Author's Notes

Merry Christmas! This year, I have a gift for you all... It's anxiety! ^_^

Silence weighed down like a heavy blanket, oppressive and stifling. Nightstrikers' ears were shaped such that the wind blew over them without sound, and there was little else so high in the night sky. The minute hiss of their wings cutting through the air, and the occasional flap. The whistle through a hole that was not meant to be.

Dreamer glanced across at Fleeting. He did not know what was going through her mind, leaving their comfortable home behind to drift on the wind. She had not weighed in much on that decision, only that she wanted to protect Leaper, and her family. She had not advocated for leaving or staying. Maybe she trusted him and Wanderer to do what was best. Maybe she hadn't wanted to make the decision herself; it was a difficult and painful one either way. Or maybe she just didn't care. Dreamer wondered if she regretted the outcome – at the very least, the raw wound in her tail-fin was clearly painful to fly with, though she bore it without complaint.

She caught him watching her, and they locked eyes for a few heartbeats before she set her gaze ahead again. He didn't feel encouraged by that.

Because he still didn't know if this was the right decision. There was every possibility they could have found somewhere to hide, figured out where Grimmel was, and ended him in a few short days before going back to their happy lives. That would have been the optimal outcome. But they didn't know this opponent. It could have very easily gone to ruin, he and Wanderer getting ambushed somehow, or even worse, Grimmel finding wherever they hid Leaper while they hunted; it was all too easy to imagine that sick, gloating face.

He glanced back at Leaper, huddled between the shoulders of his wings. The fledgling looked bored, but also scared and maybe a little resentful. He hadn't been allowed to eat much, as he wouldn't be flying, but even just being a passenger would be exhausting in its own way. Dreamer knew him well enough to know he'd be grouchy and restless when they eventually landed, but there was no helping it. They needed to cover as much ground as possible.

Which was a point… "Sky-fire will kindle soon," he called out, staring at the familiar sky-sparks over the horizon. "But we not should stop. Need fly far, if want escape this hunter."

Fleeting groaned dramatically, but didn't argue, while the other female flying with them just stared ahead with grim acceptance. Flying outside their territory in the light of the sky-fire felt like a bad idea, but the hot-season nights were very short, and they needed as much distance as they could get. In any case, it wasn't as if Grimmel would see them from this far away.

Leaper made his own displeasure known with a long, drawn-out groan, stretching out and disrupting the air over Dreamer's back as he flexed his wings. Dreamer remained vigilant for any sign he was about to jump off, but he eventually settled again, feeling precariously balanced. He wasn't in any danger of falling off with how they were flying straight and level, and he could grab on at an instant's notice, but it wasn't doing much for Dreamer's nerves; the burden of carrying their son went far deeper than just his weight.

Still, he was being very good, all things considered. "Leaper," Dreamer warbled, "will flame ground for you when we land. Will make you feel less sore. You being very good."

"I hungry," Leaper grumbled back, lazily biting the back of Dreamer's neck. "Want fish."

"I not know if we will find fish when we land," Dreamer said sadly. In fact, fishing would not be an efficient hunt, at this rate they would be using their fire to bring down a land-prey or two to feed them all with minimal effort. "But you can eat much land-prey!" He sighed at the weary groaning and grumbling going on behind his head. "Try sleeping. Then we will land very soon." Or it would seem like it to him, anyway.

Fleeting drifted a bit closer, staring sympathetically at Leaper. "I not know if leaving is better," she rumbled, "he still is very young. This will be difficult flight for him. Maybe also bad if we stayed… Grrr, no choices were good."

"He can manage," Dreamer chuffed confidently; he and Wanderer had been put through much, much worse than a long flight for a few nights.

"We should watch for prey," Wanderer called across to them. "Maybe not will find prey later. Small rest will be good also."

Agreement, Dreamer chuffed. That was a good point, if there wasn't any prey around when they decided to land, they'd have a serious problem, and the sky was just beginning to lighten with the dawn. It had been a while since he'd needed to think like this, so used to having food readily available…

He gave his head a shake and focused on flying and keeping an eye out for prey. The decision was made, the only thing to do was follow through with it.

The flying was monotonous, but passed reasonably quickly and without incident; nothing could fly faster than a Nightstriker. Stumbling over a prey-herd had been fortunate, they'd all been able to eat their fill before flying a bit further to a nearby lake and settling down for the remainder of the light. Dreamer was too weary to do more than keep an eye on Leaper, to whom it was all just a fun game when they landed. His curiosity almost completely overcame his flight-fatigue, and thankfully all he needed was a few reminders to stay close.

But even after he finally settled down – forcibly, by Fleeting – sleep did not come easily to Dreamer. He listened to his family snoring, and dozed off a few times, but it was similar to when he had been fighting the dragon hunters. The difference was that this time, when night fell, he certainly felt the lack of sleep weighing heavily on his mind.

Despite that, his body was reasonably rested, and the next night of flying passed just as the first. Wanderer and Fleeting shared Leaper, the four of them briefly slowing so that the fledgling could glide across to his dam shortly before dawn, leaving Dreamer grateful to be free of that burden. He spent the whole flight daydreaming about finding somewhere to curl up and pass out.

That place came in the form of a dense forest by a small pond of murky but drinkable water. After slaking their thirst, they trudged into the trees and settled down in a small secluded hollow. The art of sleeping lightly was not lost to Dreamer, nor Wanderer by the way his ears remained alert. Anything even resembling footsteps would rouse either or both of them.

Or it would, if Dreamer was not again just lying there waiting for sleep to claim him. So stupid, at any point during the night he could have landed and instantly passed out, but now that he had the opportunity, he was unable to do more than doze if even that.

He hated this situation, he came to realise, fiercely resenting the Long-Paws. He'd tried to be reasonable, but what had been the point? All he had done was assured their safety while they called a specialised hunter. And then they'd got exactly what they wanted, a land free of Nightstrikers to exploit and foul as they wished. Dreamer seethed as he wondered how long it would be before boats were put upon his river, before they thoughtlessly fouled it. Although, in many places it wasn't wide or deep enough to support more than a small boat – or would they somehow defile that too, to suit their purposes?

He had tried to be reasonable. They had taken his trust and thrown it back in his face. Would he kill them, when he and his family eventually returned to reclaim their home? Right now, in his bitter, sleep-deprived state, he wouldn't hesitate. They'd had no qualms calling someone to do the same… for the second time, he realised; Grimmel had let slip as much. He was just so tired of being apparently the only one pushing for peace and cooperation. If they wanted to play it that way, then maybe he should just…

A small-wing-prey began twittering in a tree nearby, merrily whistling out a rapid sequence of tunes at an impressive volume for such an undoubtedly small creature, and Dreamer sighed, letting his eyes drift open. The sky shone dimly through the trees, clouds brightly outlined on one side by the light of the sinking sky-fire shining off them. Night was only about an hour away.

There was little sense in trying to sleep now; when he did sleep, it would need to be long and deep. He climbed to his paws and numbly trudged through the forest, noting the early onset of hunger beginning to grip him. They'd need to hunt again soon, well before dawn.

For a brief moment, he burned with seething hate. After that subsided, and he'd taken a long, deep breath, he just felt depressed. How long would they be able to live free of humans? They had long lives to look forward to, and hopefully many more eggs, over time, but how long until this same situation happened again? How safe would their children be, would Leaper be, when they ventured into the world themselves?

He found himself staring at the murky water of the lake with little recollection of having walked there. Insects skimmed above its surface in the waning light, darting between thin reeds that speared out of the shallows and wavered in the breeze washing over the sprawling fields beyond. The sky, murky with the setting sky-fire, did not look so inviting as it once did.

Why was he so affected by all this? He should just hate humans and be done with it. What had they ever done for him, other than trap and torture him, or try to? Astrid, Snotlout, the twins, and Fishlegs came to mind – and they had all made him suffer too, each in their own ways. He should just hate them all, and stop caring about their miserable existences. Why should he, when they didn't care about him? He snarled his frustration, lashing his tail and whipping around-

Then yelped even as he fired at the Deathgripper lunging for him, its long blades flicking forth and its maw parted and ready to bite down. The blast caught it right in the face and threw it to the side, a liquid splashing from its mouth and setting fire to the ground – but it only staggered before lunging again. Dreamer leaped away, but a long blade reached out and searing pain erupted in his hindleg as it hooked into him and yanked him back.

He was on his back, desperately fending off the snapping teeth with a paw on its throat and trying to keep the unwieldy talons from spearing through his folded wings. A jolt of panic surged through him as its tail reared up over its back, the bulb at the end parting to reveal a long white stinger – he fired at it as it drove down towards him, the shot detonating against it but doing nothing to halt its advance, and he desperately twisted away from it to let it skewer the grass. Letting his weight immediately fall back, he landed on the tail, and the dragon snarled in pain even while it bore down on him, trying to pull it free. He was close to unbalancing it, holding it back by its throat and one of its paws, the blade cutting shallowly between his claws-

Pain flared in his chest, and he roared in agony. He was still holding it back, and yet before his eyes, its tusks extended from its jaw, gradually piercing his hide, grating horribly against a bone in his his collar-

The weight was suddenly yanked off, and Dreamer yelped as the various things cutting into him were pulled free. He coughed, rolling to his paws, then joined Wanderer in prowling around it, shots screeching in their throats. Their haste to kill it was tempered by just how dangerous and armoured it was – it had already shaken off two full-strength blasts as if they were nothing – but their revealing fire protected them from ambush.

It seemed to recognise it was outmatched, snarling as it backed up and tried to keep them both in front of it. The slightest opportunity was all they needed, which would come the moment it tried to rush them or flee.

Instead of either of those things, it roared, a deep, bellowing roar that scattered wing-prey from the forest and a flock of them from the fields. Wanderer's shot slammed into its open mouth a moment later, a sickening crack audible over the explosion, and then they were upon it, Dreamer grabbing its tail and doing his best to hold down its hindquarters while it shrieked and thrashed, helpless against their assault.

Scales cracked and flesh parted within Dreamer's crushing jaw, disabling the tail… but beyond that, it was hunkered to the ground, and bringing his weight down on its back only had him bouncing off its hard carapace.

Wanderer had already realised as much, and instead had the folds of its wing in his teeth to tear through them. It was grounded. "Go!" he shouted, flinging scraps of membrane from his mouth, and they leapt away, leaving the dragon screeching a disturbingly off-key pitch of agony.

Summons, haste, Dreamer roared as he took to the air, quickly glancing around for more threats. There seemed to be no more Deathgrippers, thankfully, and Fleeting and the female burst through the trees shortly after, Leaper clinging to his dam's back.

They all fell into formation as they ascended, the cloud of fatigue descending over Dreamer again as he became convinced there were no more immediate threats. But the roaring and shrieking behind them carried into the distance, loud and clear. Dreamer grit his teeth. A scout, most likely, Grimmel's forces spread out to cover anywhere they were likely to stop. One sighting to summon the pack-

"Maybe will be more," he barked; night was falling, but more than enough light still shone from the sky.

"You are hurt?" Fleeting called across, looking worried.

Dreamer took stock of himself, where the tusk had stabbed him, the sticky stinging feeling between his foreleg and chest that was probably one of many cuts, the slash he'd taken on the leading edge of his wing… "Not much," he replied. Painful, some close to being serious wounds, but not something that would hinder him overmuch.

With little warning, Wanderer lunged in his direction, though he immediately pulled back with a snap of his wings and a frustrated growl – he hadn't needed to make contact, flinching was painful enough. Dreamer gingerly shook his head and churred back regret, apologetic, understanding, lowering his gaze and going back to watching the land shrink into the distance below.

He wasn't going to be wandering off anymore, and certainly not until he'd properly rested. His issue lay with his mindset, he was sure, he just needed to come to terms with… all this, and decide how he felt about it. Resolve this doubt eating away at his belief that even Long-Paws could be good if shown the right path. He certainly had evidence they could be… but he had fought long and hard for it in most cases.

The bigger question, while the adrenaline was wearing off but still helping keep him alert, was how they had been followed in the first place. Had they even been followed? That was a stupid question, there was no way that after all this time he'd randomly run into his first wild Deathgripper two nights after fleeing Grimmel. But then how? They couldn't possibly be as fast as Nightstrikers, and they had only stopped to sleep and eat…

Night fell quietly, the light of the sky-fire gradually burning out and giving way to the cool light of the dark sky. He was no closer to figuring anything out, the fatigue once again pressing down on his mind making it too difficult to think. But at least they were safe again…

For now.

Four thumps onto the grassy ground almost seemed to echo in the night, despite the breeze drifting through the leaves of the nearby forest. Wanderer was too weary to care, though he resisted the urge to lie down; he probably wouldn't get back up.

Fleeting and the female had no such reservations, collapsing with weary groans right there on the grass. To be fair, the forest consisted of thin, haphazard trees that seemingly grew in every direction and apparently dropped a lot of little sticks. The grass was more appealing, at least as long as the darkness hid them.

"Short rest," Wanderer panted as he and Dreamer sank to their haunches, and Leaper slid from his back. "Then we should hunt." The only reason for landing by this somewhat unpleasant forest was that there were signs of prey around it, trimmed grass and trails, and there was water nearby.

"Make me," Fleeting growled, gingerly folding in her wings and slowly stretching out a foreleg. Dreamer glared tiredly at her from behind, but didn't say anything.

They rested there in silence to catch their breath, watching Leaper wearily wander around the edge of the forest with a curious nose. As time wore on, however, Dreamer gradually looked more and more exhausted, head and wings sagging, his eyes downcast. Wanderer couldn't quite hide his irritation, but Dreamer was nowhere near alert enough to notice. Or hunt, for that matter.

"Maybe I will make you," Wanderer said to Fleeting. "Get up. We need hunt."

Fleeting growled at him, but then glanced at Dreamer and groaned resignation. "I hope you think something soon," she grumbled, "I not can fly like this all hot-season."

"I will think something," Dreamer mumbled, sounding distant and weary. Hopefully that meant he was already doing his Dreamer thing, lost to his thoughts. Hopefully the fact that he'd barely slept at all since they'd left wasn't hindering him too much. Hopefully.

Wanderer stretched as he rose and walked over to Leaper, who was nosing at something in a clump of leaves. "What you doing?" he asked the fledgling, instinctive worry kicking in.

"Hunting," the fledgling replied, shoving his head into the tangle and then pulling out, working his jaw with a crunching noise. "This not good-tasting," he grumbled, "but I hungry…"

"We will hunt now," Wanderer hummed, scenting his son's face to check exactly what he'd been eating; whatever it was smelled slimy and pungent, along with the damp wood smeared on his face, but not bad. "Stay here with Sire, female. Remember, stay quiet, also near."

Agreement, Leaper chuffed, rummaging around for more crunchy things. Wanderer chuffed to Fleeting, and they walked to a nearby prey-trail and followed it into the trees. Thankfully, the scents were fresh.

Still, he didn't have the energy to go running after it, to say nothing of Fleeting's fatigue. "How you are?" he asked her as they padded along the trail, her neck and shoulder brushing against his tail as if she was trying to lean on it.

"Tired," she rumbled. "We all are tired, I know. But I maybe only can fly one more night. We not can keep flying like this…"

"I know," he hummed, brushing her side with his tail-fins. "We should rest here until night. Not fly as far." This was about the pace he and Dreamer had set in flying to this land in the first place, so he knew he could keep going a pawful more lights… but it would be a heavier burden on their bodies the longer they pushed themselves, and they would need more food more urgently. If they were still being chased when it got to that point, they likely wouldn't survive; this was a hunter they'd struggle to fight at their best.

"But," he chuffed confidently, "Dreamer will think something. He just needs time. Is why he is Dreamer."

Fleeting huffed. "He needs sleep. What he doing all light? Licking his tail?"

"This is difficult for him also," Wanderer growled back at her. "He not slept much while we fought hunters, for some time. That nearly killed him pawful of times…" Not that it was easy to watch, not when their lives depended on him, but growling at him would only make things worse.

She lightly nuzzled his tail with a sigh. "I trust you," she said quietly, "Dreamer also. I not should be so biting…"

"We all are tired," Wanderer hummed, then peered through the trees and lightened his pawsteps so as to not alert the prey they were approaching.

They advanced silently, two shadows in the night, watching through the chaotic trees. Line of sight was limited, but that worked to their advantage, allowing them to more easily approach the prey and reduce the distance a shot would need to travel.

Hard pawsteps pricked Wanderer's ears, and Fleeting slipped through a break in the trees to get another angle on it in case he missed. He approached alone, quietly, fighting his tired mind and body to carefully place his paws and make no sound. A glimpse of the prey through the trees, lowering its head to graze; a small female, by the look of it, disappointing but sufficient.

He balanced caution and haste, aware that the small-wing-prey beginning to twitter in the trees were going silent around him. A bush gave way to a path, and he hesitated – its back was to him, a mere pawful of body-lengths away. Should he use his fire, or lunge for it?

Just the thought of leaping at it had him sagging with lethargy; he would need to rest properly before he could chase anything. Fire came with its own risk, but was the less risky option, and they had to be well ahead of the wing-hunters and their Long-Paw alpha. He bared his teeth, and fired a concussive shot at the prey as quickly as he was capable of.

The prey bolted the moment the shot left his maw, but barely got its hard paws off the ground in the time between the screech of the shot leaving his mouth and the sharp explosion that whipped its head around. It staggered, nearly tripping over its long legs, while he and Fleeting swiftly rushed out to bring it down and kill it.

A truly unsatisfying hunt, but an efficient one. Also a loud one – but they had to be far ahead of their hunters, and even if they somehow had heard that explosion there was no way they were close enough to pinpoint its source. Still, it made him uneasy, and he remained wary as he gorged on the meat.

After picking the carcass clean, he and Fleeting wordlessly turned tail on it and trudged back through the forest, ears sharp for anything unusual. They arrived to find the others a short way into the trees, the female looking at them with wide eyes, Leaper sat on his backside, slowly tilting forwards while his eyes drifted closed, and Dreamer… was fast asleep, sprawled out on his front with a paw over his snout.

"I not know what do," the female whined while Wanderer and Fleeting cautiously approached, holding a paw out to Dreamer but hesitating before touching him.

"Let him sleep," Wanderer sighed; he'd be ravenous when he woke, but that was easily solved, while his lack of sleeping was not. Fleeting gave him a sad look before padding over to give the female a share of the meal.

Wanderer walked over to Leaper, who blinked himself awake and fidgeted a bit before slowly starting to drift off again. "Sire…?" he asked quietly, struggling to lift his gaze. "When we can go home…? I much tired…"

"We will find new home soon," Wanderer promised, holding back a small whine by licking the fledgling's face; he barely seemed to notice, he was so exhausted. Wanderer then brought up a mouthful of food, which was immediately set upon, and left him to it; there was little doubt he'd be fast asleep the moment he finished.

The female was just finishing up her meal as he walked over, gulping down the last mouthful and then cleaning her face. Wanderer realised he was probably somewhat unsightly himself, and the three of them spent some time just making themselves a bit more presentable.

"I hope I not am slowing you," the female said quietly, slowly lowering her paw and wrapping her tail around in front of herself. "But I not can keep flying like this…"

"Not worry," Wanderer assured her, "I not think you are slowing us." Admittedly, for the most part, he forgot she was there. "Also we not can keep flying this much anyway…" The three of them glanced across to Dreamer, who hadn't so much as fidgeted; Leaper had snuggled up to him and was also now fast asleep. Although, now that Wanderer thought about it, something was bugging him… "But why you still flying with us? You could just hide here, while hunters follow us."

The female met his eyes, then slowly drooped as she lowered her gaze and pawed at the ground. "Maybe they not will follow you. Maybe some will hunt me…" She let out a long whine, "I not can be hunted again, not want, not want…"

"Not want be alone again," Wanderer finished for her, and she whined agreement, grief, huddling in on herself. "I not mind if you want fly with us," he rumbled, looking to Fleeting, who huffed neutrally. "Dreamer also not will mind… Wrrr, he maybe want you come with us, he likes to help, stop people hurting…"

"What she was like?" Fleeting asked, gentle but blunt, wrapping her tail around her paws as she often did when she was a little nervous and trying to hide it. "Your friend-mate."

Rather than break down or anything as Wanderer might have expected, however, the female just gave a wry chuckle. "Dominant, strong, always said what she was thinking," she growled fondly, eyes glazing over as she stared at the ground. "She liked when I showed my teeth, but I not wanted do that… Just wanted be with her, that was enough…"

Wanderer almost wanted to put a wing over her, but… she didn't seem to need it. A storm of grief still raged behind her eyes, but she was managing, somehow. Perhaps that was just due to the very real threat that still hunted them, seemingly always on their tail.

"We should rest," he sighed, standing and padding over to Dreamer to lie beside him, trapping Leaper between them. Fleeting followed and curled around in front of them, shuffling her flank up to Wanderer's chest so that his head and a paw rested on her, and curled her tail around his side. Wanderer then lifted his wing in invitation for the female, who hesitantly padded over and lay beside him.

Worry gnawed at him, trying to keep him awake, but it wasn't long before he was slipping into slumber. Hopefully it wouldn't all end in fighting, that thought chilled him to his core, but Dreamer had been given time. Hopefully, it was enough.

For a long, wonderful moment, everything was perfectly fine.

And then Dreamer wondered why he was sleeping outside, and the events of the last few days roused him with a start; drugged, used as bait, almost killed, and then nights of endless flying.

Night. It was night. "We should be flying," he blurted out, lurching to his paws, then staggered with a wave of horrible dizziness that spun his head.

He was answered by a heaving sound, and then the scent of just raw food hit him in the face. Any thought of flying was momentarily put on hold while he hastily blinked away the darkness across his sight, searching for the meal with his nose more than his eyes while his stomach twisted in expectation, and hurriedly wolfed it down. It was soft and slimy, but he was too hungry to care in the slightest.

With his hunger somewhat assuaged, he looked around, taking in the strange forest of haphazard trees and branches; he had very little memory of landing and walking here. "We need fly," he repeated urgently, turning in a circle and looking for the way out-

"Dreamer," Wanderer barked quietly, and Dreamer startled to find him so close, having somehow not noticed him. "Stop. Calm. We not can keep flying like this. You not can keep flying like this."

What was he talking about? They were rested, Dreamer must have slept some fifteen hours straight, they could keep going! More to the point, what if Grimmel caught up? Then they'd really be in trouble!

He jumped with a startled yelp as something rapped on his head. "Stop," Wanderer growled again. "We not can escape them like this. My family tried. Female tried. We need you thinking, not panicking."

"I not panicking," Dreamer shot back, realising how childish he sounded even as he said it, then rubbed his eyes with a paw. "Grrr, my head… Is water near?"

Wanderer's ears went back, and he looked away. "That… maybe not is good idea. They found us near water last night. If you need water, we can go, but… maybe will need fight again. Not know."

Dreamer looked around, spotting Fleeting and the female resting on their sides while Leaper hopped around and tried to swat at them; there was no joyous spring in his leaps and bounds, lacking that energy that always seemed to overflow from him, and the two females looked utterly exhausted. Right… "Flying not will keep us safe," he reluctantly agreed, sinking to his haunches. He took a deep breath of the fresh air, letting it help the rising adrenaline to clear his mind and get him thinking properly, to figure out some way to lose Grimmel like he should have done from the start.

Although, that wasn't quite fair, he didn't know as much then as he did now, and had been tired enough to start with. There were questions he couldn't have asked then, predominantly how Grimmel had known where they were going, how he'd kept up with them, and how he'd found them.

The first was almost irrelevant, but he pondered it anyway, as somewhere to start. They had flown this direction because it made the most sense, there was more food and water this way as well as potential safety in amongst other Nightstrikers' territories, or at least fewer Long-Paw nests. They had made a logical decision, which Grimmel must have guessed at. However ridiculous his claim of hunting Nightstrikers, Dreamer had to admit, he knew what he was doing.

So then… that actually might even have answered the next question. Nightstrikers were the fastest dragon, and could cover long distances quickly. If Grimmel knew where they were going, he would definitely have taken the head start.

Dreamer growled to himself. They'd played right into Grimmel's hands, doing exactly what he'd expected them to do. He'd even said he was a hunter of Nightstrikers, and then they'd gone and made the obvious choice.

Not that it was necessarily a bad choice, even considering. He could have left a few Deathgrippers for if they'd stayed, then returned to wipe them out while they were still exhausted from that fight, and food was scarce in other directions, the land littered with Long-Paw nests. They would only have other things to worry about.

So that just left… how Grimmel had found them again. A direction was vague, he couldn't have known how far or precisely which direction they could have gone. He could have guessed, but Wanderer and Dreamer were not normal Nightstrikers, they could fly faster and further and had pushed Fleeting and the female into doing the same; admittedly, that was clearly Wanderer's point, they certainly couldn't keep going like this.

If I knew everything about Nightstrikers… how would I hunt them? It was an odd question, and it made him queasy to draw any kind of parallel between himself and Grimmel, but he needed to get into his opponent's mind, figure out his strategy. Dreamer had never thought of Nightstrikers as having weaknesses, they were the fastest dragons with the strongest fire and modest strength, an overwhelming combination; what they could not immediately fight, they could flee from to strike at from the shadows.

But when he stopped to think about it, that speed and strength came at a cost – they could not maintain it for long, quickly tiring and needing to rest; in peak condition, the exertion flying here from the cold North had been crippling, even outright dangerous with a lack of food. That was what Dagur had learned on Berserk, all those years ago. He'd never needed to be faster than Dreamer, only persistent, keeping up the chase until his prey slowed from exhaustion. That was undoubtedly what Grimmel was doing now.

But that still didn't explain how he'd found them. Or, at least, one Deathgripper had… "We saw more wing-hunters last night?" he warbled to Wanderer, who was watching with hopeful and curious eyes.

"No," Wanderer said with a huff. "But it called for more."

With a ruined jaw, no less. Yes, he could see it… To fight was to die. To flee was to die. Those were the only courses of action. So if they could do neither… "We not need fly now," he chuffed, his whole body sagging and relaxing with that revelation; three nights of solid flying was already taking its toll. "We should rest."

"You know what we should do?" Wanderer asked hopefully, shuffling his paws.

"Maybe, I think," Dreamer hummed, standing to press his face into him and nuzzle him. "Thank you, you always know what I need…"

"You always know what to do," Wanderer purred back, nuzzling and then licking his head.

Dreamer laughed dryly. "Sometimes. I not sure yet, need think more. But we have time." It was still early in the night, and if he could not win the race then they needed to be patient. They could spend that time with each other, and their son.

And then, it would be their turn to hunt.

The sky-ice in the cloudy night sky cast foreboding shadows across the land, a warm and gentle breeze carrying scents of grasses and fields. It washed over Wanderer as he and Dreamer prowled through the forest, making next to no sound in hopping over strewn branches and ducking under oblique tree trunks.

His back prickled with anticipation and dread, though he dared not rub it against anything however much he was tempted every time he ducked under something. This was a most dangerous hunt, they could not allow the smallest slip – even assuming it was as Dreamer predicted, even with all their seasons of fighting and experience, there was still great risk of debilitating injury or death.

He caught a glimpse of Dreamer nimbly slipping through the forest beside him, eyes focused and ears sharp. They needed to find their prey first, or they would be forced into fighting or fleeing. Not only was their prey extremely dangerous, but they were hunting at a disadvantage.

A sharp scent drifted on the breeze, sending waves of dread and fury through Wanderer. The expected Death-Gripper was there, and it appeared to be alone. Waiting for them. Fear clawed at Wanderer, raking its talons through him, but he took the lead of the hunt without hesitation, veering around to locate their quarry. He followed his nose, watching for cues from Dreamer, until they found it nestled up against a rough thicket a considerable distance from the treeline, the sharp spikes down its back distinct even in darkness. Just like the last place they had stopped, it lay in wait for them, ready to ambush.

Every pounding heartbeat carried a risk of detection, but haste would only increase that risk. Wanderer forced himself to steady, to detach himself from how desperately he wanted to claw this thing apart for even thinking about harming his family, and took slow, measured steps through the rough forest, carefully placing his paws. His breath rasped in his dry throat, but he would need all his strength for this, just had to hope while he crept forwards, five body-lengths… Four… Three…

It suddenly jerked up from where it had rested on its paws, and Wanderer lunged, quickly closing the remaining distance and dropping his weight onto its head. It bounced, momentarily dazed – Wanderer could only trust Dreamer was handling the tail as he wrestled it, grabbing a tusk with his claws and almost climbing onto it to clamp his teeth down around its muzzle, several of the tips breaking to the pressure but finding purchase and cracking tough scale.

It shrieked through its teeth, foul breath blasting straight into Wanderer's mouth, and tried to buck him off, standing and lifting him with ease. He grappled it, claws hooked around the blunt side of the closer talon while the other flailed, unable to find an angle on him. Its claws scraped his upturned snout, but couldn't find purchase with him yanking on it. He tried to pull it back, give Dreamer an opening at its throat, but it was just so strong, pulling him around with it while it thrashed.

Wanderer lost his tenuous grip on its furled wing for just a moment, and it immediately bucked, pulling back at the same time, throwing him forwards. He fought to stay on top of it, keep those tusks pointed away from him, keep that talon from flipping out and slicing into him, but it was a losing battle. He could see its relatively soft underside, his nose mere claw-lengths from its throat, but he couldn't get an angle on it any more than it could on him.

It reared back and Wanderer toppled right over it, his back hitting the ground, eyes wide and breaths tense as he felt himself at the ends of those killing tusks – Dreamer suddenly filled his sight, teeth trying to find purchase on its throat with the low angle. Wanderer twisted, using its tusks for leverage while its weight bore down on him, and finally, with a wet tearing and a shower of liquid, it collapsed and went limp.

Wanderer's jaw cracked as he relaxed it, and he rolled to his paws with a groan. These Death-Grippers were difficult enough to kill on their own, let alone without allowing them to call for their pack.

Hurt, Dreamer whined quietly, and Wanderer jerked around to find him awkwardly pawing at a gash on his head with blood streaming down his face, over his eye. Wanderer hastily shuffled over to lick the wound and his eye, clearing the blood and helping staunch the flow. Appreciation, Dreamer purred while he worked.

With that done, Wanderer directed a snort of derision at the corpse before heading straight for the treeline and the water beyond; any other nearby hunters would have heard the fight, no point in hiding now. As soon as he emerged from the trees he took leaping bounds towards the pond to dunk his head into the murky water, just letting it fill his mouth and wash his scales before guzzling it down.

After slaking his thirst, he stepped back to keep watch while Dreamer took his turn, also just dunking his head underwater to gulp it down. Resting had been necessary, and they weren't nearing dehydration yet, but it felt good to have water again.

And nothing was prowling from the trees or descending from the sky. After a last look around, ears swivelling for the slightest hint of danger, Dreamer chuffed, and Wanderer barked loudly enough for the sound to carry through the forest.

They waited tensely, doubt and dread mounting with each moment that crawled past, though it was not long before two dark shadows emerged from over the forest and angled towards them. A third shape leapt off one of them, and Leaper landed in a run to jump up at Dreamer and wrap his paws around his neck with happy squeaks; he didn't know what was going on, but was observant, and had likely picked up on all the tension.

Wanderer then had a similar reunion, albeit with a female who was much larger and stronger. Fleeting practically bowled him over, pushing him onto his hindlegs to grapple him while she nuzzled his neck and purred trust, relief. He felt a bit detached from the affection – they were far from done, he was already tired, and he didn't like that she was worried – but it felt good, in a small way, that she appreciated his safety.

They both startled at a loud splash, instantly turning to find Leaper had leaped into the pond. "Leaper!" Fleeting hissed, despite the fledgling being underwater and thus unable to hear her, pushing away from Wanderer and stalking to the water's edge.

"Not worry," Wanderer hummed, walking up beside her and putting a wing over her. "We are safe." For the moment, at least. The splashing sounded loud, but any other hunters within hearing would already know they were there. "Let him play, while he can."

"Maybe," she huffed, padding forwards to slake her own thirst.

Leaper surfaced dramatically, heaving his wings and tail to briefly turn the murky water into a pale froth. "This water taste weird," he grumbled, attacking the surface with a paw. "Not like."

"Not always can have clean water," Dreamer said sadly, sinking to his haunches by the edge of the point to paw at the reeds. "Sometimes, not even have water…"

"When we can go home?" Leaper asked hopefully, innocently. "Home has nice water." Wanderer and Dreamer glanced morosely at each other.

Fleeting sighed. "I will talk with him…" She watched Leaper dive back under, then walked over to Dreamer. "You are hurt," she said with a small whine, licking at his head.

"Only small hurt," Dreamer huffed, though he bowed and turned his head to allow her to reach the wound more easily. "Will get some scars fighting these hunters, very dangerous."

"I not like this," she whined quietly, fearfully, turning to press herself against his chest while she nuzzled him.

"I know," Dreamer hummed, closing his eyes as he nuzzled the back of her neck. "But we not can fight or flee…"

"So we do both," she growled. "I know." She stepped back and swatted him as if she held him personally responsible for the danger. "Not die out there. I need you for cooling-season."

"My loving mate," he said dryly to the female, who was trotting up to them from towards the fields.

Another series of splashes echoed out into the night, and Wanderer sighed. "We should go," he huffed. There was more fighting to be done before the sky-fire kindled.

The four of them chuffed to each other, and then he and Dreamer took to the air, working their wings for speed to skim along close to the ground. Wanderer hated leaving Fleeting and Leaper behind, the female a little bit as well, but it was necessary; he would hate taking them into this danger even more.

Resentment, he grunted as they settled into a steady rhythm, the ground hurtling along mere body-lengths below. Agreement, Dreamer growled, his expression grim.

Fleeing was death, and fighting was death. If they could do neither, they had to do both. This hunter-pack could only have a limited number of hunters in it, so culling their numbers while they flew short distances would defeat their hunt. It promised to be bone-numbingly exhausting, but they could do it. For their family, for each other, they could do it.

The third night of killing Death Grippers, Dreamer had already settled into a horrific routine.

Wake late afternoon. Lie with Fleeting or Leaper, finding distraction in small shows of affection but nonetheless dreading the coming fighting. Helplessly watch the light fail, and night consume the land. Procrastinate a bit more before he and Wanderer begrudgingly convinced each other to fly.

Fighting. So much fighting, teeth and claws and stabbing tails and slashing talons. Fighting to kill, for there was no alternative, no room for negotiation and no margin of error. The slightest hesitation was to die, and condemn Fleeting and Leaper to a short life of hiding and fleeing. It all made him sick to his core.

Physically, even. He retched again over the newest Death-Gripper corpse, carelessly splashing it with bile. That was the sixth dragon he had ambushed and murdered. He was so numb to it, losing his grip on himself… "I am done," he said faintly, forcing back more bile and trudging away from the corpse. "Not can kill more. He not can have many now. If I keep killing, I… I not…"

He stumbled, and Wanderer was immediately pressed to his side, supporting him. But he was weak too, Dreamer could tell. Only the first kill this night, even more careful as Grimmel had to be catching on to their retaliation by now, but he could tell Wanderer was as done as he was.

"We fly back," Wanderer agreed, sounding as exhausted as he appeared. Never had they fought for their very lives for this long, this many times. Fighting was always dangerous, but as intense as their lives had been, most of their foes had only been trying to capture them, which was not the end of the world. Death was.

Wanderer leaped into the air, and Dreamer somehow found the strength to follow. He felt heavy, weighed down by the burdens of this war while they got up to speed and cruised low over the land, not even seeing the trees and low hills flashing past below. It was a war, an inevitable one between humans and dragons… or, perhaps, humans and nature. Humans would never stop, and Dreamer and his family would never be free of the fighting.

But he had to fight; the alternative was to die. He would fight for every moment of peace he could get. Who knew, maybe he could strike a deal with a village or something, claim a chunk of territory and help each other out somehow… but he knew even that wouldn't last. And what of their children, eventually driven by their instincts to fly and explore the world? It would be irresponsible to have any more eggs, knowing that.

No… He was just being pessimistic, surely… He couldn't fathom a bright side to any of this, anything he could come up with was fraught with the greedy, corrupted nature of humans – not even Berk or the Defenders of the Wing were immune to it over generations, and fleeing there did not solve the wider hostility of the world – but that was just his weary, stricken soul making him think that way.

One step at a time. Escape Grimmel first. Figure out the rest of his life after a week of doing nothing but sleeping and eating…

Wanderer's anxious growling took a few moments to sink in, Dreamer thoughtlessly begrudging his increasing pace. A cold feeling crept down his back as he realised, tendrils of raw fear worming through him as he saw flickers of movement in the air up ahead. No…

Fatigue entirely forgotten, they raced ahead, towards the forest where they had left Fleeting, Leaper, and the female for this night while they hunted. There was definitely movement above it, something more than just dragons, but regardless something that had no business being that close to their family! Not when they had so painstakingly hidden their movements, flying a varying and erratic path over the last few nights!

Whatever they were, they were still hunting. Dreamer clung to that, pushing his body into flying faster than he perhaps ever had before. Not fast enough! He inhaled and shrieked, projecting the sound ahead, discarding the element of surprise to give the hunters something else to think about before something unthinkable could happen.

Blue fire flashed in the distance, off a shape Dreamer hadn't been able to make sense of. It was a frame, a big wiry thing being carried by Death-Grippers, four of them at the end of long arms as best he could tell. He fired at it, the shot streaking across the distance – but a slight tilt easily moved it out of harm's way, the shot detonating some distance behind it.

And then they were suddenly in the fray, fire and wings shrieking as they fired at the frame, two more shots going wide with its unexpected mobility but rocking it with more accurate detonations. He and Wanderer split up, pulling breakneck turns to come up on another pass – this time they would not miss – but the frame suddenly just dropped, a wiry figure scampering along the arm and leaping onto one of the Death-Grippers that had been carrying it.

This was bad. The females trapped with Leaper below the trees, fleeing their own pursuit, six Death-Grippers in the air above them just waiting for them to emerge. He could remember the way that first one had looked at him, when he was trapped and bound in that cage, and these dragons held that same, hungry expression.

He fired at one and slammed into it as it rolled aside, grappling its side above its wing and yanking on it to put it in the way of the dart he'd seen coming with his screeching fire. It faltered, but didn't go down, not until he tore through its wing and dove off, pulling up just shy of the trees and swiftly banking away from any further shots of that crossbow. The Death-Gripper screeched as it crashed into the forest-

Haste! he roared to Wanderer, realising the implication of putting more danger down there, then located the Death-Gripper with the sleek black figure clinging to its back and fired at it. Shot after shot, he burned through his fire to overwhelm his target, getting down to two before needing to sharply ascend to avoid two Death-Grippers closing from either side.

Wanderer picked up on his intent and carried on the assault, firing repeatedly at Grimmel to throw him off and keep him at bay. A Death-Gripper flung itself in front of him, taking the shots to its armoured back, while another came up behind him and spewed out a stream of that lethal liquid that apparently burned even solid rock.

Finally, a dark shape burst through the trees, closely followed by a second. A series of whistling sounds caught Dreamer's ear, but he was suddenly preoccupied dealing with three Death-Grippers converging on him at once, rolling away and narrowly avoiding having his tail sliced off by those wicked talons. He spun to fire into the clump they had made behind them, blasting the air out from under their wings and scattering them-

He righted himself and pulled around to find a Death-Gripper much further ahead than he would have liked, and Fleeting faltering in the air as she fled. Wanderer fired, forcing Grimmel to pull away and take the shot to the belly of his Death-Gripper – but as they caught up to Fleeting, she was flying mechanically, her eyes narrow, glazed, unseeing. Leaper was huddled to her scruff, staring back at the dart protruding from her flank with wide slit eyes.

"To female!" Dreamer roared at him, and obedience immediately took hold, the fledgling leaping from his dam's back and flapping over to the female. She bore him without complaint, though her eyes were wide and frightened while they ascended.

Fly, damn you, he thought at Fleeting, shouldering into her and urging her to move faster, fly higher. There was a slim, slim hope, he and Wanderer had done a number on the Death-Grippers, this had to be the last of them, and they were all worn and mostly injured. Five were in pursuit, Wanderer apparently having grounded another but the one chasing from the ground having taken to the air, and Grimmel crouched on the back of one with a wide grin across his face; his all-black garb looked much less like a travel cloak now and more like a weird stealth suit, a ridiculous skin-tight hood covering his head but smoothing his profile and hiding the white of his hair.

Dreamer flew with Wanderer behind the females, keeping an eye on their pursuit – the Death-Grippers were slowly falling behind as they climbed, even with Fleeting just flying by rote. Two flew slightly ahead of the others, stronger, more eager, but he and Wanderer held them off with their presence alone. Dreamer only let himself relax a little as the Death-Grippers levelled off and rapidly fell behind; a quick screech of his fire confirmed there were no other threats nearby. They were already well out of range of any fire or weapons and could now outspeed their pursuit, find somewhere to rest, recover. This last-ditch effort of Grimmel's had only lost him more Death-Grippers.

A piercing, shrill note echoed up from the distant pursuit below, pricking Dreamer's ears – and then his heart stopped as the female let out a panicked yelp, yanked her wings in against her sides, and dropped like a stone, with Leaper still huddled to her back.

He and Wanderer shrieked wordlessly, twisting into dives – but the two more able Death-Grippers had pulled ahead of them, and were now rising up to meet Fleeting.

Their son or their mate.

Dreamer couldn't bear the decision any more than he could stand Grimmel's sick, overconfident grin. FLY! he shrieked through his fire, the command shaking even the Death-Grippers in their flights, and gasped in sheer relief as the female's dark wings snapped out below and pulled her out of her dive to speed ahead. Leave, he then snarled at the Death-Grippers while he was at it, but they seemed otherwise immune, maintaining the pursuit; that would have been too easy otherwise. It was only when Grimmel pulled around on the one he rode that they peeled off and gave up the chase. Very suddenly, the only sound was the wind quietly humming over their wings.

That had been… Dreamer panted hoarsely and whimpered to himself, not able to look at Wanderer, having broken his promise a second time. He hated everything about this. Everything had been too close.

"Sire?" a terrified, miserable whine asked as the female hesitantly pulled closer.

"Here, quickly," Dreamer called, and Leaper eagerly glided back to latch onto his shoulders. Dreamer's neck was assaulted by licks and nuzzles a moment later, though he could do nothing more than fly by Fleeting's side, with no idea of where they were going.

But if Grimmel had anything left, he would be bringing it out now, while they were exhausted and Fleeting was unable to protect herself. For him to be leaving now, he no longer had enough to chase them down. They had escaped the hunt.