The wind howled over an ominous creaking and groaning, one that encouraged silence, waiting. Like what was left of his men, Eret, son of Eret, flinched at every minute crack echoing around them, waiting for the frozen remains of their fortress to come crashing down on their heads.

While they all panicked about that, Eret also panicked about something else entirely. He had a good rapport with Drago, something very few others could claim, but as of less than an hour ago that was pretty much all he had left. Prior to that, he'd been set to live the dream, near enough to a hundred dragons all caged and ready to sail; he'd actually needed to employ a full-time fishing boat just to keep the beasts fed.

But it would be worth it. Would have been, anyway.

Crack

He went tense at the sound, deep within the ice behind him, but everything remained steady. Walls and roofs and entire rooms jutted out at precarious angles, much of it splintered and broken… and if he was to look carefully, which he didn't, he would see some of his men in there too.

Crouching here, watching the sea from behind a fallen spike of ice, wasn't exactly a plan of action, but what could he do? Drago would literally have his head if he failed to deliver. He might be better off if he was just crushed now. Or he could freeze to death, he refused to wrap himself in bulky furs as a matter of pride, but his bare arms were long since numb. Though if he had been rugged up like everyone else, he wouldn't have been fast enough to avoid the icicle he was currently crouching against.

His father had always taught him that the best dragon trappers were the ones who lived. Words to live by.

While he knelt there, waiting for some flash of inspiration on how he was going to at least pick up the pieces, Odin himself answered his unspoken prayers in the form of two dragons literally flying into the middle of the frozen debris-strewn ledge, at the centre of a dozen trappers.

He stared, not daring to move, at the two Night Furies that had just landed in his lap. A hundred dragons was nothing, Drago would pay double all of that for just one of these legendary creatures…

Around the clearing, his men were equally frozen in shock. Or they might be actually frozen, he couldn't tell, but clearly neither could the Night Furies. They seemed more interested in the ice anyway, looking up and around at it.

With tense, shallow breaths, Eret slowly lowered out of sight, then looked around for what he had to work with – only his net launcher, the one he had been manning during the earlier attack, but that was perfect. Slowly, silently, he crept behind it, staying low to the ground.

Crack

Most dragons had excellent hearing, but the creaking and cracking of the ice encasing what was left of his fortress was hopefully masking any sounds he did make, and the wind was blowing in his favour, from the sea. He had a chance at this, but only one.

He slowly stood behind the weapon, thankful he had left it loaded; sometimes, a trapper just had to get lucky. What was less fortunate was that the barrel was jammed against the icicle that had fallen in front and apparently rolled into it. Not tightly, he could feel some wiggle room, but pulling it free would not be silent.

A moment was all he needed, at this range. Dragons were flighty creatures, a weakness he exploited regularly, but he could work around that with just a moment – the very same sounds that he had been dreading for the last hour would provide ample cover.

Come on, come on, they were liable to fly off at any moment, or spot him in the ruin, or realise his men weren't actually dead-

Creeaaak

He wrenched the weapon free and aimed and fired, all in one swift motion, during the particularly loud groan. The double-string design of the weapon put a spin on the weights, spreading them out wide to stretch the net, and the extra power threw them across the distance in an instant.

"Now men!" he shouted unnecessarily as the strong ropes wrapped around the closer Night Fury, staggering it into the second and tangling them together – a perfect shot! A dozen or so trappers were already on their feet, bolas in the hands of some, hooked poles brandished by others, while a few scrambled for the few mounted weapons that had survived the earlier carnage. Actual Night Furies! And he'd tangled both of them! He vaulted over the icicle, drawing his sword in the process to distract them and give his men more of a chance while the dragons tangled themselves in their haste to escape.

Except, as his feet hit the ground, he noticed they weren't panicking. The staggering one just calmly found its paws, looked around-

Kse-ka-ka-ka-ka-ka-ka-ka!

Eret finished taking his first step, and did not take another, letting his sword drop from his hand.

Every one of his men lay on the ground, intact but silent and unmoving. Clouds of smoke were dissipating from where the launchers had been, which were now just gone. The dragons looked about as bothered as if they'd swatted something buzzing around their heads, and were carefully working together to untangle themselves.

He knew Night Furies were different, he was prepared for that, but this was unheard of. Who, or what, wouldn't panic at least a little when unexpectedly wrapped up in rope? That panic was of course what doomed the dragon, their struggles only tangling them further, but to just take it in stride?

And now he was alone, with a pair of unrestrained wild dragons. Odin help him, he was a trapper, not some crazy Viking with a death wish! He was a damn good trapper – the best, if he said so himself – and part of that was knowing when he was outmatched. The sheer lack of effort these two had demonstrated in dispatching a boatload of men spoke for itself.

His last futile hope that they had somehow not seen him was dashed when the closer Night Fury stepped out of the ropes, shook itself from head to tail, then looked directly at him with decidedly unfriendly eyes. Eret gulped.

It stalked up to him, keeping him rooted to the spot with its piercing gaze. Its hot breath blew down his numb arms as it walked around him. He couldn't move a muscle, only follow its graceful, predatory movements with his eyes, noticing a leather sash across its hindquarters; that was strange, did they belong to that mad dragon rider that had freed all his hard-earned dragons?

Reflexively, he pulled back and his hands came up as something hard and sharp touched his waist, and his hunting knife clattered to the ice a moment later. "W-w-what game are you playing?" he asked nervously, not expecting a response.

The grin it gave him, full of evil, malicious teeth, pushed him to new heights of unease.

Firm claws closed around his forearms, and a surprised shout quickly became a scream of terror as the ground beneath his feet rapidly shrank into the distance below. He kicked and struggled, as if a fall from this height would not already be fatal, then spared another few moments to scream at the rapidly departing ground unfathomably far beneath his dangling boots.

After an eternity of sheer terror, the dragon levelled off and glided on the sharp wind. Eret's head spun at just the thought of looking down, but he couldn't not look at the world splayed out beneath him like some ornate carpet.

He felt dizzy. His sight blurred. Panic and terror became distant notions, irrelevant in the face of certain death. His life flashed before his eyes. It hadn't been bad, as far as lives went. He still had his fighting spirit, and figured he had a good shot at reaching Valhalla.

The wind rushing past him, as if he was standing in the fiercest storm, dragged him back to awareness as he realised he was falling. He somehow found a breath to scream with, though the wind was much fiercer and bloated his open mouth with the sheer force of it.

He was still falling when he ran out of breath, and struggled to get another. Lack of air wasn't the problem – by Thor was that not the problem – rather it was like trying to grab a sheep with his bare hands out of a stampeding herd.

For all his tranquility and acceptance those few moments ago, the ground rushing up to meet him was not a welcome sight. He somehow managed to draw in enough air to scream again, clutching at nothing in a desperate attempt to do something – he wasn't ready to die!

But the approach of his fortress, broken and frozen in ice, was inexorable. He squeezed his eyes shut and grit his teeth, hoping it would at least be quick-

Something grabbed his legs, sharp points pricking his skin through his trousers, and he was falling head-first but… slower. By the time he reached the point where he'd started, on that debris-strewn ledge of ice, he was calmly drifting down at walking speed. He dared a glance at what was carrying him, finding the underside of the Night Fury with the leather wrapped around its hindlegs.

He was busy gawking when it looked down at him and suddenly let go, and he shouted-

Hard ground hit his back a moment later, and he could only stare up at the sky, dumbfounded, unable to move if he'd wanted to.

He did manage to turn his head, finding with shock that his trappers were sitting up, holding their heads, one retching in a corner. They all scrambled back as the two black dragons landed in their midst again, the pair looking around as if wondering if anyone was bold enough to try again; Eret certainly wasn't.

One of the Night Furies walked over to him with none of the hostility they had displayed earlier, even giving him a smile he could only describe as 'friendly'. "Wait," he mumbled, finding himself capable of propping himself up on his elbows, "didn't you have teeth earlier?"

It nodded, then demonstrated an unsettling control over whether or not it had teeth. "Okay," Eret said faintly, feeling dizzy again, and dropped back to the ground.

The dragons turned their backs to him, walking towards the open sea, though one stopped to sniff at a trapper lying on the ground. Then it shoved him, and the man hacked and coughed and gasped for breath, rolling onto his side. The dragon nodded at this, affectionately rubbed itself against the other dragon, and then they both spread their wings and leaped off the ledge, quickly picking up speed and flying into the distance.

Eret watched them from his back, head turned to the side. What had been the point in all that? As far as he could tell, they hadn't killed anyone – and honestly, that frightened him even more, that they were so confident as to leave everyone standing, as if he and his men were almost beneath their notice. Though they'd gone out of their way to stop him from falling, and maybe helped that other guy… The mad rider and flock of dragons from earlier certainly had no qualms killing outright. So many things just didn't add up here.

Crack

"Nope!" Eret shouted, springing to his feet. "I'm done! Drago can go screw a Hotburple, I'm out!" He stomped over to the edge to see if any of his boats had survived, he thought he'd seen one or two on his way down from…

He shuddered, then spotted a suitable vessel still floating, just right for the number of men he had. "We've got supplies to take us south, if we can dig them out, and a good vessel. Who's with me?"

"Drago'll skin us alive!" someone complained.

"He'll skin me alive," Eret corrected nervously. "You're just some hands I picked up after. Or you could just walk the moment we hit shore. But he's gotta find us first, and we'll be a long, long way away. You'd rather stay here?"

Crack

"I'll get supplies," someone offered enthusiastically, and then everyone was moving.

Leaving. Eret would not have considered it an hour ago. Drago would sweep over the world, at the rate he was going, and being on his good side was a ticket to survival. But if he was already screwed, he wanted nothing to do with any of this mess. He didn't know what he was going to do once he reached wherever he was going – there was nothing worth hunting down south any more, his father and his ilk had seen to that – but he would make it work. A trapper had to be resourceful.

Despite how fun it had been to play with the hunters, Dreamer flew away from them feeling very disturbed.

"You saw?" Wanderer asked quietly, drifting over so that their wings overlapped while they glided.

"Saw what?" Dreamer snorted. "More dragon hunters? Nest inside ice spines? Broken cages?" There were even more hunters here, but something seemed to already be working against them. Something immensely powerful.

"Pawprint," he said worriedly, glancing across to Dreamer with wide eyes.

"Where?" That was weird, the whole thing was solid ice or wood. Where would there have even been a pawprint?

"In ice, near water," Wanderer said, still speaking quietly. "There was ship in it."

He tried to make sense of that, figuring he'd misheard and there was a pawprint in a ship… but that made even less sense than there being a pawprint big enough to fit a whole ship in. And when he considered the state of the hunter's… wrrr, he couldn't even tell what it had been, such was how badly it was destroyed. A tower of jagged ice spikes, hundreds of paces high and interspersed with shattered wood and the odd bit of metal, was all that was left.

"This not another queen," he reassured his friend. "It shoot ice, not fire. Also I not remember queen ever fighting hunters." Wanderer hummed at that, sounding a little reassured. "...You want go back?"

Wanderer did not answer, and Dreamer didn't press him. He could take his time to think about it; although, they would eventually reach the centre of the map anyway, it was about another half day's flight away.

He had to admit, it unnerved him as well. The only other behemoth dragon he knew of had been a mind-controlling monster, forcing the dragons in its nest to hunt for it and often get themselves killed trying to find enough of the large prey it needed. And, on occasion, fly into its open mouth, apparently. He shuddered at that thought. Did they go willingly and blissfully, or as prisoners inside their own bodies? He didn't even want to know.

They flew swiftly, though with none of the earlier playfulness. Wanderer still hadn't provided an answer, but he had picked up the pace, so Dreamer guessed he had decided to keep going. The promise of other Nightstrikers was alluring, and hopefully of learning about their history too. Maybe they'd learn some more tricks as well; Nightstrikers seemed almost like one of those gadgets Johann occasionally peddled that had a dozen different tools in them, except those tools were more often than not flimsy and far inferior to the dedicated varieties.

There was no promise of how quickly they would find anything if they just flew south. On the other hand, a store of information devoted to Night Furies was suggesting there was something here. That was worth a little danger, and it wasn't as if they weren't used to it.

When their flight approached an island, a blot of soil so bland the only word that came to mind for it was 'mediocre', Dreamer started thinking a little more realistically. The only thing they knew about where they were going was what it felt like; if he concentrated, and pretended the gradients were elevation of land, they were flying along the coast of a peninsula with a sharp peak down the middle, which resembled nothing of what he could see.

They had been bitten before for flying in blind. If there were any dragons on this island, they would be able to get some idea of what they were going into.

As they passed over the edge of the island, he took a deep breath and roared, projecting his voice to any inhabitants. Wanderer actually jumped a little, clearly having been lost to his thoughts, but Dreamer didn't tease him for it, it didn't feel right and he was more interested in if there was a response. He wouldn't be surprised if the island was uninhabited, but it wasn't an inhospitable place.

What did surprise him was that he did not recognise the return call, a deep bellow that sounded close to a Thunderdrum but more full-bodied, with a resounding bass to back up the volume. He and Wanderer shared a glance as they warily descended towards the sound, keeping a sharp eye below.

The dragon that had replied was easy enough to pick out through the budding leaves on the scraggly trees, a bright green against the dark green of everything else. It was watching them, its head swivelling eerily to keep track of their flight, and there appeared to be nothing else around; the trees were next to bare, and the undergrowth was near to nonexistent.

Dreamer landed in the top of a tree, snapping a few of the smaller branches to get a grip on something that would support him, and then once he was stable, Wanderer landed in another. Once he was stable, Dreamer climbed down head-first, practically straddling the trunk but always keeping his eyes on the enormous dragon and his ears on everything else.

He'd never seen its type before, but it didn't look threatening. It actually looked about as harmless as any dragon he'd ever seen, moving with a slow, gentle care, as if it had all the time in the world. The way it looked around reminded Dreamer of an owl, and it even had some impressive plumage around its face and a beak-like snout to support that impression. Two of its four wings were resting on the ground in front of it, covering its paws, while the upper two were held calmly to the sides.

As Dreamer's front paw touched the damp ground, he noticed a second figure under the dragon's wing, like a fledgling. It also had a plumage of spines, and large black eyes. He churred curiously, allowing his wariness to show as he watched but not appearing hostile or defensive.

The dragon physically held it under its wing until both Nightstrikers were on the ground, then slowly looked down to the other creature and released it.

Dreamer's first impression was that it was a wretched thing, looking hunched over and with awkward limbs under folds of scale. Its face was just bizarre, flat but with large friendly eyes-

A scent caught his nose, and his eyes narrowed as he turned. A growl rumbled through him as he sought the source of the scents, something he had a bad feeling about in a forest. Particularly a forest near to where there had been dragon hunters.

Danger, warning, came a hiss from behind him, and he was startled as he glanced back and found it was the smaller creature that had hissed. He lifted an ear and tilted his head at it, and it took small steps back with another hiss of warning into the trees.

Confidence, he chuffed back-

Danger! the creature bayed, reaching forward with four long talons quite similar to his own and making to move forward, but the strange dragon pounced it and held it behind its wings again with a deep admonishing gurgle. It then also hissed danger to the trees, and slowly shook its large, horned head with an air of superiority.

Danger, Dreamer agreed in a low bark, then chuffed confidence. Wanderer gave a low bark of support and then growled warning. The big dragon turned to him in that slow gentleness, and blinked at him – one eye at a time.

Dreamer huffed with a roll of his eyes while the creature mewled from the wing it was stuck behind, and trotted with his nose to the ground to find what he suspected was a trap.

To its credit, it was fairly well hidden, and made his stomach turn. A fish, a few days old by the look of it, on a pressure plate in the centre of a large ring of wide, shallow teeth. It looked designed to snare the unlucky victim around their neck, and he felt disgusted at how long a dragon might be trapped like that before the hunters finally arrived to take it to probably an even worse fate.

It was a simple matter to stand on the teeth with a foreleg and a hindleg, then swipe the fish from the plate and slowly lift the jaws until they were closed. He didn't have spare fire to destroy it, not after taking out the hunters earlier, but with the jaws shut he could wedge his claws either side of one of the pegs and uproot the despicable thing.

There, now this one at least wouldn't hurt anyone. He grabbed it in his teeth and dragged it back to the other dragons, slinging it off to the side with a disdainful hiss at it.

The big dragon blinked at it, going wide-eyed in a sort of slow-motion surprise – and then jolted and quickly lifted its wing, allowing the smaller creature out again; it looked like teeth had been involved.

Dreamer then backed up a step as the creature loped forward with a grace and agility that did not suit its awkward body at all – wait a minute! He took a step back with a growl of warning as he recognised the shape hidden under padding and draping scale hides, confused and concerned as to what this Long-Paw was doing pretending to be a dragon. He or she scampered up to a respectable distance and then crept forward, somehow approaching him faster than he was stepping back without appearing to hurry, and reached forward.

He was about to prepare a shot when they reached out to his nose with a definitively human hand, claws strapped to the back of it. He growled warning-

A sharp, unfamiliar scent seized his attention as effectively as his sire using his middle name, in amongst the scents of Long-Paw and other dragons, and then the hand suddenly lifted up away. He rose to move with it without even thinking, and then the fingers rotated but the claws didn't, which was disorienting – his growl became confused as he found himself on his back with no idea how he'd got there, but the hand was lightly scratching a sudden itch on his chin.

He was vaguely aware that he should be feeling a lot of things about how easily he'd been disarmed, but all he actually felt was a begrudging respect and odd calm, as if everything was being taken care of. He felt safe, as nonsensical as that was. Wanderer was also on his back, hindleg kicking lazily at the air and his tongue lolling out, growling happily, while the woman – he was certain of that from her scent – reached between them, scratching down their jawlines.

There were a number of more sensible things to help put him at ease. For one, he had seen nothing of any sort of harness or anything on the big dragon, which had held her back and shielded her earlier. She did not command it, they were partners, like he and Wanderer had been. The way she dressed and moved were also clearly designed to put a dragon at ease, and could only come from a lot of natural observation.

He also knew she was alone. There were human scents on her hands, but from something she had touched; there was none of it on her arms or body, which she was inadvertently giving him a good whiff of as she affectionately ran her hand over his chest.

Mostly he was just amazed someone else had figured out the true nature of dragons, apparently years before he himself had! How many others were there? He rolled to lie on his chest, out of her reach, and watched quietly while she subtly checked Wanderer over-

Wanderer suddenly huffed, seeming greatly offended about something, and rolled to his paws. The woman reached out for him, but he stood and walked a short distance, putting his back to her.

Rather than turn to Dreamer, as he expected, she crouched low and mewled confused, apologetic, pawing at the air around his tail, but he just huffed and tossed his head at Dreamer. That was weird… but he didn't look like he wanted to leave or was angry…

Dreamer walked up beside the woman and crooned enquiry, pawing at her mask; he wanted to talk to her, but didn't feel comfortable doing so while he couldn't see her face. She hesitated, going still and seeming to shrink a little bit… but she did, after several heartbeats, slowly reach up and pull off the snug helmet.

Her light but not quite blonde hair was tied back tightly, tucked into her carapace armour, and her large, pale green eyes studied him wondrously. Her skin was fair, and her thin mouth was partially open in an amazed smile. Dreamer tilted his head a little with a pleased warble, and she hesitantly leaned forward to nuzzle him with an actual purr, or something close enough to be interpreted as one; he had no idea how she was managing it.

"Ohhh, you are beautiful," she said, and Dreamer straightened proudly as she ran a hand down his side to rest on his wing-shoulder; she had said the same with her tone, but he couldn't help hearing the words too. He craned around to follow her, getting a little caught up in her enthusiasm and awe as she admired him, flitting around him and exclaiming with wordless little noises. Though he had to warn her away from his hindquarters with a growl and a flash of teeth – there was such a thing as too enthusiastic – then when he sheathed them and grinned to show there were no hard feelings, her mouth fell open and she practically stuck her head in his mouth to get a better look.

But even though she was literally holding his mouth open to do so, she was always gentle, so very gentle. "You are still so young," she said wistfully, pulling back and gently stroking his tongue, which was strangely pleasant. "I wonder if you are theirs… It has been so long…"

His ears flicked up at hearing that, forgetting that she thought he couldn't understand her – but her reaction was not at all what he expected, hurriedly dropping to all fours and swiftly shying back with a glance at her dragon before scanning the sky.

"My name Dreamer," he said, to help break the sudden tension, and she straightened a little and looked to him with wide eyes. "We," he gestured to himself and Wanderer, "fly far for find thing."

"My name Skyreaching," she crooned, brightening up again as she leaned on her hands to hop forward; an appropriate name, Dreamer decided, for a Long-Paw living among dragons. "What you searching?"

He stared at her for a moment, his mouth falling open a bit. "I not know," he admitted sheepishly, shuffling his paws. "I just think there thing here. Maybe learn… about ourselves. About Nightstrikers." He perked hopefully, ears going up. "You know other Nightstrikers?" She had spoken as if she had some familiarity – on the other paw, she hadn't known his teeth could retract…

She moaned, a soft and sad sound. "None for many cold-seasons." His heart fell with that. "But… you should come to nest! Alpha will want meet you. Much food, safe." She then pursed her lips to hiss convincingly at the trap.

An alpha. "Alpha is much big dragon?" he asked worriedly.

"Alpha protects," she reassured him, crouching and folding her legs into the drapes she wore to give an odd appearance of sitting on her haunches.

"We… can leave after?"

She looked confused at that, and a little sad. "Yes," she said slowly. "I think you should stay… Danger… But you maybe want look for females…" She snorted in dry amusement. "We not could stop you."

That sounded promising, but he was still sceptical. "Other Nightstrikers could leave?" Her look of bafflement told him he needed to explain a bit more. "We find other nest, where… alpha… stop nest-kin leaving. Trap them."

Skyreaching growled a mixture of horror and anger. "Alpha not trap," she said vehemently, bobbing up and down. "He like Nightstrikers, was very sad when they not return." That was a relief to hear; there had been others, who had been allowed to leave and return as they wished.

Dreamer stood and walked to stand beside Wanderer, who looked frustrated about something. "You want go back?"

"We should go with her," Wanderer practically growled. Dreamer gave him a worried look, a promise to follow up as soon as he could. "We need know things."

"Yes," Dreamer chuffed, unsure of what had him riled, then turned back to Skyreaching.

Her dragon had approached her, and she was sprinkling something around where the trap had been. She noticed him looking, and held up the bag. "Scales. Make hunters think there something here."

"There not?" he warbled.

"Not here," she said, crestfallen. "Hunters kill some. Others come to our nest." She sighed and looked to the sky. "I remember when I could find them as far as we could fly…" He wondered why she kept reverting to Norse. Maybe it was a way to keep herself sane, or just an old habit. At that, how long had she even been out here? She looked a little older, maybe thirty or so. Her whole life, perhaps? Most people were brought up hating dragons. What he was looking at certainly wasn't just years of observation and practice, it was decades.

"We will come," he said, expecting it to immediately cheer her up.

He wasn't disappointed. She barked glee as she scampered across the ground to scoop up some things he hadn't seen earlier, what looked like a wooden staff with hooks at each end and a shield. The latter she slung onto her back, and then she leapt at the big dragon and effortlessly lifted herself onto his back, using her staff to hook onto one of his spines.

"His name Cloudjumper," she chirped giddily, leaning on her dragon's head and rocking it. Cloudjumper didn't seem all that pleased with the treatment, glaring at nothing ahead of him as his head tilted from side to side, then gave himself a small shake with a grumble to get her to back off. He then took off into the air, his four enormous wings working in tandem to lift his massive body – Dreamer did a double-take at Skyreaching standing on his back, beckoning them up – and he snatched up the trap before riding up out of the forest.

Wanderer took off after them without hesitation, and Dreamer frowned before leaping into the air himself. "What biting your tail?" he asked, pulling up beside him.

"You not know her scent," he growled back, stating the fact in a strange way, as if Dreamer should recognise it but at the same time declaring it impossible.

"You know her?"

"No," Wanderer huffed. "But I know you. I know your scent." He turned to look at Dreamer, seeming frustrated. Dreamer yowled confusion at him. "I remember your scent," he repeated, facing forwards again to look at the dragon and human flying ahead of them. "I can recognise your scent in your dam."

"My dam?" Dreamer echoed, still totally confused. His dam was dead. Carried away by a…

His wings went stiff and rigid, and he stared at the woman sitting cross-legged on the dragon some distance ahead of them.

It took the rest of the evening to fly back to the nest, time Skyreaching spent staring back at the following Nightstrikers through the slits in her mask. They were somewhat small as far as dragons went, compact, but sleek and fast. They hung back, but were certainly not struggling to keep up.

She stood right before Cloudjumper started descending, long since familiar with these waters and the ice that never completely melted. It was difficult to see what the Nightstrikers thought of the jagged mountain, though their eyes were wide. It had to be the ice nest they were looking for, and its alpha, though she could only guess as to why; it had been over fifteen years since she had so much as seen one. And then there was the matter of the odd leather straps on Dreamer, though he had warned her away from getting more than a look.

Walls of ice loomed behind and then over her as they passed into the nest, and she shifted her staff to hook onto Cloudjumper's spines to more easily watch their guests. Now that they were closer, it was easier to see their surprise at the lush green interior, at the many stone ledges and pillars sprouting thick, soft moss and ferns. A kaleidoscope of colours whirled through the air, dragons of almost every species revelling in the freedom and safety offered by the nest.

Cloudjumper brought her to a rocky ledge overlooking the alpha's pool, most of it bright green with moss, and leaned forwards to allow her to slide off his back-

Caution, he thrummed at her, leaning down to briefly nuzzle her.

"Oh I'll be fine," she said in Norse, and he hummed sternly as the black dragons landed off to the side. "What you think?" she asked them, dropping to her hands to slip around Cloudjumper and under his wing. They said nothing, staring out into the nest with unreadable expressions. "Alpha return late next light, not fast like us," she said, crouching playfully; she was dying to-

Weary, agitated, Dreamer barked, sparing her a brief unfriendly glance, and she backed down. "Empty dens there," she said, gesturing with her head to one of the nearby walls, and then sat back on her heels. They quickly abandoned her on the ledge, flying straight into one of the rocky holes and disappearing from sight.

Cloudjumper nuzzled her with a comforting rumble, and she sighed. She knew so much about every type of dragon, save for a rare few. The alpha, the King, was one such mystery, but most of that was the sheer impossibility of connecting or bonding with him in any real way. He seemed to like having her at the nest, but did not talk to her; she wasn't even certain he could.

But she knew even less about Nightstrikers. In her experience, they were generally hostile towards humans, and Dreamer had seemed the first opportunity to learn. She had been so excited. Hopefully he was just tired, and would warm up to her in the morning.

"They his kin," Cloudjumper said after a few moments, and she drooped a little more. Perhaps they would remain the mystery they always had been.

She stood and stretched, rolling her head forwards, wishing humans were a little better designed to be running around on all fours. "Come," she hummed, "we should catch fish."

"Yes," he agreed, then helped her onto his back with his wing. Perhaps the flight would help take her mind off it.

Dreamer didn't sleep much. The den they had chosen was covered in the thick moss, which he had walked over experimentally before tearing up a patch to flame the rock beneath it. That was more comfortable, familiar, but though the air was surprisingly warm in this nest of ice, he kept waking to a chill beneath him, every fidget finding some new patch of cold. Wanderer at least was warm, and wrapped around him.

He gave up about an hour before dawn, Wanderer blearily lifting his wing and paws to let him rise, and walked to the mouth of the den, staring at the massive cavern in the darkness.

The nest was enclosed, but still more than visible in the not quite nonexistent light. It was still, quiet, tranquil in the peace of night.

That oppressive darkness welcomed him as he slipped into the air, making not a sound as he swept through the cavern and out into the open sky. Here, a chill breeze filled his wings and lifted him high into the air, up where worldly matters did not concern him.

Or, that was the hope, anyway. But the revelation of the previous light was too fresh, an old scar cut open and left to bleed.

He angled his wings and flipped back, then curled up on himself in mid-air, wondering why this was so painful. He didn't need a dam now of all times, and he'd never known one. This might as well be some random Long-Paw, that for all of probability, happened to be related to him. Happened to be the one carried off against her will, all those years ago.

The wind picked at his wings as he began to fall, and he unfurled to ride it, caressing it as it supported him. The wind, and his friend, was all he needed now. Her turning up here was too little, too late.

Except… she hadn't turned up. He had found her, not the other way around, and she didn't even know it. She was blissfully ignorant, out here playing dragon while-

A shot built up in his maw almost of its own accord, and he clamped down on it hard, so hard that it burned in his mouth for almost a full heartbeat before flinging his mouth open and streaking out into the distance to explode in a massive ball of fire. That had probably been recklessly dangerous, and hadn't yielded any sort of interesting effect, but it had been satisfying to imbue it with his sudden rage.

He spied a tall icicle jutting up at an angle from an iceberg, and dove down to take out his frustration on it, landing heavily on its base and sinking his claws into the frozen water. It was hard and unyielding, but it would break to the strength of his body, or his fire if he felt like it.

But he just ended up staring at it, at the cold white under his paws. He felt a lot like he had when he hadn't been able to sleep when fighting the hunters, his thoughts refusing to arrange themselves properly or work rationally. He felt rested – and he was, a single night of broken sleep wasn't enough to affect him overmuch – but his thoughts were still fractured and unruly.

Rather than take his frustration out on the icicle, both of which he was no longer really feeling – his frustration had abated, and his paws were going numb – he walked down near the base of it and directed a stream of fire into it, watching it melt. The heat blown over his foreleg by the breeze was nice, and it was sort of interesting how quickly the ice receded from his flame. In mere heartbeats, the icicle, as thick as his head, snapped off and fell straight down, half of it shattering against the iceberg and the other half falling directly into the sea.

He sighed and jumped back up into the air, pressing his paws to his body to warm them. He almost didn't want to deal with Skyreaching, with his mother, but he did want to talk to the alpha. Maybe he or she would know about Nightstrikers, or what they were looking for. And if he wouldn't find out until evening, he might as well deal with the woman who had abandoned him-

The rage boiled inside him again, but not as violently, and he simply let it out as a growl. No, he decided, he needed to talk to her, to find out one way or the other. This would just eat away at him otherwise.

He checked the sky, and huffed at finding it still quite some time until dawn; he'd barely been out here any time at all. But he didn't want to fly any more.

With his resolve helping to steady his thoughts, he turned back and rode the tailwind to the nest, ducking through the entrance and into the big cavern. It felt as if he'd been out for hours, but really it had been more like a quarter of one, and it was still quiet.

Rather than return to the den they had spent the night in, he glided down to the ledge Cloudjumper had initially taken them to, overlooking the enormous pool in the floor of the cavern and backing into a small crevice that he suspected led to a cave network of some sort; he could be privy to its layout in but a moment, but chose not to disturb the nest.

He walked around for a bit, scenting some of the greenery and marvelling at the sheer number of dragon scents he could pick out, most of which he couldn't even identify the species, and eventually settled on a thin patch of moss where some of the hexagonal pillars that made up the ledge jutted up; it was still comfortably hard, as he was accustomed to lying on, but the moss helped a little to insulate it.

Sleep had not come before, and it certainly would not now, but he sort of dozed as he turned the inevitable conversation over in his head. He was vaguely aware of dawn breaking, and then dragons rousing and beginning to flit around the nest, even if he had not witnessed either coming about.

Finally, the moment he was anticipating as much as he was dreading, Cloudjumper's distinctive four-winged flapping descended onto the ledge. Dreamer lifted his head and turned to stare coolly as Skyreaching slipped from her dragon's back, leaving her staff on the ground as she slinked closer on her hands and feet. She was wearing that mask again, which annoyed him more than it probably should.

How would one even start this conversation? Hey Mum, you probably don't recognise me but I'm the son you abandoned twenty years ago! Oh yeah, I stopped the raids by helping kill the dragon forcing them, then got turned into a dragon myself. So, what's happening with you?

"What I done?" she asked timidly, crouching to the ground a wing-length away and hunching in on herself to appear small.

A woman should not be so submissive and helpless towards her child, and Dreamer just barely held himself from baring his teeth, though he couldn't stop his nose from scrunching. So he closed his eyes and took a long, deep breath, willing himself to calm, then fixed her with a level stare and pawed deliberately at his head.

She hesitated, then sat on her heels to remove the helmet, carefully setting it aside. "Dreamer?" she warbled, her eyes briefly going to his flank – he was no longer wearing the fitted satchel holding the Dragon Eye, having taken it off to sleep.

"Yes," he huffed, then considered her question. She was clearly picking up on his aggravation, and Wanderer's too most likely, and figured it was something she had done; which wasn't far from the truth, really. "Why you here?" he asked bluntly.

"Here?" she hummed, casting a glance out into the massive cavern. "That complicated."

"Try," he huffed. "You not should be here."

"You not can say that," she growled. "I was brought here. Alpha made this nest, he allows me here."

"Why?" he asked in a slight tilt of his head and a growl.

"I help," she said firmly. "I help grounded nest-kin fly. I free nest-kin from hunters."

"Why?" He then sighed under his breath when she only frowned and furrowed her brow. "You should be with your kind."

"What you know about my kind," she growled, abandoning the dragon act and dropping onto her backside, facing out over the cavern. "I not can explain more."

Dreamer snorted, and shuffled to lie on his side with his wing sheltering his paws. "Use Long-Paw words."

"And what you know of that either?" she growled, rocking back and forth a little. "I was snatched up and carried here, against my will. Happy!?"

He growled right back at her. "Why you not go back for your kin?"

"Is this why you all so tetchy with me? You think I-..." She stared furiously out over the nest for a few heartbeats, then sprung to her feet and wheeled on him. "Because by time I even figured out I could go back, it had been months! Do you know what my kind fear more than anything? More than fire-breathing monsters? The dead coming back to life!" She wordlessly screeched frustration at him, while he just lay there tensely listening to her explanation, his paws quivering beneath his wing. "They not believe me if I tell truth," she flung an arm out towards the nest, "but what else!? How I could explain!? It their own stupid fault I had to abandon my husband and little boy!"

Tears were streaming down her face, her mouth pulled back to show her teeth, and her breaths were deep and heavy. She stared at him, looking furious and grieved, then blinked and took a small step back, looking away with a deep scowl. "You couldn't understand."

"I understand more than you think," he huffed, and she sharply exhaled with a few more steps back, her eyes wide. "You say this their fault for not…" He growled, lacking the words to properly explain; he understood her frustration there, at least. "...having open thoughts."

Skyreaching stared at him for a long moment, wide eyes flitting between his. "Yes," she eventually growled, baring her teeth.

"You think this bad of them."

"Yes," she growled again. "Where you going with this!?"

He stood and walked up to her, staring her down. "You would go back if they think how you think."

"If I could go back and be sure they didn't try burn me and my family, I'd be there right now!" she shouted at him. "Why in Odin's name is this so important to you Night Furies!?"

Dreamer closed his eyes and took a long, deep breath, his anger assuaged. It wasn't any different to what he himself had done. He had been there, at least, but he had hidden his identity for fear of how it would be received. And try as he might to come up with some solution for her situation, the piercing truth was that she wouldn't have survived being carried further than would be required to sail back. Anything he could think of would have been met with suspicion and fear.

"It not," he sighed, and she looked back at him with bewilderment and anger. "It important for me."

He turned to face the nest and sat down, curling his tail around his paws. "I fly here with Wanderer, looking for thing. We have… thing that tell us about Nightstrikers. It lead us here. I show you later." She was now starting to look confused, but despite her reasonable rationale, he wasn't all that sympathetic, not right now; it all had yet to sink in that far. "We get it from fighting hunters that hunt our skies. But that not important. We want know because… neither of us have Nightstriker sire, dam. Wanderer did, once, but I never know another Nightstriker. Just us two."

"But… how?" she asked. "You are brothers." He tilted his head at the unfamiliar word. "Males from same sire, dam," she said; some small sympathy crept into her voice, but she was still angry and tense.

"Brothers," he repeated curiously, then shook his head; he still didn't like that word for them, for some reason. "Not much that. We grew up in Long-Paw nest, far from here. Wrrr, not much far for us, maybe. Far for Long-Paws.

"That nest was learning dragons not bad." He huffed as she tilted her head much as he had. "Dragon, wing-hunter. All this nest dragons, but not you. I dragon." Come to think of it, he had made that word up. Oh well. "That nest killed big dragon, that I tell you about. She… trap dragons with bad thoughts, make them hunt for her, eat them if they not bring enough food. Force them fight Long-Paws.

"Alpha's fledgling… shot Nightstriker, grounded him, but helped him fly again. They flew together, killed that bad queen. But both hurt in fight. Alpha's fledgling died. Nightstriker was grounded, wings broken." Skyreaching remained silent, but now there was genuine sympathy; she was relating to him, realising they had something in common, in a way.

Dreamer closed his eyes. Only Fishlegs knew anything of this next bit, and not even this much; this was the first time he was explaining, something he thought he'd never do. "Nightstrikers… special. When we grounded, we hatch again. Make new body. Wanderer was that Nightstriker. When his friend die, he… do that for his friend. Give him new body." Dreamer idly lifted a paw, glancing at himself. "It good body. Better than my Long-Paw body. Was small, weak."

"...I am meant believe you were human," she said, her voice dripping with disbelief.

"It not easy for believe, I know," he said dryly. "I very confused for much time. Happy as dragon now. Not have good Long-Paw life. My sire was big, strong. Wanted much for me, but I not could do what he want. I never know my dam." He turned to stare levelly at her. "She was taken by dragon."

Her eyes were glazed, still processing; she probably hadn't even finished getting through that he had been a human. Out of necessity he had explained backwards, but now she had to connect that to what she knew. She needed a minute.

"Taken?" she echoed faintly, after a time.

Dreamer growled and advanced on her, forcing her to back up. "You not were there for me!" he shouted. "Sire was much biting, he never listen! Always do things for nest, not be my sire! He never tell me I did good! Not until I give my life!" If she hadn't realised before, she had now, and was staring in horror as she scrambled to back away from him.

He didn't give her any room, striding forward as fast as she retreated. "I not could fight like them! Sire even say I was worst nest-kin! He hated me! Nest hated me!" He stopped, allowing her to make some distance between them – the moment there was space, Cloudjumper jumped in and put his wings in front of and above her, angling himself to shield her with his body and making a low thrumming noise at Dreamer.

"Now I Nightstriker," Dreamer rumbled, lying on his chest and folding his wings with another deep breath. "I kill all that bad thinking. Happy now… But finding you here… I not know what think. But I understand why. I not blame you."

She grabbed Cloudjumper's back, and the big dragon took off, disappearing into a hole a short way up the rocky wall. Following them would be a simple matter, but he had told all he needed to.

Whether it was the right choice, he wasn't sure. She hated the Vikings for preventing her from returning to her family. Now her family had come to her, and if she really wanted to be with him, she had to overcome a very similar obstacle of thinking.

It was all up to her, now.

"H-... Hiccup?"

Dreamer snorted, then turned to see his dam approaching slowly, taking small shuffling steps. "That was stupid name," he grumbled, flicking his tail in invitation to join him and Wanderer, who was lying beside him.

"What, you'd prefer, what his name, Snotface?"

He found a little mirth to chuckle weakly at that. "Almost. That not mean 'runt'."

"...It wasn't my choice," she sighed. "You should know how Stoick… your father… is… By the time I was able to think, it was done."

"Now I am Dreamer," he chuffed, and Wanderer shuffled his paws with a proud purr.

"But…" She looked at him helplessly, her eyes drifting down his long body, lingering on his wings and tail. "...Every dragon has secrets, but… how is this possible…?"

Dreamer grumbled wordlessly. "I not know much. I remember dying. Then I was Nightstriker."

"It unbelievable," she said quietly. "But you could not know those things otherwise… I…" She sighed, fidgeting with her wristguards. "Can we talk… tomorrow? I need…"

He purred and bumped his head against her. She could take as long as she needed.

"Thank you," she whispered. "Now… I think you wanted meet Alpha?"

Was it that time already? Wrrr, he supposed it was mid-afternoon or so; the day had slipped away while he wasn't looking. "Yes," he chuffed, standing and looking around.

"This alpha can tell us about Nightstrikers?" Wanderer asked uneasily.

"Nightstrikers come here many cold-seasons ago," she hummed encouragingly. "They come for see him."

While it wasn't the whole 'original source' of Nightstrikers as they were hoping, that was encouraging. Worst case scenario, they went back to Berk-

Berk, where Stoick still grieved his wife, who was not as lost as he believed. Something to think about later.

"...Where?" Dreamer chirped, looking around in confusion. The alpha had to be pretty big, but he couldn't see-

The water began to bloat in the large pool at the bottom of the cavern, bulging and spilling up the icy shore and finally breaking around a white form. The emerging dragon just kept coming, more and more of it climbing out of the water, until Dreamer was staring up at something that had to be at least twice the size of the queen they had fought.

The head of the alpha rose before them, his piercing eyes widening as it landed on them. The strength bled out of Dreamer's legs as he stared up at the massive face, at the long tusks disappearing beneath the ledge they were standing on. He was aware of Wanderer crouching a little, unable to meet the gaze of the giant, but he couldn't look away, staring into those cool blue eyes; he only vaguely noticed his mother stepping forward into a low curtsy, spreading her arms to her sides.

Dreamer so desperately wanted to back up, to flee, but he held his ground. He had questions he wanted answers to, to know more about Nightstrikers, where they came from, why everyone feared them, hunted them, trapped them, wanted them dead and skinned and their broken bodies left to float in the water!

He wasn't afraid any more, not here. He wanted answers, and he was safe here, protected, provided for.

He straightened and stood tall, feeling Wanderer do the same beside him.

And then they bowed, touching their noses to the moss and spreading their wings for their alpha.