"It's like the Bifrost plucked their ship out of the Archipelago! It's not big, they can't have gone far!"

Ah, to still be young. Stoick's own fury was bottled up, waiting for just the right moment to unleash itself on the offender; assuming he ever got the chance. At least the little dragons had come out of it okay, if not unscathed, though their trust would need to be earned again. No, wait… He was back to thinking of them like animals, how much evidence to the contrary did he need? Well, he would still need to make it up to them somehow.

A timid knock at the door announced Fishlegs, who quickly let himself in and waved a piece of parchment. "Found her! Hiccup insisted on tracking her to her house, his leg's pretty messed up but that's the advantage of having four of them I guess. Oh, right, er, her name is Brenna no-clan, lost a husband and son when a tower fell on them during a raid and never really got over it, we were told. Worked a fishing boat, probably the one she took. Got a description of her here."

The name was familiar… A recent incident? He'd look it up later. "Good. Give it to the runner to get to Spitelout with a message he's to leave as soon as his dragon's rested." Fishlegs moved to obey with a curt nod, and Stoick turned to Astrid as she paced around the room. "Calm, lass. I know it's hard, but you can't explode at everything."

"Just… this one hit so close to home, you know?"

Stoick gave a wry chuckle. "When you're Chief, every problem is close to home."

Fishlegs re-entered and stood awkwardly at the door until Stoick motioned for him to take a seat. "How are you, lad?"

He shrugged. "Nothing like a knock on the head to start the day, right? Er, figure of speech, I know it's night. So to speak."

"Same old Fishlegs," Astrid sighed in relief as she took a seat as well. Under her breath, she light-heartedly added "Though if it were anyone else, we'd be worried…"

"And the Furies?"

The boy gingerly shook his head. "Toothy was yet to regain consciousness when we left him in their stable. Speaking of, you might want to forget Stormfly for a little while, Astrid. She's going nowhere. Hiccup's wound closed pretty quickly, as deep as it is, though it still looks pretty bad. He'll probably get a good scar out of it."

"…What do they… think… about…" Stoick was trying, but he still had trouble connecting the idea in his head.

Fishlegs sighed. "We won't know until Toothy wakes… Heh, I guess you could call him the 'big brother' of the pair. Anyway, Hiccup says they might spend some time away from the village for a while, but they'll be back."

Stoick baulked. "Away from– where will they go? It's dangerous out there!"

"I dunno, he wouldn't say. I think that was the point."

Sighing, Stoick rubbed his head. "Help me understand, Fishlegs, what am I dealing with here? They're not… tribesmen, I can't order them around, but they aren't sheep or yaks either."

"I think you're looking at it the wrong way," he said. "You're trying to fit them into existing categories, but there isn't really–"

"A Chief's Heir!" Astrid shouted. "Just think of them like Thuggory or Cami, our honoured guests. Just, you know, without Mogadon or Bertha around."

"That is something I can work with, thank you Astrid." Heh, there would probably be a similar fallout when the parents picked them up, too. "…Fishlegs, where are their parents?"

Astrid lit up like a Monstrous Nightmare, leaning on the edge of her seat and staring intently, but Fishlegs just sighed. "We don't have to worry about any Night Furies coming to check on them." He fidgeted while Stoick exercised his namesake. "Alright, look, I will tell you if you order me to, but hear me out first. Yes, I know the full story… most of it, anyway, and we have nothing to worry about. There won't be any angry Furies looking for them, and there aren't any others on the island. However, if I do tell you, things get a lot more complicated and then the Furies have promised they'll leave. Forever."

"Not a word of this to anyone," Stoick growled to both teens, then took in their frantic nodding. If word about dragons keeping secrets got out… It wouldn't even need the belief they could talk, many people only saw the bad in things regardless of what leaps of logic they had to make or ignore.

With that out of the way… he wasn't thrilled with the idea himself. Secrets implied they had done or would do something he wouldn't like. Given their promise, it was something big, too. "I would ask questions."

"I might have answers."

Despite himself, Stoick huffed a laugh. The boy would make an excellent Advisor one day. "Can you guarantee this secret will not harm anyone or the village?"

"Yes."

"Does it pertain to something or someone who has?"

A few moments of silence. "Not directly. They are here on purely friendly terms, if that's what you mean."

Cryptic… Stoick had never been good with that sort of thing, but the intent was clear. Good enough. "So someone brought them here?" Silence; admittedly, that was more a test for the boy than the dragons. "I mean that nobody has any claim on them."

"They're half Hooligan and half wild dragon, no other allegiances."

Had this been Gobber or Spitelout he probably would have jokingly asked which one was the Hooligan, but he bit back the remark. "They keep it for personal reasons then?" Fishlegs nodded. "Alright then. Go get some rest." He had a few ideas but there was always a missing piece of the puzzle, no doubt the part that was painful for them. Stoick could respect that, with the assurances that were given.

Astrid… less so. "Yeh can't know everything either, lass."

She groaned. "I know, I'm just sooo curious. Is this what Fishlegs feels about everything? Yeesh, no wonder he's so excitable." They shared a chuckle.

Heirs, it was so obvious now. This might not be so hard after all. The Night Furies were special, so he could even think of the other dragons as their clan members; lower ranking but still deserving of respect and fair treatment, and mostly outside of Hooligan jurisdiction. It was a good thing he'd been given the idea before he'd asked the question, he would probably have been far less diplomatic then…

But this he could work with. "Although… If we're to think of them as Heirs, we have some work to do."

Wanderer purred as the sky-fire heated his scales and sleep licked his mind. His back-spines were comfortably slotted into the sand under him, allowing him to fully expose his underside to the warm light. Clever Dreamer… His tail swept across the sand, brushing the bank that Dreamer had dug up; it was shallow, but enough to hide them from Long-Paws on the water. This particular position on the beach was also quite well hidden from the sky unless flying in from sea, which was unlikely from this angle.

It was liberating to lay there like that, out in the open with almost all his guards lowered. Exposed, but where he would not be seen, only his hearing sharp for the sound of wings cutting through the air. Nothing could sneak up on them here, not even another Nightstriker. Dreamer had challenged him to, he'd only ever got as far as the top of the cliff and not even that far if trying to fly in.

This was exactly what he needed right now, to show the world he was not a scared little hatchling hiding away or jumping at every movement. He loved that his Dreamer would always soar when he needed him to, just as Wanderer tried to do for him.

Eventually the cool breeze overcame the warmth as the sky-fire began to burn out, but he was content to remain there a little longer. Hrrr, then again, Dreamer was fidgeting and clearly eager to get moving. He rolled to his paws and shook himself free of the damp sand. "What you doing?" he warbled.

"Make Nightstriker in sand," Dreamer replied absently as he picked at a mound with a claw. Curiosity thrummed in Wanderer's throat as he leaned in to look… if he ignored the smell, texture, colour, and lifelessness, it sort of almost did look like a Nightstriker.

He nosed at Dreamer's injured flank before tending to it; it was healing nicely and he was able to put a little weight on it now. Wanderer's head-hurt had stopped aching a pawful of nights ago, and his wing now just felt a bit bruised and tender but was not painful to fly on.

The poised wings belied Dreamer's apparent placidness – smirking, Wanderer licked the sensitive wingtip and barked in amusement as Dreamer yipped and tackled him. Cheeky Nightstriker was not above abusing his reluctance to play roughly with the still-healing injury, enthusiastically clawing and biting while Wanderer just tried to hold him off.

He rolled out of the pin and skipped away, feigning boredom while Dreamer limped after him. "Hrrmm, I thought you faster," he teased, then jumped away from a flap-powered leap that ended predictably poorly.

Dreamer huffed as he shook sand off his head. "First for catch wing-prey get bigger prey!"

Barking in alarm, Wanderer leapt into the air after him and wheeled up the scattered updrafts, then laboured up above wing-prey level. He had to fight the air here as it knocked him from side to side, his body still just a little too small to ride through it, but it was good for building strength. Dreamer was having a harder time nearby, as he was less experienced and even smaller.

He spotted a flock of wing-prey a little way out to sea and waited for them to near, letting himself drift as best he could. When they were too far below to see his intentions, he used the turbulent air to silently cruise over with minimal loss in altitude.

Dreamer was going for a different tactic, swooping for speed and coming up behind them. Wanderer didn't want to scatter the flock for nothing, but he did want to get there first… As soon as he dared, he folded his wings and plummeted at an angle, not quite as steep as he would have liked but fast and in their blind spot. He adjusted with minute twitches of his folded wings, and at the last second opened his mouth to snatch his chosen quarry by its neck, killing it instantly. He flipped to grab it in his paws and look back, seeing two clouds of feathers scattering in the breeze. Eels, he hadn't seen who'd won.

He transferred the kill back to his mouth to land, Dreamer floating down gently shortly after and flapping into a hover just above the ground to lower himself down. "I not see who win," Wanderer admitted as they lay their kills out.

"You win. Barely," he pouted.

With a haughty chuff Wanderer compared the two to pick his prize – and grumbled when he discovered they were the same size. Yes it was good that Dreamer would not eat less, but he felt like he'd been cheated and if they were still hungry they'd just hunt again.

"Wrrr, good catch," Dreamer warbled as Wanderer arbitrarily picked one and took it aside to tear into it. "Much easier than when hatchlings."

"Yes, need more now but still easier."

They made short work of their catches, the silence only broken by the crunching of bones, the wet tearing of meat, and the waves lapping at the sand.

"What we do this night?" Dreamer asked while cleaning his claws and face.

Wanderer hummed thoughtfully as he did the same. "Could swim," he suggested, tilting his head towards the beach. "Water-hunters maybe, but safe near. Or could fly to other small-land."

"Other small-land?" Dreamer perked, his tail lashing excitedly. "Where?"

With a shrug, he started sharpening his claws on the rock. "Just fly, find small-land for rest, fly back. Not need big small-land, only enough for rest on."

"We do that! Us only!" The smaller Nightstriker bounced and flapped impatiently.

Hrrr, come to think of it they hadn't just flown off to nowhere since being hatched again. "Yes," Wanderer chuffed happily. "But catch again wing-prey first. Last for catch get ear licked!"

Low to the ground, melting into shadows and prowling forward, Dreamer eyed his quarry. The wind shifted and he moved with it to stay upwind. He was very mindful of the path he took, littered with little patches of danger as much of it was, until he was almost surrounded.

He took a long breath and held it – his enormous lungs held enough air for several minutes when not exerting himself – and picked up his pace, hopping over the steps on his injured leg. He could feel Wanderer's eyes boring critically into his back, but he didn't intend on getting caught. The target loomed above him, tall innocent strands of grass swaying gently in the breeze. Even holding his breath the smell tickled his nostrils and filled his mind with temptation, but he could be strong.

This was the tricky bit. Taking hold of something so narrow was near impossible with his paws, so he had to improvise. Balancing on his haunches and tail, he hooked two claws behind a blade and, from his other paw, one claw in front of it. With a quick slice, the scissor-motion cleanly snapped the reed. Yes, it worked!

Two stalks proved to be no trouble but three was less reliable, so he made quick work of a dozen more blades in pairs. Wary of the growing pressure in his lungs, he dropped the pair of flat rocks in his mouth and neatly lined up the blades over one of them, then took it in his good hindpaw. It was a little awkward to navigate them onto the other rock as well, but he managed, and gingerly took it in the paw of his injured leg.

The blades were now securely pinned between the rocks and his paws, and while he wasn't out of the trees yet he did feel elated at his success. Whuff, I'm going to get rusty if my greatest technical accomplishment this year is picking up some grass…

Very awkwardly and with a flare of pain deep in his leg, he stumbled into the air to be quickly joined by Wanderer. "Hrrr, I not can see how rocks let you carry sweet-grass… But you do… You clever Dreamer," he crooned.

"I hold rock. Sweet-grass between rock and paw, not can get out."

"Clever Dreamer," he repeated as he barrel-rolled around him.

The journey across the island last summer, when they had been much smaller, had taken significantly longer. Dreamer marvelled at the difference in how his wings carried him now, how the air didn't seem to slow him down as much. Strange as it was, the bigger he got the lighter he felt, and the less he needed to exert himself. He didn't feel far off the agility that Wanderer had shown while fully grown, but then he did have two perfectly functional tail fins.

He drifted a little higher to take in the scenes of the massive island; wondering if he could ever reach the top of the massive mountain in the middle, watching for other dragons, picking out the occasional field and shed. There were even a few new houses and animal pens, which made sense now that dragon raids were no longer a thing. An old fishing boat hugged the island, despite the early hour. It was all very serene.

With practised confidence, Dreamer drifted down into a hover above the stone outside their den, then braced his landing with his tail to lower himself to the ground. His claws uncomfortably pinched between the rocks and the hard ground, but his strong tail supported his weight enough to free them.

Wanderer immediately nudged him away from the haul and pushed him over to treat his wound again. He wasn't really sure how much it was helping, but his body seemed to approve and the cut didn't feel as tight afterwards. He hoped he wouldn't have a limp for the rest of his life. The rest of this life?

He was finally allowed to rise to his paws, and promptly bounded over to dive into the grass. He nuzzled and rolled even as he clawed and shredded it, there were maybe thirty strands all as long as he himself, so there was plenty for the two of them.

With nobody here to be embarrassed by, he loudly purred, squeaked, and growled his approval. It must have been in his head but his scales ached for contact with it, particularly those on his face and neck. He caught Wanderer hoarding the heads of the stalks, and unleashed a ferocious growl at him. Tried to, anyway. What came out was closer to an indignant chirp, and only served to have Wanderer laughing uproariously with his tail thrashing.

A dragon laughing was suddenly the funniest thing he had ever heard, and he fell on his side with his own raucous laugh. Which was then even funnier, because he was a dragon as well.

He was trying to remember what had been so funny, his chest still heaving, when something brushed his nose. Oh, hey, sweet-grass! He rolled in it, happily crooning his happiness. For some reason his throat and tail ached, but he was having too much fun to care. It felt particularly good on his neck. If Vikings drank ale like this, maybe they not smell so bad! He laughed so hard at his own joke he thought his tail was going to fall off.

"Hey! Hey!" Wanderer giddily nudged him until he rose to his paws, wheezing for breath. It was a lot easier after he figured out he needed to roll off his back. "Who this?" He put on a mock-serious face – clearly struggling to keep it straight – and sheathed his top teeth. His bottom teeth remained out.

Dreamer completely lost it.

"You didn't have to come for my sake, I don't mind doing this on my own."

Astrid playfully elbowed the girl as they walked down the village, bustling with the usual evening activity. "I'm not doing this for your sake, it's something I really should have done a long time ago. Besides, it might be fun. It's nothing to do with the fact that I kicked your butt."

Heather rubbed her side with a grimace through her grin. "It wasn't my butt you kicked. Did you really have to do that? That's going to bruise."

They met Snotlout going the other way, but all they got was a "Hey," with a casual grin. He looked drained, but if it meant she didn't have to put up with him hitting on her then she wasn't going to argue. She put him out of her mind.

"Yeah, well, you're a quick study. If I hadn't stepped it up you might have actually come close to hitting me," she replied, poking her tongue out. Maybe she should have gone a little easier, but then fights were rarely fair and involved a lot of pain. She'd get over it.

"Alright, alright. I do appreciate you teaching me though, thank you."

"No worries." Astrid was overjoyed to have someone civilised to spar against, despite her inexperience, and it did seem to be working the girl out of her moping since the Furies had left.

They reached Fishlegs' house, where they'd been told they could find him, knocked on the door, and entered at the muffled shout.

"Back here!" They followed the voice into a side room near the back, the Ingerman study. Looked like he had it to himself today. "Astrid! Heather!" He immediately perked upon seeing them, hopping out of the chair to stand there nervously. "Uh, hi!"

"Hello Fishlegs," Heather greeted him sweetly. She was going to have all the boys pining over her if she kept that up, she needed to roughen up a bit.

"'Sup Fish? Heather and I were wondering, would you… teach us Dragonese? She wants to learn, and I… should."

He looked at them blankly for a moment, then slumped with a groan.

"Please?" Heather stepped forward before he could say anything, and put a hand on his arm. "It would mean a lot to us…"

Fishlegs shuffled on the spot, straightening. "Well, I could go over a few bits with you now… Here." He flipped open a book on the table, then slid the chair out of the way so they could all crowd around it. Astrid had to blink a few times, her eyes still adjusting to the candlelight. Actually not as much as she'd thought, half of both pages really were covered in strange marks and squiggles. "You can borrow this for a few days, it's everything I know right now. Actually, you'll be a better test for if the book can teach on its own. Here, I'll show you enough to get you started.

"See here? This is the legend." He pointed at a section at the top, a set of symbols listed against 'head', 'paw', 'wings', 'body', and 'tail'. "A lot of their words are body language, and most of them are really easy to pick up. Here, this one," he pointed to the sort of V symbol with a hooked and curved arrow next to it, "says to move head in a sweeping motion. Here it says what it means, 'us' or 'we', and sometimes there's a little note under it. In this case you nod down, like in 'I', and then sweep across to someone else." He stood next to Heather and faced Astrid, then demonstrated.

"I think I get it," Heather murmured, scanning over the book. "But what about wings? We don't have them."

"That can be a bit tricky, but not many words use them and you can just use your shoulders. Here, 'fly', just shrug."

Astrid peered at a strange paragraph on the other page. "What about that bit? It doesn't have a symbol."

"Yeah, that's an example of miscellaneous. Sometimes a word uses something specific."

She blinked away the last spots from her vision and read the runes, wet lips and smack lips twice. "Like this?" Remembering seeing Toothy do that – a lot – she did her best to demonstrate. It felt a little silly to do.

"Yeah, 'eat', you got it. Anyway, I wrote this more as a translation guide, so it might be a bit fiddly to work from. This is just an example page, everything else is categorised by the legend. Hmm, how could I write something to say things from…? I'll have to think about it."

"I'm sure you'll work it out," Heather reassured him.

Astrid was just keen to get started, she'd set her mind on the task and wanted to dive into it. There was also that if she'd been able to talk to Hiccup before… Well, no sense dwelling on it. "Anything else we need to know?"

"Not really," he said absently, dropping into the chair and rubbing his eyes. "Just start with the body language, it's enough to get by with. The verbal stuff is… well, if you can work it out on your own we'll officially induct you into the Ingerman clan."

She snorted. Like that was going to happen. "Thanks, Fish. We'll make sure to have the book back to you in a few days."

"Three, at the latest," he clarified as he stretched. It was usually a safe assumption that he'd been ears-deep in a book for the last few hours, but that was quite clear today. "Oh, er, Astrid, I don't think I said this before… but thanks for… helping out when… you know, in the storehouse…"

Astrid grinned at him. "No worries Fishlegs, you'd have done the same. Just take it easy, okay?" She picked up the book and casually waved goodbye as she left, Heather catching up a few moments later.

They found a nice spot overlooking the village, sheltered from the wind and with good light to see by. Learning from books wasn't Astrid's favourite method, but sometimes she couldn't be picky. And there was something different about this… Strategy, battle, Chiefing, these were things that had been refined over generations. Dragonese was new, and it felt raw and untested; this was most evident when they came across words that did not have a translation, just a blank space to be filled in later. It gave her some measure of understanding of why people strove to learn new things, things that nobody else knew. It was also reminiscent of the wild process of figuring out how to live with their dragons.

Learning in itself was normally strenuous and idle work, often boring to boot. Be told or shown something, then repeat it until it sinks in. She found herself enjoying this though, Heather was certainly a character and had her in fits of laughter trying to work out some words and attempting a basic sentence. Not that Astrid was much better at times, particularly when Heather suggested a game of one of them trying to say something and the other trying to guess it.

Astrid felt that if she was going to be Chief, she should speak the language of all her people. Still, as they read and talked she couldn't help but wonder how it would change her perception of the Furies. They were just so cute and cuddly it was hard to see them as anything else. There was a slight hope they'd fill her in on their secret, but after the talk following the incident… she thought it unlikely. At least she'd be prepared next time something happened.

"Why you eat that?" Dreamer cocked his head at Wanderer, who was awkwardly munching on some small spiky leaves.

"Smell good. Eat thing if smell good," he said with a shrug of his wings.

Padding over, Dreamer put his nose to what was left of the small plant, but it just smelled prickly. Certainly not good for eating. "I think you fly with tail bent."

"Hrrr, I fly better than you fly."

Dreamer tackled him with a playful roar, going straight for his neck but snapping down on nothing. A tail collided with his left flank and he stumbled, but quickly regained his balance using his own tail and darted aside from the follow-up lunge. It left them side-by-side, and he spun to snap at the exposed neck again.

His friend reared back out of the way, preparing to strike with a flash of teeth–

–

He was on his back with those same teeth pressed gently into his bared throat. Blinking himself out of his daze and fighting down the discomfort in his gut, Dreamer rose to his paws and gingerly gave himself a shake with the wound in his leg aching dully.

He sat and sullenly pawed the ground under the weight of Wanderer's frustration, evident though he tried to hide it. Maybe I just need to know more… Get more practise… I'll talk to him about it when my leg heals. He half-faked a yawn and rubbed his face with the back of his paw. "Tired. We sleep? Hrrr… I remember you sleep hanging from tail. We do?"

Wanderer warbled and inspected the canopy. "Yes, we do. This good night."

It was a very good night, Dreamer had to agree, if still a little short. At least they were getting longer again, but then they would probably return to the village before long and would be sleeping through them. It was funny, he'd always loved the quiet and peace of night, the only problem usually being seeing what he was doing which was no longer a problem, but now he did enjoy the warmth of the sun. I wonder how big we need to get before we can sleep in broad daylight…

A quiet scuff caught his attention and he realised Wanderer was already halfway up the nearest tree. He rolled his eyes at himself, still a dreamer, and started the climb up. He noticed he had to dig his claws in a lot harder this time, which he found very awkward due to how long they were. Hrrr, he had been neglecting them quite a bit, and even now he was hunting again had only bothered to make sure they were sharp. He'd need to spend some time – no, go back to grinding his claws every day. Had he really been forgetting something so basic? Stupid.

Above him, Wanderer scurried out under a thick branch and deftly dropped to hang from his tail. Dreamer was a little unsure if his leg would hold him, but gingerly lowering weight to hang from it he found it to be only uncomfortable, and he stalked out next to him. It was a good spot, high from the ground and protected by a web of branches.

The first and last time he'd tried this, it hadn't gone well; this time he would do better. He snaked his tail around the branch, feeling its tug on his claws, then took a deep breath… and let go.

Sudden weightlessness was a sensation he was very familiar with, so why was his heart hammering in his chest? He quickly straightened his face when he saw Wanderer's amused expression, then used his wings to stop his swaying. I'm going to practise this when you aren't looking…

Wanderer swung over to give him a lick on the shoulder, then wrapped himself in a cocoon of wings. Dreamer extended his own wings and inspected them, comparing them to the bundle next to him, and carefully tucked them around himself. He quickly found he could overlap the wrists behind his neck, then leaning his head back into them almost locked them together. He needed to do next to nothing to maintain the position, anyway, other than hold his tail firm so it did not slip off.

Rrmm, this was very comfortable. Wrapped in his own little world, breathing his own scent. Very little of him touching anything else. Swaying gently with the wind. His hearing remained sharp, as it usually did when sleeping somewhere unfamiliar, but he was quickly greeted by the blissful feeling akin to the blinking of an enormous eyelid over his mind as he dozed on and off. He almost slipped off the branch a few times, though only jolted himself awake once, and all too soon he felt the light of the su–… sky-fire warming his back.

It was enough for Wanderer apparently, as Dreamer was distantly aware of rustling and movement on the branch. Nooo… A little longer… Something brushed against the outside of his wings, but he ignored it. I sleep now… catch up later…

A light pressure lifting his dangling tail got his attention, and he found the energy to partially unfurl. He eyed Wanderer, who eyed him back expectantly with his paw frozen under the tail still draped over the branch.

"…You not…"

A toothy smile crept across his friend's face, prompting him to fling himself up and grab hold of the branch in a panic. Nnggg, so much for more sleeping… He groggily blinked his weary eyes and yawned widely, the fog in his mind quickly engulfing the small burst of adrenaline.

This was definitely a not-night to be lazy.

With a second yawn, he climbed up onto the branch and cleaned his face. "We should get water."

"Yes, water good. We swim also?"

Sure, why not. "Yes."

They flew low through the treetops to the cove and alighted on the soft grass from where they slaked their thirst before slipping into the water. The cold helped to revitalise Dreamer's mind while they lazily looped around each other in the small and muffled realm.

For the first time on their break from the village, Dreamer allowed himself to think about what had happened to them, to him. The calm water pressing on his ears and gliding over him almost created a divide, a separate world from which he could look back objectively. He didn't hate or begrudge the woman who had attacked them and almost carved a slice off his thigh, but it had been painful to start thinking about and he'd kept shutting it out despite knowing that was not a good way to deal with things

Probably what had him most shaken out of everything was how shaken Wanderer had been afterwards. Dreamer had long ago promised to be his safe place, and he had been without hesitation, but in this particular matter he felt he needed to be the strong one to support them both through it. This meant he couldn't retreat to his own safe place, or just shut down, as it would worry his friend and cause a negative loop.

And Wanderer's… other problem. He'd only said that it was a torturous memory of pain and uncertainty, but Dreamer remembered what had happened. The impact that killed him – or would have – had to have broken Wanderer's wings and left a horrible mess of them both. He had some quite vivid ideas of the more torturous aspects his friend had alluded to, particularly considering what had happened after taking down their first boar.

In hindsight, this was really what was gnawing at him. Yes, the woman had been cruel, but so had many others in Dreamer's life and he found himself only pitying her. More than anything he just wanted the chance to show her she was wrong, and to heal the hate in her heart. In everyone's hearts. He wanted to show everyone that dragons were kind and amazing creatures, especially now that he was one himself, and have everyone living together in peace. And not just on Berk, but the whole Archipelago, and maybe he'd even be able to address whatever'd had Johann so spooked.

But that was all a long way off. Right now he was content with letting the other tribes see how successful Berk could be with just a few dragons, which was perfect as he had a lot of growing to do. Mentally as well, he now knew, he was struggling to think of the other tribes as more than the two or three people he knew from each.

He surfaced for his first breath of air and let himself float on his back, waterlogged wings splayed out to either side. Wanderer went for a more dramatic surfacing, shooting from the water and catching himself in a low hover with that majestic spray pittering down around him. He only hung there for a few flaps before nosediving back into the lake.

Hmm, but there was still damage to Berk that had yet to heal, it seemed. How many others still held hate in their hearts? It had taken months for this woman to act, but why? He winced when he remembered that Dagur had apparently come for the Nightstrikers, some of the village might be blaming them for that. Or… would they? They were Vikings after all, most looked forward to a good fight.

He groaned. There were things about Vikings he still didn't understand. He couldn't help but think how eager he'd been to kill a dragon himself, but then he'd more been interested in the result than the action. How ignorant he had been.

Everything he could be doing to show people they were friendly and harmless, he'd been doing, and it wasn't enough. If only he could talk to people, but Fishlegs would have to translate and they wouldn't trust it was the dragon talking. They certainly wouldn't be willing to learn Dragonese first.

So lost in his thoughts he was that he barely had the presence to suck in a breath when Wanderer dropped onto his belly and dragged him under.

Grrr! I get you for that! He twisted upright and surged away, then rolled down into a tight loop. With hard kicks of his tail, fins straining to remain flat, he streaked through the water after the dark shape ahead of him. They weaved and twisted through the lake, struggling to grapple each other's slippery hide until eventually they dragged themselves from the water and collapsed on the bank.

The sky-fire was just high enough to reach them with its warm light, and they both purred loudly through their panting as it dried and warmed them after being in the cool water for so long. It would be so easy to give in to this, Dreamer thought mildly. Not a care for the world, fly to some remote land and never look back…

It was a wistful dream. He was in a unique position to right many of the wrongs in the world, and he would never be able to stop thinking about what he could have been able to do. Oh well. He could still enjoy these moments in between his quests.

He was dozing off again when Wanderer nudged him. "Hey. We fly to den now."

Grumbling back at him, Dreamer got to his paws. He would have preferred to sleep in the cozy light… but the cove was known to the village, and a reliable source of water for dragons.

They winged low over the treetops, swooping up and down with the lay of the land, two graceful shadows streaking across the island. It wasn't a particularly long flight, but they were both tired and weary from spending much of the light swimming and so it dragged on. Finally, the deeply familiar ridges and trees greeted them, and shortly after they swooped down and over their little beach. Dreamer flew directly through the mouth of the cave and alighted inside, immediately lamenting the loss of the warm light.

In moments he was bowled over and his leg accosted; he really should see this coming by now. The wound was now just an angry hot line along his flank, no longer rough and raw, the licking treatment did seem to be helping so he did not begrudge it. Not that licking was unpleasant. In fact…

He reached up to grab Wanderer around the neck and pull him down with him, and they were suddenly a purring tangle of legs, wings, tails, and tongues. The den did not feel so cold then.

For a long time, hunting had just been something to do when fish became boring. Now that he was hatched again, Wanderer found his thoughts slipping away from the quarry and back to lessons shown to him long ago. How to hide in the shadows, how to move without sound, when to pounce and where to strike. Every action had an echo in his memories.

Slow breaths, slow life-beats, little hunter.

He watched the tall-land-prey from the shadows as it grazed warily.

For hunt alone, need patience. But for two, hunt is easier.

An innocuous rustle grabbed the quarry's attention and it turned away.

Be silent, know your steps before you walk them.

He eyed the prey as he stalked forwards, slowly, deliberately, seeing pawprints he hadn't yet made in the grass.

Closer is better, but try chase before your prey flees. Feel your body when it says chase.

An ear twitched towards him. Strength surged in his legs and he leapt forward without hesitation, raking deeply into the quarry's leg and shredding its muscles. The prey tried to bound away, but its leg nearly collapsed under it and it stumbled.

Fastest kill is biting its throat. All prey have weak throats.

The prey couldn't get up to speed, and he was already running. He threw his wings forward as he hit the ground, then launched himself high and onto its back where he could sink his teeth into its neck, easily shredding through the fur and flesh.

Dam! I caught you!

Instead of meeting his dam's purring laughter and warm embrace, the quarry dropped under him and he tumbled to the ground. Tufts of fur stuck between his teeth, and as he scrambled to his paws he quickly sheathed them and licked his gums clean, then pushed them out again to swiften the prey's death.

"Good hunt!" Dreamer chirped as he bounded over. "But no chase. Chase good also. Wrrr, not matter. Hungry."

Wanderer purred and gave him a brief nuzzle, then they set about the task of pulling the fur away to reach the tasty meat under it.

The memories were an itch inside him he could not scratch. His small body was crying out for family, for adult Nightstrikers to shelter and protect it, to nuzzle and care for it. The memories were not painful, and he was very warmed by what he had now… but it was like stepping from the blissfully warm heat of the sky-fire to the moderate warmth of a good den. He was cold by comparison. Hrr, but I never want life be different. He and Dreamer were a perfect match, and they would one day find mates and fill their nest with little ones of their own.

He wondered what it was like for Dreamer, who never knew anything resembling a Nightstriker sire or dam, and from what he could gather barely anything resembling a Long-Paw sire or dam either. Perhaps not all his bad thoughts over the last few seasons had been bad Long-Paw thinking… It will be better for you, for us both, he promised.

Sound pricked his ears as his first mouthful slipped down his throat, and he raised his head to listen. At the second wingbeat, he was running for the cover of the nearby foliage where he had been stalking the prey from. He didn't need to say anything, Dreamer was already running with him.

They darted into the undergrowth, and Wanderer spun to peek out at their catch. He would not risk his life for it, but he was still hungry and wouldn't just abandon it for no reason. His caution proved warranted as a large Fire-Scale descended with great wingbeats between the trees, then wasted no time in tearing the prey in half and swallowing it.

Dreamer whimpered sadly beside him, but the Fire-Scale was apparently not done. It put its nose to the ground and crept forward a step.

It looked straight at them.

Wanderer spun and ran. He could hear Dreamer right behind him, but thankfully there was no bellow of challenge or the crashing of an ungainly Fire-Scale pulling itself after them. No, it not do that, they not good runners… It would be following from the sky… He turned sharply and sped up, heading for a patch of dense trees they could escape into. He didn't dare look up, to take his eyes away from the obstacles streaking past him, just kept his ears sharp for any sound of pursuit.

The trees ahead seemed a little sparse, and he angled around what turned out to be a small clearing. The sound of an aborted dive spurred him on.

Remember … only if need … your cycles now, survive again … small body, no fire.

Wanderer tried to clear his head and focus on his flight from the wing-hunter. I not need your lesson now, Sire… How was this hunter following them? Stupid, he'd been recklessly crashing through the undergrowth like a scared prey-thing. He changed direction again, dropping his speed to a silent lope and hearing Dreamer do the same behind him. He zigzagged a path to safety, and finally hopped into the dense patch of growth that no adult wing-hunter could hope to enter.

They trotted to a halt and stood there on the uneven roots, panting heavily and scanning the specks of sky through the thick canopy. They saw and heard it pass overhead a few times before it gave up and loudly flapped away.

Dreamer gave a frustrated hiss. "It eat your catch."

"Yes. But not eat us." He huffed. "It have bad hunting for want hunt us."

Huff. "We could show it nest with much food and no hunger."

"It take food it see, not promise it not can see." Wanderer let out a quiet hiss. "Not go near hungry hunter you not can fight."

Dreamer wilted a little. "That… I see that good thinking…" Wanderer snorted in amusement. How can thinking be seen? Silly Long-Paw expression. "…I still hungry…"

"Yes, I also," Wanderer grumbled. He was weary and tense from their escape but their bellies were practically empty, they should find a meal before sleeping.

"…Nest with much food and no hunger…?"

Wanderer didn't flinch at the suggestion, to his own surprise. His Dreamer watched him hopefully, evidently struggling between wanting to return to his nest and considering Wanderer's own wants. He sighed, they had been out here for over a whole sky-ice-cycle now, and it was only supposed to be a temporary reprieve from the Long-Paws…

"…Yes," he eventually conceded. "We go back to nest."

Author's Notes

Whew, it's been a productive week. A change to my work hours has also left me with more time and significantly more energy which has helped considerably. I may even be able to post next week, but if not then it will be the last break for now.

I should also point out that you are running out of time to get your theories in, this part of the arc will soon bust wide open.