Numbly, Dreamer put his tail back into his mouth and gently massaged it again. His saliva wasn't magic, it couldn't correct the bones, but he just didn't know what else to do.

Move.

Yes, he… he needed to move. They were looking for him, it was only a matter of time. What would they do when they caught him? Kill him for fear he would escape? Or just rebind his tail? He didn't think he could go through this again. No, he was pretty sure they would just kill him, they had reached that point already.

He reluctantly pulled his soggy tail from his mouth and flexed the fins. They were still extremely painful and stiff, but they moved. With a deep breath, he tried to visualise the various positions and their effects, letting the fins spread and angle accordingly. The membranes remained crumpled but provided a reasonable surface area; he might not be entirely grounded now at least.

The fire popped in the kiln, bringing his attention back to the ground. He needed to dispose of the evidence – simply pushing dirt into it achieved that, it was now nothing more than a curiously arranged mess of dirt, rock, and charcoal.

And now he needed to move. Quickly poking his head up to check the coast was clear – there were now two search parties scouring the lake, but neither of them were on him yet – he crept from the reeds, took a running start…

Then, with a great flap of his wings, leapt into the sky.

His tail immediately weighed down, not quite able to catch enough air, but with adjustments to his flapping he managed to get airborne. The strain on his wings was tremendous, they weren't meant to be used at this angle, and in addition to being 'heavy' his warped fins created drag, but for a moment he just revelled in the flight and freedom. For a precious moment, he forgot everything that had happened and that he was still trapped. For that instant, he was truly happy.

Though, only for a moment, and he bit down on the joyous roar before it could leave his throat. The longer they searched the ground, the longer he had to recover and… figure out what he was going to do next.

What he was going to do now was an easy decision, he alighted on a small ledge high up Berserk's mountain and immediately collapsed. The same sheer cliffs that had prevented him from scaling it now protected him, at least for a time, and with that knowledge he was barely able to even catch his breath before his exhaustion dragged him into the first real sleep he'd had since arriving on Berserk.

Heather wandered aimlessly through the village, feeling alone with her thoughts and recent revelations.

Of course she was a lost heir of the Berserkers. That was exactly Alvin's style, she wasn't just some random girl he'd picked up and trained in manipulation. She was a hostage, leverage, whatever he wanted her to be, and capable enough that he could put her to work until he could use her.

Though, knowing Alvin, it was also his style to trick her into thinking she was Berserk's heir to somehow use it against her, jumping to conclusions would be unwise. Although… Dagur's questioning the night before had been very convincing. Her story matched perfectly. Could that even be fabricated?

She kept an eye on the burly guard following her and wondered where he would prevent her from going. The docks, obviously, and probably the forest. He hadn't really been bothered by anywhere she went in the village.

Her home town was a traditional peaceful settlement, preferring to earn a living rather than pillage and steal it like the barbaric Vikings. The wealthier inhabitants owned the poorer ones, but nobody could afford to just kick back and relax all day. Berk abhorred slavery, offended by the notion, and even the general concept of ownership was much looser than she was used to. Everyone simply took what they needed, but only what they needed.

Berserk was the complete other end of the spectrum, heavily relying on slavery for its day to day running. The Berserkers themselves were easy to pick out by their scars and enormous builds, but very few of them seemed to be doing anything productive. The smithy, tannery, fishing boats, mead hall, every building she came across was staffed by thin people dressed in rags. Only the blacksmith really looked healthy, but lacked the thick arms and torso expected of his trade.

The Berserkers were also easy to pick out because they were all in a hurry. Once she'd finished a circuit of the village she hung out in the mead hall to gather intel, inviting her guard over and rambling some nonsense about preferring the atmosphere and letting him grab a drink. He just grunted at her and obliged, thoughtfully sliding her a tankard of water.

"Is that her?" "Shh don't even look." "Imposter." "Mad as he is."

It seemed news of her arrival had spread, and though they spoke of her it told her more of Dagur. Seemed he didn't rule with an iron fist, but just his name was enough to set people straight. From what she'd seen of him she could believe that, she should take care to avoid him as much as possible.

The conversations – all of them – gradually moved to another topic, which seemed to be that of the Night Fury that had apparently been missing since last night. Piecing together fragments from here and there, she worked out Dagur had taken her advice and bound its tail, probably in the same overengineered bindings he'd bound it with back on Berk, and after weeks of constantly hunting it down it had magicked away the binding and disappeared.

But rather than disappointed, everyone was tensely excited. They all thought they would be the one to capture it and claim the glory, though Dagur apparently reserved the honour of killing it.

So it lived, but not for long and only if it didn't escape sooner. Tch, Alvin had really outdone himself with this mission. She could attempt to best hundreds of seasoned dragon hunters in hunting it down herself, or intercept it while it was guarded by the most vicious warriors in the Archipelago; assuming it didn't just fly away never to be seen again. What exactly did he want her to do here? Maybe if she'd been a few days earlier…

Dejectedly, she shuffled out of the hall and dragged her feet back to her accommodation; Dagur's abode, a slightly larger but otherwise nondistinctive house near the centre of the village. The door wasn't locked, and she let herself in to return to her room and shut the door behind her. The guard slumped into a chair outside, by the sound of it. With any luck he'd be asleep before long.

Years of practise allowed her to get rest when she could, and after preparing a lamp she dozed through the evening. Dagur didn't return, but the sound of parchment tapping against the floor roused her. That was a relief, at least that meant there was a plan. She quickly lit the lamp, retrieved the message from under the narrow window, and squinted at Savage's nigh-illegible scratching.

…

Well, this was within the realm of possibility at least… but not by much.

A firm gust of wind, smelling cleanly of the sea and clear skies, roused Dreamer by buffeting his wing against his side. He blinked himself awake in the early evening light – he'd slept through half the night and most of the following day. It felt as if a weight had been removed from his back.

And one had, in a way. He swung his tail around and flexed the fins, no longer as sore but feeling weak and tender; understandable, given the circumstances, they hadn't moved in… weeks, he guessed. He inspected them with a clearer and calmer head as the grogginess lifted from his mind.

The five thin 'fingers' in the fins were kinked where the bindings had clamped over them, only slight bends but that added up with how many there were. Would they correct themselves in time? Doubtful… He had some ideas for an apparatus to guide the bones back into shape, but he'd need Gobber to make it and could therefore only escape with what he had.

The idea crossed his mind to fly out to sea and drown himself where Dagur couldn't reach him, but he grounded the thought. He now wanted to live, to fly with his friend, grow up and breathe fire… A whimsical part of him wanted to experience love, but he could never have what he'd dreamed of with Astrid. The obvious connotation of his new body didn't sit right with him either.

He batted himself on the head a few times, dreaming again, and brought his attention back to the present. Whatever he was going to do, he'd need strength, and that required food; a whole day had passed since he'd last eaten.

With a stretch, he got to his paws and approached the edge – then scrambled back and flattened himself to the ground. There were Berserkers everywhere, and many of them had dogs. It was unlikely they'd seen him this far away, but he was beginning to lose track of the range of human senses, and his dark scales would be very visible even in this low light.

Rabbit might be off the table… He approached the edge again, just far enough to see the sea and the Berserker ships stationed evenly across it. Not that he knew what he was expecting to do out there. He might be able to fish, as long as some came near the surface, but needed somewhere to climb out in case he couldn't launch straight from the water with his damaged tail.

Grrr, so close but so far from leaving this accursed island. Taking a deep breath, he tried to put his mind to work… but could think of no solution. He needed more information, and could do little more than wait for the sky-fire to burn out.

When the sky-sparks began to twinkle between the scattered clouds, he rolled and flexed his tail fins one last time as he tentatively approached the edge. The island was no longer swarming, but he could see a few still combing the area around the lake. With any luck he'd be able to duck into the forest, catch a rabbit or three and fly back up before anyone caught up with him.

Though, he would need to be careful of arrows and bolas. They would have trouble seeing him, but he himself had managed a lucky shot on a Night Fury in the dark, travelling full speed at that. Best to be cautious, scout things out first and keep moving.

He spread his wings, revelling in having even a little of his flight restored, and jumped into the air. It took him a few moments to get his rhythm going, he couldn't just soar like he wanted and he needed to flap his wings a little further back than he was used to, but he managed to fumble his way through it. How did Nightmares and Nadders fly without tail fins? It was so unfair.

Having been restricted to the ground for so long, he should assume his endurance in the air had suffered, which when combined with that he was very hungry and needing to flap constantly… he needed to make this brief. But neither could he afford to rush.

One quick lap. He looped around the island, over the forest, and angled his ears out to pick up sounds below him. The distant growls and rustling might have been his imagination… but he didn't think so.

About three-quarters of the way around he noticed runners passing to and from a table that had been set up near the treeline by the lake, manned by a few Berserkers. Two of them could have been Dagur, the darkness and distance were less hindrance to his incredible eyes but he still had his limits. Regardless, they had a centralised command post. Aaaand I've just gone and alerted every dog on the island that I'm in the air. Great.

The smartest thing to do in that case was to wait out their alertness. Probably land in an open area where he could see nearby threats, and sneak into the forest from the ground.

Something caught his eye as he began labouring his way back up the mountain, strange shapes against the jagged vertical rock. He drifted a little closer – then banked sharply away with his stomach in his throat. Hammocks. A lot of them, all pinned to the mountainside. He had to admit, it was the first place he'd look for a dragon too.

He didn't know how long it would take them to clear it, but he knew they were familiar with it. The Hooligans waited for the dragons to come to them, but the Berserkers sought them out and needed to be adept climbers, so used it as practise.

He growled quietly to himself, this was all too much for him to process. What was he supposed to do? He laboured his way a safe distance above the hammocks and dropped onto a smooth little ledge. The first task was to get something to eat, which he'd try later in the night. The second was to find a way off this island…

With the Berserker longboat anchored, the six Hooligans and their dragons had rested on a tall sea stack with a wide, flat top. Mostly flat, it was sloped a little steeper than was comfortable, but the dragons didn't seem overly bothered and provided good support.

Astrid blinked herself awake just before dawn and stretched, rousing Stormfly next to her. "Hey girl," she cooed. "Ready to find some Night Furies?" Today would just be scouting, if they were going to do anything it would likely be at night.

"Have a nice sleep-in, lassie? Lay awake missin' yer pillow?" Spitelout crowed from the back of his dragon.

Actually, Stormfly had been very comfortable to sleep against, but she wasn't going to admit that. "Nah, these rocks are just right. Thinking of taking some home, best sleep I've had in weeks." She joked back, but flatly. Anxiety and fear over what she might find was creeping into her gut and she couldn't put any feeling into the usual banter.

Spitelout seemed to pick up on it, and gave her a slow nod. "Best we focus today. Oy! Boyo!"

"Nooo Dad, it's too early," Snotlout groaned.

"Kingstail?" Spitelout prompted with a sigh, and his dragon plodded down the slope to snort in Snotlout's face. Astrid hid a grin at his scream. "Ah actually meant ter step on 'im, but ah guess that works too," he mumbled. "We're goin' scouting, boyo. You need to hold down things here and watch fer anyone gettin' too curious. We'll be back later ter plan."

"What? No, I'm coming with you," Snotlout insisted, searching for his helmet.

"On a big obvious dragon yeh can't control. 'Caus tha's a good idea. Ah mean it, stay here."

"Don't worry," Fishlegs mumbled sleepily, "we'll keep him out of trouble."

Wondering what sort of chaos they would be returning to, Astrid finished her stretching and climbed into the saddle, then they were climbing into the air towards Berserk.

"Think we'll find them?" Astrid called over the wind when they levelled out, just trying to start conversation.

He shrugged. "Tha's the point of scoutin'. We won't know wha' we'll find until we get there. No sense thinkin' either way 'till you know."

"Yeah, well it's hard not to think about."

"Aye, which is why you should nae really be here." Astrid snapped upright to glare at him. "You 'eard me. Yer too close to this, not thinkin' right. Frankly, ah think this is a waste o' time altogether, bu' Chief's orders an' all."

"You seriously don't care Dagur's torturing a pair of innocent dragons over there?" she asked incredulously.

"Like we did any better with dragon training," he countered.

"That doesn't make it right! We didn't know. He doesn't care. It's different. Besides, they're… our friends."

"Ah wonder about tha'. They won' be trained, an' they won' take a rider. Wha's keeping them here? Betcha they'll be flyin' off afore they're full grown."

There was more on that he wasn't telling her, and she scoured her training for any sort of clue. The most simple and obvious connection… Plus a touch of concern… "You're worried Stoick is too attached to them."

His eyebrow went up as he looked at her. "Yer a smart lass, tha'll net you in trouble one day if yer no careful. Bu' ah won' speak ill of me Chief." He stared forwards for a little while before quietly adding "Even if ah do think he needs ta let go of 'is dead son."

She let the conversation die there. It had been risky for him to say that, and showed he had a measure of trust in her. He complimented Stoick well, and she wondered about who her own Marshal would be. Probably Snotlout, he was the one training for it and had shown once or twice that he could be serious when he needed to be… but ugh, he really needed to grow up first.

This was all a long way off, she was getting ahead of herself thinking about it now. She focused on the task at hand, calculating arrow range from the top of the mountain and drawing herself barriers to avoid. As long as they remained down there and she up here, they couldn't touch her.

The town they flew over was a bustling port of activity. "Is this normal?" she asked Spitelout, having never been to Berserk herself.

He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Ah dunno, i's hard ter say. Never seen it from up 'ere before, an' no' since Dagur became Chief."

"Okay… so how about that?" She pointed at the middle of the island, and its little gazebo near the lake with a steady stream of Berserkers toing and froing.

"No' so much," Spitelout agreed. "Ah'd say they're mountin' a full-scale hunt. Prolly fuh yer beasties, there's nothin' else in those trees." No axe had been spared in this hunt, they were even climbing the mountain with such inhuman speed it might as well have been level ground.

If they were hunting like this, then the Furies lived… but how in Thor's name were they supposed to intervene? "Ideas…?" she called out to Spitelout.

"No way we can get low enough durin' the day. Weh'll scout a while longer, thar's more ter see yet, an' if nothin' better comes up we'll come back at night an' hope yer beasties can find each other. Where's it likely ter be?"

"If… if they could fly they would have just flown back to Berk, they could make the trip, so they won't be on the mountain. Can a dog track a dragon?"

"Ah'd say so, but I don' know fer sure."

"Maybe they're in a sea cave then…"

Kingstail drifted a little closer. "Don' get yer hopes up lassie, tha's a lot of hunters down there. An' don' do anything stupid either. Ah will grab you off yer dragon if ah think yeh need it."

She spared him a curt nod, keeping her attention on everything going on below.

"Reporting. Dog picked up a new trail, definite start and end." The voice was proceeded by someone striding up to the command area to stand respectfully, a hound obediently following at his side.

"Show me," Dagur commanded, burying his knife in the corner of the map of Berserk to hold it still. The man walked forward, picked up a charcoal pencil, and roughly scratched a few lines before stepping back and being forgotten. The marks started near the lake, then entered the forest for a distance where they stopped.

This was proof it could fly. It had probably eaten now as well, but it hadn't approached the lake. It might own the night, but a tight patrol of archers and torches had kept it from the water. Every time he'd caught it the first thing it'd done was get a drink, so if he kept it from the water he would keep it weak and unable to leave. It had also been showing less and less stamina over the weeks, so this should leave it crippled. It was only a matter of time.

As long as it didn't harbour any other mysterious tricks. Magic had to be involved here, it was the only thing that made sense. Though he had little doubt the Night Fury had stolen the torch, he couldn't work out what it could possibly have used it for. The beast had clearly been planning something, he'd known that when it had grinned at him; he should have just killed it then. What a worthy opponent it was! Very deserving of an honourable death, and the next time he saw it his axe was cleaving through its neck to show his respect for it.

"Chief!" someone called, out of breath. This was going to be either very good or very bad. "The girl… she… uh…"

"Well, spit it out, is she gone or what?" Dagur groaned at him.

"Er… Yeah."

What was going on here? He must be cursed or something, first he couldn't keep a dragon locked up, and now he couldn't even hold some girl. "Well, it is a Night Fury. Should have seen this coming, really." And if he'd underestimated the dragon, could he have underestimated the girl? Which would mean… "Hey, she really is my sister! That's great news!"

"You're… not mad?" the man asked.

"Oh I'm furious, but I'm not going to gut myself now am I?" He laughed good-naturedly. Nobody laughed with him. Rude. You should always laugh when someone jokes about gutting themselves. "Where is she?"

He shook his head. "She's just gone, and you've got all the dogs. If you give me one I could–"

"No, ignore her for now. Either she's still here or she's back with those Outcasts, she'll stay that way whether we look or not. Go climb the mountain." It had to be there, they'd already looked everywhere else, they just had to chase it off and be ready for when it came down.

Scratching his chin, Dagur wondered how many Berserkers it would take to kill an adult Night Fury. They didn't look nearly as dangerous as a Monstrous Nightmare or Deadly Nadder, now that he'd got a good look at one. Maybe they were specialised for flying and striking targets at range, and were useless in close quarters. That just meant getting close and preventing it from escaping. They also seemed to be even more susceptible to dragonroot than other dragons, though perhaps it was less effective on an adult. He wouldn't know any of this until he tracked down another one.

First, he needed to track down this one.

About halfway of the way up the mountain of Berserk, the winds blasted in every direction in eddies and currents. This was the limit of how high Dreamer could fly, the low crevice he had wedged himself into was sheltered but he could hear the air lashing at the rock as he roused to the sight of the sky-fire smouldering on the horizon.

He crawled out and stretched, then raised his head a little to peer down and observe the island; he was way too high up for his little black form to be visible to humans. They were barely visible to him down below, and he knew his eyes had several times the range.

But he was at an impasse. He couldn't hunt during the day, and ships were unlikely to sail by at night. That might not have been such a huge problem if he wasn't so exhausted; he felt like he needed to sleep for a month.

He sat back on his haunches and swung his tail around in front of him, again marvelling at the fins as he flexed them. Still warped, of course, but free. He licked the membranes and purred at the sensation, so sensitive after–

Crack

With a shriek, he scrabbled backwards and tripped over his tail, landing on his back. He instantly scrambled to his paws, but not fast enough, and a wild storm of emotions whirled within him as something closed around his tail.

"I's eer! Aa go' i'!"

The man's face, now poking up over the ledge, quickly change from elation to regret as he saw the dragon snarling at it; one hand holding said dragon's tail, the other gripping the pick hooked onto the ledge and preventing a fatal fall. A younger Dreamer might have given him a chance to realise and correct his error, but with everything he had been through he felt he could not afford it.

His claws buried into the back of the hand on his tail and quickly ripped through it, shredding the muscles and allowing him to pull free. The man let out a sharp groan through his teeth, but clearly still intended to climb up. Dreamer disabused him of that notion by slashing at his face and forcing him to duck down.

There are more of them, the Berserker had been talking to someone. Whether one or a hundred, it didn't matter, fighting one off would be difficult enough, two impossible. He leaped to the side of the ledge and pushed off it, throwing himself out into open air and snapping his wings out–

Then shrieked agony and despair as a sickeningly familiar weight buried into the scales just below his ribs, and his senses were torn asunder.

Hornets buzzed in Astrid's gut as she watched the sun sink towards the horizon from their sea stack. This waiting was the hardest part of the whole trip, and the moments crawled past in her adrenaline-fueled state. "How do you deal with this part?" she asked Spitelout, as much for the answer as to distract herself.

He shrugged. "Yeh jus' get better a' not showin' it. The wors' thing yeh can do is relax, tha's when they'll hi' ya."

This was torture, she had to do something. "Well I think it's close enough now. Some last-minute scouting would be good."

Snotlout snorted. "Uh, yeah, if you want them to be wary of the dragons circling overhead. They might catch on, better we approach at dark."

"Yeh both have a point," Spitelout said almost absently, "bu' the second ter wors' thing yeh can do is jump in early 'caus ya ain't thinkin'. Ah yeh makin' this decision on a clear head, lassie?"

She took a long breath to steady her thoughts. "We might have already made them wary, we were in the air a while today. If we approach high they might not notice us anyway, we won't be able to see much but we'll notice anything different from earlier. Unlikely they'll set up a brazier or catapult, but…"

"Which they won't be able to use if they don't know we're there," Snotlout countered.

"Aye, 'tis a fine excuse," Spitelout said with a nod, "but if yeh can think of tha' yeh can can think the decision through. You're the dragon expert, an' this is your mission, so do yeh want intel or stealth?"

She nearly answered immediately, but made a show of hesitating to think and silently thanked Stoick and his tutelage. Just one of the things that had made Hiccup so infuriating as a kid, she realised, and now she was doing it as well. "What I said stands. We move." It was difficult to contain her haste in climbing into the saddle.

A grumble from Snotlout was cut off by his dad knocking him on the helmet. "Suck it up boyo, ya want the decision, ya get the responsibility."

"Now remember," Astrid called out, staring pointedly at the twins, "stay well out of range until night falls. We'll then split up around the island, and Stormfly will call out for them. If they call back, everyone head towards them, or the nearest one if they're separated, but don't engage. Wait for everyone to assemble and plan if you can't safely extract. Got it?"

"Why does she always look at us when she says this stuff?" Tuffnut mused to his sister.

"Yeah! Snotlout derails at least as many plans as we do," she grumbled back.

Rolling her eyes, Astrid turned to Fishlegs. "I know I don't need to repeat myself to you, are you sure you're okay with this?"

"Yeah, don't worry," he reassured her. "We'd only slow you down if you need to leave in a hurry, and I can watch things here. Save us from getting ambushed if they discover the boat."

"Thanks. We'll be counting on you if they have any injuries."

"Sure thing."

"Alright guys, move out!" she called to everyone else, and they all took to the sky.

The flight to Berserk was quiet and tense, and Astrid did have to give credit to Snotlout and the twins for actually looking serious about this. Having such a strong goal was part of it, and for better or for worse this would almost certainly be a maturing event for them. A desperate rescue mission in extremely hostile territory. Incredible they'd been allowed to go at all really, though they were by far the most practised with dragon riding.

She almost had to agree with Spitelout, that Stoick was too attached to the Furies, but that would imply they shouldn't be here.

The island of Berserk loomed ahead, even as far below as it was. "Alright everyone, do a quick lap and meet back in the middle!" she called out, and the others banked away. She scanned the ground for any changes, but there was nothing different to earlier. It was a relief to see the command tent still set up, and while activity had slowed it had most certainly not stopped. There were a few more net launchers, but all were still focused around the lake. She considered starting a fire in the forest as a distraction, Hookfang would be best suited for that. Just an option at this point.

There were Berserkers still climbing the mountain too, though it seemed they were leaving men on the ledges. If the Furies were up there, they were aiming to chase them down and not give them anywhere to hide. She grit her teeth, when she got her hands on Dagur…

Hookfang's wingbeats announced the arrival of Snotlout. "They've got an army of archers, and they're everywhere. Whatever we do, we can't stick around."

Astrid nodded tersely at him. Duh. Barf and Belch were next, with Spitelout right behind them. She hoped they hadn't already disobeyed her, but Spitelout didn't look any angrier than usual so probably not.

"There's like, a dozen places we could cause some serious mayhem," Ruffnut crowed.

"Safely, I'll add, as you're all about that," Tuffnut piped in. She wondered what his definition of 'safe' was. Well, more arrows in the quiver, as Stoick might say.

Spitelout didn't offer anything, so she did a last scan of the island and pulled closer to address everyone. "Alright then, everybody get–"

That was as far as she got before every dragon's head suddenly snapped towards the mountain, sending a shiver down her spine. "Hold on!" she yelled, right before Stormfly heaved her wings against the air. It wasn't the ridiculous top speed so she was able to squint through the wind, but there wasn't much to see other than Stormfly's head twitching subtly as she looked for something. Please please PLEASE be okay…

They pulled into a hover a little way from the mountain, and Stormfly crowed uncertainly. "Shh, it's okay girl, they're here somewhere."

"Wha' was tha' abou'?" Spitelout called over as he pulled up beside her, Kingstail similarly letting out low clucks and chatters. More wingbeats behind her signalled Snotlout and the twins behind them.

"They reacted like this last time when–"

Everyone heard it, a stricken cry from below that stabbed at Astrid's heart, and then they were diving. Spitelout was shouting something, but it was lost over the wind, and she urged Stormfly for a little more speed to pull ahead of him. He was not pulling her out of this, not now she could see the black shape tumbling through the air. I can make it!

She angled Stormfly, who had been aiming to pick him up in her claws or maybe her mouth, so that she could catch the Fury herself. The ground was getting uncomfortably close, but he was right there! She almost had him!

With his wings limp and creating drag, they quickly caught up and Astrid snatched for him, her grip sliding off – but then she latched onto his tail and pulled him onto her legs, below her spiky skirt, and Stormfly immediately pulled out of the dive. Both rider and Fury were flattened to her back as the wind rushed past them, and something sharp dug into her leg, but then they were soaring back into the air! She'd done it!

Her elation was cut short by the limp form in her lap, and worry clawed at her as she held a hand to his side, then a flood of relief as she felt him breathe. Tears stung her eyes to be whipped away by the wind, and she hunched over the black dragon. "I gotcha," she whispered.

But why was he so limp? She shifted him to get his claw out of her leg, then quickly realised that wasn't his claw and awkwardly rolled him over. An arrow fell out of his chest, though only half of the head had penetrated. She needed to get him back to Fishlegs.

Her eyes lifted from the dragon to find the others… then widened. "Oh…"

Spitelout saw Astrid dive after the sound, and shot after her with a particularly blasphemous curse involving Odin's mother, an ugly dwarf, and a large yak. "Look where you're going girl!" he shouted, but either the wind was too strong or she was ignoring her. "Odin's breeches," he swore again, and glanced at the others, all following with faces set in determination. For better or worse, they were committed.

The Zippleback and Nightmare began bathing the side of the mountain in fire, a constant stream from both dragons, and screams sounded behind them to be quickly lost to the distance. The smokescreen was helpful, but naturally those posted on the lower ledges would be looking up at the progress of the higher ones, so arrows were already flying up to meet them. Astrid wasn't even trying to dodge, way too focused on her task.

Too risky to take her out of it at this speed, he urged Kingstail on, putting himself between the mountain and the Chief's successor. Hopefully his dragon wouldn't mind protecting another, he wasn't as closely tied to the village as the teens' dragons yet, though he offered no complaint.

They weaved through the arrows they were flying into, Kingstail using his horn to swat away a few flying at Stormfly. Spitelout had to assume they were poisoned, one had likely hit the Fury to take it down the way it did… he couldn't let one hit either dragon. Thankfully they were difficult targets at this speed.

One arrow caught his attention, strangely more in focus than everything else. He knew that one would be it, the one to down Kingstail, it was coming in at the wrong angle for him to knock away and they didn't have anywhere to move away from it without endangering Stormfly. He grit his teeth, and leaned down Kingstail's side to take the arrow in his own shoulder, groaning as it dug deep.

He spared a glance back above them, finding a large smokescreen obscuring much of the mountain and a rain of rubble following them down. A suitable disengagement, those teens had made better a bad situation and further increased their odds of surviving it, otherwise they'd be pulling up into a hail of arrows.

Finally Astrid caught the beastie, and they snapped out of their dives and quickly pulled into steep climbs. The other teens were following behind, thankfully all accounted for. The arrow in his shoulder burned something fierce, but it was far too deep to just yank out. He had someone in mind to handle that particularly unpleasant job, and he cleared his throat at her as they drifted into a more level glide.

"Oh…" she said at the glares directed at her.

"Oh? Oh!? Is that all yeh've got ter say?" Spitelout berated her. "Did yeh even see the arrows we took for ya!?" Her wince said she did not, and he groaned. "Odin be spanked girl, after all those speeches! Is the dragon a' least alive?"

She nodded fervently, and Spitelout slumped a little in the saddle. It wasn't for naught, at least, and he didn't need to berate her further; Stoick would handle that. "Alrigh' then, everyone back to the boat." He shot a look at Astrid that dared her to argue, but between his useless arm and two of the dragons looking worse for wear from the extended burns, she seemed to think better of it. She had some head on her shoulders at least.

"Give," Tuffnut ordered flatly, and she couldn't refuse. The black shape was handed over and the lad began fussing over it as they flew out to sea.

Blinding pain – darkness – his own roar in his ears – torchlight – familiar voices… Dreamer tried to make sense of what was going on, but every nerve in his body was smouldering and his head was telling him to rip and shred at whatever he could to stop the pain. Not that he could so much as open his eyes, so he just dug his claws into the wooden – wooden? – floor and snarled through his teeth between bouts of unconsciousness.

He eventually woke with a somewhat clearer head, and set to work separating a more lucid part of his mind from the mad aggression that came with the poison. It was a bloody and constant fight for control, but he'd had quite a bit of practise.

Well, he was alive, for now at least. The sounds pressing into his ears placed him… on a boat? What? He cracked an eye open, creasing his forehead as his eyes struggled to interpret the light. Yes, he was definitely on a boat.

A quiet and enquiring noise pricked his ears – slash, maim, KILL! The aggression overpowered him and he stalked towards the source with a snarl crackling from his mouth, but whoever it was flopped onto their back and splayed out. The submissive act caused him to pause and he wrested back control, then tensely padded forward.

Tuffnut.

He recognised the hair immediately and paired it with his scent, and a whimper left his mouth. Tuffnut! The sight of the teen had never brought so much happiness to him, probably to anyone for that matter. He gave his face a brief nuzzle and purred – wait, that was closer to a growl than a purr. Hel claim those despicable arrows! He couldn't even sheathe his teeth, they remained locked out, so he backed up and unleashed some of his aggression on an unfortunate floorboard.

"Uhh, you okay Hiccup?" Tuffnut asked as he sat up again.

Dreamer responded with a sort of flat and quiet growl-snarl, and tried to chew a small lip on the board he'd been clawing at. Wait, the wound, the longer it went untreated the longer he would be like this. He sat on the base of his tail to inspect it, finding it had already been cleaned and treated. It smelled of Stormfly, and another purr-growl rumbled in his throat.

"Yeah, Stormfly wouldn't go near it until we cleaned it, and was a bit touchy after she did. You going to okay?"

"Food, water," he growled, then again wordlessly when he realised Tuffnut didn't know Dragonese. Or probably didn't, he might have learned it? Then again, he'd always been good at guessing. Either way, the boy produced a couple of fresh fish and a deep bowl of water that Dreamer bounded over to and dunked his snout in, though he had to be careful not to guzzle it too quickly.

With his belly full he had a bit more control again, and set about trying to sheathe his teeth. It was as if there was a great weight pulling them out, and he only managed to get them half in before they snapped out again. He made a frustrated sound; to his own ears it sounded like a tree snapping in half.

"Hey, don't worry about it. Here." Tuffnut slowly reached forward to take the now-empty bowl, and tossed it across the room.

Unthinking, Dreamer saw the movement and lunged for it, taking it in both claws and teeth and rolling with the momentum. Before he even came to a stop he violently thrashed his head from side to side, holding his quarry firmly in his fangs, then pinned it to the floor and roared at it. The sound was deafening in the enclosed space.

Panting, he stared at the splintered bowl. His body was simmering with achievement, having successfully 'killed' the harmless lump of wood, but it tempered the aggression and he was able to relax a little. It was working faster this time, probably because the poison had been cleaned out more quickly; actually, it looked to still be night, he'd even woken up more quickly than usual.

…He'd always hunted two rabbits after recovering though, so he picked up the bowl in his mouth and padded over to Tuffnut, then dropped it in front of him and nudged it forward. Tuffnut threw it again and Dreamer scrabbled after it, though his 'kill' was much less violent this time.

His habit sated, he managed to sheathe his teeth and took a moment to investigate his surroundings. Aside from a crate of miscellaneous supplies and few barrels of what smelled like preserved fish, and probably water, the hold of the ship was open and empty. It didn't look like Hooligan workmanship.

"Yeah, we emptied out one of the Berserker boats we had and sailed it over." He took a long, pained breath. "We… couldn't hang around to find Toothy. I'm… We're sorry…" His words were tangled in sorrow, tension, anger.

Wanderer… They needed to find him. Dreamer let out a low whine, it was an old pain now but without being in immediate danger himself it was becoming more prominent. He huffed to get Tuffnut's attention, then held his gaze and shook his head side to side.

"No? He's not here?"

"You understand?" Dreamer asked tentatively.

"I don't understand that yet. But I will, now we've got you back. Lemme get Fishlegs." He leaned on an arm to swing his feet around, preparing to stand, but Dreamer stepped forward and pawed at his leg. After a moment's hesitation, the legs were crossed and allowed him to carefully lay himself across them and curl up; before anything else, he needed some reassurance.

A grateful and mournful purr rumbled in his throat as a hand began stroking his head and neck, lingering over his sensitive frills. He wasn't sure if it was this young mind and body that made him needy like this, or simply his new way of life allowing him to be more open with himself. Then again, while he'd had some harrowing experiences in his old life, they had all been nothing compared to the last few weeks. He no longer cared.

So he allowed himself to find comfort here, to help reassure him that he was finally safe again, and quickly fell into a deep and peaceful sleep.

Astrid stood numbly at the till, watching the horizon begin to glow as dawn neared. She continuously worried the handle, as if she could rub off the oily and stained feeling after working the arrow out of Spitelout's shoulder. He was sleeping now, propped up against Kingstail with his shoulder bound tightly and arm strapped to his chest.

She'd really screwed up. Spitelout had let up quickly, but she had no doubt Stoick would… actually, she didn't know how Stoick would react. Everything had turned out okay, with little credit to herself, and they'd rescued one of them; Hiccup, judging by the scar across his leg, though he was now covered in new ones. She was getting lectured and punished either way, but the Chief's disappointment was much more difficult to deal with. In a way, it was harder not knowing what he would think.

The approach of Meatlug's buzzing wingbeats tore her from her thoughts, Snotlout had yet to even wake to take the watch so Fishlegs must have seen something. "Ship ahead!" he called once in earshot, landing on the deck a few moments later. "Don't recognise the design, no markings. Probably Outcasts."

A couple of under-equipped strays wouldn't give five dragons much trouble, but best to steer clear. "Thanks Fish. You might as well go wake up Snotlout, you know what he's like."

He gave her a nod and a sympathetic smile before walking off.

She had to resist locking the till to poke her head down on things below. Tuffnut had been very firm in demanding she stay out, and it was hard to argue when even Fishlegs deferred to his authority on the wellbeing of the Furies. Still, she was a little worried, there were some very pained sounds through the first half of the night that suddenly turned loud and aggressive. It had been eerily quiet since, but neither Tuffnut nor Fury had emerged. Things had to be okay down there.

First half of… The sun was now rising, and she hadn't slept since the night before. As a Viking she could go two or three days straight where she needed to, but she didn't even feel tired. Weary, perhaps, but there was an unsettled buzzing in her head that refused to abate.

Astrid shook her head and kept an eye out for the ship, Fishlegs helpfully showing Snotlout to it and giving her a bearing. She adjusted their course accordingly, giving it a wide berth; as if the nearby dragons weren't enough of a deterrent.

However, the ship began moving to intercept them. That can't be good. She angled to the other side, just in case it was a coincidence, but it swung around in front of them again.

Locking the till, she quietly crossed the boat and gave Kingstail a reassuring stroke on his cheek before nudging Spitelout's boot. "Hey, wake up, we've got company."

"Eh…? Wassat…?" he mumbled groggily.

"Strange boat with no markings, moving to intercept us. Can you fly? I'd rather play this safe."

He found his helmet nearby and clapped it onto his head, then stood stiffly and held his injured shoulder. "Ah'd rather no', tha' was definitely the first arrow yeh've pulled. Well if they ain't Berserkers we should be fine, five dragons shoul' be more than enough fer any boat even withou' riders."

Astrid brought her fingers to her mouth to whistle loudly, then made exaggerated arm motions for Snotlout and Fishlegs to approach the boat from the other side. Ruffnut managed to corral Barf and Belch to the side of the ship, ready to act, and Kingstail happily perched on the prow without instruction. Stormfly clucked irritably at him, then squeezed around the mast to take up a position near Astrid.

The other ship, now off to the starboard side, turned to match their heading and slowly pulled closer. As it neared, she inspected the design herself. It seemed to take a middle ground of all designs, except that it had very little ornamentation and was built with a very dark wood. That, plus its tattered and dirty sail that bore no markings, almost certainly pegged it as Outcast vessel.

But what would the Outcasts want with them? "Ruff, be ready to sink their boat if I give the signal."

"What's the signal?"

Astrid rolled her eyes and made a chopping motion.

"Alright then. Blow the boat up if you do that. Got it. If you don't do that, can I blow it up anyway?"

…Maybe it had been a good idea to clarify what the signal was. "No."

"Aww."

"If you two are quite done, yeh migh' wan' ter pay attention to who's on tha' boat. 'Caus if ah'm not mistaken, ain' tha' your friend?"

Peering across the distance, Astrid tried to make out who he was referring to. It was covered in junk, barrels, and old bits of wood, much of it draped in rags, so it took her a moment to pick out the lone figure aboard. Recognising her was much faster.

"HEATHER!?"

Author's Notes

Oof, this chapter did not want to come together, but got there in the end. That, combined with an exhausting two weeks of various family drama, hasn't left me with much of a buffer xP

The next chapter at least will be ready on time, in which you guys have a couple of reveals to look forward to...