Sound was distant. The village of Berk was clear even in the night and further lit by scattered torches. The village that had been a home for many years. The village that had betrayed innocent Nightstrikers.
Something bodily impacted Dreamer's side and nearly threw him out of the air. He lost some altitude in righting himself, spinning to react to-
Only Wanderer, watching down on him with those piercing eyes.
Dreamer whined confusion, grief, expressing himself in the dragon way that was so much better than stupid fiddly words. He didn't think he could put this to words, in either language.
Words were not needed. Wanderer swooped down past him, aiming for a flat on the mountain far above anything accessible to landbound creatures, and Dreamer followed numbly; whatever had been holding him back had lifted, and in his weariness it was becoming increasingly difficult to remain in the air.
They glided in over the edge of the flat, under the treeline, and down just inside the forest that covered it. Wanderer immediately took to pacing, growling angrily, then sat with a resolute huff and a flash of teeth.
Dreamer responded with a weary groan, weighed with sadness and betrayal.
Another growl, angry and prompting.
Standing to pace, Dreamer growled angrily as he stared vacantly at the ground.
Wanderer growled again, short and succinct.
The tether snapped, and Dreamer shrieked the tortured medley streaking through him, again restricted by the infuriating muzzle over his head. He very quickly became fed up with that too and threw himself to the ground to wrestle with it, desperately but futilely trying to pull it off. When that didn't work he threw himself at the closest tree, digging in his claws-
His blunted, useless claws!
Sheer rage took over and he lunged at a nearby sapling still recovering from the icy grip of winter, its branches splintering and snapping under the weight of his heavy strikes. Once every branch had been violently removed, he grappled it and got it between his teeth, tugged it until he ripped it from the ground, spun to sling it off into the dark forest, then screeched after it.
He stood there, breathing heavily, staring after the hapless tree he had brutally murdered. His blood still simmered under his scales, but it was receding and no longer threatened to consume him, to take over his mind and body.
He had barely glanced at Wanderer when his friend barked authoritatively and led him back to the edge of the flat, dropping into the air. "Fish-Legs can get this off?" he asked as they drifted along the coast.
"Maybe," Dreamer replied flatly, then kept a tight handle on himself as they angled towards the village. The only one he was sure could remove it was Gobber, he thought with a curling of his lip, but Fishlegs was a reasonably safe bet. Tuffnut might be able to pick the lock as a second option, though Dreamer didn't really want to deal with him right now.
He knew roughly where Fishlegs slept within his house, and swooped up at the back of the building to scrabble at the wall. There was a commotion inside even before he dropped away, and moments later a wide-eyed and jubilant Fishlegs met them at the door in a long, thick nightshirt.
"Oh thank Thor you guys are alright, I knew you'd make it!" he exclaimed, rushing forward, but the two Nightstrikers backed up with a growl. "Hey come on, you know I didn't have anything to do with…" He trailed off and then sighed, staring at the ground off to the side. "Alvin somehow got all the weapons in one spot and had Stormfly burn them, then kidnapped Stoick, backed up by an Outcast fleet. Apparently it's some old law that a Chief's ransom is… was… always to be paid."
Dreamer listened impassively. Excuses. They should have ignored the law in favour of their own judgement. Why were Vikings so… Viking!?
Fishlegs looked back to them, his eyes a little brighter. "But you're back now! Everyone's going to be… so… Wait, what…?" He peered at them through the darkness, probably having only just noticed the muzzles.
"Get light," Dreamer said flatly.
"Yeah, okay, come on in-"
He was cut off by two fierce snarls.
"Okay, okay!" Fishlegs said placatingly, backing up. "Lemme find a lantern then…" It took a few minutes, but then he was leaning in to inspect Dreamer's muzzle with a frown, turning the padlock over in his hand. "Okay, let's go get Go-" He cut himself off when Dreamer twitched his head to glare at him, upper lip rising to expose his teeth. "…Wow, I am stupid. Alright, I can have a swing at it…"
The Nightstrikers melded back into the darkness, easily avoiding the night watch on the way to the forge. While waiting for Fishlegs, Dreamer took the time to consider how they were getting these things off. He decided on two pairs of pliers with long handles, usually used for wrangling metal into shape when it was too twisted or awkward for the anvil.
It was a strange perspective, reaching for them. He remembered doing so occasionally as a human, but he had been nowhere near as tall as he was now when standing on his hindlegs, and yet his arms were now considerably shorter. He managed to retrieve them without bringing down the wall of tools, and set them on the counter.
Fishlegs arrived shortly after, now wearing a warm coat and boots, and set the lantern on the table to lift and inspect a pair of pliers.
Dreamer gestured to Wanderer to come over, pointed at the padlock, then laid one paw over the other and twisted them in opposite directions. Fishlegs watched the motion, looked at the padlock on Wanderer, then the pliers, and nodded in confirmation.
After a few failed attempts, and some long-suffering looks from Wanderer, the pliers finally bit into the padlock enough that Fishlegs could use the leverage of the long handles to break it, the iron plates warping and ruining the mechanisms inside until the bar popped free. The muzzle clattered to the ground a few moments later, and Wanderer followed it to roll around, purring and groaning in relief.
Having been directing Fishlegs, Dreamer took his place and waited tensely for his own freedom. The sound of the tools clicking against the muzzle was loud in his ears, as was the eventual snap of the lock. The moment between that and the lock being pulled from the loop was torture, but then it was like a cage over the world was pulled away.
He immediately stretched his jaw, working it to its full extent, and then was very suddenly overwhelmed with relief.
Free!
The Nightstrikers pounced each other and rolled across the ground, purring and crooning, nuzzling and licking. Dreamer had never felt so close to his friend than by rubbing their heads together, practically whimpering in relief and joy.
The moment couldn't last though. They were still tired and hungry, and the village…
It didn't feel safe, Dreamer knew it was safe, Stoick had been returned so there was once again no reason to attack or trap the Nightstrikers… but he had thought that before and been bitten for it. Twice, even, as he was reminded by a sudden and inexplicable tightness in his right flank.
And he was starving, and Wanderer would be even hungrier. Well, there was no reason to chance a hunt, and the village owed them big time. With a short bark of gratitude at Fishlegs, they flapped up into the night again.
Wanderer led to a storehouse a short distance behind the night patrol, one that would not be observed for a while, and stood vigil while Dreamer warily dragged out a crate of fresh fish. When that failed to sate either of them, he dragged out another and they made short work of that as well.
Honestly, he could have kept going through a third and probably a fourth crate, but Wanderer led back into the night, back to a place that made sense for them both. Not the cove, a different place that was indisputably theirs and theirs alone.
Their old den was even smaller than Dreamer remembered from last time, not even as wide as his wingspan or as tall as when he held his head up. But it was hidden, cozy, sheltered, private, but above all, safe.
Here, he could acknowledge the aching inside him, a desperate need to fill his senses with his family.
His only family…
Wanderer woke slowly, peacefully, before the sky-fire kindled and lit the sky. He was warm, so warm… and yet, not quite warm enough. He twisted a little for a better angle and pulled his Dreamer tightly to himself; legs, wings, neck, tail, all devoted to blissfully comforting and soothing contact.
It wasn't enough. He closed his eyes and keened quietly into Dreamer's neck, his heart aching more than he could ever remember. He was so very grateful for Dreamer, more than could be expressed, but it just wasn't a full family. Maybe he had been relying on the companionship of the nest more than he had thought…
The thought that Dreamer had made do with even less for his entire life was sobering. In just his time in the warm-nest under the claws of the queen, Wanderer had grown cold and numb, but he had at least known the love of a family. He couldn't comprehend never knowing that. It was no wonder they had spared each other all those seasons ago… Both so lonely, afraid of death but with ultimately nothing to live for…
Dreamer twitched, his breathing quickening. There had been nightmares from both of them; they had not slept properly on the floating-tree-thing, not deeply enough to descend into unwitting imagination, so it all came up now. Wanderer took a deep breath, recognising the pain he felt but also facing the reality that there was nothing to do but fly ahead and weather the storm. No sense lingering on something that could not be changed.
What must Dreamer be feeling? Wanderer's own perception of this nest had simply tilted into something like that of his previous nest, one of dominance and selfishness, one where he helped where he could but always assumed everyone would claw him apart if given the chance. Lessons he had learned quickly.
But this wasn't a new nest Dreamer was learning this in. Wanderer imagined that, instead of screeching for him to flee, Dam had beckoned him out to distract the attacking wing-hunters, or called out to him more directly to tell them he was hiding in the nearby shrubs. It made him sick to his stomach, and while he could not compare Dreamer's nest to his own, he had to assume he was feeling that heartbreak on top of everything else.
He knew what he had to do.
But before that, his tongue came out of its own accord to soothe his increasingly restless Dreamer where the nasty hard bindings had weighed on their heads, then shuddered in delight as claws flexed and raked down his neck and side; though they were blunt, it was still nice. He kept up the ministrations until Dreamer finally roused with a contented croon.
"You sleep?" Wanderer asked before any bad thoughts could take hold in that brilliant mind.
"Enough-"
"Good. We fly now." He rolled and reluctantly pulled himself from the embrace, then stretched and padded outside to flex his claws in the sand. He forced himself to focus on it, so that his own thinking did not glide off on its own – the coarse grains felt cool to his paws and stuck in a way that made it feel wet, though it was not, not this far from the calm water. His gaze drifted further out, to where the water met the sky, two realms that touched and yet did not.
Watching the sky begin to brighten as the sky-fire kindled, he thought on the other thing he wanted to do. He had worried he was just being vindictive, but now with a clearer mind he realised it was necessary. They had to learn.
…Dreamer wasn't following. Now he decided he would be a little vindictive, but that was okay because he had good reasons as well; it just meant he would enjoy doing it. He turned and stalked back into the cave, then forcibly nudged Dreamer to his paws. "We fly now," he repeated, allowing no arguments. The Nightstriker let out a half-hearted groan, but did as told and trudged outside.
His listless and despondent expression turned confused and curious as he followed Wanderer over to the Long-Paw nest, though they only circled above it. He met Dreamer's enquiring gaze levelly, then took in a deep breath and roared angry, danger, summons. Long-Paws exclaimed below as they rushed out of dens, surprise, cheer, relief, they shouted, but he paid them no mind.
It did not take long for the wing-hunters of the nest to arrive, buzzing and flapping and gliding over to wheel around them. As a show of seriousness, Wanderer pulled up and hovered in place, prompting the others to do the same in front of him.
"This nest has rot in bones!" he announced in a fierce snarl, locking eyes with the nest-kin in turn. "These Long-Paws hurt me, hurt my kin! Grounded us! Starved us! Bit off claws!" This was understandably met with surprise and unease – it was hard to believe that such apparently friendly nest-kin would do such bad things – but their eyes all narrowed on Dreamer, and his paws hanging in the air with a conspicuous absence of sharp protrusions.
He glanced over at Dreamer, who looked back at him with wide-eyes. There was surprise there, and a desperate need to correct him on details… but no disagreement.
"This not good nest!" Wanderer continued, then drifted a little closer to Storm-Fly to address her directly. "We want go to warm-nest, no Long-Paws. But… we still fledglings. Please, you shelter us?"
Storm-Fly's Long-Paw, Astrid, shouted up to them from below, demanding to know what was going on, and Storm-Fly looked down to her. Wanderer growled. "That Long-Paw trap us, ground us."
"No!" Storm-Fly barked, appalled. "She not do! She… good… No, there bad Long-Paw in nest. He do."
Wanderer snarled angrily. "She give us to bad Long-Paw."
Storm-Fly hesitated, then drifted closer to scent him. He and Dreamer had been too exhausted to clean before sleeping, so the scents would still be present, and Spine-Tails had among the best noses for scenting.
She screeched angrily, her tail lashing behind her. "Yes, we go," she agreed with another reluctant glance down.
"Long-Paws think like fledglings," Wanderer said, addressing all the nest-kin in the air with him again. "Come for sky-ice-cycle, teach them we nest-kin, teach them we not prey!" That highly offensive statement was met with a chorus of hisses and growls, some in discontentment… but none in disagreement.
A crowd of Long-Paws had gathered below, standing on and around the jagged rock-teeth leading down from the big food-den at the top of the small-land. He roared furiously at them, then adjusted his flapping to pull himself forward and catch the wind, soaring away from the nest. Towards his old nest, warmed by hot rock at the bottom and protected from Long-Paws by thick mist. A place he never thought he'd return to like this, but that he was now strangely excited about.
The two Rock-Scales audibly buzzed after him, and a cacophony of larger wings followed. He glanced back to find all the nest-kin flying with him, as he'd hoped, and Dreamer pulled up beside him.
"We not leave always," Wanderer assured him.
Dreamer wearily tossed his head. "I not want go back. Maybe… Maybe another light, I will want…"
A brush of wingtips and an understanding croon lifted his head a little. "Not think of them now. We go to warm-nest."
"…Yes. We go."
Stoick was grateful there were only ten people who laid claim to a dragon, and half of them were kids who knew their place better than to demand answers from the Chief; if the whole village was clamouring around him wanting to know when they were getting their dragons back, this would be much more of a nuisance.
That on top of the fact that their five Nadders, two Gronkles, one Monstrous Nightmare and one Zippleback had apparently just flown off without as much as a glance back.
"Enough!" he shouted over the din, easily silencing the five people demanding his attention.
"Bu' we're defenceless!" Spitelout, sporting a black eye, repeated for the umpteenth time, apparently thinking himself excluded from the demand for silence.
"I don't recall needing them to protect us before," Stoick shot back at him; strictly speaking it wasn't true, but that had been a unique situation.
"Tha' was also before we 'ad everyone's eyes on us."
"Then maybe," Stoick gritted out, trying not to blacken his other eye as well, "you shouldn't have given away my Night Furies!"
"We nae could'a known this'd 'appen! An' wha', we should'a let 'em kill ya an' ransack the village?"
"These are the consequences of your actions! Deal with it. And I want to hear your plans for patrols and a report on our defences by noon."
Spitelout stomped off, grumbling and gesturing dramatically, and the others quickly found somewhere else to be before Stoick could turn on them too.
"Sir!" Astrid called out as she jogged back up to him. "They've all gone the direction of Dragon Island, back to the nest. We'll have to take a boat-"
"No," he cut her off sternly. "We don't need them for defence, our enemies know that, but they were doing quite a bit around the village. I need your help getting everything back on track."
"But if we get them we won't need to-"
"And if they don't come back then we'll have wasted our time. Consider how they must feel, and give them their space." He thought back to how angry and hurt the roar had sounded, like that of the rare dragons he had relieved of a limb in the bad old days. "Did we ever get our water barrels back up to dragon raid standards?"
"Some, but not that much…" She shook her head. "But I can't see them-"
"Then that's your first job. After you remind me exactly what you did to my dragons."
The flight to the warm-nest was strange. Not the weather, it was a clear and sunny day for most of the trip, but rather whenever Dreamer glanced around he expected to see riders on the dragons surrounding him. There were no straps or harnesses, no saddles, and no noisy Viking teens singing and bantering to pass the time.
In fact, there was nothing man-made in this flight at all, nothing but living flesh and bone. It felt strangely isolating.
And yet, when he thought of humans, he felt only betrayal and despair. He wasn't sure whether isolating himself from them was right, but it was a relief, yet also a frightful step into an unfamiliar wilderness, and out of his hands regardless as Wanderer had taken the lead and would not be argued with, not that he wanted to argue…
When the big mountain came into view, it further confused things. The first time he'd laid eyes on it, Toothless had been… well, he assumed he'd been partially under control and obeyed a call to return. Hiccup and Astrid were the first humans to ever see it, and the monstrosity within, which was still a misshapen lump on the beach that he pointedly ignored. Who in their right mind would ever have guessed they'd come back to live there in a few years? It felt absurd.
And then he felt a strong sense of déjà vu, gliding straight into a massive crack in the side of the mountain and veering right, then left to emerge into the hollow interior.
He and Wanderer both sucked in a deep breath, though likely for very different reasons. It actually wasn't at all like he remembered it, there were tall pillars that sort of looked like sea stacks rising up from the depths, a warm glow emitting from a low haze. The haze he remembered, as it had obscured the queen dragon, but now it had mostly receded to reveal a large swathe of rock. What he'd assumed to be a giant lake of lava was in reality little more than a tiny trickle of it.
Even still, he could feel the heat radiating up, but good ventilation through the many cracks in the mountain kept the temperature comfortable.
And there were so many dragons. They flitted between and lounged on ledges that covered the pillars and walls, hovered and glided around the central chamber, and chattered quietly but that all together amounted to a deafening cacophony.
Stormfly cawed and beat her wings, rising up into the nest, and Dreamer and Wanderer followed. The other Berkian dragons followed, probably for lack of anything else to do judging by their expressions.
Dreamer was so far out of his depth his head was spinning, but he didn't care. He was far too busy gawking at everything. Adolescent dragons made up the majority of movement, so it seemed that regardless of what direction he looked he was always watching them chase each other around and fight over bits of wood or an old Nadder quill, or in the case of one group of Gronckles, a rock. Most of the adult dragons lay on their sides to watch or sleep, but some were fighting, and some of the fights looked much more bloody than playful.
A few curious dragons even took to the air to follow them up the hollow mountain as they presumably looked for a perch, which all looked rather full but were slowly becoming less crowded as they ascended. Clearly, the lower perches were more preferable because they were warmer and less draughty. At least the strong updrafts did most of the work for them.
They finally did alight on a ledge, near the top. It was already occupied, but the ledge was large and sported plenty of room, most of which was taken up by the several larger dragons in their party as they settled in to rest after the long flight.
Dreamer pawed at the rock. It was just so… different. It felt naturally warm, heated from within, and was much darker than the rock of Berk. And the sound… He was reminded of a lesson once, involving sand; a pinch of sand makes no sound when dropped, but a handful can be heard. The quietest noise of hundreds, maybe thousands, of dragons combined into a constant hum.
And there wasn't a single human within four days' sailing.
He lowered himself to the rock, allowing its warmth to soak into his chest and belly. This was all so very sudden, none of it felt real. He half expected to wake up in their den or back on Alvin's boat.
A curious nose nudged him behind the ear a moment before Wanderer settled in next to him, also looking around with wide eyes. "More nest-kin than before," he said.
"Less dying to Long-Paws now," Dreamer answered numbly, staring at a small Nightmare that was crawling its way up the wall.
Wanderer licked him up the face, chasing off some of the vacancy, then stretched out over the rock with a purr. "I missed warm rocks… But rocks below warmer…" He rolled into Dreamer and onto his back, purring even louder and pawing playfully. "We rest now, then fish. Then we can play…"
"Play?" Dreamer asked curiously, wondering what they would be doing, but his friend was already asleep. Huff. "Lazywings…" Though he had to admit, the way this warm ledge lended comfort to his tired and aching muscles was making him very drowsy…
The Spine-Tail clucked contentedly as she watched her Nightstrikers drowse; she recalled these warm ledges had that effect on tired fledglings.
And they were her Nightstrikers now, or might as well be. They had no sire or dam of their own, and while she would let them grow as they wished, they had asked her to shelter them. She would happily act as their dam for now, though that did not involve much with fledglings. For now, she gave them their space. They were more than capable of flying winds of their own, and would need that independence when they ventured into the world.
A short time later, a large Fire-Scale descended onto the ledge, eyes fixed on the fledglings where they slumbered. "Nightstrikers," he hissed quietly, almost lost to the din of the nest.
This must be the alpha, by the way so many other nest-kin were now looking in their direction with their heads held low. She stood and plodded over to him, ruffling her pristine wings and flexing her long talons. The other nest-kin that had followed her here also approached, performing their own displays of health and strength.
The alpha turned to briefly glance over them, then gave an acknowledging huff and turned back to the Nightstrikers.
The Spine-Tail was suddenly worried about the look they were receiving from this Fire-Scale, particularly when he tried to approach them. She quietly hopped over and settled down over them, gently scooping them close to herself with her wings. "They sleeping, not disturb them," she admonished him; he really should know better than that.
The alpha subtly flared his wings from where he leaned on them, turning his gaze on her. She bared her teeth and lifted her tail in response, and did not budge. The large male Spine-Tail who had followed here, the one who had recently sired her eggs, stepped over to stand with her, and the other nest-kin flared wings and bared teeth in warning as well, all watching the alpha warily.
He swung his head around, eyeing his opposition and finding nobody supporting him, then backed down, hissing in discontentment, and slithered off the ledge.
All nest-kin relaxed, and the Spine-Tail lifted her wings a little to check on the Nightstrikers. One twisted and stretched, placing a tiny paw on her chest, but both still slept soundly. She chittered comfortingly at them and closed her wings again.
The male Spine-Tail with her clucked proudly, then leaned in to preen her neck. She allowed it, given his support of her, and all things considered he was an impressive male. She had little doubt their fledglings would still be strong and healthy, and he had been a good mate, so was open to him courting her again.
Particularly if it meant more protection for her Nightstrikers. They might need it.
Dreamer woke with a squawk of confusion. The ground beneath him was warm and unfamiliar, and around and above him was naught but scale and leather, mostly Storm-Fly but a bit of Wanderer too. He was certain he hadn't gone to sleep like this.
…How had he gone to sleep? Everything was a bit blurry.
His rumbling stomach put the thoughts from his mind. He stretched and twisted upright, then insistently nosed at the wing over him until it relented and raised, allowing him to wriggle out-
Blunt claws scrabbled on the rock as he backpedalled, and reality crashed into him. He finished crawling out with a sigh and rubbed his face with the side of his paw, trying to pull himself back into the dream where everything was fine and dragons and Long-Paws lived in harmony. Attempting to scratch an itch on his shoulder reminded him how bleak the likelihood of that dream was. He had underestimated the value of his claws, and was sorely missing them…
A weight settled across his back, and he groaned and sank to the ground as teeth assaulted the itch. Sharp claws followed, raking over his neck and down his back, causing him to stretch and flex with a pathetic whimper.
And then, to both their surprise, Storm-Fly licked them from tail to head before chirping at them with an impatient ruffle of her wings.
Come to think of it, what time of day was it? Still daylight, which he could see through the top of the mountain, but other than that Dreamer had no idea, he'd been sleeping quite heavily. Most of the other Berkian dragons were now absent, only Hookfang and the Gronckles lounging around.
Wanderer chirped and stretched, walking his forepaws forward and flexing his wings, then pranced impatiently around Dreamer while he lethargically did the same.
The three of them took to the air and they followed Storm-Fly through a fissure in the mountainside that she somehow knew was there, and out into open air. Dreamer shivered, the cool spring air suddenly very cold by comparison; he was looking forward to returning to the warm nest already.
But he was also hungry, and he presumed they were going to get food, so he put some enthusiasm into his wingbeats as they soared through the mist bank. The Vikings called it Helheim's Gate, a treacherous maze of sea stacks and underwater hazards that were no problem for a dragon to navigate, but that would make for difficult fishing.
They emerged into the typical overcast day, around mid-afternoon judging by a brighter patch of clouds that couldn't quite hide the direct light of the sky-fire. They'd slept for quite a while, but they were exhausted; it would take a few days to replenish themselves, most likely. The sea below them was a little choppy, the occasional white cap on the waves, but his eyes saw clearly past the surface and to the shoals of fish that teemed beneath it.
Dreamer looked between the shoals, confused as to why they were passing them up and still flying. Were they not going to eat? But then Storm-Fly banked around one she had apparently picked arbitrarily, and dove into the water.
She dove into the edge of the shoal, and a surprised sound escaped Dreamer's mouth when a lance of light shot through it to create a foaming froth of bubbles and steam. He'd had no idea Spine-Tails could breathe fire underwater, and then when the water started to clear he saw a large number of fish inexplicably floating on the surface.
And then his hunger got the better of him, and he dove down and into the water. Which of course was far colder than the air.
Once he was over the initial shock, he propelled himself towards the feast and took a fish in his mouth.
…Now what?
He flinched as a black blur shot past him, creating a small splash and vanishing a fish. Oh, right, eating in the air made much more sense, he should have grabbed them in his-
…Well, he supposed he wasn't stupid for not thinking of something that wasn't actually an option.
Instead, he held his head above the surface and let the water drain out, then gulped down the fish. A bit wet and salty, but tolerable, and Wanderer joined him after a moment, probably also realising Dreamer's inability to grab them.
Between the three of them they made short work of the fish, and Dreamer watched Storm-Fly with some amusement as she awkwardly kicked and flapped her way back into the air, much more ungainly in the water than Nightstrikers. Rrr, this water was cold though, so he kicked down and then spun with a flourish to power himself out and into the air that felt even colder than before.
He grumbled discontentedly. All he'd ever known was cold, so why was it getting to him now? He shook himself, willing his scales to dry a little faster as they soared up on the wind and disappeared back into the fog.
They were all mostly dry from the short flight, but the near-stifling heat of the nest was sheer bliss.
As they alighted on their ledge, still sporting Hookfang and the Gronckles but now also the twins' Zippleback, Wanderer pulled Dreamer aside. "Stay where Storm-Fly can see us," he said quietly. "Something strange, she seem protective."
Now that he mentioned it, she did appear to be watching them quite closely. "That easy." He rolled onto his back and stretched out on the blissfully warm rock. "I just stay here always," he purred, only mostly joking; it really did feel like he could just lay there forever.
Wanderer grumbled, but then began scratching and clawing at Dreamer's chest and underside in a way Dreamer hadn't known he'd needed until that very moment, something he vaguely remembered doing occasionally when Wanderer had lost his claws.
This wasn't a bad start to this… whatever it was. A vacation? A "vacation"? Something to think on later. It was a good start regardless.
Clothes still smouldering, arms and head hanging limply, Dagur's legs dragged him across Berserk through the warm light of dusk. His ears rang, his eyes ached even aside from hazing through his obscured vision, and he was so very, very tired.
He silently made his way to the edge of the island, a cliff overlooking a very particular section of sea and marked with a rusty axe impaled deeply in the dirt. He dropped to the ground in front of the weapon and pulled his legs into a crossed position, watching the water glitter with the fading light.
"Hey," he said quietly. "It's… been a while, huh? These moments are getting further apart…" He sighed and closed his eyes, shaking his head at the ground. "It's getting harder. I still think I'm doing the right thing, but sometimes…" He waved a hand dismissively. "Vella does her best, and she's good, but she's not you."
Sensation erupted in his shoulder, and he reflexively slapped at it. It felt warm to his hand, which he brought forward to stare at the offending ashen flakes of his clothing. He couldn't even remember the last time he had actually felt pain; it wasn't pleasant. "I miss you," he said, his voice cracking. "I was hoping my sister… She can't be replaced." He nodded approvingly. "Got a wild streak to her too, that Berserker blood shining through. Wow, what I'm told she did… You would approve."
He let silence reign. He was more certain now than ever that he needed Heather, needed to find her again, but she'd disappeared. Nothing to do but wait for more leads. He doubted that by the time morning came, he would think to do anything more than hunt her down. Another reason Vella wasn't enough, she followed his whims far too often and never led with her own suggestions.
"Well, you should get back to feasting," he said reluctantly, beginning the slow process of pulling himself to his feet. "Who knows when I'll be back. If I'll be back. Probably when I join you, at this rate. Hopefully not too soon…" Gently resting his hand on the pommel of the axe, he took a slow breath, preparing himself to return to the village to sleep; to return to his usual self. Instead of speaking aimlessly to the axe and the air, he gazed down at the point the boat had sunk, carrying the one aboard it to Valhalla. "I'll try to make you proud until then."
He turned and began the slow trudge back to the village. "Goodbye, Mum."
Dominance! Wanderer roared from atop the stone mound after fighting off the latest wave of attackers. Not that it was much of a fair fight, Spine-Tails were the only nest-kin who even could fight on the ground like this and the hooked claw on the wrist of each wing was no substitute for forepaws that could push and slash.
He also had many season-cycles of experience, while these fledglings had not even seen their first hot-season yet. His advantages more than made up for their fire and numbers. They might have had an echo of a chance had Dreamer cared to fight with and direct them, but he was busy having fun with casually roughhousing the odd Spine-Tail that was bored of Wanderer beating them senseless.
Not that they fared any better against him, but only because he was just so fast. Wanderer had appreciated it up close, but he admittedly had to stare when the Spine-Tail got a bit aggravated and snarled a bit more angrily than Dreamer could deal with, and suddenly found himself with a black blur running around him faster than he could turn to keep track of.
Wanderer chuckled at the Spine-Tail's bewildered expression, then almost absently lashed his tail to the side to take another fledgling in the jaw and send them staggering down the short slope. The intake of breath – something not necessary, but that was an aide to learning – apprised him to another about to breathe fire, which he blocked with a wing; their fire was hot, but not nearly as hot as it would be after the next cold-season when they reached maturity.
He swung around to counter an attack from the blind spot that created, but there was nothing there. These fledglings were uncoordinated. Actually, they seemed to be giving up entirely, turning their attention to preening themselves. He smirked down at them, which they pretended not to notice but suddenly became very interested in some specific scale when they briefly met his gaze.
Something about them was bothering him… There was something he was missing, something he was forgetting… but what could he possibly know of a generation he'd never met before?
One chirped enquiringly at a group of others and gestured towards Dreamer, who was… Wrrr, Dreamer probably didn't realise what he was implying with the Nadder he had pinned to the ground to playfully chew, or why she was content to let him, but that didn't matter. Fledglings often became confused at this stage of life, but instincts would correct her thinking before that time came. Probably. There had been a pawful who hadn't seemed to scent those tracks…
But that had been another, more depressing life, and it wasn't that action specifically that had earned Dreamer the other fledglings' interest, it seemed. They rushed over and trilled as they surrounded him, then herded him towards Wanderer.
Wanderer grinned toothily as he prowled down the mound, to which Dreamer responded with a roll of his eyes and then a challenging growl.
It was a challenging play-fight, but it remained playful. Dreamer still more than doubled the bruises and scrapes that the Spine-Tails had managed, though Wanderer inflicted the same back. It ended with Wanderer bodily pouncing Dreamer and rolling them entirely over each other, which was disorienting enough to completely pin him.
And then the Spine-Tails noticed the mound had no alpha, and immediately rushed to claim the top spot and left the Nightstrikers laying on their own near the edge of the ledge.
Which was welcome, actually, as now seemed a good time to bring up something Wanderer had noticed a pawful of nights ago. "Good fight," he warbled as he settled in next to Dreamer.
"I need get stronger," Dreamer growled, then stretched a paw and then licked at the shoulder where Wanderer had tackled him.
"You still not can fight me?"
"It getting better…"
"I know how you fight Fast-Paw alpha, but not can fight me."
Dreamer's ears perked, but he otherwise became still and impassive. It was difficult to see what he thought about it; with some things he just shut down and did not respond, and this was one of those things. Wanderer had actually meant to bring it up before, but until now there had been something bigger going on. Now, after a few nights in the warm-nest, things should have settled enough to talk about it.
"Your nest-kin make bad instincts, that fighting is bad," he started, to which Dreamer gave a small nod. "That why you not can fight. But you fight Fast-Paw, kill Spine-Tail. What different?"
Dreamer keened quietly, then leaned into Wanderer. "I needed fight them…"
"You needed fight land-hunters when we taken," Wanderer reminded him, nosing gently at his neck where there had been many teeth-hurts. "You only can fight when I maybe get hurt."
That lifted Dreamer's head a little, but there was not the shocked revelation that Wanderer had experienced. "Yes. That sound right." Perhaps, in some way, Dreamer had known about it. Whatever the case, it was clear now. "Fighting still bad, but I not can lose you…"
Rrrr, that was more bad thinking that would need to be corrected, but they should focus on one thing at a time. Wanderer took a long breath, then nodded towards the Spine-Tails piling on top of the mound. "You think I would hurt fledglings?"
"No," Dreamer said with an affronted huff.
"If fledgling hurt wing, I would help?" At that, Dreamer gave him a long-suffering look. "If fledgling attack me, try kill us, I would kill it?"
Dreamer briefly thought about that one, then slid his claws across the rock. "I think you would stop them, ask why they attack."
"Yes. I not want kill nest-kin. Or not-nest-kin." He met Dreamer's gaze levelly. "When I say fight, kill, that mean we need fight, kill. Storm-Fly protect us here, but we maybe need fight again. If I say kill, you or me get hurt if you not."
He watched Dreamer as he tried to argue, his mouth moving without making sound, then give up to stare ahead. To speed up the process, he rubbed their necks together, a show of mutual trust; Dreamer did trust him, even if he did occasionally seem to forget and needed reminding.
Dreamer leaned into the gesture, and Wanderer could actually feel him reach a resolution, his shoulders relaxing and wings settling. "Yes. I should know already…"
Wanderer licked him, then swatted playfully. "Stupid," he chided.
They stayed there for some time, lazily swatting at and biting each other, until Storm-Fly called summons down the nest. Wanderer looked up, and was startled to see sheer darkness in the sky rather than the expected dim light of the end of the day, it must be well into the night already. Why had she let them play so long?
That nagging feeling returned, giving him an uneasy feeling as he looked around the nest for the other fledglings' minders. Some had been called off earlier, but there were still pawfuls of fledglings… was nobody watching them?
Some of the Spine-Tail fledglings were looking up, warbling in confusion and ignoring the game going on around them. Four went back to playing the game as Wanderer watched, but a fifth glanced between the others and up towards the sky.
Dreamer warbled enquiry as Wanderer tried to figure out what he was missing; something important, he was sure. "We go?"
"Something wrong," he replied, standing to step to the edge for a better look. There were definitely no Spine-Tails observing the playing fledglings other than Storm-Fly, peering over the ledge above them, who clucked impatiently and called out to them again.
"Danger?" Dreamer asked quietly, warily scanning around them.
Wanderer replied with a doubtful hum, then called back to Storm-Fly and tried to open his eyes and see what he was missing.
Finally, a Spine-Tail drifted onto the ledge and called summons, though she looked weary. Wanderer trilled a greeting and walked over to her, determined to get his teeth around this wrongness.
Impatient, summons, Storm-Fly called from above, flapping irritably, but what was far more interesting was this Spine-Tail's response, quills twitching and head flicking to look up. The fledglings were starting to gather, but one of the ones that had responded to Storm-Fly earlier hopped over and chittered uncertainly at this new one.
Wanderer hesitated as he watched their little exchange of reassurance, then stalked up and scented them.
His eyes widened. How could he have forgotten, not seen this? Not wondered where the nest-kin of Dreamer's nest were rearing their young? Ground this small body and mind!
These two Spine-Tails had been abandoned here by their dam.
Abandoned here by Storm-Fly.