"Wait. So the only reason we're here is because Viggo specifically did not show you it was here?"

Dreamer hummed in thought for a moment, then nodded at Fishlegs. "That about right." Following a night's rest after their raid on the auction, though he had understandably not slept well, he was back into the previous plan that he had been sidetracked from; finding out why Viggo had omitted an apparently random island from the map he had given them…

Wrrr, was that only a few weeks ago? It felt as if months had passed. And yet, when he thought about it, much of the intervening time just didn't seem to exist, a hazy blur of one event leading straight into the next…

He growled and shook his head, resolving to check in with the Defenders on the way back. Fishlegs was even already here with them to help translate, though the others had needed to stay behind to handle general duties and chores; scouting, replenishing food stockpiles, maintenance on the huts, and other tedious details.

To focus on what he was doing, he put his nose to the sand he was standing on, the fine grains almost white and seeming very clean compared to the beaches he was used to. It didn't smell of anything interesting though, just the surf. He kept scenting the ground as he walked up onto the island, on the small side by inhabitable standards; inhabitable, assuming there was fresh water here, which he hadn't seen.

In fact, the island itself seemed completely and totally unremarkable. There were no hunters here, no mountains, no camps, no nothing. Just a forest, one not even dense enough to hide the ground from the sky.

"So, wait, does he want us here or not?" Fishlegs asked, staring sceptically into the trees.

Dreamer didn't reply, mostly because he didn't have an answer. Instead, he cast a last look down either side of the empty beach, then walked up the shore and into the forest.

They could see quite a way into the trees, which were tall gnarly things with seemingly no consistency. Some had low branches, some were wrapped in vines, some reached for the sky while others grew outwards. It felt strangely chaotic.

Very quickly, the scent of a new type of dragon was heavy on the air. It seemed to permeate the island, wafting from every leaf and blade of grass, and didn't seem all that old. But it was the only sign the island was inhabited, and there were certainly no dragons in sight. Perhaps they had noticed their visitors, and were hiding.

"Not know this scent," Wanderer said warily, walking up beside him and looking around.

"Me also," Dreamer agreed, and Wanderer gave him a funny look before rolling his eyes.

They trekked inland, keeping an eye out for signs of life, or anything of interest, but there was nothing. Rough boulders, trees, and an easy terrain that gently sloped up towards the middle of the island.

"Are you sure there's something here?" Fishlegs pressed.

"Fly home if want," Dreamer huffed shortly.

"I'm just saying, I'm not really following your logic for why this is important, and there's clearly nothing here. Maybe it wasn't on the map because it wasn't big enough to be considered an island."

"Dragons here," Dreamer pointed out.

"Wait, really? What kind?"

"Not know," Wanderer huffed. "Scents everywhere. Not even can follow them."

Fishlegs sighed, shuffling a little closer to Meatlug as they walked.

The terrain in the middle of the island was a bit more rough, a few extra boulders and low, wrinkly hills, but no difficulty to traverse whatsoever compared to the harsh landscape they had grown up in. It might have been easy to get turned around with the clouds blocking the sky-fire and the grassy knolls rising all around them, but a Nightstriker's sense of direction was impeccable. Eventually it all gradually started to slope downwards again, so they must have passed roughly the centre of the island.

They continued right through to the opposite shore, at least a mile, without encountering any dragons. The scent of them never abated though, just as strong here as anywhere else; Dreamer was becoming desensitised to it.

"See?" Fishlegs huffed as they looked out over a beach that appeared identical to the one they'd landed on. "There's nothing here. Maybe you're just smelling things."

"No," Dreamer growled, "there something here. I know there something here." He turned and walked back into the forest, which wasn't any denser or sparser here than it had been on the other side.

It was actually all very clean, no birds or animals of any kinds, and few to no insects. It almost felt tranquil, but perhaps more along the lines of the world holding its breath, a dizzying suspense. Most likely that was his imagination though.

But then there was this scent…

They reached the strange wrinkly little hills again, and Dreamer stopped for a moment to get his bearings. It was difficult to tell which way was to the highest point on the island, even with the sparse trees, but they were not in any real hurry.

"What are we looking for now," Fishlegs groaned from behind.

Anything, really, the only thing close to a landmark was the gradual slope of the ground. It could not continue indefinitely, so it had to reach a point, which would be something more than just forest and rocks. These hills were making it difficult, though it led to a more thorough search while he had an objective in mind.

He slowly became aware of a low sound, seemingly coming from all directions. It started quiet, so quiet he wasn't sure he was hearing anything at first, and gradually built in volume until even Fishlegs noticed it, if his wide eyes and fitful glances were anything to go by.

The strangest thing about it was that it never seemed to come from where he was looking. And then he noticed that was the case, because the sound was changing as Wanderer and Fishlegs looked around. Even knowing that, it was disorienting, but only made him more and more certain there was something here to find.

But wait… A strange sound for which he could see no source… "I think we should leave," he tested.

"Yes," Wanderer agreed as Fishlegs thanked Thor, "I not like this."

Dreamer sighed in relief. "Not Death-Song then." That was a test they did with each other occasionally, when they were suspicious.

"But something!" Fishlegs said desperately. "Okay! You were right! Can we go now?'

When they had proof they were onto something? Of course not. But he kept a wary eye out, so that if something did jump out at them they could be away at a moment's notice.

They crested a rise and Dreamer immediately knew he was there, the land sloping down in all directions. Much more abruptly in one direction, where the hill extended out either side of the drop, creating a sort of hemmed-in area. He walked over to check it out, peering down to find the darkness of some kind of cave. "Here," he barked, then trotted down the slope to the side, Wanderer and Fishlegs sticking close.

It was a rocky hole in the ground, inside looking jagged but topped with a smooth, flat stone. Dreamer stepped forward, peering inside-

The very land around them writhed, coming to life. The trees reached down, the rocks twisted and crawled, and the grass seemed to fold in on itself, everything warping in a way that would have anyone questioning reality. And then the various shades of green that made up their surroundings receded to reveal dragons, pawfuls of them, with large eyes narrowed on the little group. They appeared to climb out of the world itself, a near perfect camouflage if one wasn't specifically looking for it, and they did not look friendly.

"Inside!" Dreamer barked, then fired a concussive shot at the cave entrance. Two, appearing to melt from the stone around it, recoiled from the explosion, stunned, while others fired at him.

He was already moving, and whatever it was they had fired splashed down where he had been standing, a liquid he suspected was acid by the acrid smell suddenly burning his nose. And then he was in the dark cave, and after quickly confirming there were not more dragons inside, he and Wanderer both fired a shot to cover Fishlegs, who had hesitated and was flattened to Meatlug's back while she dodged more acid. It gave them enough of a reprieve that they were able to push forward, though Fishlegs had to leap from the saddle to fit into the low opening, and then they were all crawling down into the darkness.

The sounds of the dragons hissing behind them did not abate, but none of it grew nearer. Whatever the reason, they were not following them in.

The tunnel quickly widened into a more comfortable size, and though it was not necessary to see, Wanderer lit his mouth to look around.

"I think those were Changewings," Fishlegs said faintly.

Dreamer chuffed in agreement. The long, vine-like antennae were quite a prominent giveaway, plus the ability to camouflage. But the camouflage had been seamless, he'd seen some birds that were difficult to spot when perched on a branch or bugs that blended in with rocks or leaves, but thinking back, one of them had slithered off the rock cresting this cave; either he had almost walked over it without noticing, or it had silently come up behind them.

And they were not small dragons either, as big as Hookfang at least. They actually looked a bit similar to a Monstrous Nightmare, but with forelegs, wide horns on the sides of their heads, and soft-looking spines down their backs and tails in the shape of leaves. They didn't look particularly suited to fighting, but there were a lot of them, and he didn't know how well his scales would hold up to their acid.

But while their camouflage was impeccable, he realised that Wanderer's fire was helping by casting small shadows around the jagged walls that could not be copied by smooth dragon hide, however clever its camouflage. They were alone, for now.

Regardless, best not to push their luck. He resigned himself to searching the cave manually, rather than with an echoing blast of sound, and started walking.

"Um, Hiccup? I'm not sure this is a good idea. Those dragons seemed pretty protective of this place… Maybe it's their nest and they're protecting their eggs or something?"

"It not egg-season," Wanderer hummed; he didn't need to drop the fire from his throat, something that Dreamer still hadn't quite worked out. "I not know why they this protective. Maybe there something here…"

Dreamer's thoughts exactly, especially when tied in with Viggo either leading them here or trying to hide the island's existence. Even though neither really made sense.

They continued down the tunnel, deeper and deeper into the ground, until Dreamer was fairly certain that without Wanderer's fire, none of them would be able to see. The thought was actually a little frightening, he had always been able to see something since being hatched a Nightstriker; even on the darkest, cloudiest nights there was still a glow to the sky that reached through the tiniest cracks of any building or boat. But if needed, he could always light his fire and return vision himself, so it was a passive worry.

A grunt echoed up the tunnel, both Nightstrikers' ears going up a moment before Wanderer did shut off his fire and prove that this darkness was blinding even to them. But whatever was in the cave was just as blind.

However, they could not continue without sight of some form, so after standing in pure darkness for a minute or two, Dreamer lit his fire. Aiming it at the ground so that it did not shine quite as far, he slowly continued forwards, ears up and eyes sharp for any irregularities around them.

"Stay," he motioned to Fishlegs as they came up on a chamber, who nodded fitfully with wide, worried eyes, leaning into his dragon. Wrrr, he had Meatlug in case he needed to make a hasty retreat.

Dreamer and Wanderer cautiously emerged into a wider area, delicately placing their paws so as to make little to no sound. Very, very delicately, as there were two Changewings laying across the middle of the chamber, their eyes closed.

Something else that was in the chamber, something that glinted in the little light that Dreamer was projecting from his mouth, was a small chest set into an alcove in the wall to one side, behind one of the Changewings. Dragons did not use chests, that had to be what they were here for. He looked at Wanderer, getting his attention, then tilted his head to it.

Wanderer stared at it for a moment, then nodded at Dreamer and warily watched the Changewings. Dreamer, also still keeping an eye on them, crept towards the chest, aiming around the Changewing in front of it.

He stifled a yelp as something unexpectedly brushed along his tail, quickly turning his head to see a thin line of movement leading towards a lump against the wall that he realised was not rock in the moment it opened its eyes and screeched.

Wanderer fired a concussive shot, stunning it and providing an instant of sound-sight that had Dreamer leaping from a stream of acid from a Changewing behind him. He plotted his path and cut off his fire, plunging the cave back into darkness, then silently slinked into an open area.

Darkness and silence prevailed. A stalemate, the Changewings could see no more than-

Something lightly brushed against his leg, a tentative feeler, and he reflexively worked his fire to produce a single note of sound-sight a moment before Wanderer did the same. It was deafening in the enclosed area – or perhaps blinding – but it seemed to stun the Changewings long enough to act. He leapt for the deeper opening of the cavern, guided by the echo of the image in his head, and took a few confident steps through the tunnel before needing to light his fire again.

Wanderer's distinct and familiar gait was right behind him, and behind that was the unfamiliar scrambling of the dragons hot on their tails, so he directed a blast over their shoulders as he ran to delay their pursuers – realising afterwards he now only had his reserve shot left, which he may very well need to use. Perhaps it was just as well, any time either of them fired felt like a punch to the chest. But what on Midgard could these dragons be-

He emerged into another chamber and skittered to a halt, Wanderer glancing off his flank in his haste to stop as well before spinning to guard the opening, but Dreamer was distracted by two things. The first was that this was a dead end, there was no escape except past the very angry dragons behind them.

The second was the glittering orbs littering the floor, each about the size of his paw. His first thought was that they were gemstones of some kind, as their many facets shone in colourful ways even in the blue light of his fire. They were like no rocks he had ever seen, almost looking somewhat translucent but difficult to tell due to the way they reflected light. It made much more sense if they were eggs, though they were unlike any he had seen or heard of, apparently just left in a deep cave, guarded but not warmed?

But the reality of the situation was starting to sink in. They were cornered by three angry dragons and low on fire; he had only his reserve shot left, and if he was counting right, Wanderer had that plus one more shot, for them to be big enough to achieve anything.

Wanderer was preparing to hold them off at the opening to the chamber, but these were not good conditions to be fighting in. Dreamer was no longer sure if there had been three dragons or four in the chamber, he had been trying to keep track of too much else to count, but even if there were three then they would need to use every remaining shot to incapacitate or kill.

The thought of killing these dragons was repulsive, particularly as the Nightstrikers were the invaders here, but it drove home how life-and-death this really was. And for what, some stupid obsession over a map?

But fear for their lives had his blood pumping and his head spinning through the facts to find their options. These dragons were highly protective of what was in here, which he would just assume were eggs for simplicity; regardless, that they needed protecting implied that they were precious. These dragons also hid themselves and tried to ward them off with sound before fighting as a last resort. But the Changewings hadn't followed them down… That must be because they didn't want to drive them any deeper, and perhaps were hoping the inner guards would drive them out.

Dreamer tugged at Wanderer's tail with his claws, the Changewings nearly upon them, and Wanderer spared him a glance. He watched the entrance to the cavern for a pawful of heartbeats, then slowly backed up beside Dreamer.

The Changewings, indeed four of them, quickly slithered into the chamber and spread out, eyes wild and fangs bared, but to Dreamer's immense relief they didn't attack. He let his ears droop a little further, sheathed his teeth, shuffled his paws and bowed his head a little, hopefully the very image of apologetic. They hissed angrily at him, but he noticed them furtively glancing at the hoard behind the Nightstrikers, hopefully unwilling to engage in fear of endangering it.

They all stood there, motionless, for long heartbeats. Wanderer had his wing extended a little, as if to protect Dreamer, and was watching the dragons warily but not aggressively. Dreamer continued looking apologetic while the dragons glared and let out low hisses, their odd antennae floating about behind them.

And then, slowly, the Changewings parted, squeezing up against the sides of the chamber and creating a path to the tunnel that they had been blocking, though they did not stop their threatening hissing. He and Wanderer glanced at each other, then walked for the tunnel, turning to keep the Changewings in front of them, covering each other, and entered the tunnel backwards.

The Changewings moved around them as they passed, then filled the passage below them, following them up as they backed out. They still looked furious, but they weren't quite so panicked now that they were between the threat and their hoard.

Eventually, they emerged into the first wider passage, where Dreamer quickly ducked back to grab the chest from the wall before the Changewings could emerge. He then fell in beside Wanderer again and continued backing up through the tunnel; the Changewings didn't seem to mind him taking the strange box.

"Hiccup?" Fishlegs whispered tensely from behind them as they backed out. "What's going on?"

Dreamer backed up behind Wanderer so he could turn, keeping an eye on the Changewings slowly advancing on them, and held his head up for Fishlegs to take the chest from his teeth. "Leave now. When get outside, fly fast. Not attack."

"I really, really, really hope you know what you're doing…"

"Me also," Dreamer huffed, then turned his full attention back to the Changewings and on backing out of the tunnel.

It took longer than the journey down of course, but the time passed more quickly than Dreamer expected, simply putting two paws behind the others and warily watching the dragons pushing them out. They were wider than the Nightstrikers, and could not quite fit two across, but the long neck of the second in line snaked around the body of the first, keeping sharp vigil.

Finally, warm light began to creep in behind them, and Dreamer could finally close off his fire. His throat ached – and then he realised he'd been holding it nonstop for the duration of the journey, a duration even a Nightstriker could not hold their breath. Nothing like sheer need to facilitate learning, he supposed.

"Go," Wanderer huffed quietly, and Dreamer chuffed before moving a little faster to get behind him and then sprinted for the mouth of the cave.

He had to slow down for the last few paces due to the low ceiling, but then he was out into the open air. His wings threw themselves out almost reflexively and he leapt into the sky; he half expected to be attacked, but met no resistance.

Wanderer was up next to him a moment later, looking overwhelmingly relieved. "I not want do that again," he growled, and Dreamer churred apologetically at him.

"Well," Fishlegs announced as he and Meatlug buzzed over alongside them, "I'm not sure it was worth it, but it wasn't for nothing!" He was holding up not one, but two Dragon Eye lenses, and was looking more enthusiastic than to be expected for what he'd been through; though all he'd had to do was sit in the dark for a bit.

"We were in much danger," Wanderer grumbled.

Dreamer hummed in agreement. Something about the whole encounter wasn't sitting right with him, starting with that they had basically just invaded the nest of another dragon. He could empathise with them, and he didn't even have eggs or whatever to protect in his own den.

"We need land," Wanderer then growled, staring sternly at Dreamer. "You need sleep."

"We go to Defenders now," Dreamer agreed. "I rest there."

"That not small flight," Wanderer pressed. "We should land soon."

"I can fly," Dreamer growled back. His weariness was heavy on his mind, a pressure in his head that was making it difficult to think now that the adrenaline was wearing off, but he knew his limits. He could make it.

Gripping the thick pillar, fingers digging into the grain of the wood and knees squeezing for purchase, Ruffnut held a nail to the roof. What she was going to do now, lacking a third arm to actually drive the nail home, was anyone's guess.

"What are you doing?" Astrid asked, sounding tired.

"What does it look like?" Ruffnut asked curiously.

"Like you're nailing a net to the roof."

That was a boring answer. "Astrid, master of perception!"

"Are you not nailing a net to the roof?"

"Well, I'm trying to." Maybe she could hold on with her knees long enough to get a swing of the hammer. It would be painful if she fell, but she wasn't high up enough to actually break anything. She delicately let go, then carefully lifted the hammer…

She realised her mistake the moment the hammer hit the nail, and the recoil pushed her back. She dropped the hammer and grabbed for the pillar, but it was already out of her reach-

"Owwww," she groaned from the floor a moment later. At least the-

The nail pinged off her helmet, closely followed by the net dropping on her.

"You know," Astrid said lightly, "most people would just use their dragon."

"Most people don't have to share their dragon," Ruffnut grumbled. "I wanted to get this done before Tuffnut did his bit."

"Do I even want to know?" Astrid asked wearily. "Why are you nailing a net to the roof of the communal hut?"

"Well I can assure you it is not to drop on a pair of dragons in retribution for a prank, likely propagating a prank war the likes of which Vikings have never seen before."

"Yeah!" her stupid brother announced himself as he walked inside. "That would be stupid."

"Are you saying you don't do stupid things?" Astrid asked him.

Tuffnut pointed at her and opened his mouth to say something, but just stood there for a moment, then closed his mouth and put his finger to his chin. "Touché," he said, pointing the finger back at her.

"We're not that stupid," Ruffnut huffed, still laying on her back. "That would almost be as stupid as pranking a pair of pranksters. Anyway," she glared across at her brother, "how long were you standing there?"

"Ten minutes?" he guessed. "How long is a minute when you don't have a sundial? When a cloud blocks the sun, does a minute still pass?"

"Did you stand there watching me struggle with that stupid nail?"

"I did. It brought much enjoyment to my day."

As long as she knew where they stood; he still owed her one or two more. "Did you at least do your bit?" she asked as she got back up.

"I'm doing my bit," he clarified.

"Oh let me guess, you just asked Belch." She really needed to learn Dragonese, but it was just so boring! She'd pinched some of Fishlegs' notes because all she had to do was glance at them and she'd fall asleep.

"No," he scoffed, "I asked him for a fish."

"...We're gonna need more than a fish, bro."

"Well duh. When he gave me a fish, I gave him two. Then Barf gave me a fish, so I gave him two as well."

That… would probably work, knowing Barf and Belch. It would put them even with their dragon too, so that was cool; they'd been a prank behind for too long now. "Nice," she said with a grin.

Next, they needed to get this net up. "Hey Astrid, mind lending us Storm-..." Astrid wasn't there anymore. "Nuts, how we gonna get this net up?"

"Thorston post hug?" Tuffnut suggested.

"Alright," Ruffnut sighed, "but you're doing the hugging!"

With the net in place a short time later, using a technique involving scaling either side of the pole and then Tuffnut grabbing either side of her belt and holding her firmly to the post, they slid down and worked their arms; something about working on roofs was exhausting, and not in a good way.

"I'd better go see how much they've got," Tuffnut said plainly, walking for the door. Unfortunately, she could not go watch because their dragon was tricky and had caught on that if both their riders were watching then it was probably a prank.

So what was she going to do now? To keep the theme of the day going she could go steal something of Astrid's and leave it by Snotlout's hut, that would be amusing. Potentially productive too, that pair really needed to reach a breaking point and get over whatever had them twisted around each other.

With Fishlegs and the Furies gone, and unlikely to return until late if not tomorrow, there wasn't much else to do. Ruffnut walked outside and idly looked around for inspiration. Tuffnut was whizzing down the second zipline to their hut, where she could already see what looked like a modest pile of fish. The ocean was calm, sparkling in the afternoon light. Two dragons were wheeling overhead…

A Nadder and a Nightmare. Speaking of Snotlout and Astrid… Could they really be at it again? Psh, that wasn't even a question, of course they were. Ruffnut sighed heavily, then took a deep breath. "SNOTLOUT!" she shouted at the top of her lungs. "GET YOUR BUTT DOWN HERE!"

The two dragons wheeled around each other one last time before the Nightmare dropped down, and Ruffnut stepped back into the doorway as Hookfang's massive wings buffeted the landing area.

"What'cha need babe?" Snotlout said amiably as he hopped down, though Ruffnut heard the hard, frustrated edge to his voice.

"Nothing, just figured you'd like an excuse to get away from the dragon queen."

"Maybe I like arguing with her," he said with a scowl, though he walked inside after her.

"If you wanted to argue with her, you would have just ignored me," she said happily. He hadn't noticed the net affixed to the roof, which was a good start, though he wasn't the most perceptive of their little group.

"I-... Yeah, probably."

"C'mon," Ruffnut probed, "lay it on me! What's biting ya?"

"Why does everyone keep asking me that?" he asked, sounding confused and annoyed.

"Because it's obvious something's biting you, idiot. You want people to stop asking, you gotta knife the wolf with its teeth in your butt."

"Aarrgghh, fine, look, am I being unreasonable here? I'm just trying to be a good Viking. She's the one who keeps walking all over everyone, bossing everyone around. I don't have to take that!"

"You didn't have to take her axe either." That had been months ago, but nobody, least of all Snotlout, had forgotten it.

"We're Vikings, we take each other's weapons all the… Wait, isn't that my axe you've got there?"

"Getting a little off-topic," Ruffnut warned. "We don't even touch Astrid's axe. That'd be like taking Stoick's."

"See?" he exclaimed, throwing his arms out. "That's what I'm talking about! She's not the Chief, so why are we treating her like one?"

"She's gonna be Chief though. Might as well get used to taking orders."

"No, I'll be Marshal." Ruffnut stared blankly at him. "...You don't get it do you? Marshal is like, below the Chief, sure, but the Chief doesn't give him orders. The point is to, uh, balance, and stuff… I dunno, my dad explains it better. She's not supposed to give me orders, anyway, we're supposed to work together."

"And have you told her that?"

"Uh, yeah? What do you think half our arguments are about?"

Ruffnut stroked her chin, resolving to find out what the Marshal's role actually was, because she had to admit she didn't really know. "Maybe try not arguing with her?"

He paused, staring absently at Hookfang, who had curled up by the door. "That doesn't sound like the Viking way of doing things," he said slowly.

"So? The Viking way nearly got us all killed. Odin claimed the scrawniest, most un-Vikingly one of us before we even came of age, in the most spectacular fight anyone's ever seen. We ride dragons now. Who cares about being a Viking?"

"I do!" he said firmly, then stomped out of the hut, looking even angrier than when he'd flown down, and Hookfang slinked out behind him.

Ruffnut stared after him, then shook her head. "What the Hel is your problem…?"

Dreamer woke with an inexplicable but pressing need to know what was going on.

He was in the Defenders' healing hut, again, but Wanderer was not here with him. He remembered landing on the island… vaguely. Someone had led him here, and now it was morning, going by the direction of the light filtering in through the windows near the ceiling.

There was a sudden and uncomfortable spinning sensation in his head, and a quiet groan escaped his throat. He felt as if he'd barely slept at all, though that wasn't unusual.

"Dreamer," said a deep, confident voice, and Throck calmly walked over from where he'd been standing against the wall. "I am pleased to see you awake. Your brother and friend are lending their assistance, and will be back later." He knelt by Dreamer and smiled warmly as he offered a brief chin scratching.

Dreamer made to get up, but Throck put a light hand on his shoulder. "Please, rest," he said, the request sounding closer to an order in his characteristic firm tone. "I will send for food and fresh water. And also our healers, considering how you were when you arrived."

He should really talk to Mala first, and find out where Wanderer and Fishlegs had gone off to... but then again, he could talk to the healers now while his friends weren't around to worry about him. He settled back down and nodded, then watched while Throck strode to the door and pulled someone from the path to speak with them quietly.

Within moments, two women were admitted into the hut. They walked with a gentle grace, very different to the way Defenders usually moved around, though they could not hide their excitement as they approached; that was to be expected, he was a Nightstriker after all. They were finely toned, as were all Defenders, both with short dark hair and plain, well-fitted clothes.

"We understand you understand us," one of them said softly, then smiled when he nodded at her. "For now just let us look you over, we are used to working a certain way."

His ears pricked at a click behind him, just the other woman snapping her fingers, and then he turned back to the first as she ran her hand down his neck. It took him a moment to realise that they had already started on their routine, as he started recognising some of Gothi's techniques such as waving a hand in front of his face.

They were more thorough than Gothi, however, and he could only guess at some of the things they did, such as when one somehow put the smell of fish on her fingers. He had been so curious he had tried scenting her over, which she mostly allowed with light giggles while the other tugged on his wing and pulled it around, but the source of the scent remained mysterious.

"You are a perfectly healthy dragon," she suddenly announced proudly, scratching under his chin. He hummed appreciatively, then made mock-runes at Throck, who promptly retrieved paper and ink from a chest in the corner. Wrrr, perhaps these two, and maybe other Defenders, could do with learning Dragonese. Something for Fishlegs to do in the winter.

Painstakingly slowly, he scratched out one of every rune on the paper, falling back on his old trick for communicating in Norse by tapping them with a claw. Even more slowly, he began describing the issues he had been having, starting with having trouble thinking when he needed to and then adding things as he thought of more, headaches and bouts of intense lethargy at random and usually inconvenient times; he was definitely glad Wanderer wasn't here, it would feel awkward letting him know all this, making him worry.

They both watched, occasionally asking questions, but mostly just sat there in thought as he worked. They were taking the whole dragon communication thing better than most, which he easily put down to their Defender discipline, now evident in the way they sat. Finally, once he'd done, they shared a brief look with each other and then shook their heads. "You are not showing symptoms of anything bad. I would recommend just sleeping it off."

He nodded politely, holding back a disappointed and annoyed growl. He was already sleeping more than he had needed to before leaving Berk, and they wanted him to sleep even more?

But he held his peace, because he was no longer really sure there was anything wrong. It was probably just down to how rough the last few days had been. Maybe he was being paranoid.

Seeing they were done, Throck slung a fish at him and he eagerly snapped it out of the air, his sharp teeth severing it cleanly in half as he caught it. A flick of his head at the right moment sent the tail back into the air, which he caught while swallowing the first half; it had been a fun game he and Wanderer had played when they'd fished around Berk, so he was practised.

"See, you're fine," one of the healers chuckled, ruffling his ears.

"Indeed," Throck agreed heartily, then began slinging over fish as quickly as Dreamer could devour them; he had only noticed how empty his belly was after something had been put in it. "Perhaps you would like to accompany me on a morning jog through the village before seeing Queen Mala? She is with your brother and friend, but they should not be much longer."

Wrr, if Mala was out somewhere then he didn't have much else to do. With five big fish secured in his belly, and after lapping at a dish of water by the door, they stepped outside.

Dreamer blinked at the sunlight, just for the moment it took for his eyes to adjust. It was a warm and sunny day, spring finally winning the battle over winter, and the sky-fire felt glorious on his scales, soaking through his hide in a way flamed rock couldn't quite achieve.

Throck set off at what was basically a run, though Dreamer had absolutely no trouble in keeping up with only a mild trot. He shot a sly glance over at the man, casually pulling ahead… But Throck completely ignored him, refusing to rise to the taunt. He just continued along at his strict pace, his face neutral and staring ahead.

It was literally nothing to him that he was out on a morning jog with a Nightstriker. Dreamer appreciated that actually, he was growing tired of the awe and reverence – of which he was receiving plenty from many of those he passed – and settled into a comfortable stride next to him as they made their way around the village.

His mind drifted while they made pointless rounds, thinking about the last few days. They had freed more dragons just at that auction than the half a year they'd been out here before last winter. That had been a huge win, all things considered, had they not found the auction at all then Viggo would have stood to make a lot more gold, assuming he could have sold the remaining dragons.

He had a bit of an idea of what Viggo's next step was. Thinking back, he couldn't remember any Gronckles in the cages, the dragon used to make a light and very strong metal. Viggo was likely hoarding them for himself, preparing to make a lot of weapons, or maybe just a few big ones. Finding those Gronckles and freeing them would be wise, before it got to that point.

Freeing them… Viggo had freed Dreamer, even pleaded that he'd had nothing to do with his capture; in any other circumstance, his fearful, worried eyes would have been immensely satisfying. Was he afraid of Nightstrikers, as Southerners were? He hid it well, if that was the case.

But the fact remained that Viggo had freed possibly the most valuable dragon ever to be in his possession, however briefly. That spoke of confidence in something, some plan or security. Perhaps he truly was just frightened of what Wanderer would have done – as he should be – but Viggo was smart, very smart.

Dreamer didn't know what it meant, but it did imply that Viggo was worried about capturing only one of them. For the moment at least, it seemed they were both safe as long as one could avoid capture. That was at least something to draw from it.

His sensitive ears picked out Meatlug's wings well before she reached the island, and he veered off from Throck to leap up onto a den and into the sky. Of course, Wanderer then pulled ahead and flew directly at him, and he soon found himself veering around and desperately fleeing the playfully angry Nightstriker swiping at his tail in the time it took Meatlug to catch up.

Wanderer pounced him as they landed, pinned him on his side, then painfully bit his ear. "Next flight you need rest, I shoot you from sky," he growled.

"I flew here," Dreamer grumbled, awkwardly pawing at his stinging ear, though Wanderer looked like he was going to bite him again. "I sorry," he hummed apologetically. "But I good now. We play next light? You-me-you only?" He had been neglecting his friend a bit, though what they were doing was very important.

The growling in his ear died off, and then a wet tongue ran over his face. "I still grounding you if I think you need rest," he said with a huff as he backed off, though his tail was flicking around excitedly. Dreamer hopped to his paws and nuzzled him.

"Queen Mala," Throck greeted as Meatlug landed. "As you can see, he has made a full recovery."

"That is good to hear," Mala said regally, deftly hopping from Meatlug and squaring her shoulders with her hands resting in the small of her back. "Dreamer," she greeted warmly. "Please, you are most welcome to make use of us if you are unwell, but I would like to greet you in more favourable circumstances next time," she said sternly, and he ducked his head apologetically before nodding a greeting to Fishlegs.

"You gave us a bit of a scare there Hiccup," Fishlegs said happily; he didn't seem to notice Mala glare at him for the use of his nickname. "I'm going to go ahead and guess you want to go over things now? The Defenders have some information to share with us as well."

Dreamer tilted his head to Mala, who nodded in acknowledgement. "We believe we have discerned the materials Viggo uses to make his metal, what his men refer to as Gronckle Iron, from the remains of the base we raided. We do not yet know ratios, but it is a start."

That was good, if they could figure it out they might be able to start making it themselves… Or, even better, use it to narrow down exactly where Viggo could be making it.

"And," she continued, "we have a plan of attack for Viggo's base to the north of us. It has been a thorn in our side for too long, restricting our movements and impacting our deployments."

"I use my fire," Wanderer huffed. "Less rock-throwers now. Less spine-throwers. They still have some, but less."

"Good," Dreamer purred, sensing that Fishlegs and Mala had already caught each other up. "Yes, we plan now."

"Heather, a pleasure to see you again. Your dragon is as radiant as ever."

Heather tilted her head, wondering why Viggo had come straight to her after his ship had docked; he certainly must have, to be here this quickly. "Viggo, your praise is as hollow as your hunters' attempts at flirting." She didn't bother turning around, no longer interested in trying to find a way to strike at him without getting killed for it, just continued staring out over the ocean from the sheer cliff she was idly sitting on. It was a beautiful sight, the endless sea sparkling in the sun, the waves far below her feet crashing into the rock and bouncing off in a white froth.

"You found them," he said, to which she did not reply because it was not a question. "Most excellent. Will I find it marked on the map in my hut?"

"You will," she agreed. Technically she wasn't supposed to be going into the room in which he did all his planning, but the only real thing of interest in there was his map anyway. He certainly didn't sleep there; as far as she was aware, he didn't sleep at all.

"In that case, I shall be-"

"Heather!" an overly jovial and disturbingly familiar voice called out, and Heather reflexively cringed. She'd barely even thought about finding Dagur, but now it appeared that she didn't need to.

She took a last calm breath before standing and building her facade. "Brother!" she greeted him warmly, holding her arms out in welcome before she realised she was doing it. "It's been a long time!" He'd changed dramatically since she'd last seen him, he'd put on a lot of muscle and had grown into his face. He'd had several gashes over his face when she'd first met him, but now there were deep scars across his right cheek that looked to be from claws of some sort. He certainly looked the part of a Berserker now, more rugged and overly masculine.

Except that, for a few moments, he actually stood there gibbering senselessly, time she spent pondering what had happened to his arm, splinted and bandaged as it was. "Sister!" he finally shrieked, running right up to her and grabbing her in a wild hug, flinging her around. This close to the cliff, it was reckless even by her standards.

"I thought I told you to wait," Viggo said sternly.

"Probably," Dagur said absently, holding Heather out to just look her over, still smiling widely; at least he wasn't staring at her chest.

Viggo sighed. "I suppose I will leave you to get acquainted. You will be working together from now on, so do try to get along."

Dagur suddenly frowned. "Get along? Get along!? This is my SISTER!" Heather winced at the crushing pressure he was putting on her shoulder, but it quickly relented. "Oh, sorry sis, heh, don't know my own strength." He gently put her down, then just stood there with a creepishly innocent smile on his face.

"It's fine," she said, rolling her arm. "I'm made of tougher stuff than most."

"HA! That Berserker blood shining through! OH! You, you, you won't have had anyone to teach you! I could do that! Me! Us! We could learn! Well, you know, it's a bit different for me, but I can teach you! You just gotta take that anger and," his face grew darker, and his breathing heavy, "press it into a little POINT until it's about to EXPLODE and then you just AAAGGGGHHHHH!"

Heather subtly edged away, wary of the notorious Berserker bloodlust, but he shrugged it off almost instantly and smiled at her again. "It's great, really," he said jovially. "The trick is keeping your head. Most get carried away and go all stupid, but the mind is your strongest muscle."

"Now that we can agree on," she said emphatically, debating the irony of that coming from a clearly crazy man.

"OH! OH! And you gotta show me what you did to that guy! You know, the one who was supposed to be keeping you safe. Not that you needed it! Ha! He said you went joom," he wildly flailed his arms, apparently unfazed by whatever injury he had sustained, "and he went whoosh! You can teach me that! He must've been, what, three, four times your size?"

"Oh… Uh… You're not mad about that?"

He pursed his lips and looked at her quizzically. "Mad? Mad!? I'm FURIOUS! He was supposed to protect you and he FAILED!" He threw his head back to yell angrily, then suddenly seemed to notice Windshear who was watching him very warily.

"Dagur, this is Windshear," Heather said hurriedly, quickly moving to put herself between the madman and her dragon. "Windshear, this is Dagur. No biting or impaling, okay?" She gave her dragon a significant look. "Watch him, not attack," she said subtly, and her dragon responded with a quiet and suspicious rumble.

"HA! She could try!" Dagur said gleefully, his fingers flexing.

"Windshear means a lot to me," she explained, hoping to get him off the idea of fighting her dragon. "She's been the only family I've had since… since Mother died."

"That old hag?" he said dismissively. "No big loss, you don't need her." It was very difficult to keep her face straight, but she managed somehow. And by his logic, wouldn't that be his mother too!? "But I get it. Anyway, we're gonna go hunt some Night Furies! WHOO! There's even one for each of us! It's perfect! We can make matching hats! Ohhhh I just got goosebumps."

"Sure," she said faintly. She was glad there was no actual relationship with this crazy man to confuse her, because it would make him her last remaining blood relative, and he was clearly a few pigs short of a farm. She would have no issue whatsoever with manipulating him into the Furies' waiting claws.