Author's Note: I almost missed the deadline for this one, but it's out!

Also, on the same subject of posting, the holiday week around Thanksgiving is going to mess with my schedule, but in a predictable way. The next Living Anonymously chapter will come out not on the Thursday after next, but on the following Monday, alongside other similarly delayed chapters from my other stories. As a consolation for that, know that I'm going to have a week with no higher priority than finishing this story's rewriting. We're close enough to the end that I think I can do it. If I do manage to get that far, we'll be going back to weekly posts until the conclusion of this story. (Living Freely is going to need just as comprehensive a rewrite, but we'll see where I'm at on that one when we get there. At this point, I'm actually glad I've not written any of the fourth story in this series, just plotted it out. At least I won't feel the need to rewrite that one when we get to it.)

'Heather?' Nóttleiðtogi called out, poking his head around the corner to look in on her. 'Are you up yet?'

"Pretty much," Heather agreed, extricating herself from between Nótthljóður's paws. Ever since Einfari flew off the previous night, Nótthljóður had apparently missed her sister's warmth and compensated by clinging to the only other source of heat available. "Just… Give me a minute…"

Nóttleiðtogi seemed to notice her difficulty, his eyes widening. 'Need help?'

"No," Heather grunted, shoving a surprisingly heavy paw off of her leg. At least Nótthljóður hadn't put any pressure on her leg in the middle of the day. That would have been a far less pleasant wake-up call. A few more pushes, and she was free of the fledgling's grasp.

'Skarpur will be along soon,' Nóttleiðtogi said quietly. 'It is not quite dusk yet. I wish to take you to the shore, if you will.'

"Okay," Heather agreed, noticing Nóttleiðtogi's formal speech, which was stiffer than normal, even for him. He seemed tense, which was absolutely no surprise.

Nóttleiðtogi let Heather walk out of the cavern ahead of him, trailing behind with quiet steps and the occasional rumble. The sun was setting outside, and Heather lingered in the warm rays, savoring the rare moment of daylight. She decided that she was going to start getting up earlier; she could live without the sun, but there was no reason to entirely deprive herself of it when her sleeping schedule was already weird.

'If we are quick, we will reach the shore in time to see the setting sun,' Nóttleiðtogi offered, overtaking her with a quick walk. 'That was my intention.'

Heather noticed that he wasn't offering to fly them there, and said nothing of it. Given just how messed up Nóttleiðtogi was, she expected he would never take any human on his back for any reason.

The walk through the forest was pleasant enough that Heather didn't mind not flying to the shore; she enjoyed the colors, something severely lacking at night. Her backside ached, but that was getting better by the night, and she was used to the pain walking caused.

'How is Einfari doing?' Nóttleiðtogi asked at one point in their walk, seemingly at random.

Heather checked her friend's sight for a moment, but saw nothing at all, a blackness tinted at the edges with a soft glow. "Still asleep."

'I meant in general, but good to know,' Nóttleiðtogi chuffed.

"She's fine," Heather replied. It had only been a night; if things were going to go wrong, they wouldn't go wrong so early in the journey. "I think the Myrkurs are getting on her nerves already, but it's not like everyone has to fly wingtip to wingtip, so that shouldn't be a problem."

'And Maour?'

"I mean, I guess he's fine," Heather replied. She didn't have a direct link to him, and just because Einfari was carrying him didn't mean she was any more privy to his thoughts than anyone else.

'Good. I would not see anyone on that trip hurt, not even the Myrkur humans, but I worry for those two more than the rest.'

His daughter, and his… counsellor seemed to be the best word. Maybe friend, but Heather couldn't be sure of that particular designation, and wouldn't want to use it in front of Nóttleiðtogi. He might very well take offense at the idea.

They continued on in silence until the shore came into view. Heather stopped just short of the sand, staring out at the massive, vibrantly orange panorama in front of her. Nóttleiðtogi stopped beside her, just out of arm's reach, staring out at the scene.

'I thought this would be a good way to start the night,' Nóttleiðtogi said quietly. 'A calming moment.'

Heather held back the coarse joke that had come to mind and said nothing. Saying that it seemed like Nóttleiðtogi was trying to take her on a romantic date was a good way to make him despise her like he apparently did the twins, and she would despise herself for making such a stupid joke. Just because it came to mind didn't mean it needed to be said; Nótts didn't blurt out everything on their minds.

Heather realized a moment later that she had called herself a Nótt, but decided to think nothing of it. She was one; they had accepted her as their responsibility, a ward of their family. Even if she did not claim the title as part of her name or anything like that, such a gesture meant something.

'Anything on your mind?' Nóttleiðtogi asked.

Heather shrugged her shoulders. "Nothing important."

Nóttleiðtogi looked over at her with a distinctly amused expression. 'I know what a sharp inhale followed by a relaxed posture means, thanks to watching Maour. You have thought of, or possibly realized, something of note.'

Heather smiled guiltily. "Well, yes, but…"

'Continue,' Nóttleiðtogi offered, phrasing it politely. 'I will not force it out of you, but if you want to continue building trust…'

"That's unfair, but fine," Heather complained, feeling embarrassed. She wasn't going to risk lying to Nóttleiðtogi, not when he could apparently smell it if conditions were right. Knowing him, he might very well be testing her under that seemingly casual exterior. "I realized that I had thought of myself as a Nótt."

Nóttleiðtogi continued to eye her neutrally. 'And what did you think after that?'

"That it was fine, because your family took me in, and that it's an accurate description of me?" Heather replied tentatively, hoping he wouldn't take that the wrong way.

'Interesting,' Nóttleiðtogi chuffed. 'And you definitely fit our family more than any other.'

"It's not even close," Heather murmured. She was in no way fit to be an Eldur or a Myrkur, and the Svarturs were just too… Trusting was the best way she could put it.

'I suppose not,' Nóttleiðtogi agreed. After a long moment of silence, he lay down, burying his paws in the sand, and wrapped his tail around his side. 'Tell me if you get hungry. I can go for fish at any time.'

Heather sat down beside him, keeping to the distance he had established, just out of arm's reach, and leaned back on her hands, looking up at the sky. "I'll be fine for a while. After the sun sets." She wouldn't want to spend all night lazing around like this, but it was a pleasant start to the day, and anything that relaxed Nóttleiðtogi would be good for both of them.

A swishing sound caught Heather's attention, and a quick glance toward Nóttleiðtogi revealed the source. His tail was sliding toward her hands, moving shakily but steadily.

"You really mean to work on it," Heather said, trusting that Nóttleiðtogi would catch her meaning.

'I do,' Nóttleiðtogi rumbled. 'It is a stupid, limiting problem, and I will not allow it to get the better of me.' His tail brushed her hand, and then flinched away.

"I appreciate it, even if you aren't doing it for me," she said, meaning every word. Regardless of motive, him improving would make life easier for her, so-

'I am doing it for you,' Nóttleiðtogi replied quietly, his tail once again brushing her hand, and this time staying there, the tip resting against her forearm. There was an audible strain in his voice, but it faded as he spoke. 'For my daughter, and for myself, but also for you. Do not discount that.'

Heather didn't reply; she felt that anything she said would only cheapen the moment. Instead, she watched the last remnants of the sunset disappear and savored the feeling of smooth fins on her arm, the feeling of trust finally established on a fundamental level. A shaky, uncertain trust, and one she was not sure she had truly earned, but trust nonetheless.

She hoped her time with Nóttreiði would eventually produce such a moment. He was the last of the Nótts to resent her, and she wanted more than ever to correct that, to earn her place in his eyes, to earn his trust, however impossible that always seemed when she was actually interacting with him.

But if there was such a moment with Nóttreiði coming, it would not be coming soon, so Heather did her best to remain in the moment and savor the feeling now. She had a feeling that the rest of the night was not going to be so bad for either of them.

Toothless flapped his wings desperately, staring out at the ocean, and closed his eyes. Maour's senses were easily accessed, as always, and he quickly immersed himself in sight and sound while holding off on the other three. Taste and touch were no good most of the time, and smell would mean he had to smell Einfari, who Maour was riding on. There was nothing wrong with that, and she smelled nice enough, but he did not want to be distracted from the sensation he was hoping to cobble together from his brother's senses and his own movements.

"So, is this working for you?" Maour murmured, leaning forward in the saddle, his head over Einfari's neck and ears. "Should I ask Einfari to go faster?"

'No, just like that,' Toothless specified absently, trying to match his pointless flapping to the rhythm of the wings he could see at the edges of Maour's vision. It was kind of working, but he couldn't shake the feeling of standing on the ground no matter what he did. Not having Maour's weight on his back didn't help either, and his false fin hung limp, throwing him off and bothering him on an instinctual level.

'It's no good,' Toothless soon admitted with an annoyed growl. 'I'm just frustrating myself.' He could handle not flying, but it was annoying that such a good idea just didn't work.

"Sorry, bud," Maour said sadly. "Einfari, can you ask Heather-"

'She will be healed enough to start learning to use Toothless's tail fin in a few weeks,' Einfari replied sternly. 'Not before. Asking again will not change that.'

'I will be fine until then,' Toothless said, hoping that he was telling the truth. He had handled days in the cove more or less grounded, and at least in this case he knew for sure when he would be back in the air. Add that to the instinctual distraction of guarding the eggs, which required him to be on the ground a lot more than normal, and he really shouldn't have much of a problem waiting.

And no matter what, he wouldn't admit he was suffering if Maour asked or guessed. He would live, and Maour didn't deserve to feel guilty about something neither of them could help. The next best solution would have had him flying, true, but it also would have had both of them missing the hatching of their new siblings, and that was a literal once-in-a-lifetime event.

Toothless snorted in amusement as the maddening desire to leap into the air despite the futility faded from his wings and legs, replaced by a subtle unease and desire to go check on his mother and future siblings. There was something twisted about combating one instinct with another, but it worked, so he wasn't going to question it. Something told him that the time would pass quicker if he focused on the eggs, not his own flightlessness, and he was more than willing to test that theory out.

"So?" Ruffnut asked impatiently, leaning over Maour's shoulder. "Is this the place?"

"Give him time to read the map," Fishlegs advised, looking over from Myrkurheili's saddle. "Based on the time we have spent flying, the number of stops, and-"

"The map," Tuffnut cut in. "We don't need any of that other stuff."

'I hope this is the place we are to split up,' Einfari muttered irritably.

Maour agreed, but he wasn't about to rush into it. They had to send four different dragons and riders in four different directions, and he wanted to be sure they had indeed landed on the right uninhabited island for rest the night before. If they were even slightly off-course in their island-hopping, adjustments would have to be made to the directions everyone would be following.

But it all looked good; the path was not straightforward, but he knew they had passed a conspicuously inhabited island with a crescent shape three nights ago, and that gave him a good reference point.

Yes, it all looked good. He folded the map up and put it away, stowing it in Einfari's saddlebag. "Yeah, this is it. You all remember where you're going?"

'We can just ask if we do not, right?' Myrkurvængur asked.

'Yes, but you should not rely on that,' his father replied.

"Don't worry," Ruffnut said from atop Myrkurvængur. "We've got this. I have a mind like the finest metal helmet in the land. Nothing gets out."

"And nothing gets in," Tuffnut added slyly.

"Exactly," Ruffnut agreed, tapping her head.

"Okay, it's all settled. Let's go!" Tuffnut declared, pointing at the distant horizon. "To the end of the world!"

'To the Rockbreakers,' Myrkurljós countered. 'Maybe later we can find that.' He sprang into the air, and they were off.

"Hey, wait a second!" Ruffnut objected, looking like she had just realized something. "That was an insult! Vængur, after them!"

Myrkurvængur leaped into the air and proceeded to fly in the opposite direction, much to Ruffnut's loudly vocalized annoyance.

'At least they are going the right direction,' Myrkurheili observed. 'But I am glad we have lines of communication open between us all. Otherwise, I do not think we would ever see them again.' With that, he crouched and leaped upward with a heavy flap, and powered forward, working against Fishlegs' weight.

'You know,' Einfari observed as they watched Myrkurheili depart, 'I never realized how strong Berg has gotten until I had to carry Fishlegs myself, and then watched others do so.'

"At least they both got stronger, instead of Berg doing all the work," Maour reasoned. "Ready to go?"

'I am content to just not be in their company any longer,' Einfari purred. 'Myrkurs are exhausting. But yes, let's go.'

Once they were in the air, Maour leaned back in the saddle, feeling as he had every night of their flight. Bored. Not having half a tailfin to operate left him restless and always on edge, like his body knew he should be doing something. It wasn't even noticeable when he rode other Svarturs on occasion, but on an extended trip, it was getting to him.

'I see you're up,' Einfari murmured to herself, clearly talking to Heather. Her flight had smoothed out into as close to a glide as she could get with the uncertain winds buffeting them every once in a while.

Maour closed his eyes and accessed Toothless's sense of hearing, wondering if his brother was up yet. It was barely dusk at the moment; they had gotten an early start.

'Yes?' Toothless asked in a low voice. 'I am watching the eggs today. How are things there?'

Maour decided to check in on Toothless's sight, too, and was soon able to see a blank cavern wall. "Boring," he admitted. "How about you?"

'Same,' Toothless agreed. 'I was actually planning to sleep for a while. Dad just got me up to take over. But if you want to talk-'

"No, go ahead and sleep. I might do the same." He didn't think he could, given the winds slamming into them every so often, but he could try. "We all split up just now, so it's me and Einfari now. Nobody else around."

'Which means you can actually rest without watching for mishaps,' Einfari remarked, privy to Maour's side of the conversation.

"Pretty much," Maour agreed. "So… Talk to you later, I guess?"

'Later, when we are both awake,' Toothless agreed. He closed his eyes, and Maour cut off the connection on his end, returning to his current situation just as a particularly strong wind slammed into them from behind, throwing them forward just a little faster than before.

'I do not think you will be sleeping,' Einfari said. 'This is going to be a long night's flight, if these winds keep up.'

"Yeah, you're probably right. At least it's quiet." Maour didn't mind his friends talking, but after two weeks in the air with the twins and squabbling amplified by the Myrkurs egging them on, and Fishlegs often getting into it in a futile attempt to bring calm discussion to chaos itself-

Yes, Maour was glad to be clear of that for a while. "Don't get used to it," he cautioned both himself and Einfari. "The Meatheads are more like the twins than me, and we'll be with them for two months."

'Of course they are,' Einfari groaned. 'And dangerous, too, even if they are allies. But we are not there yet. Let's enjoy the peace and quiet while we can.'

'Fish,' Nóttreiði grumbled, dropping a pile of limp, pale salmon at Heather's feet. 'What else?'

"That's enough," Heather declared, not liking the way he was speaking, but distinctly aware that she had absolutely no recourse aside from complaining to his parents later. "Thank you. I won't need you for a while."

'Good.' Nóttreiði quickly left the cave, abandoning her and the pile of raw fish-

Raw. Heather smacked her forehead as she realized that she had forgotten to ask him to cook them. He probably hadn't even remembered that was a necessity for her; he seemed to be doing his best to forget the nights spent helping her as soon as they were over, and interacting with her as little as possible on those nights.

Heather picked up the nearest salmon and tossed it back onto the pile, where it landed with a disgusting squelch before sliding off and hitting the cave floor. She needed someone to heat the fish for her, and Nóttreiði was undoubtedly long gone.

Why had she thought this would go as well as her nights with his father did? She reluctantly got to her feet, weathering the ache in her backside out of force of will. That was getting easier every night, which was encouraging.

'Morning, Heather,' Einfari warbled in her head, apparently just waking up.

"Got a late start?" Heather asked her friend, grabbing a few salmon as she spoke. She would head deeper into the cavern, toward the central shaft, and ask a favor of whoever was lingering there. It would be easier than tracking Nóttreiði down, a task that could take all night with her current handicap.

'Maour wants us to arrive in the day, so he changed how far we fly these last few nights,' Einfari replied. 'I don't really understand his plan, but he says it will have us getting there at the right time without feeling tired or having to adjust our sleep cycle all at once. I can ask him for an explanation if you want.'

"No thanks." She would leave that kind of thing to the person who actually had to think about it.

'I see salmon,' Einfari commented, accessing Heather's sense of sight. 'Raw salmon. Trying something new? They're good like that.'

"No way," Heather replied. "I'm just going to find someone to cook it for me."

'Find someone… This is my brother's day to help you, isn't it?' Einfari growled. 'He left you with raw fish. He isn't supposed to be leaving you alone!'

"Having him around me all night would be awkward and frustrating," Heather replied hastily. "Nobody can do that."

'Don't twist my words,' Einfari retorted. 'We both know you know what I mean. Get him in trouble for this. I know dad wanted you two to spend actual time together.'

"I'll bring it up," Heather promised. A part of her felt that it would take something more than just lingering around Nóttreiði to bring about any real change, but she didn't know what that would be, so there was no alternative. "Right now, it's the fish I'm looking to burn, not the dragon."

'Funny,' Einfari deadpanned. 'How's the injury doing?'

"Well enough. Why?"

'Oh, just that Maour is worried about Toothless,' Einfari replied seriously. 'I told him you'd go to Toothless the moment you felt up to it so that he would stop bugging me about it. Got that?'

"Yeah, I've got it." Heather had no problem with that; she was actually missing flying, and helping Toothless fly seemed like an interesting and potentially life-saving skill for her to learn if she could. "That won't be for a while, though."

'I know. But it is getting better.'

"Definitely." She could walk without much pain, and every new night brought with it a smaller gash, as best she could tell. She was healing.

Really, everything aside from Nóttreiði was going well. She was healing fine, Nóttleiðtogi was improving steadily in controlling his unease, and Einfari hadn't hit any issues on her journey yet.

Of course, with Einfari and Maour only a few nights away from the Meatheads, that last one might soon change, and it was entirely possible that one of the other rider-dragon pairs would run into trouble with their respective allies.

"So this is the famous Bog Burglar island," Ruffnut said as Myrkurvængur circled above the flat, mostly unimpressive landmass. "It looks like somebody took a normal island and stepped on it."

'It looks like a pawprint after a storm,' Myrkurvængur agreed eagerly. 'Wet and muddy.'

"That's the whole archipelago," Ruffnut countered. "Anyway, we're not here for the boring ponds and scraggly little trees. Fly down to the huts and docks.'

'Do I get to start blasting if they attack?' Myrkurvængur asked, still sounding eager, just as any proper Myrkur should at the prospect of a fight.

Ruffnut sighed dramatically. "Sadly, no. We have to play nice." Everyone had been insistent on that, and she could see the point, but it was disappointing nonetheless. Being a dragon rider should mean unbridled chaos at any time, not carefully considered plans that might end in glorious chaos if everything went right.

'Then what do I do?' Myrkurvængur asked, sounding slightly less confident.

"Do I have to think of everything?" Ruffnut grumbled. "Just follow my lead." She would get this done right, if only to spite Tuffnut. He had mocked her for being stuck with the youngest Myrkur; she'd show him.

Once they had flown down to the docks and landed, Myrkurvængur brought up another problem. 'I don't see anyone.'

"Duh, it's the middle of the night." Ruffnut dismounted and turned in a slow circle, taking in the ships to either side of them. "Sleek, large cargo holds… Yes, we're in the right place." At least she and Myrkurvængur had been sent to the interesting tribe. Maybe she could learn some special techniques for stealing later.

'Should I roar?' Myrkurvængur asked hopefully.

Ruffnut groaned in annoyance; Blast would have just done it, not asked her first. Myrkurvængur had a long way to go before he was as fun to hang around with. He made a better target than co-conspirator most of the time. "Go ahead."

A loud Night Fury screech resounded across the Bog Burglar island, and Ruffnut smiled, imagining the reactions. She would never get tired of scaring people with that, even if she couldn't imitate the distinctive call well enough to do it personally.

"One pranking-Myrkur-Fury, two pranking-Myrkur-Fury…" Ruffnut counted, tapping her foot in time.

At thirty seconds, Myrkurvængur began looking around, eyeing their surroundings. 'Should it be taking this long?'

"Thirty-five pranking-Myrkur-Fury," Ruffnut continued, unconcerned. It seemed the Bog Burglars weren't that alert when it came to their own island. She would have expected some sort of reaction, at least. The huts were all still dark and silent.

At sixty seconds, Ruffnut's prankster instincts sounded the warning. Something wasn't right, and she could sense that they were on the wrong end of the joke. She looked back at the ships to either side of them.

Ten Bog Burglar women lined the deck of either ship, silent, still, and armed with crossbows.

"Well, that explains that," Ruffnut quipped. "Vængur, don't move." She knew danger when she saw it, and being filled with crossbow bolts wouldn't be fun at all.

'Don't-' Vængur began, turning his head to see what she was looking at. The moment his eyes landed on the first Bog Burglar, he barked and jumped back in shock, pushing himself right off the narrow dock by accident and landing in the water with a loud splash.

'Cold!' Vængur barked, flailing wildly in the water. 'Ruffnut, help!'

Ruffnut rushed over to the edge of the dock and looked down, for the moment totally ignoring the Bog Burglars watching everything. Night Furies did not do well in deep water, and she would never hear the end of it if Myrkurvængur drowned right next to a dock. "Grab the dock," she advised, holding out an arm to try and haul him up by his ears if they came within reach.

The sound of claws digging into wet wood told Ruffnut that Myrkurvængur had taken her advice, but the flailing and splashing barely slowed. 'So cold!' he complained loudly, thrashing his wings around even more wildly for evidence.

"Climb up, then!" Ruffnut suggested, wondering if he was trying to prank her. She was almost within reach-

"Not gonna happen," she said as she saw what he was doing, and quickly backed away from the edge of the dock. "You're gonna have to try harder than that to pull one over me!"

'Worth a try,' Myrkurvængur grumbled, easily climbing up the support and pulling himself onto the dock. 'Why'd you have to scare me?'

"Hey, they did the scaring," Ruffnut retorted, pointing behind herself without looking. "I told you not to look." Yes, Myrkurvængur definitely had a long way to go before he was the equal of Blast or Boom. In the meantime, she would have to find a way to get him in retaliation for trying to prank her.

'Why are they staring?' Myrkurvængur hissed, shaking himself off and watching behind her with wide eyes. 'Don't Vikings shoot first and ask questions later?'

Oh, right. That. Ruffnut turned to address the Bog Burglars, only to find that one of them was in the process of leaping down onto the deck, a huge woman with a commanding glare. Good, their leader was here. That would make this easy.

"I don't even know what I'm looking at," the large woman admitted in a stern voice. "Maour sent you, right?"

"No, just a random Night Fury and rider dropping in and then dropping off of your dock," Ruffnut quipped. "Yeah, we're from the Isle of Night." She liked that name; full of mystery and importance, while hiding a mostly empty island of dragons and pranksters. It was a prank in and of itself.

"Good." The woman approached and offered a large, meaty hand, which Ruffnut shook. "Chief Bertha, of the Bog Burglars. We'll be leaving in two days."

"Great." Ruffnut looked over at the ships still lined with armed warriors. "Not tonight?"

"Don't ask why, and we won't lie," Bertha said warningly. "We don't usually let visitors come here at all. At least Maour had the sense to send a woman."

"Yeah, he has his moments," Ruffnut agreed idly. "So, I've been told you have a daughter who can hold her own as a troublemaker."

"What of it?"

'Remember,' Myrkurvængur volunteered to Ruffnut, standing awkwardly behind her, 'Tuffnut says you should be his wing-woman, whatever that means.'

Ruffnut gave no sign of hearing Myrkurvængur; she had absolutely no intention of doing that. If this 'Camicazi' got on her nerves badly enough, maybe. Otherwise, Tuffnut was going to have to do all the work himself. "I think we'll get along well."

"You can meet her tomorrow," Bertha replied. "She's at home, in bed."

"While you are sitting around in docked ships in the middle of the night?"

"Don't ask questions," Bertha said warningly. "And I don't want the dragon poking around our island. You both sleep here, on one of these ships."

"Geez, talk about a cold welcome," Ruffnut griped. Something told her that there were secrets to be uncovered regarding the still-dark huts on the island behind her, but Maour had told everyone not to antagonize their allies… And Bertha would be on guard. She could investigate later. "Fine."

"Good." Bertha looked past Ruffnut, at Myrkurvængur. "Dragon? You understand?" she asked tentatively, sounding as if she was desperately hoping she wasn't making herself look like an idiot.

Myrkurvængur nodded politely. 'I do,' he warbled, though he had to know Bertha wouldn't hear him. For added emphasis, he sat back on his tail and smiled broadly.

"Great." Bertha nodded back at him. "A female dragon, too."

Ruffnut held in a snort at Myrkurvængur's insulted whine. She sensed an opportunity there, and seized upon it almost without thinking. "Yeah, Myrkurvængur, the little sister of her family. Maour figured you'd appreciate an all-female envoy."

'Ruffnut!' Myrkurvængur barked angrily, walking up right behind her and shoving his nose into the back of her legs. 'Stop it. Tell them the truth.'

"She wants us to get some sleep," Ruffnut lied. "Stop it yourself," she hissed at Myrkurvængur. "They'll like you better this way. Play along." She hadn't anticipated the Bog Burglars being ignorant enough about dragon anatomy to make the obvious, but wrong, conclusion, but she was more than open to taking advantage of it.

'But…' Myrkurvængur wilted and stopped pushing at her. 'Fine,' he grumbled.

Ruffnut held in a smug laugh, knowing it would ruin the trick. Myrkurvængur was so easy to trick, and so eager to do exactly what Maour and the rest of the pack had told them they needed to do, keeping their allies happy with them… Maybe once she revealed in a few months that none of this had been necessary, he would be a little more rebellious, as befitted a true Myrkur. Really, she was doing him a favor. A hilarious 'favor' that was a prank on everyone involved except herself, but still. This trip was getting off to a great start.

"Dragon rider!" a loud Viking called out in greeting. "Down 'ere!"

'Fishlegs?' Myrkurheili asked carefully.

"The human side of things looks safe," Fishlegs replied, staring down at the village. "Weird construction, strange island topography, but all as expected. No obvious traps, nothing. What about Skrill?"

'Not a cloud in sight,' Myrkurheili said, somewhat unnecessarily, as both could see that easily enough. 'No storm means if we do run into one, it'll die. Remember what I told you?'

"We'll get above it, I'll fall and smash its head with my hammer on the way down, and you'll catch me," Fishlegs recited nervously, tapping his fingers against the flat head of the small warhammer he had brought along. "But I'm really not so-"

'Skrill!' Myrkurheili barked.

Fishlegs clung with both arms and legs to the saddle, holding on tight. "Retreat!" he screamed.

'There's no Skrill,' Myrkurheil said, casting Fishlegs a flat stare.

Fishlegs swallowed and timidly said, "I mean, attack?"

Mykurheili groaned loudly. 'Where's your fire? Your drive to fight?'

"I don't have one," Fishlegs mumbled. He brightened and said, "I like to think that words can resolve any conflict without resorting to violence."

'Everyone has the will to fight,' Mykurheili said, thrumming deep in thought, 'it just takes more for some people to draw it out. Hmm...' he paused for a moment, contemplating, and then suddenly crooned happily.

Fishlegs looked at him out of the corner of his eyes. "You're scheming, aren't you?"

'Have you never met a Myker before?'

Fishlegs groaned. "Let's just go meet the Waxears."

'They all seem to have turned out to see us,' Myrkurheili observed as they flew lower. 'And to prepare their ships. Ask them how soon they will be leaving.'

"I take it you're from the Isle of Night?" a man with a young girl standing beside him called out. "Land wherever. Our huts are sturdy."

'He offers to let us land on top of their huts?' Myrkurheili asked. 'Is there a hidden meaning to that?'

"Probably that he knows we're a little wary," Fishlegs replied after a moment. "Or that he thinks we're cowards." He didn't know; reading people was not his strong suit.

Myrkurheili touched down on top of one of the smaller huts, perching atop the iron frame all the huts sported, and warbled pleasantly down at the assembled Waxears.

"Welcome to our island," the same man said loudly, walking through the crowd toward the hut they had landed on. "I am Aldir, Chief of the Waxears."

"Fishlegs, rider of the Isle of Night," Fishlegs replied. "Along with Myrkurheili, dragon of the Isle of Night."

'And the rest,' Myrkurheili prompted eagerly.

"Do I have to?" Fishlegs asked. He had hoped the first encounter would be too chaotic for Myrkurheili to remember that.

'If you get to be a rider of the Isle of Night, I get my own title,' Myrkurheili insisted. 'Now say it before things become awkward, and before I "accidentally" drop you in the ocean when we next go flying.'

"Also known," Fishlegs abruptly continued, "as the Dark Adventurer of Fire and Shadow."

A collection of confused stares and uncertain looks greeted that remark. "The dragon?" Aldir asked.

"Yes, the dragon," Fishlegs replied, entirely aware that-

"Who names a dragon somethin' like that?" somebody muttered loudly.

'Tell them I decided to call myself that,' Myrkurheili urged.

"Later," Fishlegs groaned. "At least let me get down off of this hut first." He wasn't good with awkward situations, and Myrkurheili seemed intent on making all situations awkward for the foreseeable future, but he had to look on the bright side. At least there were no Skrill around, and the tribe seemed cautiously open to their presence. He had feared a baying mob out for Night Fury hats.

"Ooh," Tuffnut gasped. "I've got one. What if they try to capture us and make you into hats?"

'Then we turn their island into a heap of charred wood,' Myrkurljós replied blithely. 'How did you come up with that one?'

"Fishlegs was whining about how many different ways this could go wrong right before we left home," Tuffnut explained. "He had some good ones."

'Was bad weather on his list?' Myrkurljós asked.

Tuffnut looked at the heavy fog all around them and shrugged his shoulders. "Thunderstorms, hurricanes, tornados, and acts of various gods, but not fog. Even he can't think of everything." Not to mention this was a boring way for things to go wrong, even by Fishlegs' standards. Tuffnut would have preferred any of the other disasters, or something crazy.

"Ooh, what if the fog exploded?" he wondered aloud. "Like with a Zippleback."

'We'd be dead… But it would be fun to watch from somewhere not in the fog,' Myrkurljós agreed.

"Zipplebacks are cool," Tuffnut mused. "They can make gas that explodes. I wish mine did."

'I am glad yours does not,' Myrkurljós replied with a rumbling laugh. 'Take out that map again. Aren't we supposed to be there by now?'

Tuffnut pulled out the damp, badly-folded piece of parchment Maour had given him, and stared at it blankly. As far as he could tell, they should by flying right at the island they were heading to.

Of course, he couldn't see very far at the moment. It would be annoying if they passed the island over thanks to the fog. "Fly closer to the water so we don't fly right over without seeing it," he suggested.

"Tuffnut, any closer and I'll be skimming it with every wingbeat,' Myrkurljós replied, tossing his head in annoyance. 'But nothing I can do will stop us from passing to either side. You need to tell me if I'm going the right way.'

"How would I know?" Tuffnut asked irritably, crumpling the map up. "We could be flying in circles for all I can tell."

At that very moment, a large shape loomed out of the fog directly in front of them, and Myrkurljós pulled up in surprise, slowing down dramatically and in the process smacking Tuffnut's face into the saddle.

"'Ey!" Tuffnut cried out.

'Found… Something.' Myrkurljós turned to fly along the sheer stone cliff jutting out of the water, slowly gliding alongside it. It seemed to go on forever in all directions, fading into the grey mist.

Then, just as Tuffnut was trying to get a good look at the stone itself, lacking anything else of interest, the stone fell away, and an ominous sight rose out of the mist in the distance. Scores of dark orange lights burned along a rocky coastline, dispelling small amounts of the fog around them and providing landmarks.

"Cool," Tuffnut said admiringly. He liked spooky lanterns best of all lanterns. Maybe he could bring one home. The Rockbreakers wouldn't notice one going missing, not when they had so many. Some were even moving-

'We are looking for a fleet,' Myrkurljós said, angling toward the moving portion of the lights. 'I think these are our target.'

"Right. Okay, you know the plan," Tuffnut began eagerly as they glided toward what looked to be a fleet of warships. "I introduce us, you pretend to attack me, and I pretend to subdue you. We want to make me look good."

'No, the plan is to introduce ourselves and be careful,' Myrkurljós retorted. 'You know who would have both of our hides if we didn't do that.'

Tuffnut did indeed know, and he didn't want to mess with the wrath of Myrkurhryðjuverk. Not even Myrkurljós did that often, and she was his mate. "Fine, we'll do it the boring way."

"So," Maour said happily, "everything worked out for them?"

After a moment's delay, Toothless responded. 'Ruffnut apparently says they had no trouble with the Bog Burglars, and are now on their way with the fleet, but Boom says Myrkurvængur was whining about some sort of bow, and female Bog Burglars bothering him. Ruffnut says it's nothing… And now she and Boom are laughing about something, and Boom says it's nothing.'

Maour decided to not pry into that; something told him it would make no sense heard third-hand. Possibly second-hand if he accessed Toothless's hearing to listen to Boom directly, but he wanted to keep his attention on the flight at hand. Meathead island was visible in the distance, and he wanted to keep his wits about him.

'Meanwhile,' Toothless continued after a long pause, 'Tuffnut and Myrkurljós say that everything is going fine, but that, and I quote, "the Rockbreakers are the dullest Vikings to ever go to battle."'

"Did they say why?" Maour asked. Even for Tuffnut, that sounded harsh. He would have expected Tuffnut to try and liven things up, not complain.

'Apparently, they are still mourning the loss of their Chief's son,' Toothless explained. 'So Myrkurljós is making sure Tuffnut does not mortally offend them with some thoughtless prank.'

Now Maour understood. "What about Fishlegs and Myrkurheili?"

'No Skrill, and apparently the Waxears are really thankful we figured out what was going on. It sounds like they're having a great time. And of course, you two aren't there yet. That's everyone.'

"We'll be there pretty soon, actually," Maour corrected. "You planning on being awake for that?"

'Sure, why not?' Toothless asked rhetorically. 'But everyone else here is going back to sleep.'

'Not Heather,' Einfari remarked. 'She's going to be watching too.'

"The more the merrier," Maour decided. He certainly didn't mind having two more people aware of what was going on; this shouldn't be dangerous, but if things did get hairy, it couldn't hurt to have a few level heads advising.

'Oh, and Maour,' Toothless continued in a low voice, 'I have some news.'

"What is it?"

'The eggs are starting to shake,' Toothless replied. 'Mom says that means they'll hatch in a few days. And I can't wake you if you're asleep, not from here, so…'

"So I have to be ready, or I might sleep through it," Maour realized. He was already missing being physically there; missing it entirely was too much to bear. "I've got it. Do you know how long it could take, at most?"

'Three to four more nights, she said, but it could start happening any time now,' Toothless explained.

"I'll be sure to wake up every so often to check in," Maour decided. He couldn't very well stay up for three or four more days and nights straight, so that was the best option. "And I'll be sleeping at night, so that should be enough to be sure you'll always be able to alert me."

'And when it happens, you will get somewhere safe to watch from, right?' Toothless asked. 'I do not like the idea of you being vulnerable that long.'

"I've got Einfari. We can just go flying," Maour reasoned.

'Of course, we can,' Einfari agreed.

Maour startled, staring at the back of Einfari's neck in surprise. How had she known what they were talking about? She couldn't hear Toothless's side of things-

Or at least, not directly. But Heather and Toothless were probably still in the same place, so she could probably hear it from there. Mystery solved.

"How long will it last?" Maour asked. He was looking forward to it, and knowing too much would spoil the experience just a little, but if it was going to be an all-day or all-night event, he wanted to be mentally prepared.

'A while, I think. Mom didn't tell me that. But it will be worth watching,' Toothless asserted confidently. 'You just be sure you'll be in a position to do that safely.'

"Got it." Maour turned his attention to the island on the horizon, more determined than ever to make sure everything went right.

Author's Note: A fun bit of trivia; the original draft of this story ended on chapter 30, which was actually the epilogue. So were I to have not rewritten it, we'd be at the end this week (actually, we'd be at the end more than a month ago, because me not rewriting would mean I'd be able to skip to my weekly schedule). Now, I think we'll be breaking chapter 40.

And another fun little stat; with this chapter, Living Anonymously will overtake Living Vicariously to claim the title of 'my longest currently published story.' Usurpation of the Darkness is going to blow it out of the water, but for the time being Living Anonymously is in the lead.