A/N:
So good to see you again… except not literally as that would be creepy. And thanks to VigoGrimborn for betaing.
Deadly-Bagel, heh, yeah, Toothless the personal dragon assistant. "Hey Toothless, translate…" And I actually didn't put much thought into the fact that the eggshells would have been made by Frost only and would have no influence from Toothless' genes. I'm still deciding on how the hatchlings will look – if their eggs survive – and I'm not a big fan of the spotted black-and-white cow dragon look in the movie. Maybe zebra stripes… :P
Dragonrider's Fury, that scene with Hiccup lost in the clouds as he greeted Vassilis was a blast to write, so I'm glad you enjoyed it too. Yeah, Twitchy ain't that bad after all, I suppose. Oh, and speaking of dragon training…
Decided
Hiccup stood a respectful distance from Vassilis and his crew, with Jorunn slung across his chest. The mass burial was finished – thank the gods – and the smell was improving significantly.
Tord stood among the men, something that seemed so natural now but so unthinkable only three days ago. He had worked his way into their favor despite the fact that they knew that it was Tord's advice on tactics that played a large part in securing Berk's victory in the recent battle.
No, not victory, but survival. There were no winners in any war, only those who lost and those who lost even more.
"I despise the burden you thrust upon me," he had said to them on that first day in greeting when he approached them, "to allow either Berk or your armada to be destroyed, to allow good people to die or to allow other good people to die." However, he was convinced that the blame went solely on the mainland aristocracy, including the religious leaders, those with wealth and influence who could never have enough. In his eyes, this confrontation was just another inevitable outcome of such manipulations.
Initially, the people had begrudgingly accepted an extra pair of hands to work a shovel. Then, his Monstrous Nightmare got involved, unaffected by the smell. Her strong legs and long claws broke up the packed dirt and dislodged embedded stones, and her crushing bite and sharp teeth made short work of stubborn roots.
Where one started, more were intrigued, almost entirely unaffected by the stench of rotting flesh. The men couldn't turn away help, even from the "demons" themselves, when confronted with the thought of how much longer they would have to endure the ever-worsening stench otherwise.
With the work completed, Tord was the most qualified among the lot to act as a spiritual leader, speaking some prayer to the people in Latin, a language that Hiccup couldn't begin to grasp. However, with little Dart on his shoulder, language was no barrier, with the projected thoughts that naturally accompanied any spoken words being pretty clear from Tord. The prayer was as Hiccup expected, a petition to their god to accept the souls of those who had died in the battle into whatever plane of existence they believed in for an afterlife, something like Valhalla but less interesting. He repeated the same prayer in Saxon, and Vassilus repeated it in Italian.
It didn't take long, and the people started to disperse, yawning, stretching, sitting, and finding some water or food. For some reason, anyone whose gaze wandered over Hiccup did a wide-eyed double-take.
"Did you know there's a Night Fury standing behind you?" Tord asked jovially as he walked up to Hiccup.
Hiccup smiled and didn't even look. "Let me guess. His name is Prowler, and he has a very toothy smirk on his face, and," he balanced himself on his good foot and curled one hand forward in a clawing motion, "is standing like this?"
He turned his head around to see that he was spot-on, grinning back at the adolescent Night Fury that was poised behind him. "Aww, Prowler, you look so adorable like that."
Prowler stood frozen, mouth in a toothy grin, balanced on his hind legs and tail. He seemed to be disappointed that he didn't elicit a more startled reaction.
Hiccup held Jorunn up to his snout, and her little fingers feebly gripped the bridge of his nose. Hiccup chuckled and turned his shoulder protectively when the dragon's nose wrinkled, a prelude to dropping to all fours to sneeze.
In that motion, Hiccup noticed something behind Prowler, so he took a step back and shifted Jorunn to cover her ears with the palms of his hands–
Just in time for an ear-splitting shriek to split the air. Prowler spun around even before his paws hit the ground again and bolted after the clutchmate that startled him.
Vassilis walked up, water skin in hand, drenched in sweat, smiling. "My dear chief Hiccup, there is no language on Earth that can express our thanks for what you allowed us to do, and for the help you provided."
"Hiccup smiled at that. "I provided nothing but a few shovels," he dismissed with a wave of his hand. "The dragons are their own masters. If thanks is owed for their aid, then it is owed to them." He gestured to the burial site and the men milling about. "And allowing you to do your lord's work was the only decent thing to do. What kind of person would I be if I refused you?"
Vassilis took a long pull of water from the skin and grinned at Tord. "I see what you mean. He has the makings of a priest were he only of the faith."
Tord smiled politely at that. "I wouldn't hold my breath on converting him, try at your own risk."
"What of the dragon training?" Hiccup asked. It was, he had to admit to himself, the main reason he went to all this trouble for Vassilis and his crew. If he could get some of them to like dragons before they sailed home and dispersed across the land…
Vassilus looked at him. "Ah, yes, we have seen… many things… strange things. There are maybe fifteen who would prefer to sail home straightaway, but the rest would like to accept your offer. But… I would not deny them their wish to hasten to their families, but I would not leave those who wished to try your dragon training without a way home…"
Hiccup gave a tight smile. Less than a third wanted to skip out, better than he had realistically hoped for. "If they can scrape together twenty silvers, I can sell them a sturdy longboat, fully rigged for such a journey. A good size ship for fifteen, and I'd wager my one remaining foot that they'd beat the armada home."
It was practically a gift for that price, a compromise between wanting to help them and making them pay something for it. Besides, the enemy armada had "donated" several larger galleys, those that had been tipped over in the battle to dispose of every occupant and loose piece of equipment on the deck.
He looked at the setting sun. Plenty of time. "Load everyone on your ship, meet me at the docks. You may overnight there, and those who wish to can get settled in the longboat and sail out tomorrow morning. The rest can sail the short way to Cedar Island for dragon training."
The man grasped Hiccup's hand, overwhelmed by such a show of generosity. "That is very gracious chief Hiccup! You are an… an interesting man!"
As Vassilis walked away, Hiccup looked over at Tord. "First before the battle, and now after, you're solving my problems for me. Do you see how comfortable some of them are around these dragons? You've done more already in three days than I'd hoped to accomplish in the next ten!" he smiled at Tord. "You are making it more and more difficult to find a way to properly repay you, but I enjoy a good challenge."
Tord smiled and waved it off. "I haven't forgotten what you did, way back when I was set to kill you dragon-hugging heathen, and you let me join you in taking down Drago and even let me go as I pleased afterwards. This is my payback to you."
Hiccup pursed his lips. "It's more than just that."
There it was, the subject he had avoided broaching at all. It always felt like critically inspecting a gift horse's teeth, but he had his suspicions, especially after some questions some of his tribe had asked him in private. Just as he helped Vassilis in the hopes of winning over some to befriend dragons, Tord also had goals that led him here.
Tord sighed. "Yes, I did not want to keep it secret from you, and I know I couldn't if I tried, but I didn't know how to ask you if I could steal away some members of your tribe."
"Not steal," Hiccup insisted. "Grimmel stole Frost away. He tried to do the same with Toothless. No, you are simply sharing your thoughts with those who would hear. Fishlegs is intrigued, more about the language aspect than anything else, and I had to remind Intrepid that she didn't need to ask me if she could join you, even if you tell me that dragons don't fit into your religion."
Tord smiled at that. "Is it a man's birth that guides his destiny, or the conversations in his heart? My Lord died to redeem Man, not dragons, but must that stop me from recognizing Intrepid as a good companion? I seek out a large undertaking, but with some help, including some dragons who can retain knowledge flawlessly and communicate it precisely, and maybe even help deliver the fruit of our labor speedily, I can do in a few years what would otherwise take decades, maybe centuries."
"I'm surprised nobody has done it before. Is it really so much more difficult than other writings that have been translated?" Hiccup asked.
Tord shook his head. "It is a special task that deserves special attention to every jot and tittle, but if I live to see its conclusion, I will see the common boy that drives the plow to be able to know the scripture better than the popes. But those who wish to be the sole arbiters of truth naturally wouldn't like that."
Hiccup nodded. "It sounds like a dangerous undertaking."
Tord raised his eyebrows. "More dangerous than befriending dragons that the world fears and hates?"
"Point there. I told everyone who asked that they are welcome to join you, and at any time in the future, are welcome to return. The same applies to you, of course."
Tord clasped Hiccup's shoulders, smiling. "My dear Hiccup, I know I cannot turn you from your faith, but you live the principles of my faith with greater conviction than most of the church's leaders." He let his hands fall and sighed. "In that regard, if nothing else, I ask you to never change."
Hiccup grinned. "I make no promises."
Tord gave a dramatic groan. "Who are you? Firebrand? "
Hiccup gave a look of mock affront. "Is that a compliment or an insult?"
Tord grinned. "Guess."
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"RAAAAAA!"
THUNK!
Astrid ran towards her ax that was embedded in a tree trunk. She dove into a roll and shot up, gripping the handle and ripping the weapon free as she jumped to the side in one fluid motion. On another tree across the small clearing, she imagined the face of the man whose ax bit into Stormfly's back.
"RAAAAA!"
THUNK!
As Astrid ran towards the ax, a Nadder descended from the sky, colored like the sea splashing against a cliff. He slammed into the pine needles in front of her, spinning to face Astrid, tail raised, hissing. Astrid feinted left and ducked right, but the dragon was fast! A tooth-filled snout lunged forward, and Astrid ducked under with a hard jab to the soft spot on the underside of his jaw.
A wing shot forward, but Astrid jumped towards the dragon, bringing up a leg to straddle the wing arm, rotating around to slide over it. The tail whipped up, but Astrid shifted her weight to slide back down under the wing. A hard kick with her heel to the side of the esophagus sent the dragon collapsing with a gasp.
Freed from any imminent threat for a moment, Astrid rolled back to her feet and cleared the last few long strides to the ax in the tree, yanked it out, and spun around.
"RAAAAA!"
THUNK!
The ax landed in a tree's trunk far to the left of the Nadder. The dragon stood and stretched his jaw out, hacking through a rough breath. He steadied himself, tail spines bristled out, and pivoted as he whipped his tail around.
THWIP!
The spine embedded itself in the tree hardly a finger's width to the right of the ax head.
"Not bad, Surf!" Astrid called out to the Nadder as she walked up to him. She reached up and rubbed at where she had kicked his neck. A few more ragged breaths had his breathing sounding normal again.
{That really hurt a lot, Zealot!}
Astrid grinned. She knew that he was complaining about the pain itself, not the principle behind the training. "Allow me to do that next time and it'll hurt even more. You couldn't reach me with your teeth or claws, but a single step to the left into that tree would have done me in."
Surf chittered and licked the side of her face. He was rough-and-tumble, even for a dragon. When he had been mere weeks old, his clutchmates walked all over him, and Stormfly was not one to reward cowardice by allowing the bottom feeders to eat as much as the others. After a few months, when Surf realized that he could ignore the pain of his clutchmates' bites and fight back, something inside of him snapped, and he fought his way to the front of the pecking order through unrelenting determination alone. Pain and tribulation were nothing more than life experiences that made him stronger.
He was now six years old, and this sort of training, where he would drop in unannounced and instigate a fight with Astrid, was never something she asked him to do. At first, she was so sour over Stormfly's death, and she wouldn't say no to an opportunity to burn up her frustration. However, looking back, she fell into the groove of training him, and he never stayed down, and she couldn't stop herself from respecting that.
These training sessions were never structured, there was no repetition of motion or reprimands for mistakes, only short, intense confrontations with a little pain as the teacher. He knew that he had to be cautious with his sharp claws and teeth, and that put him at a disadvantage, but he didn't mind one bit. In his eyes, such a handicap drove him to be more precise and resourceful, and in a real fight with teeth and claws and his life on the line, he would be that much more effective.
Astrid yanked her ax free and slid the blade along the trunk to chop the embedded quill flush to the bark. Even though the other end of the quill, where it had originally attached to the tail, was blunt and soft, it was best to not leave it sticking out of a tree at eye level.
She spun about and pulled her ax back, looking up to–
"Ah!"
Surf had also squawked in surprise. Frost sat an arm's length away as if casually watching some curiosity. Just like Toothless, or Firebrand and his kids, she too seemed to enjoy sneaking up on people.
Astrid felt a little tense but not threatened. She and Hiccup agreed that Frost should be safe around the village, which was why she had been allowed to claim a cave on this island for her nest. Frost respected Hiccup for all that he had done for her, so she expressed her determination to stay away from him, just to play it safe. For everyone else, though, she was like any other new dragon to the island.
The two dragons sniffed and circled each other with mild and waning interest. Surf ended up taking a few steps away to work on his usual strength training routine that Astrid had set him to a while ago, beginning with a draconic sort of planking, legs stretched far back, wings stretched far forward, until he was satisfied with how much he was shaking from fatigue. He would "rest" with target practice with his tail spines, something that would leave his tail looking a little ragged with several spines missing, but he valued solid training over tidy appearance, something Astrid could appreciate.
Frost paces back-and-forth in front of Astrid, eyes fixed.
"Uhhh, hi," Astrid said, uncertain of the situation. Surf didn't seem concerned, and even though he was only six, his reaction was a fairly reliable measure of all the scents and projections that Astrid couldn't pick up.
Frost leaned in and gave a quick, almost apologetic lick to Astrid's cheek before withdrawing to resume pacing.
Astrid put a hand on her cheek in thought. Hardly any saliva, just a gesture… probably a little "thank you" for the little things she did to make Frost's captivity as bearable as possible.
"It's good to see you out and about, but I'm surprised you're not with your eggs…" she knew about that close call after laying them. "Oh gods, are the eggs alright?"
Frost nodded, but Astrid could tell there was tension, so she stuck her ax into the tree behind her and reached a hand forward. "Tell me about it?"
Frost stared at the hand.
"Or you could just stand there and awkwardly stare at me until I lose interest in you and resume training with my ax."
The starting continued. Astrid sighed. "Not that I can blame you."
Just as she was about to turn away, Surf nosed in, and she hopped up on his back to place a palm on his neck. She could see a flood of impressions from Frost of the eggs at the nest, another close call where Toothless had to nip at her when she suddenly felt like smashing her own eggs, but the desire whiffed away almost instantly. Then another close call, but Vicious was there since Toothless was out, and she was far less gentle in the hopes that it would help dissuade any further moments of madness. Then another close call, and another, and another.
A couple times, Frost and Vicious broke out into fights, biting, clawing, throwing each other around in that narrow tunnel – away from the eggs while Toothless brooded over them of course. One of them was blindingly frustrated with herself, the other thought it might help. They both had bruises and scratches to show for it.
Astrid gasped. "Oh, you poor thing!
Things got bad enough that Toothless and Vicious drove her out of the nest with the demand to try to relax and to stay out until it was dark. They weren't trying to be cruel, and one of them was always projecting the sight of the eggs to make the temporary exile more bearable. Frost had already shredded a tree somewhere in the forest, and that helped a little.
"There might still be some Deathgrippers hiding somewhere in the Archipelago," Astrid suggested. The other tribes were warned about them, but there was still a possibility that one could be found hiding in a crag somewhere. "Maybe we could use their venom to command you to not–"
Frost cut her off with a snort. {If I see one of those vile creatures, I will kill it without a second thought. I will overcome my problem without relying on the filth that created it.}
Astrid had to smile at that determination. "You're stubborn. I like it. In some ways," she sighed, "you remind me of Stormfly." Dragon and rider were good for each other. They pushed each other relentlessly to train, and Astrid loved her dragon for that.
Surf huffed. {If you seek to replace Stormfly as Zealot's dragon, expect to be opposed.}
Frost merely lifted her nose and turned her tail to dismiss something so silly.
"Ha!" Astrid snorted with a sideways glance at Surf. "Oh, your jealousy is adorable." She turned to Frost. "If you'll take my advice, since you're already away from your nest, take some time to get to know some people, humans and dragons alike."
She cast a mischievous look. "If nothing else, it can help you see that your problems aren't really that bad by comparison."
Frost trotted off. Astrid leaned for her ax, and Surf side-stepped towards it. Weapon in hand, Astrid grinned at her dragon, who had twisted her head to look back at his rider.
"Wanna try something new?"
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Ingrid hummed idly as she stood behind her ten year old son, who was seated on a stool, shears in one hand, some of his hair in the other. She allowed a line of the hair to run between her fingers, expertly and gently pinching at the desired length, aligned the shears over her index finger, and squeezed the handle.
SHINK!
It was music to her ears. The hair cut was so clean and straight. The shears had been getting dull, but that young man Fishlegs at the smithy did a fine job sharpening them. He was forced to step up from his apprenticeship to run the smithy all by himself, but it seemed that the village's tools were in good hands.
"Are we done, ma?" her son asked.
SHINK!
Ingrid leaned down and kissed his temple. "Soon, Uni. This haircut is long overdue."
Uni squirmed impatiently. "But I wanna go play 'Stalk the Nadder' with the others!"
"Patience, dear."
SHINK!
Ingrid resumed her humming and trimming It wasn't until now that she realized what tune she was humming, and she grinned evilly at the thought of singing the words to it.
"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine," she started to sing.
"Mooooom," Uni whined. It was a song that she sang when she put him to bed for years, but he always felt so conscious of anyone else who might be in earshot, such as right outside their home, on the street where they could enjoy the sun and the wind.
SHINK!
"You make me haaaapyyyy…"
Uni fervently looked around for anyone to feel embarrassed by. Their only audience was their Monstrous Nightmare, Blaze, who was dozing on the rooftop, his snout hanging over the edge.
"When skies are gray."
"Moooooooom!"
"You'll never know, dear, how much I love you."
SHINK!
"So don't take my–"
Motion to the side caught her attention, and the tip of the shears caught the side of her finger. A white dragon head was poking around the corner, nostrils flaring.
"Uh, hello there," Ingrid said as she put her bleeding finger to her lips. It was hardly a scratch. She flicked a glance up at Blaze, and while he leaned forward and snaked his head down to sniff, he didn't seem concerned.
"Frost, right? You're pretty!" Uni said with a smile.
Frost stalked a little closer, and Ingrid didn't know why she felt tense. She knew that this dragon had been controlled, and that she was freed from said control. Hiccup had announced it to the tribe a few days ago, at nattmal, that Frost had a troubled past, but she was as safe as any other newly introduced dragon.
Blaze extended a wing to the ground and slithered down, partly out of his protective nature and also to more properly introduce himself. The two dragons casually circled each other, sniffing
"So nice to see you, Frost," Ingrid said, feeling herself relax a little. She started to grab a handful of hair to resume her work, but her cut was still weeping, so she put it to her lips again.
"Mom?" Uni asked, worried.
"It's nothing," she assured him. "My fault." She looked up at Frost, who was still standing there, staring. "I heard you laid, recently. How are your eggs doing? I'm surprised to see you here. I know how possessive a dam-to-be can be."
The dragon let out a long exhale, a draconic sigh, and started to lean her head forward before she stopped and pulled back. Blaze nosed Ingrid's shoulder, and Ingrid put a hand on his snout.
As she expected, he was relaying something from Frost as it seemed the dragon was a bit too shy to touch her. The projection she received was an image of several eggs in some cave, as seen by Toothless' eyes. Vicious lay curled around the eggs, slowly breathing in a state somewhere between wakefulness and sleep.
"Awww, such precious things. And seven eggs, a sizable clutch!"
Through the projection, Ingrid could feel Frost's pensiveness. {So far, that is how many times I almost smashed them all.}
"Oh my!" Such was unheard of! "Are you alright?"
{Clearly not.} Frost looked at Blaze. {Tell me how you became so attached to your land-strider. You would die to protect her. Tell me how you got that way.}
Ingrid narrowed her eyes. "Saying 'please' can go a long way." Granted, dragons were never big on pleasantries or courteousness, but that was still a bit blunt.
{Her mind bears the scars of injuries past,} Blaze offered.
"Right. Go ahead and share all about it." Ingrid pulled her hand away from his snout so that he wouldn't feel like he would need to slow down his projections, a necessity when the recipient was a human. Besides, her finger stopped bleeding, so she gathered another tuft of hair.
SHINK!
Frost snorted and stared at Ingrid curiously, then Blaze, then Uni. Ingrid knew exactly what memory Blaze had shared. It was a moment in her life that was very… intense.
Uni wasn't even two years old at the time, and Ingrid had left him asleep in his crib in the house to go fetch some water from a nearby well. On her way back, her conversation with a friend was interrupted by the smell of smoke. She had sprinted back home, both fearful that it was her home and certain that it couldn't be. Her hearth had only glowing coals after all. Then she heard the crackling flames, then she saw them.
People had already started to gather, and when she tried to rush into the billowing heat and smoke, Snotlout tried to stop her, even when she screamed about her child inside. In everyone's eyes, it was a sad loss, but better to accept it than for her to die with little Uni.
A swift kick to the groin sent Spitelout to the ground, but just as Ingrid was about to wrench open the engulfed door, it flew open and the large head of a Monstrous Nightmare poked through. Ingrid naturally stumbled back, shocked, to watch the dragon try – and fail – to squirm through the opening. It pulled back to beat down the entire wall with several strong kicks.
Ingrid never could recall how or when Spitelout's dagger ended up in her hand, but she knew what was going through her mind when she thrust the blade into the dragon's shoulder. It was only natural to conclude that the dragon had started the fire, and that he went in to eat her son, and that he came out here only to taunt her.
That was when she heard the weak cry of an infant who was strongly displeased with the situation, and she threw herself to her knees in front of the dragon's open maw to pick up her son.
Hiccup, a dragon whisperer by then, tried to assure her that he and his Night Fury had thoroughly interrogated Blaze and found him to be innocent. The dragons had a strong desire to maintain the peace as they liked it here, and Blaze simply saw an opportunity to do just that when he heard Uni's crying over the crackling flames.
What burned even hotter was Ingrid's rage when she saw the evidence for herself. She was a staunch supporter of Mildew and his opposition to dragons on Berk, a natural result of her husband having died when the tribe sailed to the Red Death's nest, way back when Uni was just a bump on Ingrid's belly.
Mildew had made a mistake, though. Information gathered on the spot from the dragons who saw what happened led Hiccup and Spitelout – who was hobbling but on his feet by then – to Mildew as he tried to casually walk away from the scene with the distinct smell of Monstrous Nightmare fuel on his hands and boots. That also explained who had raided Snotlout's stash. Ingrid had suspected that Mildew had been trying to frame the dragons for burning supply sheds, but to burn down a home… her home… with her child inside…
When she caught up to them and confronted Mildew about why, he simply smiled and said, "Woulda been suspicious if I chose some dragon hugger, right?"
His blood mingled with Blaze's on the dagger that was still in her hands. Blaze survived with a scar to show for it, an eternal reminder of what happened when one jumped to conclusions, and their attachment to each other grew from there.
SHINK!
It was a good memory. A happy one. Ingrid looked back on it with fondness as it led to good things. She got over her hatred for dragons, gained a good friend and powerful protector, and looking back, she was glad that dragons had become even more ingrained in life on Berk after that. The scaly creatures had gone from an ever-present threat in her eyes to an ever-present protection, especially when she made herself train to become a dragon whisperer to keep an eye on Uni.
"All done," she declared after giving Uni's hair one last tussle. "Thank you for holding still for me."
Uni looked around, then accepted her open-armed invitation to a brief hug. He then threw himself at Blaze's Snout, but when he turned around to do the same for Frost, a warning growl stopped him cold.
"Blaze is right," Ingrid said softly to her crestfallen son. "Frost is a new dragon. Give her time. Now, go have fun. I'll see you at nattmal."
Uni perked up at that.
"Bye Frost," he called out as he spun around to run off. "Thanks Mom!" he shouted over his shoulder.
"I love you!" she called after him. She sank down to sit in the stool her son had vacated and scooted it closer to the side of her house to lean against it.
Frost was still staring at her.
"So what's the real reason you're here?" Ingrid asked. She closed her eyes and let out a long exhale as she stretched her arms above and then out at her sides. "I suppose I feel honored to have the attention of the only known dragon of your kind, at least up here. And the mate to our chief's dragon." She opened her eyes. "And you are a pretty sight to behold, if you won't let it go to your head."
Blaze snorted.
"And you're still a handsome beefcake," she added with a grin. She flicked her eyes to Frost again. "But I doubt you're simply seeking stories and counsel from a human about your eggs."
It was half question, half statement, and she could tell that she guessed right when the dragon's stance relaxed a little more.
Through Blaze acting as a relay, she could hear what she knew to be Frost's projections. {Your singing caught my attention.}
That was… unexpected. Sure, dragons enjoyed some singing, but to seek out the source of the sound, especially for a dragon like Frost…
"Oh, and why is that?"
In response, Ingrid saw flashes of some memory from the dragon in question. It was night, the darkness illuminated by torches and the occasional flash of dragonfire. A city on the mainland was under siege, a natural response to humans hunting dragons, which was a natural response to a dragon killing someone on the road, which was a natural response to said human reacting violently to seeing said dragon, and so on.
It was several years ago, when Frost was her own master, before she was made to be Grimmel's thrall. She was not fully grown yet but still quite capable, lithe and quick. She was particularly enraged by the sight of the head of one of her clutchmates mounted on a stick on top of what Ingrid recognized to be some lord's manor. That rage, though, was not confined solely to the one who caused it.
A blast of purple fire shattered a wooden door to the root cellar, and Frost grabbed what remained of it and tore it off of its hinge. She dove down, intent on killing every last evil critter in there–
What she saw stopped her in her tracks. Dimly illuminated by a weak lantern, several women sat against the far wall of the small space, curled up on themselves in fear, trying to disappear into the straw mats below them. Frost didn't know it at that time, but Ingrid could tell what she was looking at. Not wives, not concubines, but female slaves, play things for the wealthy lord who could afford to buy them and hire strong hands to keep them in order. The poor things were all so young, not one of them over twenty, all trying to shush the infants and toddlers that lay in their arms or were pressing into their sides.
Thirty wide eyes instantly snapped to Frost, the women with absolute terror on their faces, and for the toddlers that weren't preoccupied with bawling their throat raw, curiosity.
Frost could only stare. Killing all of them would have been so easy. A few swipes of her claws, or a gout of flame, or an explosive fireball in the enclosed space that would hurt them far more than herself. She had come here to kill the evil, violent humans, but this was not… no, this was wrong, everything about this, letting them live, letting them die, their very existence was entirely wrong!
During this moment of uncertainty, a lone voice cut through the subdued whimpering, a single woman who chose to close her eyes to the terror in front of her and sing to calm her child.
You make me happy, when skies are gray.
You'll never know dear, how much I love you.
So don't take my sunshine away.
You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.
You make me happy, when skies–
Frost found herself leaping to the side before a THWIP sound even registered in her mind, a feat in itself for how low and tight the cellar was. Something streaked through the space she had just occupied, and sudden screaming and wailing drew her attention to an arrow sticking out of the infant that the singer was holding.
Someone took her sunshine away.
The bowman stood there, shocked, mouth gaping, and it was with that look that he died to sharp claws and teeth.
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"NO!"
Frost flinched back in surprise from the land-strider's verbal assault.
"NO! He just… She…"
Frost didn't know what the problem was. She was just sharing a memory that the land-strider literally asked for. Frost even slowed down her projections since she was sharing them with a land-strider.
The land-strider's knees were shaking, so she slumped down to curl up against the side of her wooden cave, arms wrapped around her knees, eyes leaking, wailing much like those breeding land-striders in that dirt cave so long ago.
Blaze growled warningly. He didn't like seeing his land-strider in distress.
Frost stared at him defiantly. {What did I do wrong, and how was I supposed to know?}
Blaze suddenly stilled, and his head drooped to nuzzle his land-strider. {I suppose I cannot blame you. Land-striders can be complex creatures. They can feel the pain of another, even one they never knew, from another time, from a place so far away.}
The land-strider looked up, red-eyed. "I don't blame you, Frost."
{Blame me for what?}
Blaze gave his land-strider's face a long lick. {That land-strider hatchling wouldn't have died if you didn't dodge the wooden quill.}
Frost snorted indignantly. {It probably had that venom that kills my kind!}
{Nobody ever said that land-striders were entirely rational.}
"Alright, break it up," a burly land-strider barked as he strode around a corner, casting a wary stare at Frost. His eyes landed on the female who was curled up on the ground.
"Ingrid!" He rushed forward and crouched in front of her. "Are you alright?" He cast a dubious glance behind him. "What did Frost do–"
"She's fine, Spitelout. Just showed me something I didn't want to see, but I did literally ask for it."
He reached out a hand, and she took it, and he pulled her up onto her feet. "Wanna talk about it?"
"No. I just… I need…"
THUNK!
A broad shiny claw embedded itself in the side of the wooden cave, thrown by that blue-eyed land-strider named Zealot, who was riding on the back of Surf.
"Astrid!" the burly land-strider barked. "What in Midgard do you think you're–"
THWIP!
Surf flicked his tail to shoot a quill at the shiny claw, nearly splitting it on the gleaming edge.
"Awww, so close!" Zealot chided. She looked down at the burly land-strider. "I've decided. Enough moping. Time to let go and move on, and Surf isn't that bad."
Surf bristled at that. {Not that bad!? Give me a little more time to train and Zealot couldn't ask for half as good!}
The male land-strider looked at Surf. "I hope you know what you're getting yourself into, boyo."
Zealot coughed. The male land-strider looked up at her. "Right, our deal, but right now? I mean, Ingrid's feeling a bit shaken and–"
Zealot cut him off with a stern glare.
"Fine, fine." He turned to the female that Frost had inadvertently grieved. "Ingrid, I really should have asked you years ago. Will you mar–"
That was all he got out before a hand struck out and gripped the front of his outer hide to roughly haul him into her wooden cave.
