"I need a break…"

Dreamer hummed agreement and yawned widely. "I catch fish. You want fish?"

Fishlegs shook his head, then gestured to the symbols and pictures painted all over the wall. "No, I mean, a real break. Hiccup, we've been at this for over a month, and we haven't learned anything. There's just… too much information!" Dreamer gave him an amused look until he realised what he had said. "Oh you know what I mean," he said dryly, "too much to figure out what any of it means."

Dreamer sighed and lay down, resting his head on his paws. They had figured out quite a bit, but none of it was really new information. Such as a whole 'page' dedicated to sound-sight, how it mapped surfaces from echoes, then… He didn't really get it, but he apparently used the knowledge of those surfaces to interpret the echoes bouncing off them to see things he did not have line of sight of. This then repeated, over and over, for as far as the sound travelled.

At least, that was how he had interpreted it all. But as much as it was interesting, he already knew he could map out an entire tunnel system, so it didn't tell them anything new about Night Furies.

"Look," Fishlegs said gently, "stuff like this… you gotta take time away from it sometimes. Come back with a fresh head. We'll give it a week and-"

Dreamer lifted his head with a bark – a week!?

"-when we come back to it, it'll all make more sense."

He groaned and dropped his head back to his paws. It wasn't as if he'd done nothing else, he played with Wanderer every day, and occasionally they'd help however they could with the construction or just catch a few fish and light a fire from the offcuts of wood to cook them as a snack for the workers. He was looking forward to it being warmer; it wasn't that he minded the cold, but it did take a lot of the joy out of being outside, and made it a lot more tiring.

"Just trust me on this one, okay? Give it some time." Fishlegs then exited the hut, leaving Dreamer with the Dragon Eye in its little stand on a stump in the middle of the room.

Wrrr, they were apparently done for the day, at least… He picked up the stand in his mouth – this one had thin flexible sides that pinched securely around the Dragon Eye when he carried it – and walked out into the village.

Piles of snow lined the paths and piled up everywhere, turning well-walked areas into a muddy slush, but this particular hut was out of the way and unoccupied; its residents were stalling their move into it for a reason that someone had half-explained to him once.

He shivered, the cold wind worming under his wings and sapping warmth from his sides, then leaped into the air and flew to his den, set into the cliff. It was smaller than the one at Dragon's Nest had been, but smaller meant cozier, which was better in this frigid weather.

At least, he reflected as he landed inside, it had been well-designed to keep the wind out; it blew across the entrance, but not into it. He was then surprised to find it warmer than he'd expected, and noticed Wanderer curled up at the back.

Dreamer set the Dragon Eye aside and padded up to his friend, then nosed his shoulder with a warble of enquiry. Wanderer responded with a mildly unhappy hum, but one that was also unsure; he wasn't happy, but didn't know why.

It was a sound Dreamer was becoming familiar with. He snuggled up against him. Then shivered, stood, scorched the ground beneath himself, and settled down again, purring as the warmth radiated into his chest and legs.

Though it worried him that Wanderer wasn't trying to steal his warm spot. Something was troubling him. Dreamer nudged him with his nose until he turned to look at him, eyes a little downcast but dilating at seeing him; just that seemed to have lifted his spirits somewhat. "I done now," Dreamer crooned. "You want do thing?"

Wanderer purred, but instead of replying he just rolled onto his side and grabbed Dreamer in his paws, pulling him in close and wrapping a wing around him. Dreamer purred happily; he'd rather get out and do something, but he was fine with just taking it easy for a bit. Particularly with Wanderer licking down the back of his neck, mrrr…

But something was gnawing at him. Wanderer had been acting increasingly strangely over the last week or so, more lethargic and less enthusiastic. It was easy enough to cheer him up, but Dreamer didn't like that he needed cheering up, and he kept falling back into apathy. But Wanderer himself didn't know what was wrong, or at least wasn't talking about it.

Dreamer buried his nose into Wanderer's shoulder and took short inhales to catch the myriad of smells that made up his scent. There was salt and the sea, the wet compost of snow that had mixed with old leaves from the start of winter, fish and eggs and some sort of land-prey he must have taken from the Great Hall, some sawdust from yesterday, all of which Dreamer acknowledged and set aside, digging deeper. Near the core of his scent, the constant of what was Wanderer – and himself, given they shared the same body – was… something.

It wasn't sadness, something warmer than that, but close to it. Dreamer needed several minutes to figure out what it was, and though it saddened and somewhat confused him, he knew as soon as he recognised it.

Loneliness. Wanderer was lonely, even if he didn't know it himself, and Dreamer wasn't enough to fill that void. Almost enough, such that Wanderer probably felt he shouldn't be lonely – even now, he was purring and pulling Dreamer in tightly with all four paws, working for as much contact as he could manage – but not quite.

To his own surprise, that realisation didn't make him feel inadequate. He himself had a desire to fly, to find, to live and be with his kind. It was a deep instinctual longing, one that he had been more or less fulfilling with Wanderer and the Dragon Eye.

But Wanderer didn't have the Dragon Eye – he had initially been enthused, but it was taking far too long for each snippet of information for the pragmatic dragon to remain interested – to keep himself occupied, and couldn't wrap his head around the logic required to decipher it; most couldn't, that didn't make him unintelligent, he just thought in different ways that were incompatible with the task.

This wasn't how it was supposed to go. Dreamer sighed, shuffling his wings a bit to get comfortable. He felt that everyone was losing motivation, sliding into unhappiness. After two years living at Dragon's Nest, the riders seemed to be needing time to readjust to living in the village… with the exception of Snotlout. Dreamer was unclear on the details, but the brash young man had only spent a single night in the village before turning around and flying out alone, something about finding himself.

Dreamer was a little startled by snoring in his ear, and rolled his eyes. He supposed he could do with a nap himself, and the warmth was making a very convincing argument. But he had a lot to think about while he drifted off.

The next day, Dreamer woke early with a yawn and a shiver, then extracted himself from the warm embrace of his friend and picked up the Dragon Eye before padding outside.

With his wings warming while they worked the frigid air, he made a long loop out over the sea to relieve himself, watching the choppy water below for fish. He didn't spot any between the chunks of ice, but he didn't really want to dive in anyway. A mutton hock from the Great Hall would be just as satisfying.

Now thoroughly awake and with his muscles suitably warming, his loop concluded in the village, diving straight down to the new hut he and Fishlegs had been working in. Fishlegs was content to wait, but Dreamer had another plan, to attack this wealth of information from an entirely new angle.

Awkwardly – Fishlegs usually handled this – he emptied the canister at the end of the stand, refilled it with dry sand from a bucket they'd set up, and got it set up with the Dragon Eye to project the contents of the Night Fury lens onto the bare wooden wall. He stared at the images, this one of various arrangements of short lines like toothpicks, while he thought.

They had been going through each page, or 'slide' as Fishlegs called them, making note of what they could recognise, compiling a big report of what was where, in the hope of identifying some pattern. But the only consistency so far seemed to be regular mentions of other dragons, though this one was strange in that it referenced a Night Fury in a slightly different image to what it normally used, a rougher icon with smoother lines and less detail.

This approach wasn't working very well. It would likely show results, in time, but today he only wanted to know one thing, and started flicking the dial with the tip of a claw and sparing only a glance at each page, only one question on his mind.

Where?

He knew there were Night Furies in the South, of course, but that was an extremely vague direction to start looking. And he wasn't just looking for Night Furies.

Like with the Gronckles, he wanted the origin of Night Furies, where they had all come from; Sire had said, long ago, that all dragons originated from a waterfall at the end of the world, but that sounded like old sailor nonsense. Finding their source would solve everything! He could find a female for Wanderer, find out if he wanted one himself, and there he might find context for what exactly was on this lens. And perhaps, it had something to do with what Viggo had wanted him to find, and he could figure that out too.

Tick, tick, tick, tick, information flashed before his eyes, dozens of pages, hundreds of them, all as interesting and mysterious as they were incomprehensible. Several times he had to stop and just lie there with his eyes closed, unable to maintain such a fierce pace even with the regular interruptions of fumbling with the buttons on the back.

Some time after his growling stomach had reminded him he hadn't actually gone to get breakfast as he'd intended, he found himself staring at an odd image. A neat grid of lines projected onto the wall, all slightly bowed away from the centre and imposed over a far less structured splash of gradients, like a scorch mark on a rock he'd flamed to lie on.

He shook his head and moved on, resolving to check another dozen or so before getting a bite to eat. His eyes ached with overuse, and he felt exhausted and ravenous.

Those strange lines… He found himself staring at them again, having idly turned the dial back, but was unable to even focus on them. They felt so familiar… like the scent of an old den, but at the same time not…

An angry growl from his stomach echoed around the room. He stood with a huff and walked outside, giving himself a shake with the cold wind, then took wing and flew up towards the Great Hall, putting everything other than food and warmth out of his mind.

He was a little disappointed with the leftovers from breakfast, but someone from the kitchen noticed him sniffing over the table and brought him some big fish from the cold room. And the Great Hall was warm, particularly in the glowing coals of the fire pit. He couldn't resist the temptation to lie down in them… rest his eyes for a bit…

"...D'ag'on!"

What? Hrrr, just a child's voice… He shuffled, which made an odd dry rustling sound, but he was so gloriously warm…

"D'ag'on!"

"Shhh, le' 'im sleep, lass."

Dreamer blearily cracked open an eye to find a woman he didn't recognise holding a young girl of only a few years, who was pointing and looking between him and presumably her mother with astonishment. "Sleeby d'ag'on!"

He snorted in amusement, blowing up a cloud of embers that floated out of the fire pit.

"That d'ag'on is my fwiend," the child announced matter-of-factly, heedless of her mother gently shushing her. "He's inna fiyah. He's t'yna sleeb." Her voice started getting a bit more distant. "Bye bye d'ag'on my fwiend!"

Dreamer stared at the blurry glow of the coals, only one eye barely open, while his mind picked up speed, climbing out of the haze of a very pleasant doze…

And then he wrapped a foreleg tightly over his muzzle in a desperate attempt to stifle his mirth, the pure and innocent voice fresh in his mind, telling her mother about the sleepy dragon in a fire. He'd just thought he was over it when it returned with a vengeance, his chest heaving with suppressed barks of laughter.

It took time before he was able to control himself and sit up, stretching and flexing his claws into the coals. Not the worst way to wake, he mused to himself, still laughing under his breath; he and Wanderer didn't tend to nap in the Hall, even with how tempting the big fire was, because it was very prone to disturbances.

He wondered where Wanderer was. They weren't responsible for each other's happiness, but Dreamer did feel bad he was here enjoying himself on his own.

That was good motivation to get up and get back to it. He shook himself of any clinging embers, rearranged the fire to fix the bit that he had smothered with his body, then hopped over the rim of the pit and trotted to the door-

The door to the freezing world outside, looking no warmer for the overcast, early afternoon light. He shivered violently, tucked his wings tightly to his sides, and started loping down the stairs, figuring a run would help warm him up… and abandoned the idea before he even made it to the bottom, throwing out his wings and braving the extra chill to get out of it more quickly. He missed Dragon's Nest, and the slightly warmer climate of the Greater Archipelago.

He burst into the unused hut and practically slammed the door shut behind himself, wishing there was a slab or something he could flame, and settled for just burning some fire into the air to warm the room. Stupid cold-season…

The blue images on the wall caught his attention again, and he went back to staring at them. Even with his hunger sated and his mind rested, something felt… strange about it. His eyes refused to focus properly, like he wasn't supposed to be seeing it. There was just something…

He shook his head with a growl, forcing himself to look away and then pawing at the Dragon Eye until it showed something else. He'd come back to it later.

Stoick stared down over the village from beside the steps of the Great Hall, just watching its people work and feeling the wind tug at his braids and cloak. It was a familiar setting, but the dragons drifting overhead and perching on rooftops were still rather surreal.

He had blinked, and years had swept by; it seemed to be a side effect of getting old. For nearly forty years, he had known the village of Berk as a simple constant, trapped in a cycle of rebuilding but remaining unchanging overall. The biggest changes had largely come in the form of how many supplies they had to work with, and how he was going to make them last through winter. The only other thing that had come to mind was losing his loving wife, and suddenly needing to figure out how to be a single parent in a house that felt cold and empty.

But that otherwise unchanging, unyielding nature of the tribe had hidden from him how quickly life moved on. Fifteen years, Hiccup had lived. That seemed an eternity to think about, one and a half decades, while he was so used to just looking to the end of the next winter. But now, thinking back, it had gone in an instant.

"Startin' ter think like an elder," he muttered, and Skullcrusher blew warm air down the back of his arm. "How's retirement suiting you, eh?" he asked.

The big dragon'd had a bad lot in life. He was mostly content to just wander nearby, occasionally disappearing to fetch a meal but always returning quickly, and had sharp growls and a flash of teeth for anyone trying to get close. Anyone except Stoick himself, who he seemed to almost fear.

He'd seen some of himself in the dragon, one with a strong body and careful nature, one with an experience in years and a desire to protect. One who needed to learn to relax, to hand the responsibility and worries to another to take care of.

And by some interesting twist of fate, Skullcrusher did not speak the language of dragons. Most apparently did so rarely anyway, but whether because he did not know it or was just the silent type, Skullcrusher neither spoke nor acknowledged it. It might be inconvenient at times, but Stoick was quietly pleased with that he was the one who understood his dragon the most; it made him feel that they had an actual bond.

The head of a gnarled stick waved in front of his face, and he looked down to find Gothi, her wrinkled face looking up at him in a way he knew was asking for his thoughts. "Everything has changed," he said, going back to watching over the village.

He waited until the quiet scuffing stopped before looking down at what she had written in the snow – a pair of huts, the four seasons, a large tree and a small one. Unlike for Gobber, with whom she had a long rapport and a slightly more direct way of writing, she 'spoke' to Stoick in more symbolism with deep meaning, usually with several interpretations and all of them true. The huts were the village, and the seasons represented change. The tree weathered change and grew stronger for it, while the small tree likely represented the next generation that needed change to flourish.

She then reached out and dragged the end of her staff through the smaller tree, scratching it out, and looked up at him with a thoughtful squint. Stoick sighed. "I know," he said solemnly. "He feels so far away now. We were never close, but I feel as if I have lost him."

The ancient woman gently tapped her staff against the side of her head, then began drawing again. The moon and a crudely drawn angry face, in a rare literal description, then a series of waves followed by an island.

"Aye, they're part of it," he said sadly. Letting the Night Furies go to fight the hunters had been difficult, but he had a feeling he was on the verge of losing them altogether. They were how he remembered Hiccup best. Rather than the incomprehensible nonsense that had done more damage than good, the Night Furies embodied that which Hiccup had fought so hard for, to even stand up to his own father. That bravery was what he respected beyond words.

Gothi was drawing again, and this time he watched her. An eye with a flame for a pupil. Yggdrasil, the world tree, with a boat sailing over it. Mjolnir, sparking with lightning, and the jagged stalactites of Hel, both watched over by the blind eye of Odin. Another sapling, this one with wings, though they were furled. She then stepped back and leaned on her staff with a satisfied nod.

"Couldn't resist, could you," he said wryly, eyeing the signs of Thor and Hel, lightning and death. She whacked his shoulder with her staff, then jabbed the tip at the symbols, frowning up at him. "I know," he chuckled. They also meant strength and pain, courage and acceptance, and were clearly meant for him as much as the Furies. They were symbols that often went together, and just so happened to fit the context in what passed as a sense of humour for the old woman.

The rest of it… could be interpreted in many, many ways. He knew better than to ask, knowing that was the point. He wanted to keep them here, keep them safe, but they had their own destinies to fulfil. He had to be ready to let them go.

But he eyed the sapling, with its wings still folded. Perhaps, they were not quite ready to leave him just yet.

Wanderer stared up at the roof of his den. He rolled onto his side, arching his back and reaching back to stretch his forelegs. He curled up and watched the tip of his tail gently tap the ground.

The irony was painful. How many times had he growled at his Dreamer for not sleeping? How many times had he been frustrated when he'd put in a lot of effort to make Dreamer relaxed, only for him to get up and fly into the night shortly after? That had, of course, been because the young Nightstriker was trying to do too much, taking on more responsibility than anyone could be expected to have.

And now, there was no responsibility. The rotted hunters were thoroughly defeated and could not come back if they tried. Wanderer no longer needed to watch for ships, or take long flights to find the hunters, or fight dangerous and tricky Long-Paws that wanted to do horrible things to him. Now, he could do whatever he wanted… except sleep, apparently.

Even now, during the light, he could not manage more than a shallow doze. It at least kept him rested enough that he didn't think Dreamer had really noticed. That would be mortifying, especially as now that he was experiencing it himself he realised a lot of what he had tried to help Dreamer was just stupid. This wasn't a decision to not sleep, it was just that he couldn't.

At least it didn't matter. Nobody was relying on him to do anything, he didn't need to be alert and rested. Was that the problem? Dreamer had been giving too much of himself to others. Could the same happen by not giving enough? It was not as if he was idle, doing much flying and helping most lights and even some nights, but nobody needed him, not in the way the various wing-hunters had while fighting the hunters. Were he to just huddle in his den all light and all night, nobody would suffer; not even Dreamer, who would just fly up here if he wanted company.

So he felt no reason to get up. He didn't know why that would make it difficult to fall asleep, or even if it was the problem, but it was weird that he didn't want to get up but he apparently didn't want to lie here either.

Wings gently guiding into the mouth of the den pulled him from that in-between state, and he gave up on napping, rolling to his paws with a yawn.

"Why you still here, lazywings," Dreamer growled in amusement, and Wanderer shrugged. "I need help," he continued, turning and tipping his head towards the open air outside.

"Help?" Wanderer warbled hopefully, hopping to his paws. His head felt heavy, his thoughts sluggish, but he could help. Better than getting annoyed with himself here, even if it involved going out into the cold; the only good thing about it being so cold was how closely Dreamer snuggled up to him at night.

"I found thing," Dreamer said, then leaped from the den. Wanderer hummed curiously as he followed – was it even colder than last light? The cold-season was supposed to be over, this was stupid.

Dreamer led him to the empty Long-Paw den he had been frequenting, nosing the door open and slipping through. Inside was warmer at least, sheltered from the wind. Strange lines were shining over one of the walls.

"I not think I can help with this thing," Wanderer murmured, eyeing the odd shapes, then nosed at the Dragon Eye. He liked looking at the Nightstrikers it had shown, but other than that he couldn't make head nor tail of it.

"I not know what this say," Dreamer churred, "but… I know it something."

Wanderer huffed and looked back to the strange markings on the wall. Most of what the Dragon Eye showed all looked the same to him, incomprehensible lines like the paths of tiny-many-leg-things, but this was different. The lines were straight, almost, and the patterns behind them…

He could see what Dreamer meant, this looked… as if he should recognise it. He walked up to the wall, staring thoughtfully – a big shadow blocked off over half of the image, and he huffed at realising he was standing in front of it, taking a step to the side-

And with a start, he recognised what he was looking at. A sense he was aware of, to an extent, but had never really thought about or been able to put to words. "This here," he said, stepping aside to see the full thing again.

"Where?" Dreamer asked, walking up beside the image.

"Here," he huffed, then walked over to near the edge of the lines and nosed at it. Then sighed at realising his head blocked the light, making it a horribly inefficient way of pointing at something. He looked around himself, experimentally raised a wing, then pointed with the tip of that instead. "This here," he said.

Dreamer warbled confusion, and Wanderer rolled his eyes. "Here," he repeated, then shifted his wing to point to another spot, a short distance to the right. "This where we nest, hrrr, how you name it, 'Dragon's Nest'."

He didn't know what the lines were, but the smears behind them he recognised as… something like the shape of the land as he flew above it, the grass and trees rising and falling as he passed over it, but not of land. If he thought about it, just the 'feel' of this place was unique, and he would recognise it if he somehow woke up here without knowing where he was, and the same went for anywhere he was familiar with.

"I see it!" Dreamer barked excitedly, jumping up at the wall and splaying his paws across it, the lights shining off his back; it was disorienting to look at when he moved. "Long-Paw nests here," he said, sort of walking up the left side of the wall with his forepaws, "Dragon's Nest here, Defenders here…" He dropped down, then looked to either side of the – hrrr, it was apparently a 'map' of some kind, sort of like the one Dreamer had made – and finally sat in front of it, looking up at the middle. His head cast a shadow across the bottom, and his erect ears framed one of the boxes drawn by the lines, the one in the very centre.

Dreamer stared, motionless, until Wanderer warbled questioning at him. "This not show all," Dreamer hummed, then waved a wingtip off the left side of the lights. "There more this way."

"I not see where I hatched," Wanderer hummed, trying to see around Dreamer's shadow, but he was fairly sure it was further off the bottom.

"So…" Dreamer leaned forward, and his shadow narrowed down on the very centre. "What here…?"

The sky-fire was shining from a pale blue sky, one of the rare pleasant days for the Meridian of Misery in the middle of spring. Once again, the long, endless sea beckoned, the steady wind an enticing caress bringing clean scents of salty water and more good weather. There were clouds in the distance, but they were tall and white and majestic, the perfect type to fly in.

Sitting on the cliff overlooking the waters to the east, Dreamer closed his eyes and just felt the air brush over his face, slip between his frills, and tug at his wings. A deep yearning to fly burned within him, but for now he exhaled slowly and remained sat on the rough grass, just savouring the anticipation.

Last time, he had been gone for two years with only a few trips back. He did not intend to be gone so long this time, but experience had taught him that life was unpredictable.

"I mean it," his sire, somewhere behind him, grumbled to Wanderer. "Don't make me come looking."

Very unpredictable.

"You sure you've got everything you need?" Fishlegs asked for at least the fifth time.

"I not need things," Dreamer groaned with a roll of his head. He had the Dragon Eye and its lenses in a waterproof pouch attached to his flank with soft, comfortable leather straps. And that was it. They were flying over the sea, an easy source of fish, and could find water on islands they passed on the way. At the sheer speed they would be travelling, just the two Nightstrikers with nobody to slow down for, they would pass many islands with water before they needed it.

He expected the trip to take three days. Flying to and from Dragon's Nest had taken from sunrise to sunset, but that was at Meatlug's speed or while burdened with a rider. Then there was what they had explored of the Greater Archipelago, filling in the map that had burned with the Nest; it was all in his head anyway, so he wasn't overly bothered by the loss. All of that was about half of the distance they were preparing to travel.

This time, he felt much more ready. They were fairly good at recognising Death Songs, were experienced fighters, and… as callous as it felt to think, they weren't bogged down by anyone. Nightstrikers were objectively the fastest dragons with the strongest fire, their hides the strongest for how light they were, to say nothing of their intelligence and the array of tools their fire made available to them.

All those years ago, he could not have taken down the Green Death from the back of a Nadder, or a Monstrous Nightmare, or even his sire's new dragon. Only a Nightstriker was capable of such a feat.

"Still wish I could go with you," Fishlegs said apologetically, walking up to stand beside him.

Dreamer huffed. "I think we need fly alone. This our flight."

"Just as long as you come back. You've got to tell me everything, and I'm not done with the Dragon Eye."

"If you don't," his sire rumbled, walking over to him, "I will come looking." Dreamer rolled his eyes and turned to nuzzle the man, pressing his forehead into the thick beard. "I'm just worried," Sire sighed, putting a hand to the back of his neck.

"Come on Chief," Fishlegs said, "he's the offspring of lightning and death itself. What's he got to worry about?"

"Do you want a list?" Sire growled back at him, but then collected himself with a deep breath. "You saved my life, once," he said quietly, and Dreamer's heart leapt into his throat before remembering the arrow he had taken shortly before getting his fire. "I repay my debts."

Dreamer pulled back and nodded, then purred as Wanderer walked up to him. "Hrrr," he rumbled thoughtfully, staring up past the top of the village, "I not think we top this small-land before."

"No we not," Wanderer hummed, looking over his shoulder to the tall peak above.

…

They bolted, Dreamer along the cliff to leap into the air, and Wanderer dropping down towards the sea – he had a moment of confusion to process that, after which he caught the immense but short updraft blasting up the face of the cliff. Wanderer shot past him a moment later, having built considerable momentum from riding it up.

Dreamer growled and pumped the air with his wings, his lighter and more nimble body picking up speed faster, and he slowly started gaining again. Up and up they flew, past the first of the flats that towered over the village, from where he used to look down at the torches. He was no longer gaining, the gap was beginning to widen again.

Past the first peak of the mountain, the nearest and lowest of the three. Its cap looked sharp from below, but was actually quite rounded, peaking in a mostly flat area of pure unblemished snow.

He lost sight of Wanderer behind the second peak, resigned to his loss but only spurring himself on with it. He raced past it himself, rounding the rocky, snowy spire, feeling the burn in his wings as they became less and less effective against the thinning air.

When he finally reached the very top, it was already defiled, deep gouges carved through the pristine snow. It sparkled in the bright light, where it remained untouched, which was slowly becoming less as the other Nightstriker frolicked. Dreamer, hoarsely panting the freezing air, dropped into it himself, just to feel it beneath his paws, to stand at the top of the island.

Of course, he instantly sank into the deep powdery snow, suddenly not really feeling the cold so much; his hide was already cold, so the snow just brushed off him but also protected him from the wind.

He waited a heartbeat, listening, and then leapt through a thin wall of snow to tackle Wanderer, and they fell in a growling tangle. Sort of fell, the snow cushioned everything they did, and it was insanely deep, well over their heads. He felt like a fledgling again, dwarfed by his surroundings – the immense distance to the sea below was equally humbling, even if he could not see it – which only made it more fun.

Wanderer slipped out of his grasp and leapt away, bounding high to clear the snow, and Dreamer chased him right off the peak and into a steep dive down the face of the mountain. He tucked his limbs in tightly, the cold air streaking over his body but his hot wing-muscles fighting off the chill.

As he reached maximum falling speed, hurtling towards the ground in chasing Wanderer's tail, he realised he hadn't said goodbye. He wasn't overly upset about that, he found the whole process awkward and uncomfortable. But thinking about it, he didn't have to say it, per se…

He followed Wanderer's lead in slowly levelling off, easing wings out to just touch them to the immense wind and angle his momentum. Pockets of pressure and tiny gusts of wind shook his entire body, so many hitting him with such force that they felt like a hundred hands pushing him every which way, his tense tail correcting the more major disruptions. He angled his sub-wings just so, and the air screeched as it tore across them.

Berk was a blot in the distance ahead, only a few roofs of the village barely visible as they levelled out about as high as the tip of its spire. And then it was below him, and in a daring flaunt of their prowess, they angled down exhilaratingly close to the rooftops for the instant it took them to pass the entire islet, so fast that Dreamer couldn't tell one building from the next with either type of sight.

And then, as fast as he could blink, there was nothing but open water ahead. Open water, and an immense world of possibility.

Whoosh, whoosh, woosh, woosh, Dreamer's wings beat a merry rhythm through the air, letting the wind carry him while he pushed himself for sheer speed. The sparkling water rushed past, its white caps mere inches from his downstrokes, and Wanderer flew by his side, nothing else visible in this vast expanse of sea. They were rested, having made such good time the previous day as to sleep late this morning, and the flight called to Dreamer in a visceral way that was immensely satisfying to fulfil. Whoosh, whoosh, woosh, woosh!

They screeched through a flock of Thunderdrums cresting the waves, weaving around the ones that were surfacing and crossing each other's path repeatedly but never getting in each other's way. One happened to throw itself out of the water right in front of Dreamer, and he spontaneously ducked and rolled to pass under its spread wing, through the seawater raining from it, and out the other side-

Wanderer shot out from under him, then pulled up sharply in front of him and roared glee, haste! Dreamer roared challenge, hurry! in reply, flying up after him towards the sky. With how fast they were going, they crossed the boundary between the sea and low scattered clouds in no time, and weaved and ducked through the channels of clear air between the white swirls surrounding them. They were no longer racing, but dancing in the air, just letting the sky guide them and effortlessly gliding through the twisting and transient paths.

It led them above the clouds where Wanderer just let gravity pull him to a halt, Dreamer pulling up in front of him to match. They grinned goofily at each other, panting the cool air, and then leaned forwards into a back-to-back dive, punching straight through the cloud and screeching back towards the water. Dare, challenge, Dreamer growled as the waves neared, and Wanderer growled back at him, refusing to be the first to pull out, even when he could make out the individual motes of spray on the white caps, even beyond all sense of self-preservation-!

Dreamer pulled up at what had to be the last possible instant, feeling the spray of the waves pepper his chest and forelegs as he screeched above them. He stared wildly at the water as Wanderer pulled up beside him, panicked breaths fighting the wind blasting into his nose, and then roared at the sheer exhilaration of it all before heaving his wings back and shooting back up into the sky.

He let his speed bleed out a bit as he passed between clouds, then let himself drift a little higher to match a Timberjack flying overhead. His wings and lungs ached with exertion, but in a good way, and one that was more temporary than actual exhaustion. He admired the big dragon above while he caught his breath, each of its wings larger than the sail of any ship and dwarfing its long and thin body, the sunlight shining through them and highlighting their majesty. Wings like that would be immensely efficient at gliding, just going wherever the wind led, but not much else. Highly specialised, and beautiful for it.

There was something to be said for flying as Nightstrikers were meant to fly – it was never boring!

A gap opened up between the clouds below them, revealing a massive fog bank, and Dreamer grinned widely at Wanderer before folding his wings and letting himself drop into a dive. Once again, he hurtled towards the water below, streamlining himself to pick up as much speed as possible in the short dive before pulling up and resuming their ridiculous pace – straight into the thick fog.

Like at Helheim's Gate, fog tended to cling to things, and he was not disappointed as the sound-sight from the air shrieking over his sub-wings revealed a scattering of sea-stacks. One ahead of him had a big hole in it, which he angled to pass through-

A blue bolt of light shot past and impacted the side of it, sending a spray of rock right into his path. His breath caught in his throat as he desperately ducked as low as he could through the arch and pulled his wings in, rolling through the little chunks of debris that bounced off his hide. His sound-sight faltered, but in the last echo he saw a swathe of mass in front of him, and he blindly threw out his wings to regain control before he could hit it.

He pulled up even while he righted himself, still 'seeing' that final echo of the island as he came up to it, just barely clearing the clifftop – and misjudging the height of the forest on top of it.

Branches snagged his hindlegs, and he shrieked in surprise as he was yanked from the air. His wings automatically snapped in tightly to his sides, and he curled up on himself as he crashed through the branches, listening to them snap against his back and dreading the searing pain of his wings tearing open.

But while they were battered, they still felt intact when he tumbled to a halt in the branches, landing awkwardly. Owww… He made to unfurl, then desperately grabbed for the branch as he slipped right off it, his claws scraping the bark but finding no purchase, and he was falling again.

The ground was a lot harder than he remembered it being. He had a lot of time to ponder this as he hit it, repeatedly, tumbling down a hill and out of the little forest he had crashed into before finally landing in a sprawl.

He slumped with a whimper where he lay. Owwwwww…

Wanderer landed daintily next to him as he shakily got to his paws. "I not even see those trees," he roared happily, looking very pleased with himself. Dreamer just planted his paws with a huff, then gave himself a shake-

There was a massive, resounding crack behind him, and he spun to find a large boulder falling out of the sea stack. And then the entire thing just dropped, straight down, crumbling into itself and disappearing entirely into the fog. "Look what you do!" he grumbled angrily; that sea stack had stood for presumably as long as Midgard itself, and now it was gone.

Wanderer wasn't even paying attention! "We need practise your recoveries," he lectured over his shoulder as he primly ruffled and refolded his wings. "You fly very bad there. Not see where you going." Dreamer gaped at him. He wasn't sure what was more aggravating; the sea stack, or that Wanderer had the gall to imply this was his fault! "This big small-land," he remarked casually, staring off the edge of the misty pillar, or whatever they were on.

Dreamer pouted, then spotted a little rock on the ground and flicked it with his tail at the nonchalant dragon.

It found its mark by pure chance, and Wanderer let out a small surprised yelp as it clipped his ear. Dreamer blinked, equally surprised, then huffed and turned his back when Wanderer looked back to him. "Wrrr, your tail sting?" Wanderer churred condescendingly. "That why you grumbling?" Dreamer huffed at him again. "I sorry," he said insincerely, "that what you want?" He dropped onto his back and pawed up at Dreamer with mocking mewls.

Dreamer grunted, then grabbed the Nightstriker's foreleg in his teeth and started dragging him. Wanderer just continued with his appallingly fake mewls, right up to the point Dreamer dragged him to the edge and kicked him off the cliff.

Silence fell over the pillar, and Dreamer set about checking the Dragon Eye was still securely on his flank, and then his wings and tail for scrapes. He wasn't going to check the cliff, he knew full well Wanderer was perfectly fine.

Wanderer knew he'd know that, clearly, because it wasn't long before he flew back onto the cliff with a little roar. "I say sorry, but you throw me away!" he yowled dramatically. "I never can forgive you!"

He bounded up to Dreamer, throwing his paws high into the air like a playful fledgling, and Dreamer met his charge with a grumpy growl. They rolled over the ground and swatted lazily at each other, Dreamer too sore to be really play-fighting… but he was quick to swipe Wanderer's hindleg out of the way and stomp on his belly.

"Woof!" went Wanderer as the air was shoved out of him, and he rolled onto his side to wheeze for breath.

"I forgive you," Dreamer purred, and was sure to show his forgiveness with big slobbery licks over his friend's face.

Wanderer swatted him away, then climbed to his paws, glared at Dreamer, and started cleaning his face. Dreamer laughed at him, then walked to the edge of the pillar to have a better look around.

After being momentarily distracted by having to gnaw at an itch behind his foreleg where a stick had jabbed him during his earlier crash landing, he beheld the immense land they had found, wreathed in swirls of mist and covered in lush greenery. It had to be even bigger than Berk, he couldn't even see the far shore, but without the mountain in the middle. Aside from a pair of small, oddly symmetrical mountains in the distance that looked like someone had carved a vertical slice out of the middle of one big one, It was all actually rather flat, and looked uninhabited. Pristine, tranquil… wild…

"This nice small-land," Wanderer purred, and Dreamer had to agree. There were likely a ton of dragons out there too, even if he couldn't see any flying overhead. Maybe there would even be some new types. "We fly?" he then asked, gesturing to the horizon beyond; this place was interesting, but it wasn't where they were going.

Dreamer chuffed and stretched, but then noticed something odd about the clouds in the distance. "What that?" he churred curiously with a tint of worry.

Wanderer hummed thoughtfully, peering across the distance to the other side of the island. They seemed to both realise at the same time that it wasn't a cloud at all – it was smoke. A lot of it; the plume had to be a mile wide at least, reaching up into the sky to blend into the clouds.

They shared a worried glance before taking wing towards it.