Murky dreams mixed with a hazy reality, an unrelenting nightmare of discomfort and pain slowly escalating into a grim realisation that roused Dreamer from sleep.

Something was wrong.

He lurched to his paws, pulling away from Wanderer with a distressed groan. The arrow wound in his neck ached a little, having had two weeks to heal, but it was nothing compared to the pain in his chest, as if there was a claw lodged in his lungs. It felt like a squeezing of the tension that had gripped him over the last few months, which had not abated in the slightest, but he was terrified the arrow had hit something unexpected.

A wave of pressure rolled through him, starting from his diaphragm and crawling forwards into a dry heave. Oh no-! He stumbled for the entrance to the den, but the piercing pain in his chest peaked right as a second, much stronger pressure surged through his torso. He didn't make it, involuntarily leaning forward and heaving-

Liquid fire poured from his mouth in a torrent of heat, splashing over the stone and reaching up with blue flames wherever it touched. He scrabbled back with a shriek, flames still dripping from his mouth, only to be hit by another wave of intense nausea. Again, before he could so much as think, he was heaving up another torrent of burning flames, in a much more intense rush but with just as large a pool spreading across the floor. In his panic he had a fleeting fear of burning his den down.

He retched, forcing back a third wave, and squeaked frantically to Wanderer. His friend was awake and watching him in amusement in the flickering, eerily blue light, but offered no solution to the crisis. Instead, after a few moments, Wanderer casually stood up, stretched, walked over to the first pool of blue fire, and lay down in it, purring and rolling onto his back.

Dreamer stared dumbfounded at him while the shock slowly wore off. Right… They were dragons with fireproof scales, living in a hole in the rock. Nothing here was remotely flammable. His mouth might still be literally on fire, but that wasn't something to worry about… as strange as that was.

He shook the fire from his mouth as best he could, then cautiously turned back to the second burning patch, crouching low and edging forwards – realising at the last moment that trying to scent the flames was a great way to find out if his nostrils were fireproof. Wisely, he decided against testing that. They were in a mostly enclosed area anyway, so it was easy to pick up a faint scent of something unrecognisable having been burned, but it was dissipating much more quickly than the flames. The second round had felt a bit different, like a really satisfying belch. Speaking of, the pressure in his chest, what he had assumed to be tension, had eased dramatically and ached with relief. Now that he knew what it was, it was obvious. He focused on it, but couldn't find any real way to interact with it. He clearly had it, and he had a sort of sense as to how much was in it, but he couldn't figure out how to use it.

Wait, no, he didn't need to figure it out, he'd just done it, and set about trying to recreate what his body had done on its own. Stomach held in, open his throat, open-

A gout of flame briefly shot from his mouth, this one white with orange flares, and then something like a hatch closed heavily in his throat and cut it off. That was why he had never been able to find it on his own, it actually required quite a lot of effort to open.

Wanderer crooned triumphantly, then fired a tiny blast at the floor to explode harmlessly against the rock, and the flames around them leapt and danced.

"This… normal?" Dreamer asked hesitantly.

"This what I do first time," Wanderer said with a shrug.

Dreamer firmly slapped him on the flank with his tail. "You could told me!"

"I not was told," he purred, rubbing his neck into the dying flames. "Also you worry if I told. Sleep now. Learn fire…" He yawned widely. "…in pawful of lights…"

Not tomorrow? Hrrr, he probably needed to replenish it… This was going to be an odd thing to learn.

The warm patch of ground beckoned, and he rolled onto it – oh Thor that's comfortable… He stretched out, trying to maximise contact with the divine heat with mad purrs. It quickly offset the adrenaline and excitement – it was the middle of the night, after all – and he soon drifted off, thoughts on the warm fire that was apparently burning in his chest.

A Night Fury never stole food, never showed itself, and never missed.

Well, in a sense, Dreamer had stolen food, shown himself, and was now proving that he could, in fact, miss. Actually, he would be happy to be missing the big rock he was trying to shoot. That would imply he was actually shooting at all.

"It like biting," Wanderer explained again, then made a motion as if biting a bug out of the air with a click of his teeth.

"I trying," Dreamer growled, trying to work the apparently magic muscles at the back of his throat to shape the fire as Wanderer was describing. It was apparently made of two parts, but apparently three, but they weren't going into that yet, and Dreamer was only working on the actual firing mechanism to give him the range of a Nightstriker. It involved creating a sort of shell out of the liquid fire in two halves, then pressing them together and expelling them from his mouth. The problem he was having was that it was liquid, and trying to create any sort of shape out of a liquid was going about as well as could be expected.

The whole process was terribly complex, but he reasoned that, like with flying, once he figured it out and got used to it he would barely think about what he was doing. Arguably, flying was even more complex due to the sheer number of muscles involved across six surfaces, to say nothing of how his head and body affected it. But to complicate things, he was only afforded a pawful of shots per day. In practising and using it, his fire was starting to replenish more quickly, but it wasn't as if he could just train for hours at a time like a Viking would in throwing an axe. The cumulative effect was that three weeks in, and reaching the end of summer, he still couldn't even fire reliably. He growled in frustration, squashing his last shot in his throat-

And nearly fell over backwards as it suddenly launched itself from his mouth, the unexpected recoil jerking his head back. Maybe he shouldn't be sitting down for this.

A glob of what looked like glowing blue slime hit the boulder, stuck to it for a heartbeat, then disappeared in a pop of blue light, leaving a glowing patch of rock. Dreamer stared at it. Then Wanderer chuckled, and that set him laughing as well.

"That… interesting," Wanderer crooned in amusement. "Not normal." He fired at the rock himself, the blast immediately detonating to leave a second glowing patch. "But that good! I think you maybe need to press harder." He gnashed his teeth a few times, and again more forcefully with a loud click.

"None left," Dreamer chuffed, working his mouth and stretching.

Wanderer chuffed and stretched himself, arching his back and kneading the ground. "Try more next light. We fly?" He stared eagerly at Dreamer, shaking and flexing his wings and tail.

"You always want fly," Dreamer teased, shaking the lethargy from his own wings.

"You also!"

Dreamer chuffed agreement and followed him into the air, working his wings for speed and aiming for the distant horizon, towards a blank spot in the map in his head near the edge of the known Archipelago.

Nearly a week's sailing by boat, cut down with a wail of the air to a mid-morning flight. Dreamer didn't even notice the time passing, just revelled in his snout piercing the wind, his wings cutting through the clouds, diving to dip his legs into the waves, and flying loops around his best-friend, all while screeching forwards faster than anything else could even hope to travel. He wasn't even disappointed when all they found was more water as far as even a Nightstriker's eye could see, and let out an elated roar with a little flip that spun him several times before he threw out his wings and levelled out.

Past this point was truly unknown, other than a few scant facts. There were more islands somewhere out there, some with people on them, but there had been no contact with them in living memory. Everyone was happy with sailing south to raid the rich lands there, there was no reason to branch out. Dreamer saw differently. By killing the Green Death, he and Wanderer had unleashed a horde of dragons on the world, and it was their responsibility to ensure that wasn't causing problems.

That mission beckoned, his wings still strong and hungry… but not this light. Not until he could properly use his fire. He turned and began the flight back, dropping to a slow glide to match Wanderer. "You want stay here?" he asked, picking up on his friend's reticence.

"No," came a firm reply. "Soon," he elaborated a short time later, "when both can use fire. Before cold-season."

Hrrr, that would be nice. Spending the winter somewhere that didn't completely bog them down in one place sounded amazing. He particularly didn't want to spend another one at the egg-island, not after last time; he couldn't deny the reality of the situation, but he didn't want to face it.

They flew much more lazily and slowly on the way back, taking the scenic route over the various islands, though they didn't land. Dreamer did, however, slow to inspect a small fleet of ships that were sailing away from… Berserk, by his best guess.

He furrowed his brow in thought as he looked down on them, trying to place the design. They were huge, but looked more designed for transport with proportionally wide hulls and high decks, like Johann's ship; a wider hull meant it would be a bit slower in the water, but could carry significantly more cargo in both volume and weight. He couldn't see much detail on the crest from this height and angle, other than that he didn't recognise it.

But what would they be doing at Berserk? Five such ships were excessive for trading with a dysfunctional tribe, and they were sailing away from anyone else, towards open sea.

Dreamer hummed warily and angled towards the island, Wanderer quickly gliding up beside him and crooning worry, caution. "Need see," Dreamer growled.

What they found was nothing like he had been expecting.

There was no fighting, and appeared to have been none for some time. There were still ships, in much better condition, but far fewer than before. Several thin figures were out tending to some of the fields and livestock, but many fields and pastures were bare and empty, while mere weeks ago they had been hotly contested.

He drifted down, well out of longbow range, to glide around the island. Easily half of the several villages around the coast seemed completely deserted, doors hanging open with nobody in sight. Had they killed each other off in some huge battle? That wouldn't be entirely surprising, but it didn't explain the boats.

"I not like this," Wanderer growled.

Dreamer gave a low hum of assent. "We tell my sire." There was nothing to be done about it, but knowledge was always a useful thing.

If Dreamer had ever wondered why they had such thick necks, he had his answer.

He worked his head from side to side, stretching the muscles and trying to loosen up, then eyed the boulder several leaps' distance across the field while Wanderer quietly crooned encouragement.

In swift motions, he let some of his air fire into his throat and clamped down around it with a shell of plasma, bracing for the stiff recoil as he let it launch itself from his mouth. The blue bolt streaked over the grass and struck the edge of the boulder, detonating in a loud and instantaneous explosion that momentarily flattened the grass around it.

Wanderer crooned excitedly and bounced around him, leaping high into the air.

"What next thing I learn?" Dreamer asked, ecstatically bouncing around to follow him; he would keep refining his technique, but he found it helped to be focusing on something else.

His friend pranced to a halt to look at him, then looked down at the boulder. "Aim," he said flatly.

Dreamer swatted at him. "I know that," he growled playfully.

"Stupid," Wanderer laughed, fending him off. "See." He opened his mouth and the now-familiar blue light glowed from it… but he didn't fire, just held it in his mouth with a piercing whine that quickly rose and levelled off, sounding very much like-

Dreamer's eyes flickered and twitched as his surroundings unexpectedly twisted into focus, revealing everything in every direction. The boulder in front of them was clear and crisp, as were several more around them, though the ground itself was smudgy. He shook his head as the sound died off, blinking rapidly. It wasn't something he was unfamiliar with, he just hadn't been expecting it. "I not know we do that with fire too," he warbled.

"Fire very good," Wanderer chuffed. "Now you can shoot, need say this. Always keep one shot. When think how much fire you have, think one less shot."

"Why?" Dreamer asked curiously, sitting back on his haunches.

"For when need. Maybe use fire for warm rock, then hunting, then make dry after swim. Then maybe hunters attack you, kill many with fire but no fire left. Fight hunters off, but now no fire. Not can use if need." He chuffed. "If use one less against hunters, maybe save your life. Maybe save my life. Keep one for most need."

Dreamer hummed thoughtfully, seeing the logic behind it. There was also that if anyone were to observe them for a long time, for whatever reason and by whatever means, they would never know they kept that one last shot in reserve.

"Yes, that good thinking," he said agreeably. "But not tell Long-Paws." It wasn't that he didn't trust them, just that information they had told them before had fallen into the wrong hands already; which had actually worked in their favour, but only because it was incorrect.

Wanderer huffed. "Why I tell that?" He put on a horrendously forced and goofy grin. "Hey Fish-Legs, we keep one shot for save our life. Bwah bwah bwah."

Dreamer snorted, then laughed loudly. "Bwah bwah, what that?"

"That how Long-Paws sound. Bwah bwah bwah. Long-Paw words stupid."

"You stupid!" Dreamer laughed, pouncing and wrestling his friend in the grass.

"Yes, I stupid Long-Paw!" Wanderer crowed, kicking Dreamer off and then pouncing him back. They rolled over each other several times, trying to pin, though it quickly devolved into just lazily swatting at each other.

Until Wanderer got bored of that too and just dropped onto Dreamer, squeezing the air from him. At least he then licked up his neck, which was pleasant.

Wanderer suddenly barked, leaping from Dreamer. "We do thing!" he shouted happily, wings twitching with excitement.

"Thing?" Dreamer huffed, rolling to his paws.

"Yes! We not scared fledglings now!" He leaped into the air, flapping wildly for height and speed before the wind caught him. Dreamer tilted his head with a confused murr, then leaped into the sky himself.

Though when Wanderer dropped into a dive near the cove, he hastily dove to follow.

The warm sun off to the west cast an amazing orange glow over Berk, highlighting the bustle with long shadows as people started heading into the Great Hall.

Fishlegs sat at the top of the steps, meditating, while Meatlug meditated next to him. Her snores were just evidence of her immense calm and relaxation.

Which was something Fishlegs needed himself right now, with the news he bore.

As expected, the Furies drifted down to the village at around sundown, veering wildly in the air and generally showing off as they were prone to doing. He watched as one of them dropped like a stone, pulling up at the last possible moment to skim a roof and careen wildly up the main path, so casually in control and precise that he appeared to have no control at all. Plenty of people ducking and exclaiming grumpily, but not as much as a single apple knocked from a cart.

The other Fury swooped down to Fishlegs, passing him in a rush of air into a running landing-

And ran headlong into the pillar next to the door, crumpling into it, and then staggered away. The first Fury careened up the steps and tripped over the top one, crashing into the other Fury and landing in a dark heap of wings and tails.

"…Oh Thor," Fishlegs groaned, "you guys have been at the dragon nip, haven't you?"

After slowly extracting themselves, Hiccup – he could tell them apart by size now that they were next to each other – held up a paw, pincering his claws to a small distance, close to his face. He slowly keeled over as he did so, and had to throw down his paw to catch himself at the last moment.

Toothy looked at Fishlegs, then at Hiccup. "Bwah bwah bwah," he said with exaggerated movements of his mouth.

Both Furies literally fell over with gasping, heaving laughter, the deep pitch sounding like the bellows from the forge had come to life.

"Oh for…" Fishlegs uncrossed his legs with a sigh and stood up to walk over. "Come on guys, you'll have to teach me that word later-"

Or not, as now they were laughing so hard they seemed to be physically struggling to breathe, pawing at the air and ground while their wings and tails limply flopped around.

He sighed, then grinned apologetically at a stern woman who had just finished the climb to the hall to find most of the way blocked by two dopey Night Furies. "Guys! Come on, you're blocking the door…"

Once upon a time he might have tried to move them, but they were now much larger than himself. He settled with pushing at Hiccup's side with his foot until the dragon relented and rolled out of the way, allowing the woman to pass, and calming a little as he did. And then he suddenly found his hindpaw to be a fascinating thing, flexing and clenching it in amazement… before he stuck it in his mouth and chewed it.

"Guys, this is serious," Fishlegs pleaded, and something about his tone must have got their attention as their ears perked and their eyes lost some of their vacancy. "Remember what you said about Berserk?" Hiccup straightened and nodded, looking much more lucid. "Well, we've been asking around. That's not the first time they've made that trip, they were seen about three weeks before on roughly the same course. And the rider staying with the Lava Louts said they even stopped there briefly, before he got there."

He took a deep breath. "They're dragon hunters."

Toothy growled angrily. Hiccup just stared in disbelief, then looked away with a sort of disappointed anger.

"There's not really anything we can do about it, they're not even operating in the Archipelago. I just didn't want you to find out half the story by overhearing someone."

"We can do thing," Hiccup growled. "We can find them and-"

He fired a small blast at the ground with a loud crack.

"Woah when did you learn to do that," Fishlegs blurted out, jumping back. "And should you really be shooting fire when you're, well, drunk?"

"I not that," he said with a roll of his eyes, walking for the door. "Sweet-grass not like rot-water." He subsequently walked head-first into the pillar, which he angrily growled at before stalking inside.

"Yeah, sure it's not!" Fishlegs called in after him.

"Let me get this straight. You want to fly out there, on your own, to fight people whose literal occupation is killing and trapping dragons?"

Dreamer hummed thoughtfully. "Prefer not fight. Want show them dragons not bad. But probably will need fight, yes." He wasn't naïve enough to expect this would end entirely peacefully.

"Pretty much," Fishlegs responded on his behalf, taking liberties with the translation.

"But it's safer here! I know we haven't…" Stoick sighed heavily, rubbing his head, and then stared down into the village. "We had problems, yes, but we're past that. Now, with Thornado…" He stroked the head of his dragon, lounging in the lean-to off the Chief's house. Dreamer had tried getting along with the Thunderdrum, but it turned out he was quite deaf and seemed to find the Nightstrikers annoying. Oh well, he didn't need to be friends with every dragon on the island.

"Our village is used to you now," Stoick continued. "The other tribes don't have the resources to attack. We are the strongest tribe in the Archipelago. This is the safest place for you."

Dreamer pawed at the scraggy grass, peering sideways down at the village from where they stood next to the Chief's hut. He knew every roof, every alley, every cliff and every ramp that went up them. He knew which people carried snacks on them, and which of those would share, he knew which people he could trust and which of those would give him belly rubs if given the chance. He had hunted every forest and flat on the island that contained prey, and explored all the others. On the other paw, there was a gaping hole in his mind, an all but blank map that just begged to be charted.

While he brooded, a rush of wings announced Stormfly arriving with Astrid. "Hey Chief, Toothy, Hiccup. Wow, what was in your socks today?"

"We too big for this nest," Wanderer told her, and Dreamer bobbed emphatically; that was a very apt way of putting it. "Want go stop bad Long-Paw-hunters, now we have fire." He punctuated that with a growl, then turned to Stoick. "We tell you, not ask. Want thank you. You do us good."

Both Nightstrikers reared to hug and nuzzle the big man while Fishlegs filled Astrid in. While they did have their problems with Berk, Stoick alone had remained firmly on their side from the start and to the end, and while it broke Dreamer's heart to leave, he did need to go; he was going to go crazy otherwise.

"We not asking," Wanderer repeated to Fishlegs and Astrid, "not fledglings now. We need find place for us. Want help other wing-hunters also."

"But… That's a great idea!"

The Nightstrikers stared slack-jawed at Astrid as she leaped down from Stormfly. "Chief, Gobber talks all the time about when you two were our age, all the stuff you did! And everyone still treats us like kids! We need to go out there, and make our mark." She hesitated, then looked abashedly at the Nightstrikers. "I mean, if you want to come with us."

Dreamer and Wanderer shared a look, communicating in expressions alone. A bit of annoyance, but rationality as it would be safer to have help; human help could be particularly useful, in some circumstances. They could always set off on their own if it came to that.

"You can follow us, if want," Wanderer said sternly, and Dreamer crooned his assent.

Stoick sighed and shook his head. "I would feel better knowing you had people with you, even if they're-" He cut himself off with a glance at Astrid, who just folded her arms and glared at him. "Aye, I get your point, lass. You're right. Go, get some notches on your belt."

Astrid smiled widely and nodded at him, her whole body shouting elation. "When will you be leaving?" she asked Wanderer.

"Now," Wanderer huffed.

"Ah-! Now?" She glanced at Fishlegs, who nodded at her. "But… We're not ready! It'll be two or three days at the earliest… We need to have supplies put together, for food, building, repairs, are we staying for winter? Okay we need to get some cold weather gear made for flying. Oh but we need to travel light… Ah and some way to carry it all…"

"You need too many things," Wanderer groaned. "Maybe we should fly now," he said to Dreamer. "If they can find us, they can come."

"And of course, we need to prepare a feast to see you all off," Stoick added heartily.

"We can wait," Wanderer decided, and Dreamer hid a snigger behind pawing at his nose.

Unable to stop his hanging jaw from drooling onto the floor, Dreamer stared at the largest plate of ribs he'd ever seen. There had to be a whole sheep's worth there at least.

But then a stocky young boy carried out an even bigger plate of what looked to be a whole yak's ribs and set it in front of Wanderer.

Dreamer stared back at his own plate. It was big enough, and the smell was just divine. He almost didn't want to start eating, it was so beautiful. Almost.

The bones were a little too solid to just bite through, but he appreciated that it made him slow down to pick the meat off them, providing just that much more of an experience. He had to focus on it, so he couldn't just wolf it down without enjoying it. He happened to glance up, seeing the boy who had brought them staring longingly at the plate. He couldn't be blamed for that, really, they were delicious. Dreamer purred at him, nudging a pair of averagely meaty ribs to the edge of the plate; it felt weird to be using his paw like that, but if he used his snout he'd just drool all over everything.

This was all a little different to what Dreamer was used to. He and Wanderer were sat at the back of the Great Hall, and people were just bringing them food, mostly the teens arrayed around them. Some of them had even proven to know some Dragonese, which had resulted in some hilariously bad attempts at conversation. At least he'd been able to ask for water, though five large bowls between the two of them was excessive.

The ribs disappeared depressingly quickly, and Dreamer briefly wished he'd not given those two away… But just as he finished up, another teen brought over a large tray, shoving her way between two of her peers, and proudly set a big tray down between them that was laden with what looked like sausages. Dreamer eyed them sceptically. Sausages were made by mincing anything and everything and stuffing it into an intestine, and could contain a lot of bread and vegetables. The last time he'd eaten one, he'd not felt so good afterward.

"We made these just for you," the girl chirped ecstatically, beaming at them with a faint undercurrent of worry, tension. "I helped! We didn't know what was safe to give you, so they're all meat."

Wanderer gave a wary, thoughtful hum, then cut one open with a claw to scent it, and Dreamer put his nose to it as well. Bread wasn't a particularly strong scent, but he couldn't smell any, and it certainly looked dense… Was that kidney and liver he could smell? And other bits of offal as well? A hint of marrow? By the look of her she was an Ingerman, and her family wasn't prone to doing stupid thing. Not unintentionally, at least; sometimes they did stupid things just to see what would happen.

Wrff, this was a night to enjoy. So what if he regretted it later? He bit into one-

His eyes glazed over as his teeth snipped through the crisp meat inside. "Taste bad," he said to Wanderer, who was watching him, and tried to paw the tray closer to himself. But his friend narrowed his eyes with a suspicious growl and quickly snatched one. Eels, now he had to share.

They raced to ensure they got their half, which dulled Dreamer's enjoyment a bit, and they actually fought a little over the last few. The meat was heavy in his belly, but it felt amazing to have had a variety of meat, not just the muscle and fat. The girl who had brought them was still beaming at them, but the uncertainty had been replaced with even more exuberance and pride. Dreamer purred at her and held his head forward, which she excitedly put her hand to-

He narrowed his eyes on the hand pressed to his snout, his good mood sinking. The hand was quickly withdrawn, the girl watching him with the face of someone desperately trying to work out what they'd done wrong, thinking of ways to appease him. The other teens were glaring at her, or pouting, or muttering thoughtfully to themselves.

Dreamer took a deep breath, then purred at all of them; though it was a little forced, he doubted they'd notice. He then stood and walked around them, making his way towards the doors.

Even as he moved through the crowd, he couldn't help but see how parents pushed their kids towards him, how some of them offered food as he passed, though he declined with a polite tip of his head. Finally, he emerged into the cool night, and savoured the crisp wind before lethargically hopping into the air and winging into the sky. Only as far as near the top of Berk's crooked spire, which he landed on carefully lest he break it. He shouldn't, as where he was perched was about as thick as a cart, but he wasn't a small dragon anymore.

No, he was much bigger now… big enough to be, for argument's sake, carrying a rider, and many had noticed it. Why hadn't he noticed? The greed and longing was obvious, looking back, though to be fair to them it wasn't with entirely selfish motives like Alvin. They weren't trying to belittle him or make him a pet, not intentionally. They just wanted a Night Fury like their hero.

Not realising, of course, that said Night Fury was their hero. This is all so messed up… And this wasn't a recent thing. Thinking back, it had effectively started when they'd returned from their stay at the warm-nest, when Tuffnut started encouraging people to-

No, this wasn't his fault, he wouldn't do that. Some of them probably just got it into their heads to take it further. Now, with their imminent departure, everyone was pulling out the stops in the hope of… what? It wasn't like they were going to suddenly say, wow, those were some nice sausages, guess I'll stay after all just to be your friend!

He growled at himself; that was just being pessimistic. Those sausages were cured, which took longer than a few days, they wouldn't have got to try them at all otherwise. Also, in all likelihood, they would return to Berk at some point, or at least keep in contact. There was always the future to think of.

What a strange question… Did he want a rider?

No, was the easy answer to that, Wanderer was all the companionship he needed of that kind. Hrrr, but then he didn't not want a human friend who put him above everything else in the world… he just doubted he was going to find such a person on Berk, or any of the Viking tribes. Not unless there was another Hiccup out there somewhere. Certainly not in someone trying to buy his affection with food. Wrrr, maybe he could, but not because of that.

How could he even be certain? He was a Night Fury, there would always be people who coveted him for status and power. There just weren't any opportunities for anyone to prove themselves. Then again, maybe there had been… How many times had they been in danger on Berk as fledglings? There could have been ways for someone to help selflessly…

Sudden wingbeats sounded below, and then Wanderer climbed up next to him. "You good?" he asked with a nuzzle.

"Yes," Dreamer replied truthfully; he wasn't actually in a bad mood, just less of a good mood. "I thinking."

"You dreaming," his friend teased, nipping his ear. "What you dream this night?"

"Long-Paw fledglings want be our friends," he replied mildly, picking at a loose rock and then listening to it tumble down towards the distant ground.

"Hrrr, they already friends," Wanderer purred.

Dreamer huffed. "They want be friends like you-me-you friends."

"Before you Nightstriker?" he asked, and Dreamer chuffed. "I not think they are like you," he warbled thoughtfully, "not would fight nest for us, not leave with us."

"I think that also. But they still try, give us much food."

"…That is bad?"

"I guess not," Dreamer laughed. "Come, we go back to much-food-thing." It didn't matter, tomorrow they would be flying for the horizon.

A general raucous surrounded them as the riders prepared to take off, fitting packs to their dragons behind the saddles and cramming in last-minute additions. Dreamer had offered to carry some supplies, as he needed none himself, but everyone had insisted on carrying their own things.

So he lounged on the rough grass, watching as Fishlegs' family went through an amusing cycle of handing him books, arguing about the weight limit of a Gronckle over long-distance flying, and then someone would take the books off him while someone else handed him more. Fishlegs himself seemed a bit dazed by the whole thing. Perhaps that was the prospect of flying off, with only a few days' notice, to some unknown land to fight dragon hunters. At least it wasn't a week's sailing to get home, as it had been in the past.

It was amusing how varied the different families were. Astrid's farewell was curt and short, but to a Nightstriker it was very obvious how much unspoken trust and respect was communicated. The younger members of her family, those who had joined them to say goodbye, stared up at her reverently.

The twins looked like they'd just been kicked out of bed and then turfed out of the house. While Dreamer watched, one of the other Thorstons walked up, threw a duffel bag at them, and walked off again without ceremony. They didn't seem to mind this.

And Snotlout was pouting sullenly at the ground, his father the only one with him and speaking in a low, firm growl. Dreamer almost felt sorry for him, but not quite.

Wanderer suddenly glided down and trotted to a halt by Dreamer. "You… can help with thing?" he asked, his tone abashed, nervous. "Had thought, want do before leave."

"Yes, I help," Dreamer agreed with a curious warble. "We return soon," he said to the riders, and Tuffnut waved a lazy acknowledgement from where he slouched on Belch's neck.

They hopped into the air and coasted around the main island, Dreamer wondering what the other Nightstriker could want help with. Even flying lazily it was the work of moments to traverse the island, crossing the channel through it and descending to a sheltered outcrop of rock he didn't recognise. What were they…

His curious hum trailed off as he looked inside something alike a cave they'd landed several body-lengths from, formed by some rocks that had happened to stack against each other in a steep valley. Small trickles of water ran around it, and one even through it. There were two figures inside. One was a misshapen mess of fur, unrecognisable in the relative gloom of the cave, but the other…

The other was a Nightstriker. Dreamer could only see a vague outline, the deep shade difficult to pierce with the bright sky-fire illuminating everything else, but it was unmistakable. It was partially curled up, as if sleeping peacefully.

He suddenly became aware of Wanderer leaning around him, watching his reaction. Dreamer blinked himself out of his daze and gave him a sombre, understanding croon, then shuffled his wings to encourage the reverent chills out of his back. This place felt… hallowed, the faint trickle of water a comfort to his ears among the tranquil background of rustling leaves.

It was clear what had to happen. There were already scorch marks around the ceiling of the makeshift cave, but Wanderer had explained they were still building their fire's strength and capacity. They were still only afforded up to three shots at any one time.

Three small shots, or one big one.

He took a deep breath, only partially exhaled, then tensed his chest and began shaping his fire. A shot like this needed building carefully, and while he didn't know if it could explode in his mouth he really didn't want to find out.

The plasma screeched as he shaped it, as if protesting his treatment of it, and somewhat clearer outlines of the cave met his ears. He remembered little of it, from when he had hatched, but he was fond of what he did remember.

He, as Wanderer likely did also, wanted it to remain that way. On the off-chance someone discovered this, there would be questions, and maybe even answers. It deserved to be remembered as he saw it now, without closing the distance and breaking the illusion.

Gripping the rock with his claws and sturdily bracing himself, he released most of his available air-fire into his mouth and clamped the shell around it, and his mouth snapped open of its own accord. His claws scraped the rock as two shots lanced into the darkness, his shot striking the back of the cave while Wanderer's struck the roof near the entrance.

The rocks supporting it leapt, as if startled from sleep, and then Dreamer was forced to shield himself with a wing against the intense heat and debris that assaulted him. When he looked again, there was only a mound of damp dirt and rocks, unremarkable other than the clearly recent disturbance that would fade with time.

Wanderer warbled gratefully, and gave him a brief nuzzle before hopping into the air and flapping into the sky. Dreamer followed, inexplicably humbled by the experience.

They landed back with the riders, who seemed to be going over a last check while they waited, ensuring the saddles were in good condition and properly fitted. It seemed they would be ready imminently.

"Toothy, Hiccup…"

Both Nightstrikers turned to the Chief, tilting their heads with a purr.

"…Good luck out there," Stoick said solemnly, "and… be careful."

They gave him a short nod, then Wanderer barked and strode to the nearby cliff overlooking the sea. He spared a brief look back before flapping into the air, and Dreamer followed along with four other dragons carrying five riders.

He had been out into the world many times before, had flown farther in a day than many Hooligans had been in their lives, and this didn't really feel any different. But he could no longer see what was in front of him, what was to come. He would not be returning at the end of the day, or playing with his sire after a meal, or flapping up into their cozy little den in the cliff.

The future was now vast and unknowable, so full of possibility. He had no idea where he would be when the sky-fire quenched in the sea. Far from being frightening, it filled him with a giddy excitement that let itself be known in his voice, which roared loudly, and his wings, which carried him high into the sky.

As he looped over his back and let gravity claim him, he idly angled for the others… noticing that Wanderer had already needed to slow down to let the riders catch up. Dreamer flared his wings and dropped smoothly into formation, matching their pace, and groaned. It was only half their usual pace, if even that; this was going to take forever to get anywhere.

Regardless, he took a deep breath of fresh sea air and relished it. This was one journey he didn't mind so much taking his time on.

Rest…

Dreamer yawned widely, trying to focus on where they were going. Not that they really had anywhere in mind, other than 'east', but it wasn't as if he could just fall asleep in the air and keep flying.

Weary…

Fix in his mind what they were looking for. An island, one with running water and therefore probably a snow-capped mountain, some forests with wild game to hunt on occasion, and somewhere with a high cave to roost in.

Land…

They'd nearly found what they were looking for yesterday, but it was covered in extremely aggressive wild boars. That initially didn't seem much of an issue – dragons and riders had all eaten very well that night – but unless they wanted to hunt the forest clean of the beasts, nobody would ever be finding rest. While the Nightstrikers had been quite comfortable sleeping in the trees out of the beasts' reach, the others had been less so, and the constant squeals and grunting had been difficult enough to sleep through.

Safety…

But this island they were coming up to looked better. Wanderer seemed to think so too, as he was already angled for it. Perhaps a little small, but covered in tall rocky pillars that seemed quite inviting, woven through with light vegetation.

Here…

"Uhh, Hiccup?" Fishlegs asked uncertainly. "Where are we going?"

Dreamer snorted at him with a roll of his eyes. They were going here, obviously.

They descended into a small clearing, scents of various dragons assaulting Dreamer's nose. There were common dragons, but also several he didn't recognise… New species of dragon! Fish-Legs would be ecstatic.

"This place gives me the creeps," Snotlout whined petulantly. "Is it just me?"

"Fly back if you not like," Wanderer huffed at him.

"No, I know what you mean," Astrid agreed with a chill in her voice. "Toothy, Hiccup, mind filling us in? What are we doing here?"

"Come, see," Dreamer suggested, walking through a path between tall rocks, and the riders all gave quiet huffs of surprise as their dragons followed.

The passage opened out into a large pit, just as expected. It was as if he'd been here before… This was a good place. He inspected one of the many strange rocks on the ground, light green and translucent. Peculiar…

A wave of drowsiness washed over him. They'd been flying for hours with a poor night's sleep, and the boar had been a heavy meal. He knew this was a good place to sleep, and sought out Wanderer, stumbling through the grass. Nearby, the riders were making some noise, but that wasn't-

Adrenaline suddenly flooded through him, but without warning of why, and too late. In the next instant, something soft but heavy impacted his shoulders, back, and flanks, and rapidly expanded and hardened even as it splashed down around him.

Astrid vaulted from the saddle an instant before it was hit by something that was not solid rock, but then somehow suddenly was. She slammed her fists against the strange stuff encasing Stormfly, then swiftly grabbed her axe and swung it, but the blade just bit shallowly into the surface.

A quick glance around showed the other dragons in similar predicaments, and as she watched, Hookfang took several more hits and was completely immobilised. "Run!" she shouted, hoping the other riders hadn't been trapped on their saddles.

There were footsteps behind her as she reached the entrance to the pit, and she rounded the corner to the sound of more of the stuff hitting the rock behind her. She pressed herself to the wall with her axe held ready, taking stock of the situation. Only one other had made it… Snotlout, of course. Fishlegs would have been too much to ask for.

"What the Hel was that thing?" he hissed, peering back the way they had come.

"Did you get a look at it?" she asked, hoping-

"Yeah, it had weird markings on its wings," he supplied unhelpfully. Yes, Fishlegs would have been far too much to ask for…

"Just stay back," she whispered tensely at him, and shoved around him to peer back into the pit. She couldn't hear any wings or sounds of pursuit, so it must still be back there.

A long, thin dragon flitted between Stormfly and the others, staying above them and thus out of range of any fire. She watched helplessly as it grabbed Stormfly in its huge legs and effortlessly lifted her into the air, clearly intent on taking her somewhere.

"Come on, we gotta follow it," Astrid whispered, then started scaling the wall. They would be more exposed outside this little canyon, but on their way down she had seen ample rocks and trees to use for cover.

"Why the Hel are we here in the first place," Snotlout grumbled, keeping pace just beneath her.

"Figure that out later. First we gotta free our dragons."

Astrid reached the top and ducked behind a tree, watching for the strange dragon, then followed cautiously. It was much faster than them, of course, but flying back and forth to somewhere just out of sight and thus easy enough to follow. But…

"Could you be any louder?" Astrid hissed as Snotlout stomped along ahead of her.

"Could you be any slower?" he shot back. "If that thing eats my Hookfang before we get there, I'll tie you up by your ankles and drop rats up your shirt."

"If it catches us, I'll make sure it eats you first."

"Well I'd better hope you shut up then, because it's more likely to hear your whining than me running!"

Astrid caught herself before she could make another retort. She could be more mature than this, and helping her dragon, all the dragons, came first.

They vaulted a steep lip on a tall rise and slid down the other side, then flattened to the trunk of a tree as the thing emerged from a cliff ahead of them and flew overhead. "That must be its cave," Astrid whispered, ducking around the tree and darting between cover while it carried away what looked like Meatlug, the third dragon. A quick duck behind some boulders while it left to get the fourth dragon, and then they were at the base of the cliff, the ground again littered with the strange semi-clear rocks.

"Alright," Astrid said grimly, "we're going to wait until it comes back, then start climbing up. When it leaves again, we'll be able to duck inside."

"Who put you in charge?" Snotlout growled.

"I did," she replied shortly. "Now quit arguing and just do as you're told." She didn't wait for a response, creeping forwards to look for the optimal way up-

She suddenly realised the rocks she was standing on were not rocks, but bodies. A sunken Gronckle face gaped at the sky, just a mask of skin hanging loosely over a skull. It looked hollow, as if it had rotted away, though that didn't explain the colour that remained in its skin. She gave a significant look back at Snotlout, gesturing sharply at the corpse, and he paled a little; she wouldn't hold that against him, she felt a bit pale herself.

At least the pile of carcasses left some cover, which she made use of as the dragon returned. The moment it was inside, she leaped for the wall and grabbed it, hefting herself up and quietly climbing the rocks. Snotlout was right beside her, his face grim and determined. Only to be expected, as Hookfang had been the latest prize to be carried back. That just left Barf and Belch, and one of the Furies.

They hadn't quite reached the cave entrance when it leaped out again, flapping its enormous wings and angling back to the canyon. They had a few minutes at best. "Fishlegs," she quietly called out as she hauled herself up.

"Astrid? Is that you? Did it get you too? I don't know what it wants, but I'm pretty sure it's not going to eat us… Unless it's got some way of getting this stuff off."

"No, Snotlout and I got away," she explained as she rushed over, checking the dragons. "And that depends, is it possible to eat the middle of something but leave the skin and bones intact?"

"Hmm, Zipplebacks inject a venom to predigest their prey. Maybe if…"

"Well then you probably don't want to know," she decided, checking over Stormfly. "Hey girl, you okay…?" The Nadder seemed to be fighting with herself, flipping between calm and frightened. Hopefully it wasn't too late…

"Any ideas on getting this stuff off?" she asked Fishlegs, taking another futile swing of her axe.

"Well, if an axe doesn't work, we'll have to hope fire does," he said shortly, through rapid breaths. "That or gravity."

Given the mostly intact shells outside, gravity was out already. So that just left fire. "Snotlout, can-"

She ducked behind Stormfly as the strange dragon flapped back into its cave, depositing Barf and Belch in the middle. It hopped around the collection it had, deciding on moving Meatlug up next to Stormfly to make room, and put the Zippleback in its place. It then moved the Fury a bit, and leaped back outside.

"Oh, hey guys," Tuffnut said mildly from Belch's neck, frozen in a half-dismounted position. "What's up?"

"You know, aside from imminent familiarity with the digestion process," Ruffnut groaned next to him, almost entirely upside down.

Astrid was more interested in that the dragons had been arranged so that none were facing each other, and it had taken care in hitting their necks with its hardening spit so that they could not turn… Fire was looking promising. "Snotlout, get Hookfang to light up," she said tersely.

"I've been trying," he grated back, "I think the clicky things on his back are all gunked up."

"Any ignition source will do," Fishlegs supplied tensely. "Just get us out of this, please?"

Moving the dragons was out of the question… She tore her shirt off and wrapped it around her axe, then had Stormfly light it – a small difficulty in itself with her dragon being somewhat vacant – and hurried over to Hookfang. "Get him to free the Fury when he's out," she hissed as she held the flame by the Nightmarecs flank, and for once Snotlout leapt to obey.

She got a small patch of his leg lit… and it was melting the rock, but slowly, too slowly. "Come on," she urged, waving the flames around under him. After what seemed like an eternity, the fire started really spreading, the strange rock falling away in chunks and forcing Astrid back with the heat. It was working!

But his neck was still seized, which he didn't coat in his flammable slime so that Snotlout could actually ride him. He wouldn't offer much of a fight, they needed another dragon free, and even if the Fury wasn't the best pick he was the only one not carrying supplies; Hookfang's were the only bag they'd made fireproof, though he'd been the obvious choice for the one treated bag they could get on short notice. She could certainly try to fight the dragon herself, but didn't feel all that confident with it being the size of a small house.

Hookfang finally broke free with a jerk of his body and a clatter of the stuff, shook himself off as best he could, then at a kick from Snotlout, turned to cover the Fury in his liquid fire.

Moments before the hostile dragon returned.

Dreamer could hear it now. It was stronger when the dragon was near, but it carried far. It couldn't be called a sound. Maybe it was, there was a muffled sense in his ears that was like other sounds were being drowned out, but he couldn't hear anything.

Oh well, he didn't need to worry about it, and soon there would be much food. Everything was-

No! He'd been attacked, couldn't move, and this thing was… trying to take over his thoughts! He had to focus, but his thoughts slipped from him like water. Something to focus on. The feast. Yes, focus on the upcoming feast. Where was it again? This field he was in was pleasant, but he couldn't see any food.

His mind wandered, trying to find an answer to that question, until hushed voices caught his ears. Not what they were saying, he was too busy fighting himself to work it out. It was difficult to even focus on that there were voices… The tones spoke of wariness and danger. Yes, danger, he was in danger.

He repeated the word in his head, concentrating as the not-sound pressed harder, but it was increasingly difficult, and he was so tired, and they would eat soon…

A warmth spread around him, and his body suddenly lurched forwards. His eyes opened reflexively, and he was suddenly disoriented by having two sets of vision, one in a dark cave and the other in a bright field.

But it smelled of a cave. The field was false. He shook his head and forced it down-

Submit

Something connected and he was able to turn to the source, a silhouette in the entrance. There was a false-image of this too, but he could see the real version – both images, reality and false, were of six eyes bearing down on him from a large angular head that was reaching into the cave.

Come, submit!

A queen… His quee-

NO!

A shot built itself purely by rote for having done so several times a day over the last month, and a blue light lanced away from him and struck the dragon squarely between its six eyes.

The head distorted and crumpled, then slid back out of sight. With its departure, the war over his thoughts ebbed away, leaving clarity and coherency. He was in a cave, most certainly not safe or at peace, and had probably just killed… something. Probably not another queen, not that easily. He shuddered at the memory, still hazy even with his thoughts now clearing. Good thing he had problems with authority.

"You okay there?" Astrid asked, and he turned to her. She was looking around him, lit by a strange warm light. Strange, because he himself appeared to be the source of it.

Because he was on fire.

He yelped more in surprise than anything, leaping out of the flaming pool around him and rolling on the ground. Fireproof he may be, but Nightmare fire was particularly hot and would no doubt leave his hide feeling raw and dry, as it had once before. Wrrr, at least this time he'd have help to-

"Wanderer!" he barked, flinging himself to his paws and leaping to his friend at the mouth of the cave. The other Nightstriker was blinking rapidly, looking dazed. "Dreamer," he warbled in a questioning tone, though he couldn't so much as tilt his head to make it a question, being quite immobilised.

Dreamer cut through the rock with a stream of fire, quickly melting only a thin line. That wasn't going to work. Thinking fast, he poured some of his plasma over his friend's back. Totally useless indeed… It trashed his shot limit, being slower to replenish than the gas, but he kept enough for one shot as always.

He was tackled almost before his friend was free, Wanderer nuzzling into his chest. Dreamer recognised his need for reassurance, and wrapped him tightly in wings.

But he couldn't say it had been any easier for himself. To have his mind literally invaded, as if it were a physical thing that could be poked and prodded, to think thoughts that weren't his own. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to live like that, day in, day out… and the thoughts and memories weren't correcting themselves. He still thought he'd seen a queen, though it had died far too easily to actually be one.

"Fascinating," he heard Fishlegs say. "It's sort of like amber. I've never heard of a dragon that shoots amber before."

"Hey quiet," Tuffnut said tensely, and everyone went still and silent. "Has anyone noticed… the creepy vibe has gone?"

"…Huh," the other four riders all said at the same time.

"Think that was messing the dragons up?" Astrid asked.

"Probably…" Fishlegs mused. "Hiccup?"

"Maybe," Dreamer hummed from his back, then nudged Wanderer off to flip upright. "Had bad thoughts put in head. Stopped now."

"Toothy, can I get a hand here?" Ruffnut asked, still encased in amber and hanging upside-down from Barf's neck. Snotlout and Astrid were free… though Astrid was sans one shirt, chest only covered with a tight fabric wrap. Snotlout was sneaking her looks, though without the usual leering, which was odd given the circumstance. Fishlegs was free of Meatlug at least, though his lower half was still encased.

Dreamer shook his head; not much he could do about any of that. "I need see," he hummed warily, padding to the edge of the cave.

"I come," Wanderer agreed, ignoring Ruffnut to hop out into the air with him, and they glided to the ground.

The strange dragon was on its side, sightless eyes wide and betraying no emotion. It was definitely dead, Dreamer's blast having caved in its chest; lucky he hadn't put any more fire into it, or this could have been a far more gruesome sight.

It took Dreamer a little while to work out why he'd thought it had six eyes, eventually noticing the patterns on its wing. Three large blue circles, containing a swirl of tones that really did look like great big eyes if he squinted a bit.

"What this scale-wing-hunter called?" he asked quietly.

"I not have name. Maybe 'Song-Hunter'."

He'd heard that word before… "'Song' word for put thoughts in head?"

"Yes. It hunt using Song."

The others landed around them a short while later, all now freed of the amber, and approached the Song-Hunter warily. "Is it dead?" Fishlegs squeaked.

"Looks like," Astrid replied, hopping down from Stormfly and approaching warily. "But what is it?"

"We call it Song-Hunter," Dreamer said flatly, still staring at it. Something else he had killed, but out of necessity this time; the corpses it had fallen among spoke for themselves.

"A what hunter?" Fishlegs asked, creeping forward as curiosity overpowered his fear.

Dreamer hummed thoughtfully, trying to find a word to compare it to. It was a constant sound, or near enough to… "Like when make words in noise."

"Make words in noise?" Fishlegs repeated. "I don't get it."

"Singing, you numbskull," Ruffnut growled.

Tuffnut thoughtfully stroked his chin. "Song Hunter? That sounds lame. How about… Death Song!"

"We're not calling it a Death Song," Fishlegs groaned.

"Death Song it is!" Snotlout shouted.

How was everyone getting over this so quickly? They'd all been so helpless… Sure, the Vikings hadn't had a constant fight over their own thoughts, but still…

Wanderer, apparently reading his mind – with some very real and frightening connotations to that turn of phrase – padded over and nuzzled his neck, then scratched errant pieces of amber out of his frills and wing-shoulder. "Having fire not mean we not can be eaten," he hummed. "It very strong fire, but not always can use it. I… needed fly nest too young, fire not help family then."

Dreamer couldn't help his ears going up at that. Wanderer spoke rarely enough of his past, and only mentioned his sire and dam in passing. He gave the impression that he didn't want to talk about it, so Dreamer didn't pry, but he wished he would.

"Wrr, you know that now," Wanderer crooned, then grimaced at the bodies. "I want leave."

"Me also," Dreamer vehemently agreed, prompting the others with a flick of his wings, and soon they were leaving the dreadful place behind them.

"Sooo, I guess it's a good thing we came along, huh," Astrid called over somewhat smugly as she drifted up next to them.

"Yes, good you come," Dreamer groaned, though with a grateful lilt. He'd still ended up being the one to kill the thing, but only the riders' actions had allowed him to do that.

"Hey, I've been thinking," Tuffnut called out, pulling up on Astrid's other side. "We need, like dragon names. The Furies can't say ours. Well, except for Fishlegs', but the rest of us have proper nonsensical names."

That was… a really good idea, actually. Referring to a specific Long-Paw had been awkward at best so far, but thankfully not something they'd needed to do much. Going forward, it was going to be more of a problem.

"I've already got one, 'Boundless', I think. Whatever that means."

Wanderer groaned under his breath, and Dreamer found something interesting to look at on the other side of the sky. What were we thinking when we called him that…? He'd done very well to remember it, but Dreamer wished he hadn't.

"Why, is that not a good name? Why'd you call me it then?"

"Because we still stupid hatchlings then," Wanderer grumbled, pointedly staring straight ahead.

After the laughing and jeering died down, they thought long and hard on what they were going to be called, occasionally bouncing things off each other.

"Nightstriker names say thing about Nightstriker," Wanderer explained to Fishlegs while Dreamer listened intently. "I choose name Wanderer because I fly many skies." He swatted at Dreamer with a downstroke of his wings. "Dreamer always has head in clouds," he teased.

"Huh, so I might be, um, 'Meditator'?" Fishlegs asked.

"I not know that word," Wanderer huffed.

"Ummm, Astrid might be 'Fighter'?"

"No, females doing things. Males just want do things." He grumbled under his breath for a few moments. "She maybe 'Fighting'."

Dreamer's ears went up – that was a detail he hadn't known before. Though he was now very curious as to why Fishlegs would look immensely relieved upon learning this, as nothing was coming to mind to explain it.

"But not think that good name," Wanderer continued. "Maybe… No, I not want give them Nightstriker names. They Long-Paws. Let them make own names."

"Yeah, fair enough I suppose. Thanks, I owe you some dried fish." Both Nightstrikers purred heartily at that.

The twins were having a little too much fun just growling at each other, and were only encouraged when Wanderer drifted over and growled at them properly as the Nightstrikers would be the only ones actually using the names. But then Ruffnut realised it would always sound like they were in trouble, which killed their enthusiasm for that particular idea. Snotlout's first attempt had sounded so close to 'Eel-Breath' that Dreamer couldn't keep his face straight in agreeing, so much that he got suspicious and drifted away to think up another one. Eventually, everyone settled on something that was a twisting of some existing word.

Modified versions of 'nonsense' and 'trouble' for Ruffnut and Tuffnut, which sounded similar, 'fierce' for Astrid, and 'strong' for Snotlout. Fishlegs readily kept his rough translation of his Long-Paw name, being used to it already.

"Astrid, Snotlout, Ruffnut, Tuffnut," Dreamer mused, trying the names with his Nightstriker mouth and deeming them acceptable. "Also Fish-Legs. We happy you come."

"Even if fly slower than Small-Wing that not can see," Wanderer grumbled light-heartedly.

"Even if that," Dreamer agreed. "Not know if Death-Song eat us if you not come, but you come, it not eat us." That was only a good thing. Whatever doubts he'd had about bringing the young riders, he was now more than enthusiastic about it.

Author's Notes

It turns out, when you take a family-rated franchise and add depth and a healthy dose of reality (and consistency), what is casually skimmed over in canon can get pretty dark pretty quickly. It's not quite what I was aiming for with this first chapter, but I kept it here for several reasons, among those being setting the tone and meta premise for the second arc. This is no more Race To The Edge than the first arc was Defenders of Berk.