Author's Note: Well, pretty sure nobody was expecting us to not follow Maour or Heather. Enjoy this little snippet from Astrid, and note that the first half of this chapter is a little bit of a rewind in the timeline, occurring before the events of last chapter (if you look back at last chapter and the one before that, you can see hints of what occurs here).

Astrid stood at the bow of her personal warship, the lead vessel of the Berk fleet. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply and imagining what was to come.

The constant crash of waves on some foreign sand or soil, the crunch of dozens of boots making their way inland.

Howls of pain, signature screeches cut off mid-cry, replaced by gurgles or nothing at all. The feel of her ax cleaving scale and bone apart, cutting down her foes.

And then, after the glorious battle she and her forces were sure to win... Brittle crunching underfoot, as she strode through the defenseless den or nest, crushing Night Fury eggs beneath her boot, if there were any. Personally dealing death to any wounded survivors, savoring every blow, because each one corrected her only past failure-

Her eyes snapped open, and she gritted her teeth, her good mood gone in an instant. Failure. She had failed, years ago.

Hiccup had escaped, leaving with two Night Furies. That was her failure. She needed to hunt Hiccup and his dragons down, to fix it.

Not Hiccup. Svarturflugmaður. She remembered that and that alone of his one return to Berk. That name, so complex and foreign, survived what her often fractured memories obscured. She had trouble recalling certain things, even certain parts of her life. It was annoying, but she didn't really care. She did not need perfect memory to hunt. Anything that got in the way fell to her regardless.

Dragon or human. Stoick had learned that when he had tried to end her hunts several months ago. She and Snotlout had taught him together while he was at his kitchen table, carving wooden figures as a hobby. It was the only time his ever-present hammer wasn't within reach. Even so, Snotlout had gotten a nasty gash on his arm, and Stoick in that way had gone out fighting. But even the greatest warrior of his generation could not defend himself with several long knives in his back.

And once Stoick was dead, Snotlout was made chief. As she had Snotlout firmly under her thumb, she was content to let him be chief in name. As long as she had free reign to protect her ability to hunt, she did not care who officially wielded power. Berk saw Snotlout, a mildly charismatic and somewhat competent chief. She did not need Berk to see her as the real power, even if she was.

The hunt was all that mattered.

Astrid inhaled again and forced herself to calm down. The hunt had not yet begun. The ships were docked in Berk's harbor, not out at sea, searching, as she would rather they be even now. They weren't going to leave until after the meeting of chiefs in about six weeks, and she still didn't know which direction they would be going when they left.

She left the docked ship and made her way through the village, noticing with resignation the little holes in the crowd. Even after five years, no one knew where Fishlegs, Ruffnut, or Tuffnut had gone. Just recently, the three parents they had between them on Berk had left, apparently in search of them. She didn't really care, but it was something she noticed all the same.

Today, she remembered with something approaching boredom, was special. Apparently, today was the day Dagur was expected to arrive for the yearly treaty signing. It would be the first time Snotlout interacted with Dagur as a chief. Astrid wouldn't care, but she knew Dagur couldn't be allowed to roll right over Snotlout, which he would if she wasn't there. It might end up affecting her ability to hunt, which wouldn't be tolerable.

So, for the first time in six years, Astrid was on Berk the day Dagur was supposed to be there. The last few years it had actually just been luck that she wasn't present. Her frequent short trips around the immediate neighborhood of islands to hunt dragons had happened to keep her off-island on those previous visits. She hadn't seen Dagur in quite a while. This should be at least mildly interesting.

She entered the Great Hall and saw that Snotlout was there, stuffing his face as usual. He seemed to be trying to work his way up to Stoick's weight and stature, at least over the last few months. No noticeable change as of yet except for a developing pudge around the middle and a decrease in energy. She walked over and sat down opposite him, choosing to speak softly. Some concessions had to be made to retain the illusion. "Dagur arrives today."

Snotlout nodded. He had learned quickly not to talk around her with his mouth full.

Astrid smiled grimly. "Hand him off to me as quickly as possible. I'll deal with him, and send him on his way. While I'm doing that, tour his armada. It will make you look important, and you can see how well-equipped they are." That would be mildly useful. It was pretty much the upper limit of what she trusted Snotlout to do. Act important, with a little sneaky spying on the side.

Snotlout knew better than to protest. Not that he would want to. Astrid vaguely recalled hearing that Dagur had not taken easily to the idea that Hiccup, his preferred target, was gone. Even more so because of the standing law of silence concerning Hiccup's departure. As far as visitors to Berk were concerned, Hiccup was a traitor for some unspecified reason and implied dead. Given Dagur was a dangerous lunatic, Snotlout would have no problems handing him off to her.

"Good. I'll be here, bring him here straight from the docks." Astrid sat and watched as Snotlout headed off, and the Great Hall gradually emptied. She idly examined the various relics of their dragon-killing past lining the walls, noticing as she did that Gobber had stayed in the Hall and was downing another tankard of mead.

He had been everywhere in recent years. She suspected the forge brought back now unpleasant memories, so he wandered the village instead of being there whenever possible. He was a helpful assistant, sometimes. Other times, he apparently let the mead get the better of him. Nowadays, though he was always slightly drunk, he was loyal.

She was sure he suspected that Stoick had not died of natural causes, but the fact that he held his tongue implied to her that he understood why it needed to happen.

She idly traced the large map of the archipelago on the central table, her finger lingering on the outline of Berk, wondering which way to sail. North, East, South, West? She had no leads, and no direction offered itself as preferable. Her mood soured in an instant, and she stabbed a knife into the map and table. At that moment there was a muffled thud as the doors to the Great hall swung open.

She noticed with shock that it was noon outside and struggled to accept that she had really been there for so long. It was another troubling loss of concentration. She felt like it had only been minutes.

Snotlout and Dagur were the ones who had entered the Hall. Dagur seemed annoyed, but his face lit up on seeing her. He turned to Snotlout and laughed. "Alright, you have fun touring my armada!" He gave him a not-so-subtle shove towards the door. As the doors swung closed behind Snotlout, Dagur sneered. "Idiot."

Astrid rose and walked to meet him. "I trust the voyage here was smooth sailing?"

Dagur groaned. "Of course. I've already gone through all of this with the not-so-chiefly snot."

Astrid led him to an out of the way table in the corner. "Some illusions need to be maintained. He does well enough with the idiots who think he rules Berk." She could tell Dagur had seen straight through the ruse. Though obviously insane, he was still sharp. That was the only explanation for why he still ruled. Nobody could overthrow him.

Dagur chuckled knowingly. "Of course. I prefer to rule through fear, but a figurehead works too." He grimaced, the light mood gone in an instant. "So, what happened to Stoick the old and fat? I thought that ancient relic would last another few decades."

Astrid smiled. Time to lay it on the table. "Something you are very familiar with. He had grown complacent." She didn't need to elaborate.

Dagur laughed long and hard at that. "Of course. Any specific reason, or was he just getting annoying?" He seemed genuinely interested now.

"He wanted to shut down my dragon-hunts, and had been limiting my range for years. He said they served no point, and brought in almost no dragons each time. That was not acceptable."

"Really?" Dagur seemed... thoughtful. "I mean, he wasn't entirely wrong. Dragons have become really scarce and spread out." He slumped. "It's just no fun around here anymore!"

Astrid sneered derisively. "Hunting dragons isn't something I do for fun. I wouldn't let him interfere any longer." She gestured to the map on the table. "This year's hunt will go ten times further than ever before. We'll search every island in our path, killing every dragon we encounter. Hopefully, we'll find nests." She grinned. "Crushing eggs is much more efficient."

Dagur abruptly leaned forward, staring into Astrid's eyes. He seemed to almost be searching for something. He spoke, still leaning forward. "You're an idiot."

Astrid grew cold with anger. Her knife was in her hand and pressed against his throat in an instant. "I'd say you are."

Dagur... smiled, and leaned back. "Calm down, I had to be sure." He regarded her with genuine... was that joy?

Astrid really wasn't sure what was going on now. "Sure of what?" She kept the knife out.

Dagur lowered his voice. "You're quite good at hiding it, or maybe controlling it. Better than I am, that's for sure. But it's obvious to me. Takes one to know one, they say." His smile grew wider. "So, how long?"

"I don't know what you're trying to imply."

"Come on. First, you act pretty paranoid, spinning around the second we open the door to the Great Hall, a good fifty feet away. Then, you admit to having offed Stoick, because he got in your way, even though I always had you pegged as the loyal type. You're fixated on killing dragons. Your mood swings faster than a Terror dies. The last piece of evidence I needed was in your eyes. The second I insulted you, I could see it. You should be careful about that if you want to hide it. It'll be pretty obvious eventually." He spoke as if what all that meant should be obvious.

Astrid pointed her knife at his face. "Stop talking in circles."

"Alright, apparently you either don't know or are the best actor ever. You're as crazy as I am, and because I recognize your particular symptoms, I'm going to guess it affects you the same way as me. Had any loss of time recently? Bad judgment in moments of stress? Trouble remembering random things?" Dagur's voice was still low, and this was the most lucid Astrid had ever seen him.

"I don't..." Astrid thought back to everything that had happened. "Yes. To all of those questions." She needed to know what he knew. Because he was right.

Dagur smiled smugly. "Thought so. Don't worry, you get used to it. If you really need to, you can control it somewhat. Like I'm doing now. The mood swings are a pain, but if you know they're coming, you can ignore most of them. It usually isn't worth the effort."

Astrid was shaking a little now. "Why are you bothering now?"

Dagur didn't respond for a second, but when he did speak he was serious. "Because I want you to listen to me."

Astrid sighed. "You can stop controlling it. It's creepy when you do." She considered what she had just learned. "I don't really care, to be honest." Now that she looked at her past actions with Dagur's insinuations, she could see every sign he had pointed out, going back years. If it didn't affect her hunt, then it didn't matter.

Dagur sighed happily. "And that is what makes you perfect. You don't care about it." He saw the look on her face. "Seriously. Do you know how hard it is to find anyone who isn't freaked out by all of this? It just so happens you don't care because you're the same."

Astrid laughed scornfully. "If I'm crazy, why does everything I've done still feel right? Looking back, I can't see a single thing I would do differently now. Even the failures, because-"

Dagur interrupted. "Because they were never your fault. It was always someone else. Problem is, that's not true. Plenty of them were your fault." He grimaced. "Took me forever to figure that out. But you can't trust your own judgment anymore. Find someone sane to run the important stuff by, and don't get rid of them, no matter how aggravating they are. It's something of a mental blind spot. Ignoring it will trip you up, over and over again." He laughed scornfully. "I hate Savage, but he's smarter than the average Berserker, so I give him power and let him disagree with me. No matter how much I want to kill him for it sometimes. You gotta have someone you can trust, even if it's only to act in their own best interest. Savage likes power but hates danger. Being my second keeps him in power, and safe from both me and the hazards of being chief. So he won't ever try to take over or sabotage me."

Astrid snorted. "What is this, a 'tips for crazy people' meeting? I don't need your help. I was doing fine yesterday, I'll do fine tomorrow."

"Wrong. Because now you know. You'll constantly second-guess yourself, missing the important mistakes among checking your own every move. You've been doing fine because you didn't know. Now, it's going to become more and more obvious the more you fight it." He smiled slyly. "So, if you're like me, what's your purpose?" He took in her questioning look and elaborated. "I'm pretty sure for you it involves killing dragons. For me, it's making the Berserker tribe as great and feared as possible. You need to know because it's also your greatest weakness. It blinds you and influences every decision, a guaranteed string for anyone to pull."

Astrid slammed her knife into the table and gritted out the only thing she could ever concentrate on, the thing that occupied every other thought. "Being the best Viking possible. Which means killing dragons. Specifically, Night Furies. As many as possible. Hence the Nest hunts. Also, I hate you." She hated how the crazy guy was guessing her every thought and seemed to know every corner of her apparently damaged brain better than she herself did.

"Interesting. And that's temporary. Hating me, that is, not the obsession. That will never change." Dagur frowned for a moment. "Actually, I don't know what would happen if either of us reached our goals. They don't seem achievable. There will always be a way to improve my tribe, and there's no way you can kill every dragon in existence in one lifetime."

Astrid voiced the thought that had been rattling around in her head for a few minutes now. "You seem surprisingly aware for a crazy guy. More aware than you let on to everyone else."

Dagur grinned. "Like I said. Controlling it isn't usually worth the effort. Just embrace the crazy and let it work for you. Not good advice for most lunatics, but it's worked wonders for me."

Astrid grinned now. "How many others have you given this advice to?"

"None. This is the first time I've ever encountered anyone with the same problem. I've seen plenty of crazies, but they're no good. No control whatsoever. We're some sort of halfway state, from what I can tell. Insane, and aware of it."

Astrid liked the sound of that. She was coming to terms with this, quite quickly in fact. Dagur was right, it wasn't so bad. And she realized that Dagur wasn't at all as bad as she had thought, now that she knew him. Knew him, and knew she was like him. How could she hate someone who thought like her; acted like her?

Dagur sighed. "So, now what?"

"Chiefly crap. Treaty to sign, all that yak dung." No point in putting up any facades with Dagur. They knew each other now. It was hard to deceive someone who thought as she did.

Dagur abruptly returned to attention from his slouch. "That reminds me. I'm looking for someone. A woman, about twenty-two or so, black hair, green eyes, named Heather. Ever seen her?"

Astrid searched her cloudy memories. "Yes, actually. She washed up on our shore about four years ago. Stayed in the village for a few weeks, and then left without a word." She grinned. "Wayward girlfriend?"

Dagur flinched. "Definitely not. I need her captured, alive. She's been evading my armada for almost a year now." He walked over to the map, and Astrid followed. "She's somewhere out here." He took the knife she had slammed into the table and replaced it a few feet beyond the edge of the map, directly South of Berk. "Any chance your Nest search could head that direction and keep their eyes open for her? I mean, if you're going out anyway. She's out in that direction somewhere, or at least that's the last area my ships reported tracking her to. She might already be caught and on her way back, but whatever."

Astrid eyed the knife. "Sure, we might as well. I was just going to pick a direction at random. We'll be going after the meeting of chiefs in six weeks."

Dagur laughed. "I'll be there. Will you?" He leaned forward. "I definitely want to see you again."

Astrid pushed him away. "Too far, Dagur."

"Why? We're perfect for each other. No one else can even stand to be around me, and eventually you too. Wasn't Snotlout chasing after you years ago? Now he doesn't even look at you like that. It's not like you have other prospects."

That struck a chord in Astrid. She didn't really care, but he was right. "You'll have to do much better than that to convince me." But she was open to being convinced. Why not?

Dagur laughed. "On it. I'll be ready by the meeting."

After that, they got to the treaty, and Dagur signed his part without even waiting for Snotlout to get back. They spent hours talking. Both found it liberating to speak to someone so like-minded. No morals, no doubt, and one overpowering goal. Dagur loved being able to talk to someone who didn't find him scary or annoying, and Astrid enjoyed talking openly, and not hiding anything. Not that she mentioned anything whatsoever about the events surrounding Hiccup. It wasn't intentional, she just didn't like to think about that stuff, and as a result, deftly steered the conversation away from it, so unconsciously neither of them even noticed.

Both quite enjoyed Snotlout's look of astonishment when he returned to the Great Hall and saw them happily talking. Astrid saw Dagur off and even waved. He waved back enthusiastically, before punching a slacking guard nearby. She turned to Snotlout, who was looking at her in a mixture of fear and awe.

Astrid asked angrily, "What?"

Snotlout gestured vaguely at the departing armada. "How did you do that? He's never happy. Never! He always leaves annoyed, bored, or angry."

Astrid smiled threateningly. "Apparently, we have more in common than either of us thought." She would leave it at that.

A week later, Astrid was in the Great Hall, eating breakfast, when a Viking rushed in. He was panting, but his words were still discernible. "Bog-Burglar... embassy... docking now."

Snotlout jumped and looked around warily. "Is Bertha with them?" The chief of the Bog-burglar tribe did not like him after an incident involving him failing miserably to hit on her daughter. Sometimes Astrid wondered if it was a mistake to have a figurehead who had such issues with diplomacy.

"No... embassy led... by Camicazi."

Astrid frowned. That was Bertha's daughter. She caught the attention of the Viking. "Is Camicazi the new chief?"

"No... just here... because Bertha's already... sailing for the meeting." That made sense, given the Bog-Burglar's geographic location in relation to the meeting island and Berk. Camicazi was most likely here to negotiate some sort of pre-meeting trade deal, to spite some other tribe at the meeting later.

Astrid frowned. The Bog-Burglars were shaky allies at best. Even that had been some sort of personal truce between Stoick and Bertha. She vaguely remembered hearing stories about how they would try and one-up each other in their youth. She wasn't entirely sure if they would even still be allies, once the Bog-Burglars found out Stoick was gone.

Snotlout laughed. "Good. Wonder what she wants?" He stood and stretched. "Well, time to impress the ladies. Lead on."

Astrid didn't interfere. She would let Snotlout do the talking. There wasn't that much he could mess up right now. The Bog-Burglars weren't exactly the strongest tribe so she wasn't too worried about breaking the alliance with them. In fact, Berk might be better off without them. She was pretty sure there was a mutual defense agreement in the current alliance, and she had no desire to go to war to protect the Bog-Burglars.

Camicazi met them in the middle of the village. She was supposed to have waited on the boat, but she never had been good at following orders. Astrid looked down on her. Literally, because Camicazi was a short woman, though thin. She had wild blond hair and constantly shifting eyes. She was apparently an excellent thief and not an idiot like most Vikings. And, Astrid remembered with a grimace, she had been friends with Hiccup. Camicazi had not been at all satisfied with their vague condemnation of him at her last visit with her mother.

The Bog-Burglar heiress spoke first, smiling slightly. "So, where's Stoick? I need to talk to him. And make it fast, Snotty. I've got to get to the meeting island as soon as possible. This is just a quick side-trip."

Snotlout smirked and puffed himself up. "Stoick is gone. I am Snotlout, chief of Berk." He leered at her. "So you'll be talking to me."

Camicazi laughed. "Right, Right. Sure. As if you were even close to capable of being chief. The position requires at least some intelligence. You aren't qualified."

Astrid interrupted. "He is chief, and I am his advisor." She disliked Camicazi, more now than ever before. There was just something about her that rubbed Astrid the wrong way. So, she spoke harshly, trying to drive home that Camicazi had just insulted the chief of Berk.

Camicazi stared at both of them. "Well, that's... interesting. Not that I believe it." She darted over to a passing resident of Berk and spoke to him. "Quick, who is your chief?"

"Snotlout. Why?" The man kept walking when Camicazi didn't respond.

Astrid barely noticed Camicazi's eyes narrow slightly, and she definitely noticed that Camicazi hadn't pick-pocketed the man while she was questioning him. From the little she had interacted with the girl, those things were abnormal.

Camicazi strode over to Snotlout. Her voice was hard and toneless. "So I am going to have to deal with you."

Snotlout laughed. "You say that like it's a bad thing." He flexed. "I'm the perfect image of a Viking chief!"

Camicazi turned to Astrid. "And you must be the brain behind the mindless muscle."

Astrid nodded subtly, then gestured to Snotlout. "But you'll be dealing with him, not me." That was pure spite on her part. She could deal with Camicazi directly, as she had Dagur. But Camicazi so clearly despised Snotlout, now more than ever.

Camicazi turned to Snotlout, mouth twisting in distaste. "Alright then, let's make this quick. Bertha wants to expand one of our smaller trade deals. Doubling the amount of export and import in the wool for leather deal."

Snotlout smirked. "Why? The Bog-Burglars run out of sheep to steal from other islands?"

Camicazi visibly restrained herself. "I don't really know why. Mom just thought it was a convenient excuse to get a ship of Bog-Burglars into Berk for a few hours." Her eyes narrowed, and her voice was soft. "We like to pick up how the wind is blowing with our allies. Right now, my entire crew is mingling with your people, and picking up as much information as possible. So, anything you want to tell me now before I go hear what they've uncovered?" She smirked evilly at Snotlout, who was staring at her. "Like, as an example, what really happened to Hiccup? I don't buy your yak-dung story about how he somehow betrayed the tribe and was killed, especially when you're more vague about it than with Alvin the Treacherous. It's been a long time, but I think I'm going to hear the truth when I go back to my ship. Bog-Burglars are skilled at manipulation. People talk."

That was one subject Astrid wouldn't let slip. There was no way Camicazi was going back to her mother with that particular information if her spies had managed to pick out even some of the truth here. She whipped her ax out and had it at Camicazi's neck in an instant. Her paranoia had left her in the perfect position to strike at the heiress, and she was thankful for that. "Or maybe you won't learn anything at all. Ever."

Snotlout faltered for an instant, and then helped Astrid, moving to Camicazi's back, his sword at her spine. He looked over at Astrid. "Now what?"

Camicazi clearly hadn't been expecting anything like this. Her eyes were wide, and she wasn't moving a muscle.

Astrid smirked. "Well Snotlout, maybe when you go to the meeting, you should renegotiate our alliance with the Bog-Burglars. With the heiress as a bargaining chip." By that, she meant that she would, through Snotlout. If she played it right, she could force Bertha into a very one-sided deal, and making it in front of the other chiefs would make it unbreakable for her. Camicazi had just become very useful.

Snotlout noticed a Bog-Burglar staring at them. "You, Burglar! Go tell your friends that Camicazi dies if all of you aren't on your ship in half an hour!" He looked to Astrid.

Astrid nodded. "Then we'll send them back to Bertha, to carry the news. In the meantime..." She looked down at Camicazi.

Astrid and Snotlout escorted Camicazi to Berk's jail personally. They threw the Bog-Burglar heiress into the deepest, darkest cell. That wasn't out of spite, but necessity. Bog-Burglars were adept at escaping. It came with the occupation. This cell had been carved out of raw stone, and the only way in or out was locked, with the actual lock far out of reach from the inside. Simple but effective.

Camicazi stood, shaking with anger. "So, this is how chief Snotlout treats his allies. Good to know."

Snotlout smirked. "Only the weak ones." He left the prison, satisfied that his work here was done.

Astrid did not leave with him. She stared into the cell and met Camicazi's eyes. "Asking questions around here is dangerous."

Camicazi sneered at her. "Knowledge is only dangerous to the people who have something to hide. So, did Snotlout kill Hiccup, or did you?" Her eyes were cold.

Astrid considered what to say. "Does it matter?"

"Yes. Because we were friends. I had fun playing with him on our visits as kids. He would have made ten times the chief Snotlout is, even if he wasn't much of a Viking, and he wouldn't have needed you to do it."

Astrid laughed. "He was never going to be chief. Snotlout was always going to take that from him. He was too weak to keep it." Let Camicazi believe Hiccup was dead. He might as well be. She then decided to let Camicazi in on a little secret, just to rattle the girl's confidence. "Oh, by the way. Stoick went the way of Oswald." With that, she left, leaving the Bog-Burglar heiress to rot in that cell. Probably for quite a while. They wouldn't actually bring her to the meeting, so Camicazi was likely going to be there for months.

But it would not do to be complacent. She went to draft up a new treaty with the Bog-Burglars. One that was really more of a ransom agreement. Everything the Burglars could spare and survive, in exchange for their heir. It would humiliate their entire tribe, and Astrid had no problem doing that. Any benefit to Berk would trickle down into her Nest hunts. That was all that mattered.

Camicazi searched the inside of her cell. She had her lock-picks, but they were no help when she couldn't reach the lock. She couldn't fit through the bars, and she came to the conclusion that her cell was empty of anything useful. It was really just a hole cut into the rock. So much for that.

She sat down, clearing her head. To escape here, she needed a weakness to exploit. She would wait until they came with food or something. Anything that meant the door would be open. She would have to figure out a way off of the island first though. There was no point in escaping the cell if she couldn't escape the entire prison. Right now, Berk was her prison.

But she could see no way out of here. All of Berk's ships had been guarded from what she saw sailing in. It was an island, after all. No way out, other than a ship.

That was it. Camicazi smiled. She'd wait until the Berkians were about to leave for the meeting, break out, and hide on those ships. If she stayed hidden long enough, they'd bring her to freedom themselves. Then she could tell her mother what had happened.

She frowned. Berk was definitely no longer their ally. And the Bog-Burglars needed allies. Otherwise, the stronger tribes would take them apart. It was hard to even maintain neutral status with most islands, thanks to their thieving nature. But that was who they were, and they weren't about to change.

Her mother needed to know that, apparently, Astrid and Snotlout had offed Stoick, and Hiccup to boot. Untrustworthy allies were worse than no allies. Killing the chief and his heir definitely did not speak well of Astrid's trustworthiness, never mind this current betrayal.

It hurt to learn that Hiccup was definitely dead. She had always liked that scrawny fishbone. He was fun to be around, and never gave up. Despite everyone around him despising him. She wondered what had happened. He had seemed a little depressed the last time she had seen him, but that had been... was it six years ago, now? A very long time. And now he was gone for sure.

Author's Note: Well, she's finally here. It's been what, thirty or so chapters since I first mentioned the person Hiccup had learned to pick locks from? Camicazi has been promised for quite a while, and I know a few of you were looking forward to her appearance. Don't worry, she plays a not-insignificant part in this story, and it has already begun.

Also, just in case anyone is confused, though I tried to make it clear, yes, Dagur did just direct Astrid's nest hunt in the right direction without even trying to. Aren't interlocking threads of fate fun? It's Heather's fault for fleeing in that direction, in the end, that has pointed Astrid that way, and that was pure chance, as well as chance that happened months ago, only now coming into play.