The next thing Dreamer was aware of was the pressure around his face.

It wasn't tight, but it was absolute, preventing him from doing more than baring his teeth, fitting snugly around his head. His breath was hitting something and washing back uncomfortably against him, but persisted even when he tried to pull back and turn away from it.

Adrenaline and more than a little panic was effective in driving away the lingering darkness over his mind. He opened his eyes and tried to rise, only to find that he was bound, wings and legs strapped to his body. Despite apparently having been drugged by something, his sight was clear and his mind fairly sharp. The only real lingering effect was that his control over his body felt slippery, somehow misaligned.

As far as he could tell he wasn't attached to anything, and there was a metal cup covering his snout and the front of his mouth. He was inside some sort of structure of sturdy rock, lit by a few lamps on the walls, though it didn't appear to be the only room judging by the shape of the roof and layout of the supports. There wasn't any evidence of sunlight, and it still felt like night, but he wasn't taking that for granted. Wanderer and Fleeting had to be worried sick, assuming they still lived… but then he was still alive, so he had to hope. Regardless, he needed to do something about his own position before worrying about theirs.

His own position seemed to be in a cage, one mostly made of rock but with a wall of metal bars that led out into the rest of the room, in which resided the Long-Paw he'd met in the forest, and a truly frightening dragon that took all of Dreamer's attention for a few moments.

It prowled back and forth on the other side of the bars, watching with disturbingly hungry eyes while saliva dripped from its mouth. Its four legs were thick and heavily muscled, and from the back of its stumpy forepaws protruded what Dreamer could only describe as swords, wicked blades that seemed to be folded up behind its forelegs. Short tusks protruded from its narrow jaw around long, thick fangs, and its tail, with a strange bulb at the end, was poised in a way that reminded Dreamer of Speed Stingers, likely yet another weapon. And as if that were not enough, its back was thickly carapaced, each plate tapering into sharp spikes down its spine and along its tail. Dreamer was not about to be grateful for any part of his current situation, but he didn't mind the bars so much.

"Back with us?" the man asked lightly, glancing up from picking at his nails with a knife. "Very useful, Deathgripper venom. They prefer to eat their prey alive, you see, it makes the victim far more cooperative." That was not a detail Dreamer particularly wished to know. At least he wouldn't feel bad about gutting it on his way out… just as soon as he figured out how to get free.

"Ah, but how rude of me," the man continued. "You may call me Grimmel, or you could were you capable of speaking. No need to introduce yourself, I know all about you…" Dreamer snorted; as if he even knew the half of it. "Oh yes, yes, I've been on your trail since you stole from that farm… Along the coast," he trailed the tip of the knife through the air, "worried about food, don't worry, I understand. That nest of tricky vermin, I presume the whole 'haunted' thing was your idea?" He laughed, shaking his head. "Clever, very clever. It will keep the fools away until I can spare the time. A pity it did not work out with that female."

How… had he picked up on all that? Knowing they'd been followed, hunted from afar while flying around with barely a care in the world, was chilling to learn. He must have pieced it together from scraps of information, trace scents, because he or Wanderer would have noticed if they were being followed directly.

Grimmel grinned widely, baring his teeth in a way that was disturbingly draconic. "You know, this is nice! My monologuing normally goes unappreciated, and humans are just so nattering." He tapped his fingers against his thumbs and made an annoying repetitive sound.

Dreamer wished he'd shut up, because he was listening to the desperate, hopeful roar suddenly echoing in the distance. Fleeting! He tried to roar back, but the straps constricted his chest, preventing him from taking a full breath, and his bound mouth muted what little volume he could muster.

"Come now," Grimmel scoffed, casually sliding the knife into a sheath on his belt, "as if I would allow that. They might hear you if you keep that up. Eventually, but not yet. Let them panic a few more hours…" He stopped and blinked with some realisation. "I must remember not to get carried away with you, you, you… Bah! You are not special, only educated! And does that not only prove my point!?" He abruptly stood and hit the bars with his forearm, staring through them at Dreamer with a stern frown. "Do you know what I did when I found a Night Fury in the woods, injured and starved?"

Dreamer sharply inhaled, suddenly paying attention, while Grimmel stared at him with cold eyes. "My village was suffering. Humanity was suffering, because of you! I had to do something. So… I let it go."

That… was not what Dreamer had expected. Grimmel sneered at him. "Yes, a thousand years of death and destruction, and I let a Night Fury go." He pushed off from the bars and began to pace, the dragon submissively bowing and backing away. "I had to. I was the only one who would. Because you cannot fight something you do not understand." He turned back to Dreamer, eyes fierce and filled with determination. "And I learned. Many, many things. Now, I do not care much for gods or Aesir or whatever, but you!" He jabbed a finger at Dreamer, "You are not an accident! To replace us, to destroy us, I do not know, but you are intelligent design! It is you or us, and I, for one, do not intend to take that lying down."

He returned to his chair and dropped into it, leaning his elbows on his knees and staring darkly at Dreamer, a crossbow suddenly in his hand. "I will eradicate every single one of your filthy nests. You know, I normally charge a small fortune to cleanse a nest… even if it is not the first time, such as here. My mission is not cheap, this is simply the way of things. But you… You, I will kill for free." Dreamer's ears went up at another distant and desperate roar, this time from Wanderer; that was a relief, he and Fleeting were both okay. A slow smile crept across Grimmel's face. "You, and everything you love. So take a good look around…" He slumped back into the chair with a gesture around the room. "Because you will not be alive to enjoy it much longer."

Listening to him rant might have been a waste of time… but Dreamer now had a much better idea of who he was dealing with. Dagur had hunted for glory, Alvin had wanted power, Viggo had wished to test his intellect, and Drago had been set on conquest. But this man, Grimmel, wanted none of that. He was doing what he believed was right… and, to be hunting Night Furies as successfully as he implied, he had a plan, some reason to keep his prey alive; senselessly gloating and taunting would have got him killed almost immediately.

Dreamer had to assume he was what he claimed to be, and his objective was to kill every Night Fury. But Dreamer was still alive. Why? What had he almost said earlier…?

Another long, hopeful roar echoed over the land while Dreamer slowly, almost unwillingly, put the pieces together. Were it Wanderer in here, or Fleeting, he would be beside himself with worry; the bond he shared with them was far, far stronger and deeper than anything he could have even conceived of as a Long-Paw. He would be desperately searching, even against all reason, hoping against hope. Let them panic a few more hours…

He was the bait. Not only that, his very absence was wearing down his mates, exhausting them. Long-Paws… What could he trust anymore, if simply meeting one, with all his fire and claws and scales, had ended up here? Maybe he should have just destroyed that stupid village from the start.

Those thoughts were not productive, so he forced them away, with some difficulty. He needed a plan. But… the reason he was so pessimistic was because he had nothing to work with. These straps were clearly designed for a Nightstriker; he could do little more than flop around like a fish, which would achieve nothing. He had his fire, but he'd melt his own face off before he budged the stupid bit of metal strapped to his snout, and it was stopping him from doing anything other than dribble some plasma out, which was worthless.

All the strength and power of a Nightstriker, defeated by a few square inches of metal! Frustration, he snarled, then blocked out the Long-Paw's ranting that at this point was only further distraction. If only there were some way…

His eyes went wide. There was a way to send a message, one he had all but forgotten about. He knew where he was; his locational sense put him in a scraggy forest a fair way north of the Long-Paw nest. He knew which direction he was facing, and roughly enough that Wanderer should be able to figure out where in the building he was.

All he had to do was remember…

That wealth of knowledge from the ice nest alpha was gone, irretrievable. But he remembered thinking about it, using it, and he'd even sort of managed this before then anyway. A way of holding fire…

He focused, willing his fire into shape based on his needs. He had needed to stop Wanderer killing his sire. Now he needed to tell Wanderer where to find him.

"What are you doing?" Grimmel asked abruptly, but Dreamer ignored him. This had to work, and he knew it could.

Sudden realisation dawned, everything clicking into place, and he Sang. In an instant, he connected his thoughts to his fire, exactly where he was and his current circumstance, and silently screeched it all to Wanderer and Fleeting.

All in an instant, and only an instant, because that was as long as it took for another prick of pain to strike his shoulder, and then his fire was evaporating in his mouth. Grimmel whistled loudly while Dreamer fell completely limp, again drifting into groggy darkness, and the Deathgripper in the room immediately tensed. At another quieter whistle, its hungry eyes fell on Dreamer, and then the bars were rattling while the lock was yanked open…

Wanderer had never felt such bone-chilling haste as he felt in this moment, working his wings hard to speed across the field towards the place that had briefly flashed in his mind.

He wasn't going to begrudge that, not now of all times. Not when his Dreamer was helpless and vulnerable around one of those things.

Enquiry, he barked up at Fleeting, and she barked back pain, confidence. Dim light shone through the hole near the base of her tail-fin, large enough to fit a claw through – a tiny drop of that strange fire, from where she had been an instant too slow to pull up. He glanced back at the forest near the foot of the mountain, the fire still burning through it and creeping over the grassy fields around it, and tried not to think too hard about what a direct hit might do.

It wasn't as if he was uninjured himself, though he didn't think he was still bleeding from any of the numerous cuts peppering his forelegs and shoulders, and aside from the one bite wound that would leave tougher scales, they would all be shed and completely forgotten after the cold-season. It was not affecting his flight, as Fleeting's wound might be, so he did not mind. It was worth it to have killed three of those monsters, the things that had hunted him as a fledgling and still haunted his occasional nightmares; the first had not survived a stream of fire at its face, he'd used the tusks of the second to twist its head until its neck broke, and when the third had bitten him he'd twisted them both onto their sides and clawed open its belly.

But there was at least one more. He spotted the Long-Paw den in the forest, glimpsing an unnatural shape between the dark leaves. Caution, he barked, and Fleeting barked affirmative as she peeled off to circle around the area.

Wanderer didn't hesitate, angling straight into a dive and flicking out his sub-wings. The trees blocked the echo a bit, but he got a clear picture of the den and how it was laid out, and quickly figured out where Dreamer had to be; it was the only place the roof peaked in that particular way. He fired ahead, the shot caving in the roof with a billowing cloud of smoke and dust, and then he was plunging into it to drop into a landing-

His wing barely got up in time to block some sort of thrown claw, and he hissed at the sting in the membrane. Holding his screeching fire in his mouth, he took stock of the Long-Paw in the corner of the room, ready to shoot another strange claw, but also the wing-hunter pinned in the opening of a cage by some rubble leaning on the door.

Wanderer lashed out with his tail, catching the Long-Paw off-guard and sending it stumbling across the room. His blood then went cold as he realised who was in the cage, that those deadly talons were gouging rents in the floor claw-lengths from Dreamer's nose, and ignored the Long-Paw to lunge and clamp his teeth around the wing-hunter's dangerous tail.

It screeched as he roughly dragged it back out, his teeth grating against bone and shredding flesh. It spun and lunged for him, and he darted back from its long slashing talons before leaping and grappling it, snarling and snapping at its face.

Thankfully, it didn't seem to want to use its fire close-up like this, something Wanderer was all too happy to abuse. He leaned back from a snap of its teeth and shot a stream of fire at its head, holding it down while it howled and thrashed, suffering the burning pain over his sides as it clawed at him. It helplessly pulled back from the flame and inadvertently bared its throat, which Wanderer promptly tore out, instantly silencing and stilling it.

Teeth dripping blood, he turned back to the Long-Paw in the room, which was still climbing to its paws. "I applaud you," it said casually, "not many can-"

Wanderer fired, having absolutely no interest in anything it had to say or do other than just die – impossibly, it slid out of the way, stumbling a little as the shot detonated against the wall behind it. He fired again while it was off-balance, but it again somehow managed to dodge the streak of light; it was thin and not a good target, but at this range, that shouldn't matter! He prepared another shot and aimed at the ground under it, but hesitated, reluctant to use his dwindling fire – the Long-Paw dodged again, skipping back and shielding itself from a blast that never came.

They stared at each other for a few moments in the destroyed den, both breathing heavily. "As I was saying," it growled at him, "not many can take on a Deathgripper. You three are going to cost me dearly… Well!? Come and learn exactly how outmatched you are!"

Wanderer growled, prowling forwards – then threw up a wing as it aimed that odd device at him again, twitching with the sting of another thrown claw punching through the membrane. Painful, but it didn't seem to do much, so he flicked his wing to dislodge it and lunged.

The Long-Paw made a high-pitched whistling sound as it stepped back from his swipe, its lithe body stepping over the rubble of the wall and moving fluidly out of the way as he followed up. He prepared a shot – then spun and fired it at yet another hunter that had been creeping over the destroyed wall, trying to get behind him. The shot didn't kill it, but it destabilised the wall, and the wing-hunter shrieked and flared its wings as it toppled. Wanderer was already charging at it, ramming into its side and slamming it against the unsteady rubble, keeping himself as clear as he could of those giant slashing talons and stabbing tail while he sank his teeth into its throat and shook until it stilled.

He peered around the wing he was holding up against any more thrown claws, which thankfully had not come. "How long can you last?" the Long-Paw asked, lowering the weapon and looking nowhere near as exhausted as Wanderer felt, then whistled again.

Wanderer didn't whimper when two more of the bad wing-hunters prowled around and over the ruined wall, but he wanted to. Instead, he growled warning as he backed away, though it probably lost some of its effect when followed by heavy panting; he'd been flying all night, and now his body and mind were slowing with his fatigue.

The Long-Paw was not talking now. It circled around him with the two wing-hunters, keen eyes focused on him, ready to aim and fire that dangerous weapon. It was the leader of its hunt, and the extent to which they were cooperating raised Wanderer's hackles, leaving him uncertain which was the greater monster. Wanderer himself had only two shots left, the last of which he would only use if it would immediately save his life or Dreamer's. Not that it would probably matter… Even if he managed to kill these two, there might be even more.

At least they were being more cautious now, rather than just throwing themselves at him. This was looking bleak. Even with all his skill, he could feel more blood slicking his legs and sides, so it was likely that calling Fleeting down would be her doom. That might even be what they were waiting for – those few moments of Dreamer's thought-sharing had included this man's motive, to kill their whole family.

Quiet wingbeats from behind startled him, but they were familiar, so he stifled his surprise; the hunters before him had not reacted, and he couldn't give them any openings. There was a chance, now. He was reaching his limit, and had no confidence in winning this fight, but if Fleeting could help Dreamer somehow… All Wanderer had to do was give her time.

Something, anything, to stall for time. Earlier, the Long-Paw had done much talking… Wanderer growled and worked his jaw, making nonsensical noises that approximated its stupid language that he could not speak.

"So you understand as well?" it asked. Wanderer nodded, remembering to use the Long-Paw expression. "Marvellous! I-"

It raised its weapon and fired in one swift motion, Wanderer just barely darting aside. He prepared a shot, aiming for the Long-Paw – but at the last moment, flicked his head to take the nearest wing-hunter instead. As he'd hoped, the Long-Paw dove out of the way, falsely predicting the shot, and the wing-hunter was thrown out of its lunge, falling onto its side where it clawed at the ground.

The third opened its maw wide, and Wanderer scrambled away from the liquid that poured from it. Anything it touched, the tree-things of the ruined den, the metal bars that it barely reached, the rubble, it all melted and burned, and the stuff came out in a huge gout that it aimed after him as he fled to the side.

An explosion behind him brought relief like he had never known, briefly turning his attention back to find Fleeting running with Dreamer out of a new hole in the back of the den. He bolted around the den and after them, his body burning with exhaustion but not able to stop now, not when they were so close.

Close to escaping this nightmare, not to winning. He had killed many, but it didn't feel like they had won this fight. Not when Dreamer wasn't even watching where he was going. Not when they emerged from the forest, and Fleeting had to shoulder and bark at Dreamer until he spread his wings and took to the air.

They were followed by eager, hungry howls, and when Wanderer glanced back, three wing-hunters were beating their wings hard in pursuit; it frightened him that there really had been more there somewhere, hiding, waiting for opportunity. "They are following!" he barked to Fleeting.

Fleeting made to fire, but he barked sternly at her, and she shot him a harried look. "Dreamer not is flying well," he growled; he was airborne, but his wings were stiff, little to no thought going into each flap. "We need escape them. When we near mountain, climb!"

Affirmative, she chuffed grimly, then barked urgently at Dreamer, who flapped a little harder. The harrowing flight across the fields seemed to take an eternity, the wing-hunters gradually gaining on them, but they reached the mountain ahead of them and then Fleeting nudged against Dreamer until he angled upwards.

These hunters were ascending steadily after them, large wings easily granting lift; there was no outflying them, not with Dreamer as he was. But as Wanderer had noticed while fighting them, they were heavy for wing-hunters.

"Now shoot them!" he barked, and Fleeting instantly twisted around to fire.

They strafed away, as he had expected, but the shot detonated in their midst and threw them out of their rhythm. Fleeting fired again and again, gracefully twisting and spinning to keep ascending while she launched explosions into the midst of their pursuers, who were not only angling back and forth to avoid the blasts but also getting knocked around by the shockwaves.

The end result was that they lost all their momentum, and even some altitude to avoid injury. The one with the Long-Paw riding on its back had swerved out to the side, keeping the all-important alpha safe.

But that didn't mean they were giving up. "We go to our first den here," Wanderer growled to Fleeting, "our rock-den. Need rest where they not will find us." They couldn't use their den, it was too heavy with their scents and the ground around it showed signs of wear. Affirmative, she barked.

Wanderer glanced back again as they crested the mountain, at the hunters far below, still trying to follow. They had some small amount of time, but not a lot. Haste, summons, urgent! he roared down into his territory, so warm and familiar and comforting but also now dark and unsafe. He roared again for good measure, just to make sure the nameless female hurried with Leaper.

A dark shape leaped out of the forest below and took to the air, heading up towards them, while they angled for the old cave halfway up the mountain. He and Fleeting beat them there with Dreamer, and he watched them tensely from the entrance while keeping an eye on the top of the mountain… There was no sign of the hunters by the time the female scrambled past him, Leaper clinging to her back, and then Wanderer retreated away from the entrance.

The female looked between them, her eyes wide and uncomprehending. "What… You are hurt!"

"Sire?" Leaper whined as he jumped down, then bounded over.

Wanderer didn't have the heart to explain while his son sniffed at some of his many, many injuries with confused, questioning whimpers. "Go to Dam," he rumbled tiredly, easing himself to the ground before he could collapse; he still felt the restless, driving need to fight, to flee, but his body was giving out on him.

Worried, Fleeting whined, nosing over Wanderer's hurts and licking them as she went. He tried to protest, a copious amount of blood had dried on his scales, but he barely had the energy to talk. It did make him feel a bit better though, easing one small stress, and he appreciated it greatly.

"These scents," the female whined, wilting and backing deeper into the cave. She didn't say anything more than that, and Wanderer put her from his mind, unable to deal with that right now.

"What we can do?" Fleeting asked quietly, fearfully, sagging to her haunches by his side. "You killed many, but still more… Maybe when Dreamer…?"

"I not know," Wanderer growled, feeling unsteady. "I killed them, but always more came… I think he still has more…" That Long-Paw hadn't seemed upset or even frustrated when he'd killed its wing-hunters… Wanderer had a dreadful feeling he'd been toyed with, led to believe he had a chance of winning when each fight he won was only more weariness and injuries.

"That Long-Paw," she snarled, eyes widening and lips curling to reveal her teeth. "I will kill him…"

"No!" Wanderer barked, a little louder than he meant to, flinching at the flare of pain that came with it. "I tried. He… grrr, see where I aim my fire, not could hit him…" Not as fast as that other Long-Paw had been, the one they'd fought what felt a lifetime ago, but more perceptive, and much more experienced. And from what he remembered…

"He not will survive us all," she bit out, still showing off every one of her gleaming fangs, her eyes dark with fury. "They surprised us, but we can rest, recover, we… You are shaking."

Wanderer gasped for breath, trying to still his heaving chest and calm the quaking in his shoulders. This was every nightmare he'd ever had made reality, huddling in a little cave, afraid to leave, weary beyond exhaustion and barking at each other while the scent of blood hung in the air. "I… we can't… can't…"

"Sire…?"

He and Fleeting both looked towards the miserable, pleading whine to see Leaper standing up against Dreamer's neck, lightly pushing at him. Dreamer did not respond, just looked ahead, nothing but frighteningly thin slits in his vacant eyes. "Sire!" Leaper yowled-

"Leaper, come," Fleeting said quietly but urgently, beating Wanderer to it. Leaper looked back at her, at her raised wing, then at Dreamer with sad, uncomprehending whines. "Sire not is well," she said with a small whine to her voice, "let him rest. He will be better soon…" Wanderer could only hope so too, while he tried to quell the panic gripping him.

Leaper reluctantly, hesitantly, padded over to her, glancing back at Dreamer. "I not like," he whined as he huddled against her side.

"Not worry," Fleeting hummed while she lowered her wing over him. "Stay there, quiet. Maybe danger in our territory." She nudged him back under with her snout when he tried to peek out, then sighed wearily. "We are safe here?" she asked quietly, looking back to Wanderer.

"Yes, I think," he panted, shoulders still quivering a little. "They will watch for when we leave for food or water. We can rest." Dawn was not far off, and he would need until the next night to recover. Food would be a problem, but they couldn't hunt here, not even in the dark; there would be watchful eyes on the prey-pack, and along the river. That all seemed like a lifetime ago, but it had seemed to go on for a lifetime itself, and he still remembered.

But they would be okay, because they had something he hadn't had last time. He rested his head on his paws as they lapsed into silence, and stared solemnly at his Dreamer. Once he was better, he would know what to do.

Dreamer stretched, finding he could. It was a relief, to be able to stretch, though he couldn't quite put a claw on why that was.

At least, until he recognised the Nightstriker blood among the scents of his family. He recognised the cave, a beam of bright morning light shining through the entrance, and Fleeting's wing was warming his back, which led to a series of recollections and deductions about what had happened.

"Dreamer?" Fleeting asked quietly, hesitantly nuzzling his neck and then pressing her head against him with happy whines.

"I am good," he rumbled, leaning into her and licking the top of her head. "We are safe?"

"Here, yes," she grumbled, and Dreamer heard her tail flick behind them. "But they are watching still. Not can leave to hunt." She sighed, and her wing tightened over him. "Wanderer has many small hurts. He is sleeping, but not well. I not know what we should do…"

Wanderer hurt, Grimmel apparently still alive… Dreamer shook his head, forcing everything out of his mind to focus, and tried to put himself into his enemy's mindset. A hunter of Nightstrikers – equal parts frightening and absurd – who seemed to know what he was doing; that he even still lived spoke volumes. Such a Long-Paw would need to be incredibly cautious, which Dreamer had already somewhat observed, as well as fast and intelligent, ready to act without hesitation… He sighed into Fleeting's chest while she continued to nuzzle him with happy, relieved little whines.

His thoughts wouldn't cooperate with him. Every time he tried to get his head around the situation, his thoughts went back to being restrained, trapped, at the mercy of a killer and only alive to wear out and eventually lure in the rest of his family. Had he not been able to share thoughts… He didn't want to think about it. "How Leaper is?" he asked quietly, trying to take his mind off it.

"Worried," Fleeting sighed into his ear while she affectionately nipped it. "Will be hungry when he wakes, I not could give him much…"

More complications. "I will get food soon," he said reluctantly, beginning to feel hungry himself but his body protesting any sort of activity with the lingering effects of the venom.

"You not can hunt," the female whined from where she huddled the back of the cave, reminding Dreamer of her existence, her words heavy with pain and despair. "They are everywhere. Watching prey, water. Not allow time to eat. We should just stay here…"

"We not can stay here always," Dreamer snorted-

"Better than them catching us again!" she yowled, wrapping herself tightly in her wings and whimpering quietly.

Dreamer blinked, and shared a concerned look with Fleeting before looking back to her. "What you mean, us again?" The wing tensed. "If you know something, we need know also." It was not difficult to make the connection, but it still didn't make sense; what exactly had Grimmel been doing with her, and why?

She slowly lifted her wing, peering out from under it. "They hunt us," she whined, "chase us until we not can fly. Pawfuls of hunters in their pack, always hunting… They let me go, hunted me, hurt me, not kill me, but not know why…" She keened and pawed at her head, "I just want die here, not can, not can-"

She whined again and dug her claws into her head, looking close to drawing blood. Sympathy, Dreamer sighed. "I know that pain," he said quietly, "was hunted like that. Not wanted live. But that pain make me stronger. Not was good it happened, but I stronger now."

Disdainful, the female snorted. "It not the same."

"You need time," he said gently. "We will win this fight," somehow, as they always did, "then you will be stronger also."

She stilled and went silent, staring at him through a single lidded eye… then lurched to her paws and glared at him with narrow eyes. "Not when they tore off my friend-mate's wings then ate her in front of me! Not even killed her first!"

Dreamer's stomach lurched into his throat, guilt and regret clawing at him, while the female choked down sobs and haltingly walked between the walls of the cave as if vainly searching for somewhere to hide. Fleeting's warm wing lifted off him as she stood, and she cornered the female and gently pushed her to the ground with a wing over her back. She keened there and feebly tried to push Fleeting away, but quickly gave up when she was only held more tightly.

Everything had gone to Hel. Dreamer whined and clawed at his head, he wanted his nice peaceful life back, just playing with his son and enjoying the company of his family. "Why life always like this for us," he moaned, so very tired of this stupid, broken world.

"Because Long-Paws live," Wanderer growled, apparently having woken; really, after all, that it was a wonder Leaper still slept soundly at his side. "I understand now why Sire hated them. We never will escape them…" Dreamer started to disagree, but Wanderer growled over him. "We might kill this one, but always will be more! Always making more nests, fouling water, killing land. Sire also say they will get better at killing. You can say he wrong?"

Humans would be humans… Inventing, refining, building bigger and better weapons. It was unlikely there were others like Grimmel – as he'd said, most people stumbling across an injured dragon in the woods would kill it on sight – but it would always be possible, and even aside from that their weapons would slowly improve. "No," Dreamer bit out, "he not wrong." Wanderer huffed at him, then winced as he shifted to his side, and Dreamer sighed. They couldn't do anything about humans either way, this land was simply too massive and there were far too many of them.

"But," Dreamer continued, "we can stop this one. What we know about him?"

"He is clever," Wanderer growled. "He alpha, tells his pack how to fight. Tries to exhaust us. I shot him but he very fast, not could hit him. Let me think I could win fight, but always more wing-hunters…" Dreamer churred thoughtfully, that all lined up with-

"They hunted us for many lights," Wanderer continued solemnly. "We tried fighting, but too many wing-hunters, so we flew. Was hungry, tired, but they watched prey-packs, hunted for us around water…"

"Your parents?" Dreamer asked quietly after a few moments of confusion, and Wanderer huffed affirmative. "How…?" He was almost afraid to know the answer. Wanderer had said he'd been thrown out into the world before he was ready, but had never shown any interest or hope in finding them again. But morbid curiosity aside – as strong as it was – Dreamer needed to know as much as he could right now.

Wanderer was quiet for several heartbeats, before letting his head droop. "We not could fight. So we flew. But they chased us. I not remember much… Sire or Dam hunted for us, but sometimes return with only wounds. We always needed fly then, hungry, tired. Dam… not returned, once. Never saw her again. I not understood, was stupid fireling." He was shaking now, membranes quivering in his furled wings, so Dreamer shuffled over to put a wing over him while he continued. "We were caught again. Dam dragged me from where we slept, made me run. Those… wing-hunters came for us. Sire followed them, but he fought recklessly. I think he saw his mates die… still remember his face… They killed him, then Dam. All dead, now." That abrupt finish was followed with a sniffle while he stared outside, eyes vacant and glossy; he didn't whine, but he looked like he was holding one back.

Dreamer, by this point, was snarling under his breath, teeth clenched. "We will kill him," he vowed. This Long-Paw had earned their wrath, for orphaning Wanderer and trying to kill them and their family. For even claiming to be a hunter of Night Furies, he should be ended without hesitation or remorse.

"I thought about that," Wanderer said, his voice flat. "How much time you think that will take? We not know where he is, how many hunters in his pack. Not can just fight him."

That was true. Dreamer thought about it, being generous with his estimates. First they needed to secure their position, probably hide somewhere beyond their territory, so a night to get settled-

"We fought hunters for many seasons," Wanderer interrupted, eyes sharp and ears tense. "We can do that again. Fleeting would hate it, but she could do that." Wanderer fixed him with a sharp glare. "Leaper not could do that. He needs to fly, play, be with his sire, also his dam. We need protect him, but also let him grow."

"We only need kill one Long-Paw," Dreamer said flatly.

"All hunter-alphas we fought were one Long-Paw also," Wanderer growled. "They always needed much time, found new ways to hunt us!"

"We are stronger now," Dreamer growled back; if he could go back to the start of the confrontation with any of his previous opponents, he would be able to end each conflict swiftly and decisively.

"This hunter is stronger also," Wanderer snarled. "You think I not want kill him? I want tear him apart! But I not can say Leaper will be safe."

Fleeting hissed at them from where she still consoled the other female, "If Leaper even sees danger I will fly so far with him you never will find us."

"So we should fly," Dreamer barked back at her, "fly far from here, hope he not follow us? Let him kill more families, more friend-mates? Nightstrikers are dying!" He did some quick numbers in his head, if Grimmel killed twenty Nightstrikers a year, for twenty years, that was four hundred Nightstrikers. If they couldn't lay eggs while stressed, he would even stymy repopulation for the ones who escaped, and a species without enough blood to mix would die before long. "Nightstrikers maybe all will die if we not stop him."

Disbelief, Wanderer snorted, fixing him with a glare. "You sound like your sire."

Dreamer froze for a moment, feeling his fangs sliding into his mouth and struggling to resist the compulsion to bite him. "I not am my-!"

A tiny whine cut through the argument, and the three of them silenced their growling, eyes dilating as they all looked to Leaper, huddled between Wanderer's paws and hidden under his little wing. "Leaper?" Dreamer warbled, gently nosing the wing.

"Sire?" The fledgling whined as he peered over his wing, the terrified little sound breaking Dreamer's heart almost as much as his wide, fearful eyes. "I sorry…"

Love, reassurance, Dreamer and Wanderer both hummed while they nuzzled him, bumping against each other in the process. "You not do bad," Dreamer gently assured him, "we just maybe need fight bad thing. Sire is scary when fighting bad things…"

"I not bad?" Leaper asked, still looking and sounding terrified but now a little hopeful.

"No, you are being very good," Wanderer hummed warmly, licking over his head and purring at the tentatively indignant grumbling, then lifted a wing. "Under here. Sleep, is still light."

Leaper leaned back to look up at Wanderer, then rumbled unease to himself and glanced over at Dreamer. He climbed to his paws and wearily stepped over their forelegs – Dreamer lifted his wing, then lowered it again as the fledgling curled up against his side.

"He was worried for you," Fleeting said quietly, staring at the lump under Dreamer's wing; it wasn't as small a lump as it once was.

Dreamer sighed, a quiet purr building in his chest. "Maybe… you are right," he said reluctantly. There was no way he could guarantee their safety, if they stayed and fought, and Leaper would be miserable. Fleeing still might not be safe, but it was the safer option. Giving up their territory would be difficult… but it would only be temporary, one way or another. "If Nightstrikers can survive maybe four pawfuls of cold-seasons, not will all die… This hunter-alpha only will get slower now." He had to be at least forty, beginning to get old… Also probably smarter and wiser, but it would only take one mistake to cut it all off early. That was assuming he didn't take or have an apprentice, but Dreamer would barely lift a claw in tearing a rookie apart, and Grimmel didn't seem like much of a tutor anyway.

"We need to hunt," Wanderer said grimly, "I fought much, also we need carry Leaper to fly fast…"

"Not worry about that," Dreamer chuffed, "I have much food in my cave. Enough for all us." He could fly there when night fell, when he wouldn't be seen. "Then…"

He trailed off, the reality of it all slowly sinking in. They would be fleeing. Giving up their territory. They probably wouldn't even see their den again for another decade at least.

Fleeting reached out with a wing and touched it to his. "I know other nice places…" Her tone said they weren't quite as nice as this one, but… they would be together. They'd make it work.

Dreamer took a long breath, sharing a reassuring look with Wanderer. "You both try to sleep…" They clearly needed the rest more than he did, as did the female staring sullenly from under Fleeting's wing. "Then this night… we will fly."

The cool light of the sky-ice, the misty clouds smeared across the sky, the gentle breeze rustling through the trees, it was all so unassuming. Wanderer sighed as he stared out at it, feeling only a cold hatred while he waited for Dreamer to return with the food.

This was his territory, his home. He was Wanderer, yes, but he was tired of flying to new places for now. He wanted to explore life, be with his mates and raise his son. But that wasn't really a choice he could make. Maybe if it was just him and Dreamer… but he had others to protect now.

He had spotted a wing-hunter prowling around the lake, and held no doubts there were others. His instincts were clawing at him to protect his territory, to fight off the trespassers with all of his might and fury, but at the same time he had to admit he was terrified of fighting them again. This Long-Paw alpha had a scent about it that needled at Wanderer's spine, like the greedy Long-Paw that had tortured him as a fledgling. Undoubtedly, it would be a tricky opponent to fight, making use of hidden claws and twisted thinking.

Dreamer gave little warning when he returned to the cave bearing a mouthful of dry meat, his wings silent. Wanderer shuffled aside to allow him past, then waited for him to deposit the meal for everyone before turning away from the entrance.

"I thought there was more," Dreamer admitted sadly, walking back to keep watch at the entrance.

"That is… enough," Wanderer said in a low hum, staring at the pile of food as Fleeting, Leaper, and the female began picking at it. Enough for three adults to be satisfied… but not accounting for Leaper, or Wanderer's current greater need due to having fought so much. He wanted to growl at Dreamer to make sure he still had enough for himself too, but there was little point; he just had to hope he'd been sensible.

It was more than they would have got otherwise, and for that, Wanderer was very grateful. He snapped down his share, a good third of it, swiftly and without enjoyment. "Come, Leaper," he then rumbled, hooking a paw around the fledgling and pulling him aside.

"I still hungry," Leaper whined, claws scraping the ground, but was helpless when Wanderer grabbed his scruff.

Wanderer set him down behind Dreamer, at the entrance. "Leaper," he said quietly, "we will need fly this night…"

"Fly?" Leaper asked hopefully, staring up at Wanderer. "I like flying. I can hunt!"

"No…" Wanderer sighed. "We need fly far this night. Can hunt after. We need you be very quiet… You can be quiet?"

Agreement, Leaper barked – then flinched when Wanderer hissed at him, ears flattening as he shied away.

"We should fly now," Fleeting said solemnly, and Wanderer chuffed as he picked up Leaper and put him on Dreamer's back; he didn't entirely trust the strange female, not with this, and Dreamer was the least physically exhausted of the rest of them.

Without further delay, Dreamer leaped out into the night, and the rest of them followed. They flew close to the mountain, heading east, towards the other Nightstrikers' territories. Wanderer was not optimistic they would find help, but it was a direction to fly in, and they were more likely to find somewhere else to live that way. Somewhere far away from Long-Paws, if such a place existed.

He let his gaze drift out over his territory, its fields, forests, and rivers, hoping they would be able to claim it again eventually; it had been a wonderful home. When he turned away with a resolute huff, he saw Dreamer staring with the same sad, longing eyes. Without breaking the silence, Wanderer pulled up beside him and affectionately touched their wings together, staring him in the eye.

Wherever they were going, they were going together. That was the main thing.

Author's Notes

And with this (thematically appropriate) chapter, I surpass even Usurpation of the Darkness in wordcount and officially hold the longest Dragon Hiccup story! Of course, the BoN and IHTR series are both longer overall, and even still ongoing, but still, this is a big milestone for me.