This is February chapter. I am really sorry it came this late. On the positive note my thesis has progressed a bit.

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Comments:

Dragonrider's Fury : "Whatever happens" could be summarized with the word worse.

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Shortclaw kept flying with Ivar in her claws and she kept flying and flying. Ivar pressed the wound on his left arm with his free hand and couldn't even talk properly for a while gasping from the waves of pain in his arm. The island they had left from was already a nearly indistinguishable speck under the dark clouds when he calmed a bit. He was still bleeding though and worrying amount too.

"Shortclaw," he called out. The dragon kept flying staring forward without as much as recognizing Ivar. Ivar tried to slap her leg to get attention but stopped mid motion. He screamed as the movement felt like he had been stabbed again. Tears flowed from his eyes.

Shortclaw growled and finally turned to look at Ivar. Then she let out a high-pitched screech and tilted towards a nearby island, barely a rock in the ocean with couple of trees that had miraculously gotten there at some point. She hovered right over a flat spot, as well as she could and dropped Ivar carefully. Normally the fall wouldn't have been much of a problem, but the impact caused his arm to move again. This time he couldn't even scream too breathless to create anything more than a hiss. By the time he struggled to a sitting position Shortclaw had landed and was staring at him her snout almost touching him. For the first time Ivar could properly look at his injury.

It was bad. The wound was very long and deep where the tip of the arrow had been. He had at least been lucky that the arrow didn't cut major veins. He' would have already been drained dry if it did. He was still losing blood. Shortclaw pushed his healthy hand aside and…

Jumped back with a screech? Ivar blinked and stared at the wound. There was something on it. It was the stuff hunters used to knock out dragons.

"Better you not touch that," he said in his weak voice and used his healthy hand to brush off worst of the goo from the top of the wound. "I… I need to stop the bleeding."

He didn't have any bandage or herbs… or anything else really, just his clothes and a dragon who could get poisoned if they were careless. That had to do. Ivar grabbed his sleeve and pulled it up just above the wound. He tried to tear the fabric off and bit his teeth together when the wound protested.

"Shortclaw." he said and moved his finger on the sleeve pressing it against the fabric with some force. When Shortclaw didn't immediately understand he pointed at her nearest foot, its claws to be specific. Shortclaw raised it up balancing on the other three. When it was close Ivar extended one finger and shortclaw mimicked the motion with her claw. Ivar pulled his sleeve and pressed it against the claw. The claw cut the fabric surprisingly easily.

"Good," Ivar gasped and reconsidered, "better than nothing."

It took a while to bind the wound since he usually had two hands for that. Afterwards he just sat and stared at it for a moment, tightened the improvised bandage, and stared again. It seemed to control the bleeding. Still hurt a lot. At least the torn shirt was relatively clean. Mom was always strict with being clean when working in healing. What would Hakon do to her? Tears flowed down his cheeks, not from pain this time. Hakon and the hunters had almost everyone he cared about, most people he had ever known actually. Ivar looked at Shortclaw, but she had turned away staring out to the sea, to the direction where her hatchlings were.

Ivar struggled to his feet letting his wounded arm hang to the side, trying to keep it from moving. He walked to Shortclaw's head an sat next to it. The dragon showed no sign of even noticing him, well she tried not to. Ivar caught quick glance of her eye. The look in it was… empty was the best word Ivar could think of. He reached out with his good arm, but Shortclaw moved her head away and grunted. Ivar pulled his hand back and sat in silence for a long time. It wasn't a time to push Shortclaw. The sun approached the horizon quickly as they sat there thinking and rethinking about all the things they had lost today. Eventually Ivar couldn't continue like that.

"We need to decide what we are going to do," he said hoping to at least get Shortclaw's attention even if she didn't understand. A little yank of her head revealed he succeeded, but Shortclaw still didn't feel like talking. It was strange. She was grieving obviously, but Ivar hadn't expected her to turn away from him like this. He stepped away from her to find firewood but never stopped thinking about what Shortclaw might be feeling.

There wasn't much on this island, but the small number of trees provided a handful of branches on the ground or thin enough to break with one hand. Ivar made slow progress gathering them though he'd run out before the night was over. There wasn't really anything else to do. He was a bit thirsty, but the island had no sign of fresh water on the surface, same with food. Ivar crouched to pick up the stack of branches under his healthy arm. A few dropped of course. You never knew the blessings of two arms until one got pierced with a poison arrow. A drop of water hit the back of his neck.

"Not now Thor," he muttered. A distant sound of thunder told him that Thor wasn't listening. By the time Ivar got back to Shortclaw both he and his firewood had already gotten soaked. Shortclaw was still staring out to the sea. Ivar almost called for her, but decided to wait at least till he was ready to get the fire lit. She needed her time. He started piling the branches next to a boulder that gave some protection from the strong winds. He finally broke when the pile collapsed and spread around his feet. He hit the boulder once and turned to lean against it his tears hidden on the rain-soaked face. He didn't move for a while except to shiver from the cold. His arm hurt so much. He shouldn't have just laid in the rain like this. It wasn't healthy and the wound was already dangerous enough.

Ivar opened his eyes when Shortclaw grunted next to him. Had it gotten even darker. He could barely see her until she already grabbed his shirt with her teeth and pulled him closer. After initial surprise Ivar didn't as much as a wiggle. The scales he got pushed against were much warmer than the wet stone. The puddle of liquid fire was a nice touch too considering how wet and cold he was.

"Are you," Ivar shivered, "feeling better."

Shortclaw glanced at him so he could see her eyes in the glow of her liquid fire. They were still empty of their normal life. She wasn't feeling any better. She just came to help, because of course she did. Ivar hadn't wanted to disrupt her but should have asked her earlier before making her worry. She turned her head away and settled down right there. Usually Ivar was good at reading her emotions, as good as a human without Hiccup's powers could be, but now she left him confused. There was more than her sadness, something about Ivar other than her normal protectiveness, some kind of conflict maybe.

Even so, Ivar didn't cry as he fell asleep leaning on the warm scales. He woke up with a yelp having turned against his wounded arm. His eyes didn't even have enough time to focus when Shortclaw whined a question.

"I'm okay, well maybe not but still alive," Ivar answered. After few seconds he sighted and pushed up against Shortclaw untill he was sitting somewhat upright. His clothes felt still wet but not cold. The puddle of nightmare fire was larger than before and still radiating heat. Shortclaw had kept replenishing it during the night. Ivar faced the dragon who was looking at him worry in her eyes. Ivar reached out with his good arm and Shortclaw met it with her snout. He spoke slowly.

"I don't think either of us is okay, but we need to do something about it." Shortclaw stared at him and her eyes glanced at Ivar's arm calmer than before. Ivar tapped the side of her snout gently to get her attention. He spoke not just to Shortclaw who wouldn't fully understand him anyway, but also to himself. "We can't help our families or anyone on our own. Other Viking villages aren't going to help us… There is only one place we can go. We need to find the Wingmaiden island where Hiccup went."

Shortclaw huffed at the mention of Hiccup's name.

"Can you think of anyone else who might help us?" Ivar responded staring straight into her eyes. "Did he tell you how to find them? Can you find Hiccup."

Ivar let his hand leave shortclaw's snout and pointed to the open sea behind it. He had no glue what direction he was pointing at. Shortclaw Grunted again and murmured her reluctant acceptance. Ivar pushed against her side to get up. He took one more glance at the miserable rock they had stayed the night. Remnants of his attempt at bonfire were still laying where they had spread and licked his dry lips. He should really do better with survival so Shortclaw wouldn't need to do everything. He turned towards the dragon.

"Ready?"

She lowered her head so he could climb on. Shortclaw seemed to at least have an idea on what direction to head for so Ivar just held on. They flew for a few hours until Shortclaw headed to another island, much larger this time. She landed right next to a stream of water. It was beautiful sight and Ivar stumbled a bit trying to get down to it as quickly as possible. They both slurped water as fast as they could and once Ivar couldn't anymore he sat back by the stream feeling a little better. Shortclaw turned around and took flight again without Ivar. He turned to look after her until her tail disappeared behind treetops.

He turned back to the stream. He finally had a chance to check the found properly while waiting for Shortclaw to come back. He should have cleaned it properly already the previous day. Ivar bit his teeth together peeling off the improvised bandage that had been effectively glued on by his own blood. Yep, he had really failed at treating the wound. Even stains of the dragonroot were still visible. That definitely wasn't good even if he wasn't a dragon. Ivar dipped the least dirty end of the fabric in the stream and started carefully cleaning the wound. He'd done it a thousand time before but mostly to other people and with better equipment. Treating wounds was a lot easier when he wasn't the one feeling the pain on every touch. It hadn't gotten any better overnight. Actually, the sides of the wound had gotten redded under the blood, not good not good at all.

Ivar worked even harder to clean the wound regardless of the pain and some renewed bleeding but feared that it was too late didn't go away. They'd better find the wingmaidens' village soon. He was still at it when Shortclaw returned. She dropped a fish next to Ivar and looked around.

"Sorry, I didn't start gathering wood yet," Ivar said emphasizing the tone of his voice to deliver the message. He raised his injured arm as much as he could so Shortclaw could see it better. She approached carefully and sniffed.

Once she determined no dragonroot present, she licked the wound. Ivar shuddered, but let her do her thing. Did monstrous nightmares have healing saliva like night furies? Hiccup had never mentioned anything like that. Ivar stared at the wound for a moment after Shortclaw stopped licking it. He didn't feel any better. The bleeding was perhaps reduced with how sticky the saliva was.

"Thank… you."

He sacrificed his other sleeve to make a new slightly cleaner bandage and started gathering branches for firewood. It was all he could do right then. After eating they kept flying for rest of the day and Ivar slept another night under Shortclaw's wing. The ground was hard but he still started understanding why Hiccup preferred to sleep as he did. The next morning was when Ivar's fears came true as he woke up shivering despite the warmth that Shortclaw provided, a fewer.