cold water and then die from drowning."

Eret peered over the edge at the foamy water below. "Looks refreshing. You'll probably get eaten by one of Drago's Sharkworms, though."

"Shut up!" Snotlout shouted. A guard raised a spear to hit him but a second guard placed a hand on his shoulder. They both grinned and stood back to enjoy the drama.

Eret made a face of disgust at Ruffnut and said, "How about you walk first? You smell the worst and could use a bath."

"That's it!" she shouted, stepping up nose-to-nose. "I used to love you but you've gone too far, mister! Don't you be dissing my protective layer of grime. Disease can't touch me."

"This isn't happening," Fishlegs moaned. Tuffnut kicked him again.

"Then how about the fat one?" Eret casually suggested, gesturing to Fishlegs.

"Hey!" Astrid snapped. "Maybe you should try being polite sometime before you die."

"That's enough!" one of the guards shouted, advancing with a spear.

"You're right," Eret said, stepping onto the base of the plank. "Where I come from, we have manners and chivalry. You wouldn't understand. Please," he gestured to Astrid, "ladies first."

Astrid glared at him. "You are a steaming pile of-"

Tuffnut pulled his leg back to kick Fishlegs again. Fishlegs shuffled back but Ruffnut lunged forward to stomp on his foot, causing him to shout and go into a rage. He turned around and rammed his forehead into the nearest guard's face. The other guards made the error of turning to see what was happening.

"Duck!" Eret shouted as he flashed a wink.

Astrid instantly complied. Eret whirled around and high-kicked the guard behind her, catching the side of his face with his foot. The guard's halberd jumped out of his grasp and arced over Astrid's head. Eret managed to catch the handle with his fingers and maneuvered the blade to cut his bindings. He cried out in pain as his sloppy handling took some flesh out along with the ropes, but his hands were free.

The closest guard could only stare in shock at what he saw. Eret wasted no time in stabbing his foot with the halberd and grabbed his weapon as he hopped about. With a weapon in each hand, Eret rushed at the remaining guards. Astrid kicked the knee out of one while Eret thrust the other through.

One guard was running away to warn the others and had too much of a head start to be caught on foot. Fortunately, the one Fishlegs hit was in a daze and happened to be trying to maintain his grip on a bow in one hand and an arrow in the other. Eret grabbed them both, notched, drew, aimed, and released. The arrow went right through his lungs and he stumbled to the deck

Astrid casually kicked at the temple of a guard who was trying to struggle back to his feet. She gave Eret an approving look. Fishlegs' face puckered up as if he was about to shout and scream in a tantrum, but then he ended up slumping against the gunwale with a squeak of, "What just happened?"

Snotlout rolled his shoulders as Eret unbound his hands. "I gotta hand it to you, not too bad. I coulda taken them all without almost letting that one get away, but I figured I'd let you have your fun and save my strength for the more important battle to come."

Ruffnut kicked at Snotlout and walked towards Eret, wrists still bound, saying, "Okay, I love you again!"

Eret backed away and cast a pleading look at Astrid. "Please help!"

He felt a wet trickle and remembered that his wrist was bleeding. He took a good look and let out a sigh of relief. It missed any tendons or veins.

Ruffnut oozed closer, licking her lips as she eyed the blood. "Ohhh, someone needs some patching up. I'll do it! We can use your shirt as a bandage! Oh oh! And your pants!"

Eret could only stare in horror. "Mercy, please!"


A/N:
Well, I had a chapter titled "Lost" and this one is called "Found," so… roll credits! Hehe, just kidding.

Thanks for reading! Thank you Colorful Crayola for being my beta buddy.

L'assassin orange - I'm glad I'm not the only one who noticed that the Dragon King never got any love. When it died in the movie, I really didn't care; it was just another plot mechanic and nothing more with how shallow its character was. I figured I'd better give her some depth before I have her pumping out BewilderBabies(™).

Dragonrider's Fury - Its about time you posted a review! I cried when I thought you abandoned me for an author with more writing skills than me. Ya know that look a puppy gives you when you kick him? No, me neither, but I'd imagine that was the look on my face. Ehhhh, yeah, anyway… Scenes with Toothless being Toothless are my favorite to write for sure! I always gotta slide 'em in.

Toothlessgolfer - Yep, you nailed it! Actually, that reference to the Night Fury that Valka saw was a tip of the hat to anyone who has read "Dragons 101." Since Night Furies could hear telepathic projections from many miles away in my universe, I figured Toothless' family would have recognized the threat of the Red Death and thus known to stay away. It was a brief mention in that story, but when the Red Death was killed, there was nothing holding them back and Toothless' sisters would have surely been driven to find some males… because of… urges. I'll tell you all about it when you're older. :P