Crack. Honest's ears perked up, and she flew faster as she went to visit the clutch of Night Fury eggs. Crack. There it was again. Can it be?
Seconds later, she landed beside them, not daring to hope. A series of small cracks that hadn't been there before had appeared on one of the eggs, and three of them were trembling, and shaking back and forth.
Shards of shell flew from the cracked one, then it all broke apart, flying off in a cloud of dust. A little, black something shook itself, then blinked its bright yellow eyes. Before Honest had time to register exactly what this meant, two more eggs cracked, then broke apart. The first to emerge had deep midnight-blue scales, and the other light-grayish scales with red eyes.
The other eggs remained still, their light, which had stayed vibrant for so long, now beginning to fade.
Honest shook herself from her trance, and snatched the only fading egg that had still retained a little light. She bit down just enough to break through the tough shell, then spat it out, and pried it apart with her claws. A little Night Fury with white dorsal plates rolled out of the remains of the eggshell, moved a little, went limp, then moved again. Its light blue-green eyes opened, blinked, then it rolled to its feet, stumbling before it found balance.
It was then, in her excitement, that Honest found her voice. She threw back her head, letting loose a great roar that echoed throughout the Hidden World. "The Night Fury eggs hatched!" she shouted. "The Night Fury eggs HATCHED!"
The Night Furies weren't gone. Not completely. Grimmel may have tried his best to render the species extinct, and though he'd come close, he'd failed because of a small clutch of eggs that had stayed alive over fifty years.
Toothless was the first to get to the group of four hatchlings. He bent down, and touched noses with all of them, filled with wonder. All this time, he'd thought that he was the last. Now, he wasn't. What's more, the hatchlings were two boys and two girls. Though his kind would teeter on the edge of extinction for many more years, the Night Furies would survive, and perhaps even grow numerous once again, as they had been before Grimmel's reign of terror.
"Toothless," Honest said softly, "don't you think that, perhaps, a Night Fury should rule the Hidden World? Perhaps one of these hatchlings ought to be your heir. I admit, someone will need to train them in all the things they'll need to know to become King or Queen of Dragons."
Toothless looked up at the Night Light, and smiled. "You are not greedy for power, Flaming Honesty, and for that I am glad. Your idea is good, but who will train them? You?"
"I can if you want me to," Honest answered after a moment.
"Good," Toothless smiled. "You know better than any other Fury what must be done to keep the Hidden World safe."
0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0
"Pheda," Grandmother said, "come here."
Pheda, who was working on sharpening her dagger - for the emerald dagger was hers now -, got up quickly, and was soon at Grandmother's side, standing on the beach. "Yes?"
Grandmother turned to her, smiling. The smile looked forced, somehow. "There's. . . well. . . there's something about you that I never told you. About your family, I mean."
Pheda froze. Grandmother never talked about her family. "I thought my parents were lost at sea, and I never had any siblings."
Grandmother was silent for a moment. "Pheda, someone killed your parents. They always loved the sea, and sometimes went out on it in that little boat of theirs for hours at a time, often taking you and your sister with them."
"My sister?!" Pheda interrupted, staring at her.
"Yes, your sister. You were still a young child - she was nine, you were one - when their boat washed up on shore one day. They were on board, dead, and you were huddled in a corner, knocked out. Your sister was nowhere to be seen. You were so young that I expect you don't remember, and while it was a bother at the time, for you were the only one who could answer valuable questions that could send us in the direction of your parents' murderers and sister's kidnappers, but you refused to speak for months, and it became apparent that you no longer could speak. Eventually, Anveli, who was our healer at the time, was able to use her medicine to help you to speak again, but you told us you had no memory of the event. Being your only living relation, I took you in, and I wasn't about to tell you about your parents. Looking back, I must say I'm glad you weren't older when your parents were killed, for then you would be haunted by those memories, as I am from when Drago raided my village. And. . . well. . . I suspect - I don't know, but I suspect - that the raiders and your sister's kidnappers might be allies, or even be the same. If you track down the leader of the raiders, you may find someone who can direct you to where your sister is, or even your sister herself."
Pheda was silent for several minutes, struggling to take all this in, before she spoke again. She started and stopped several times, then settled on one question to ask. "What is my sister's name?"
Grandmother, who'd been looking back toward the horizon, met her granddaughter's eyes again. "Lindyr. Her name is - or was - Lindyr."