Chapter Thirty Six
The small pack contains two flasks of drinking water, a roll of bandages and a hunk of pretty appallingly mouldy bread.
Shadow doesn't know whether to curse or thank the gods.
Slowly, carefully, he rolls Hiccup's inert form completely onto his front, turning his head gently to the side to ease his breathing and lying the boy's limbs straight. Shadow takes in the sight of the harsh, seeping bloody wounds with a pale face and shaking hands, he's acutely aware of the harsh puff of his own breath in the cold air compared to the thin rasp of the boy's breathing. Shaking himself out of his worried reverie, Shadow quickly begins to pull the remains of the tattered tunic away from Hiccup's body, exposing his thin, pale chest and the gaping bloody wounds. Swallowing thickly and suppressing a shudder, Shadow takes the first flask of drinking water and carefully begins to trickle it over the boy's wounds, gently swiping his thumb, for lack of anything else, over the broken skin in an attempt to remove any dirt or grit that's been smeared into them from repeated contact with the grimy sandy dirt floor. He reaches the long, deep swipe over the boy's face and freezes. It's still sluggishly seeping blood, spilling out and cracking into little brownish red flakes as it dries. Slowly, Shadow raises his hand, taking no notice of the way it shakes, and carefully presses the pad of his bloodied thumb over the end of the slash and flicks the little flecks of grit out of the wound best he can. He comes across a couple of bigger shards of stone amongst the grit and Hiccup lets out small, low moans as an extremely pale-faced Shadow digs them out of the hardening scabs with his blunt fingernails.
It's the only sound the boy makes though, save for it he lays there still as death and pale as parchment while Shadow takes the length of thick cloth bandage and begins to wrap Hiccup's injures as best he can with trembling fingers and not enough material. He also checks on the boy's broken arm, sighing with relief as it seems Alvin hasn't dealt any more damage to the poor wretched limb.
Most of the long, thin whip wounds cover Hiccup's back and they rapidly stain the bandaging with long red stripes that have leeched into the fabric, probably sticking the course cloth to the wounds, but the bleeding seems to slow quickly under the tight bindings; like they'd been covered with an extra layer of skin, preventing the potentially deadly blood loss.
Gently Shadow rolls the boy onto his back and slides two large, callused hands under the back of Hiccup's head, his fingers carding through the thin, soft stands at the nape of the boy's neck to cradle his skull, carefully lifting it onto his lap and turning his face upwards. Warily studying the boy's features, split as they are by the jagged slash of the whip across the young dragon trainer's face, Shadow takes in how the deep purpling rings under the weakly closed eyes and the smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose stand out almost painfully against the sheer paleness of his skin.
Swallowing against a thick lump in his throat and running a tired hand over his face Shadow uncorks the second water-skein, his own, and brings it to the boy's lips, keeping one hand supporting the back of his head, tangled in the soft hair, and tilting the skein so that a dribble of water trickles out over the boys slightly parted lips.
"Come on, come on," he whispers. "It won't help if we can't get it down you. Just…" Hiccup swallows convulsively and Shadow raises his eyes to Asgard, whispering a relieved, "Thank you" to anyone who might be listening up there.
The rest of the water gradually goes down Hiccup's throat, Shadow patiently stroking his neck each time he trickled the precious liquid between the boy's lips, mindful incase he chokes and allowing him time to take short, wheezy breaths between each sip.
When the skein is a little lighter, about when Shadow estimates an eighth of the water has been drunk, he takes a quick, tiny sip for himself and re-caps it, knowing they'll need it later.
He then gently settles the boy back onto the dirt floor, rolling him back onto his front
"Why am I always patching you up?" Shadow sighs lightly, running a fond hand again through the boy's fine, soft hair. His voice is joking and light, but the hard, cruel edge of pain and worry taints in blackly.
Sighing, he makes the mistake of sitting back down on his haunches and ends up wincing at the way his legs have all painfully cramped up. He has to scramble unsteadily to his feet, fighting the prickling burn of pins-and-needles and the heavy dead-weight feel where they've gone numb and all locked up. He jumps about a bit, shaking his legs out and feeling ridiculous, but soon the stabbing burn is gone and he settles back down in the dirt by Hiccup's head. He picks up the hunk of bread; which is the only thing left in the small pack Alvin so generously provided and gently tosses it from hand to hand, musing what to do with it.
It's too horrible and stale from him to really eat, and certainly too hard to break into pieces and coax Hiccup into eating. The loaf isn't the kind of good flatbread he usually bakes that will keep for weeks, but some sort of tough rind-ey mixture of rough un-ground wheat and water. Tentatively, he picks out a bit with the least furry-mould spots and attempts to bite down, trying to stave off the painful rumble of hunger in his stomach.
He's rewarded with teeth that ache right up into his gums and a still-perfectly-intact hunk of bread.
It's hard as rock.
Alvin was either just throwing him scraps or playing a cruel joke.
He tosses the loaf angrily into the dirt beside him and tucks his knees up to his chin, trying to stave off the pitiful despair welling inside him.
Suddenly, theirs this... icy cold sort of shiver that runs its way right up the cord of Shadow's spine.
He's being watched.
By a very, very hungry yellow glare.
Shadow's whole body tenses up, and slowly, very slowly, he turns his head, to find one glowing, golden orb glaring back at him, ringed with sharp, fiery red. It glares out from the surrounding oval of scales like the late-evening sun emerging from behind dark, thickly dirty clouds ringed with the golden orange glow of the dying light.
The dragon snorts huffily at him from the other side of the bars as if to say; huh, so you didn't kill me while I slept after all. Strange little human. Rings of sharp, acrid smoke unfurl into the dense air from the wide, charcoal-dusted nostrils and a second golden eye cracks itself open to glare warily at him.
So, the Nightmare's finally woken up.
Shadow regards the beast for a long moment, taking in its battered hide and exhausted frame. He can easily count the ribs settled within its thick hide and Shadow notes how its scales have completely lost the lustre that any other dragon seems to carry.
Shadow looks down at the hunk of bread he'd tossed into the dirt and thinks that, perhaps, the dragon might appreciate it more than he does, stale or otherwise, the dragon has better teeth than him, and must be starving.
And so he throws the dragon the bread.
He's quite proud his aim hasn't lost any skill, as the piece rolls neatly to a stop underneath the creature's large nose.
The dragon rears backwards, it's back arched, its rear quarters in the air and its wings trying to arch up in the cramped conditions, like an offended cat with its tail in the air. It hisses and spits and snarls like Shadow's just thrown some horrible weapon at it, trying desperately to produce hot, fine sparks to alight itself and failing pitifully.
Shadow quickly takes hold of Hiccup's shoulders and drag's his unconscious body as far away from the beast as they can get; settling themselves against the cold stone wall on the opposite side of the cage.
It takes what feels like forever for the Nightmare to calm down, but finally it wears itself out and stops hissing and snarling and spitting and gives the hunk of bread an exhausted-but-curious sniff.
"It's not fish or anything..." Shadow's voice wavers out as the dragon paws at the crust with jagged talons and an inquisitive tilt of its head. Eyeing up the strange, foramen object and sniffing deeply around it. "But you're probably hungry, and..."
Quicker than Shadow can keep track of, the dragon has snapped up the bread in its giant jaws and crushed it. With one huge gulp it's gone.
The dragon goes back to warily regarding him.
Shadow swallows thickly.
...
A.N: I've had pretty awful writer's block, so this chapter is a little short and a little patchy. But here it is anyway (Tumblr user: myfangirlthings (who is wonderful) encouraged me to make sure I updated tonight!)
Also, the BRILLIANT razzlepazzledoodot has drawn me MORE FAN ART. *BILLIONS OF EXITED FLAILS*
It's wonderful and it's here on her deviantart if you want to look (replace . with a full stop etc to view the link):
http (semicolon, forwardslash forwardslash) razzlepazzledoodot . deviantart . com (forwardslash) art (forwardslash) You-will-not-harm-him-396228685
*hugs to you all* You're all wonderful and your reviews are so, so kind. Thankyou all so much. :)
Thanks for reading! (I shall update asap!) :D
- Lenle