Grimmel the Grisly was down one Deathgripper, not that it mattered. Darling had done her job, saving him from having been poisoned by the old dart. What mattered far more was that the Night Fury and its rider had seemingly disappeared. He spread his dragons out as much as he could to scan for them, weaving back and forth in the direction that they had gone to search for an island that they might have missed. The ocean was endless under them; they had to have touched down somewhere.
Still, he wasn't yet irritated. The chase persisted, and he loved the chase almost as much as he loved the glory—it would hardly have been any fun if his target weren't a challenge. It wouldn't have the same rush of adrenaline. Breathing in the sweet, crisp scent of the ocean, he remembered the first Night Fury kill. He remembered its sleeping form and he remembered the praise, the celebration from the village. He had been lauded as a hero for years. His brother, more of a brawler than a thinker, had left to seek his own glory, and he hadn't cared—who would? He had everything. Fame, fortune, the rush of the kill. He had found more Night Furies afterwards, hunting them. Making it his mission. Spreading tales across the lands of the Night Fury killer, the savior, the hero.
He would have that again, on Berk. When he killed the Alpha, the flock would go wild once again. And he would save them from their own delusion.
Peace. Between man and dragon. He scoffed.
—
Darling was on Toothless's trail, still, but suffering the symptoms of withdrawal. She had needed to land to rest far more than usual, and slipped to sleep easily, even to the point of having to fight it while still in the air. Her landings were uneven and her stomach was easily upset. She vomited up the first few meals she had on her own.
Once, she woke up in a frenzy, convinced she was surrounded by Night Furies, and sprayed vicious acid around her, burning the coastal grasses to a fuming crisp. She roared in frustration and wheeled around when she couldn't find any of her quarries' bodies, and launched herself into the sky to escape the wingbeats pounding in her ears.
She touched down on yet another island, displacing clumps of dirt to her front and sides as she tried to stop her momentum. Her chest heaving from the exertion, and she collapsed. She was close; she knew she was close. She just couldn't keep going.
Birds twittered in the trees around her, looking down at the Deathgripper's unconscious body. The Hidden World was two-days flight over the ocean for a dragon in this state. Easier for ocean-dwellers. Easier for fast-flyers like the Furies. Easier, perhaps, for the still-drugged Deathgrippers who no longer knew their own limits. She didn't know it, but she would have to rest for a long time to be able to make it there in one go. There were no more islands in between where she was and where the dragons' home was.
Darling, single-minded in pursuit of her objective to catch the Alpha, was doomed to drop from the sky from exhaustion into the embrace of an uncaring sea.