A terrible blast of sound echoed in the distance, one final explosion to complete a small, brutal massacre. Astrid's home was gone, obliterated so violently that she couldn't muster the slightest hint of hope that anyone inside had survived. She couldn't see it now, not from where she had been driven to the ground in the middle of the forest, but she didn't need to see. Not when so much fire had been used with absolutely no warning.

Her parents had almost certainly been inside. It was late, and nobody had time or cause to warn them prior to the sudden attack. She had not seen anyone flee the hut before the first strike, and even if they had, the sheer amount of fire flowing in from all angles would have burned them alive.

Something in her stomach turned as the wind shifted, and a faint scent of char wafted under her nose. She retched violently, throwing up the half-dozen fish that she had eaten the day before, along with a lot of bile, the entire contents of her stomach. It wasn't the smell that made her sick, it was knowing what smelled like that… who smelled like that.

Faint cries of alarm and shock could be heard rising from the village. Vikings were probably rushing out of their own homes to fight the sudden and utterly devastating attack.

If there was anything to fight. At some point Mentor's son had stepped off of her to let her retch without interference, and now she found herself staring anywhere but him or the spreading puddle of vomit, which left the forest around them… or the sky.

She could see the star-studded expanse of blackness through the trees, and she could see the silhouettes of dragons flying away from the village, not even staying to fight. This wasn't a raid or even a skirmish… It was an execution. One carried out by the dragon she had tentatively begun to consider her friend.

If Astrid had any will to fight left, she would have gotten up and flown after them. She would have found Mentor and somehow brought him down, no matter how long it took or how difficult it was. But she was too devastated to do that. Maybe later. For now, she just wanted to scream, break something, and ideally wake up in her own bed to find this was all a terrible dream, like she had convinced herself was the case back when this was all new and unbelievable.

She inhaled, attempted to exhale, and choked on her own tight, aching throat. An utterly heartbroken sound unlike anything she had ever heard ripped its way out of her, something closer to a whine than a roar but far louder and deeper. She hadn't meant to do that, but it fit her mood well enough.

For a time, she mourned alone. Mentor's son stood nearby, shaking and whining softly. He had not participated, but he had stopped her from interfering...

Not that it mattered, not now. Her parents were gone, unless some incredible stroke of luck had seen them out of their hut in the middle of the night for some reason. That would not be the case, though. She could feel it in her bones. She was alone, more so than ever before.

Another, deeper keening sound rose to mingle with hers, louder and yet somehow not drowning her out. Then a third began, winding through hers and the other, at a slightly higher pitch. Two heavy bodies landed nearby, and Mentor's son withdrew from Astrid's limited range of sight.

Nobody spoke. Astrid knew they would not until she was done mourning. She wanted to stay here indefinitely, but even that was denied her. If she mourned long enough, some especially stupid Viking might stumble across her, and the dragons with her would kill them.

"If I could sacrifice my life to end Inferna, I would do so without hesitation," Mentor whispered from behind her, after letting his own howl die away in time with his mate's. "She is responsible for far too much harm. It would be a bargain."

Astrid stopped herself from turning around. From attacking, trying to kill him… He was blaming Inferna. Not directly, not yet, but she could see where his words were going to lead.

She tried to summon up anger, or even just indignation, but she couldn't. It would not have done her any good anyway. All the anger in the world couldn't have saved her parents when she was blindsided by a danger too abrupt to be fought.

"What happened?" Mentor's son rumbled, his voice unsteady.

"Long ago, Inferna issued an order meant to be forgotten but obeyed nonetheless, an order we would not remember until it needed to be carried out. It was not meant for her," Mentor explained, and Astrid got the distinct feeling he was nodding to her prone body, "but the wording was vague enough that it applied here."

"What was it?" Mentor's son whined briefly. "And who is she? I do not recognize her."

"One will answer the other," Mentor replied. "The order was, 'All dragons of my nest. If the unnatural female Bolt ever shows you something from her past that she values, you will destroy it. This order is not to be thought about until needed.'"

"So... this female Bolt…" Mentor's son said slowly.

"Is also unnatural, yes," Mentor sighed. "She told us of her home and family with longing in her voice. That was enough to trigger it in all but you, because you did not know she was unnatural."

"Actually," Mentor's mate added with a quiet huff, "I do not think he had that order in his memory at all. He was too young to be affected when she first gave it, and the last female Bolt was dead by the time he was old enough, so she did not repeat it."

"Unless she did and then commanded us to forget, but yes, either way the result is the same." Mentor raised his voice. "We will forget the wording of the order soon, though not that there was a hidden order carried out, but she will not. Do not speak of anything from your past fondly, female Bolt. I only wish it was possible to have warned you sooner."

Astrid knew she was being addressed directly, but her mind was in too much of a turmoil for her to respond. Aside from her very much still present grief for her parents, there was a glimmer of relief, totally out of place among her pain.

She had not been betrayed, not by Mentor. None could be held responsible for what Inferna did, or what she ordered.

What Inferna ordered... Astrid, inhaled, shuffled her feet and narrowly missed stepping in her own bile. She glared down at the half-digested fish in front of her, and without even thinking about it blasted it with a powerful blue fireball. The explosion shoved her back, her paws digging furrows in the ground, but she held herself upright. She knew she would be bruised in the morning, but that was secondary to her mounting rage, fueled by both an epiphany and her sorrow.

Inferna. This was all Inferna's doing, and her fault. Not just Astrid's parents, though that was what had finally shed light on the finished puzzle, sliding the last piece into place at far too high a price for clarity of mind.

Dragons were not the enemy. Inferna was. Just Inferna. Dragons ate fish, so there would be no reason to raid if Inferna did not exist. Dragons had a language and families and maybe even their own versions of tribes, but nobody knew that, because raids happened and made them interchangeable, mindless enemies. And they truly were mindless enemies, not because they did not have a mind, but because it was not fully their own. Inferna locked it away and forced them to bend to her will.

It had taken far too long for her to see this truth, but now it was so simple, so obvious. Dragons were not the enemy. They never had been. One could not truthfully call unwilling slaves sent into battle the enemy. Just the one sending them. Nobody held a grudge against the fingers that clutched the ax, only the mind directing them.

Astrid turned to face Mentor, his mate, and his son, all of whom all watching her warily. Maybe they expected her to attack, to blame them despite the explanation she had been given. It certainly wouldn't be unreasonable of them to think that of her; she had done as much before to others who had wronged her, and were she just a little less conflicted, more driven to see them as the enemy, she would. Or maybe they thought she would break down whining and seek comfort, the polar opposite of attacking.

She did neither; she was still mad, even if not at them, and anger was preferable to sorrow. But she didn't blame them. They were not the enemy. They were victims just like her, like every dragon Inferna controlled, ate, or killed, and like every Viking she had her slaves steal from and kill.

They could be her friends, her allies. She had one enemy, and so did they. Being used to kill her parents didn't change that, it just made the violation of them being controlled all the more personal to her.

"We should go," Astrid croaked, her throat unexpectedly dry. She spread her wings, choked back a quiet, angry sob, and took to the air. The Nightmares followed as she led the way back to the flock of dragons waiting in the air off Berk's coastline.

"You are... okay?" Mentor's mate asked hesitantly as they flew.

"No," she said shortly. "My parents are dead. But I know who is responsible, and she isn't here to attack. And I'm not going to attack her when we get back, either. That would be suicide." Even as she said that, she realized something else. There could be more hidden commands. Such as 'if an unnatural dragon says he or she will work against me, keep quiet and tell me in private later.' She could not share her true goal with any dragon, regardless of whether she trusted them on a personal level.

They would be required to tell Inferna that her newest prisoner was hellbent on killing her.

Astrid had always wanted Inferna dead, if it could be accomplished, but now she was determined to make it happen. Not today, not tomorrow, and probably not any time soon, but someday. She would only get one shot at it, and that shot could not be wasted by haste or a lack of a foolproof plan. She would probably suffer under the Night Fury's unwilling attention before that happened, but as long as Inferna did not suspect her, she could continue to wait for a chance to strike. No matter how long it took.

"What are you planning on doing?" Mentor asked carefully.

Astrid hated that she didn't know whether he was asking innocently, or on Inferna's behalf thanks to another hidden command, but she had to assume the latter and reply accordingly. "The same thing I was already planning on doing," she said bitterly. "Getting used to this life and my place in it. There's nothing else I can do, no matter how much I hate it. She's pretty much invincible." Truth wrapped in lies, twisted around to make it sound like she had given up. She hoped it was convincing. It had better be.

"Attacking her is impossible for us, but I came to the same conclusion long ago anyway," Mentor admitted sourly. "We can only wait for her to die of old age, and hope that will be within our lifetimes. She has been in this nest for hundreds upon hundreds of seasons, far longer than I have been alive, but she is not immune to the passage of time. Nobody is."

That was true, but Astrid wasn't content to wait. Not that she would say so. "I suppose you are right," she said instead, her voice dull. "That is some small comfort."

"Speaking of comfort..." Mentor's mate added, "If you need somebody to talk to, or a wing to cry under, we are here. I wish it had not been us leading the... attack... and I understand you might not–"

"I don't blame you," Astrid cut in. "And I will keep that in mind." She would rather just mourn on her own and move on, like a good Viking would, but if she had a moment of weakness, it was nice to know there was a standing offer on the table. And she really didn't care that they had led the attack; as far as she was concerned, every dragon involved was just a weapon of Inferna while they did unspeakable things under her orders. Nothing more. Definitely not the people she liked.

Then they reached the flock, and Astrid could feel scores of eyes on her, nervous and guilty. They knew what had happened, and they knew she might be raging mad, or just despairing, or silently hating them. She had to make her feelings public, as much as she disliked that. If Inferna asked, anyone should be able to tell her what Astrid wanted her to hear.

"I know Inferna made you do this," she roared, making herself heard. "I blame nobody but her!"

The response she got from that was strange, if stirring. Almost as one, the dragons all began to whine, howl, or keen in utter grief. They were not mourning for her, she knew that instinctively; none of them were close enough to her to do such a thing. Rather, she knew there had to be dozens of unique stories here, at the root of their anguish, each individual having their own loss to mourn, be it friends, family, or just their own free will, stolen from them by Inferna.

She added her own powerful and strident cry to the song of mourning and helpless rage, knowing that Berk could probably hear them. The sound was almost loud enough to rival Inferna's voice, a strong and piercing call for justice that could not be dealt out, or for mercy that had not been given. It did not sound like a group of dragons crying out at all; the song of pain and grief was so alien as to be unrecognizable.

If her mother and father could see her, looking down from Valhalla or wherever they had ended up, Astrid knew they would understand. She was alone in the world, because they were not there, but she was not alone in her grief and rage. Others shared it. That made it bearable.

As she howled, Astrid vowed to herself to end Inferna, someday. By her own actions, fire, or claws, that monstrosity would breathe its last. Justice would be served, though long delayed. Vikings were good at revenge, and Astrid was still a Viking at heart.

~O~o~O~

The trip back to the nest was not a solemn one. Despite the tragedy they had played a part in, too many of the dragons traveling back had a joyous reunion to look forward to for the mood to be anything but light. Even Mentor and his family were in a good mood. Astrid tried not to hold it against them, and mostly succeeded. Her loss was hers, not theirs, and Inferna's hidden orders were hard for them to fully remember, even in retrospect. The amount of control Inferna had was frightening. To be able not only to make people do horrible things, but then to make them not think about what they'd done so thoroughly that they couldn't quite remember...

It was discouraging, to say the least.

None of the dragons around her shared her sadness and worry; they couldn't. On the contrary, spirits were high. As they traveled, the rescued dragons – aside from the Flicker who was reclusive as ever – made their way around the entire flock, greeting everyone happily, overjoyed at being free even if they had been freed into an only slightly less terrible kind of captivity.

Greeting every dragon included greeting Astrid, though only Mentor's son was currently aware of what she was. The others made their way to her, one by one.

The Gronckle was first. She buzzed up to Astrid, rumbling loudly, and simply said, "I've never seen you before, but I can honestly say it's nice to see you now. Have a nice day!" Then she buzzed away, like an overeager, oversized bumblebee.

The Zippleback was next, both heads eyeing her oddly. "We are not sure what you have to do with this, and nobody has told us, but we thank you for coming for us." Both heads nodded, and he departed.

That clued Astrid in to the fact that none of the freed dragons had been told how they had been freed. And, upon further reflection, she realized it was entirely likely that nobody knew how Mentor and his mate had figured out the captives were alive in the first place. They didn't know she had told Mentor, and they didn't know she had faced most of them in the arena before. She wondered how they'd feel about her if they knew everything.

The Nadder was the last of the three to come to her, preening even as she flew. "You are pretty," she remarked. "Thanks for coming."

Astrid felt dully embarrassed to be so bluntly complimented. "Thanks, I guess." She felt no particular attachment to the Gronckle or Zipppleback, or for that matter the Terror, but she knew the Nadder just a little better from the arena, and had enjoyed fighting her. That felt wrong now, so she was not content to let the Nadder leave it at that. "Who is waiting for you at the nest?"

The Nadder shook her head slightly. "My Dam, but she will only be a little happy I am not dead. That is it." She flew away before Astrid could follow up.

The Nightmare alone of the freed dragons was not making the rounds, so to speak. He was talking with his mother and father, who were breaking formation to fly together at the front of the flock, though nobody was about to spoil their reunion to point that out. From the way he looked back at her several times throughout the trip, Astrid was pretty sure she was part of what was being discussed. That made sense, given Mentor knew more about her and her situation than anyone else around. Astrid was used to being talked about behind her back. It didn't bother her… much.

What did bother her was the fog they eventually reached, a dark and oppressive haze that marked the edge of Inferna's domain. Astrid enjoyed flying in the sunlight, and going back into the fog felt a lot like voluntarily walking back into a dark cage. Judging by the low moans and shivers passing into the grey shade elicited from some of the other dragons, she was not alone in feeling that way.

Once they flew to within sight of the nest, spirits lifted again. The freed dragons rushed ahead, the Gronckle and Zippleback leading the way, while the Nadder and Mentor's son followed close behind. They might not be happy to be here, but they had friends and family to reunite with.

The Terrors, Astrid noted with some little surprise, had already disappeared. They were reclusive to the point that she might almost wonder if they were real were it not for the other dragons interacting with them. It was not just that they were rarely ever present; even when they were around, they were curiously still, silent, and withdrawn.

She considered looking for them, but decided against it. She didn't care that much about the mysteries they presented, and her stomach had other plans. The fish she had eaten on the way to Berk was no longer in her stomach, a fact she had forgotten about until now. It was so easy to forget she had to eat at all, when it was needed this infrequently. Truly, that might be the best thing about this new body. One less task to perform on a regular basis.

And on that note... Astrid winced, remembering something. She had yet to need to do several other necessary tasks, though these were far more unpleasant. One could probably be chalked up to a lack of actually digested solid food, because she had long since learned how this body made water, due to drinking it on a regular basis. As for the other... it was that time of the month, but that either didn't happen for dragons, which would be ideal, or just had gotten shifted by the change in species. She suspected the latter while hoping for the former.

She and the rest of the flock flew up to the volcano's top, descending as a group. A low rumble from below shook the air as they entered.

"Don't worry," Mentor called out to her, "she will like all that has happened." There was a wry, bitter twist to his words, and Astrid knew why. Inferna would like all that had happened, including the thing Mentor only barely knew had occurred at all. At least he knew whose fault it was.

Astrid felt cold, powerful rage in her heart at the mere thought of Inferna being pleased about the death of her parents. She didn't want to have anything to do with that monster unless it involved inflicting bodily harm on her. But she was almost certainly going to be summoned anyway, and she wanted it over with as soon as possible, so she followed Mentor and the rest of the dragons and set down on the ledge next to him.

Inferna was waiting for Mentor. That was obvious in the way all six of her eyes locked on him as she rose out of the yellow depths, completely ignoring his mate and son as they stood on either side of him. "All flames, cease making noise until I give you leave," she commanded. Silence fell like a dropped stone, abrupt and painful.

"Now," Inferna hissed. "My loyal Blaze. Why do you not return with food?"

"You were asleep, and this was not a mission for food," he answered confidently. "If you would order me to report–"

"Report, tell no lies," Inferna thundered impatiently.

"My mate and I became aware that several of your flames were being held captive at an island," Mentor quickly blurted out, tripping over his own words in an attempt to be fast but thorough. "We gathered a small force to free them without attracting attention, and thanks to the female Bolt succeeding in liberating five flames. On our way back, we... something happened, and I suspect a hidden command was carried out."

Inferna's eyes all shot open, the most obvious expression of shock Astrid had ever seen on her. She leaned forward, a terrifying movement for a dragon so big. "Disregarding all conflicting commands," she said firmly, "remember all that you have done on my behalf, and continue your report."

Mentor wilted, looking over at Astrid with wide eyes before continuing with his explanation. "Yes, Inferna. I remember now. The hidden order carried out was 'All dragons of my nest. If an unnatural female Bolt ever shows you something from her past that she values, you will destroy it if doing so is feasible. This order is not to be thought about until needed.' She had just pointed out her home, and spoke of it with fondness. We obliterated it, and killed any who might have been inside. She did not take it well, but does not resent anyone but you, and understands that to attack you is utterly futile." He sounded neutral and dispassionate, but Astrid could see the subtle shift of his shoulders that was not so neutral. He was remembering what he and the others had done all over again.

Inferna laughed mockingly. Her amusement shook the volcano, just as overbearing and intimidating as any of her darker emotions. "My own brilliance continues to surprise me, but I see an improvement to be made. All flames, disregard the order the Blaze just reiterated. In its place, I order you to destroy all any Flightless turned flame reveals to be of value to them from their past life, if it is possible. This order will be forgotten until needed, but after it is used, it shall no longer be forgotten."

There was a wave of shudders and low groans from the dragons listening.

Inferna growled at them all. "You are all simple to the point of stupidity, that was not so complex as to hurt. The last one only applied to female Bolts who were once Flightless, this is simpler." several of her eyes focused on Astrid. "You were quite unlucky. Take this as a lesson. Serving me is all you shall value."

A response was expected. Astrid bowed her head, not trusting herself to remain in control if she had to look at Inferna while lying, and nodded. "I am trying to adjust. I was not... It will not happen again." Not because she cared about Inferna's approval, or even her own prior promise to obey her. Honor could burn if it meant killing Inferna; no price was too high. It would not happen again because Astrid would never again make the mistake of admitting to valuing anything from her human life in front of others.

"Good," Inferna rumbled. "You will be given another chance to prove yourself. Three nights from now another raid shall leave, to take as much food as possible from the miserable chunk of rock you were once from. You will go along, and you will aid in the fight."

She could not let Inferna see her as anything but beaten and compliant. It was easier than she would have liked it to be. "I will be of little use, but I will do as you say," she conceded, still looking down at the stone beneath her paws.

"I need to be sure you are watched," Inferna murmured. "Would anyone like to volunteer to watch her on this trip and afterward?" It was phrased as a question, and there was no specific malice behind it, but Astrid knew that if there were no volunteers, everyone would be made to regret it. That was just how Inferna worked.

"I can," Mentor offered.

"No Blazes," Inferna amended with a snort so strong it felt like a gust of wind. "You already do too much. I need somebody with no other commitments to be sure she is properly watched." Which ruled out absolutely everyone Astrid knew well enough to find tolerable as a guard. She did not have a good feeling about this.

"I can do it," a Nadder squawked. The light blue Nadder from the arena flew up to the ledge Astrid was standing on and flared her wings as if to make herself look bigger. "I can keep up with her, and I think it will be fun."

"Do you?" Inferna rumbled. "Then take this as a command, Flare who has volunteered. Accompany the female Bolt on this raid and every other raid, and check up on her every so often when you are at the nest. Report to me anything you deem suspicious in a way that means she is defying my rules."

Several of Inferna's eyes were still fixed on her, so Astrid held in her frustration, successfully appearing unbothered by that command. Inside, she was seething. Her life was hard enough without somebody constantly following her around and watching her every move.

" Feel free to point out more things you miss, female Bolt. It is best you let those go now," Inferna advised. "Blazes, all you need to know for this next raid is that you leave three nights from now, and that you must bring back at least twenty prey." She sunk below the fog, watching Astrid the whole way down. The snoring did not start up again.

Astrid knew she was probably still being observed, but she didn't care. What she was feeling right this moment didn't need to be hidden. "Why did you volunteer?" she hissed at the Nadder. "You don't even know who I am."

"I really do have nothing better to do, and you seem interesting," the Nadder explained happily, tilting her head to stare at Astrid. "You were Flightless? In that same nest?" Her voice was quick and flighty, much like Astrid would expect a bird to talk if it possessed the powers of speech.

"Yes, and yes." There was no point in hiding the rest, either. "The one who smashed your beak with a circular piece of wood in the arena." If the Nadder didn't like that, then so be it. She would be watching Astrid just as closely no matter what, thanks to Inferna.

The Nadder took a step back, her tail spikes twitching warily. "You are that one? The cruel one who abused the nice one?"

"Nice one?" Astrid spluttered, not even sure which of the teens in there with her could possibly qualify as nice. They had all fought the dragons to some degree of success.

"The one who didn't hurt us. The slim one with fast hands. She only ever scratched us where it itched, or put us to sleep like fledglings," the Nadder chirped. "Even if the Blast will say otherwise. I never saw any poisonous fish."

She... but the rest of the description was of Hiccup, the odd tangent about fish aside. "He," Astrid corrected absently. "And I didn't abuse him..." but from the Nadder's perspective, she had done pretty much just that. Especially in that early fight with the maze.

"He?" the Nadder chirped. "Shows what I know." She seemed to remember who she was talking to. "You were always the most dangerous. Fierce, fast... at least you are a Bolt. Being a Coal or Blast would not suit you, even if they are more respected."

"Not by choice," Astrid muttered. This dragon seemed to take the bright side of absolutely everything. "And the one you liked is dead, by the way. Inferna ate him." Maybe that would bring her down to some semblance of seriousness.

"Oh... that is too bad. But at least you are alive, and beautiful, too." The Nadder made a show of looking around. "So, where is the male Bolt?"

Astrid snarled. "Somewhere, and I don't care. If I could, I would kill him for this. He's the reason I'm stuck like this."

"So... still mad?" The Nadder looked her over consideringly. "We can work on that."

"You would do better to not try such a thing yet," Mentor's mate interrupted, giving the Nadder a knowing look. "She is still getting used to her own scales. That comes later. Much later."

"You tried?" the Nadder chirped inquisitively, leaning in and lowering her voice, though not far enough to go unheard by Astrid. "Is she already carrying one of his?"

"No, he had that much decency, but Inferna is going to be sure it happens sooner or later, so back off," Mentor growled, getting involved. "You are to guard her, not try and play matchmaker. Don't make her hate you. Try to be understanding."

The Nadder quailed under Mentor's disapproval. "Sorry, I just thought since there are only two of them anyway, and he obviously liked her enough to use his Solar fire even though he always said he'd never do that..."

"It didn't happen like that," Astrid growled. "He knew me even less than you did." Worse than the truth was the idea that there was some sort of romance involved in what had happened to her. She'd stamp that out the moment such a rumor reared its head, and if the Nadder didn't shut up she might stamp it out literally–

"Okay, I'm sorry, I didn't know that was how it was." The Nadder spread her wings and crouched low, baring the spiked back of her head for a moment before straightening up. "I want to be friends, even if you were cruel as a Flightless. Can we forget about that?" It was a peace offering, clearly, since they both knew very well that the Nadder would be doing all of the forgetting.

"We can forget it," Astrid agreed, resigning herself to accepting the offer of friendship. This dragon was going to be spending a lot of time around her regardless of how either of them felt about it, so they might as well try to be on good terms. No matter how annoyingly happy and flighty she was looking to be.

"Good!" the Nadder squawked. "I have to go tell my Dam I'm alive, so see you soon, beautiful female Bolt!" she chuffed happily, leaping from the ledge and gliding away.

Mentor's mate laughed, a deep throaty sound. "That may be the least self-centered Flare I have ever met."

"She was not like that before," Mentor's son added quietly. "She changed while we were prisoners. The Coal and Blast really laid into her, and with nobody around to defend it as just how Flares were, it all sunk in, weirdly enough."

"Very insightful of you to notice and guess as to why, son," Mentor praised. "You have not changed, or if you have, it is only for the better."

"I didn't get to do much." he admitted, shrugging his wing shoulders. They never let me out to fight. I don't know why."

Astrid considered explaining, but he looked far too content for her to spoil it. No need to scare him with what could have happened. She decided instead to change the subject. "Before my new guard comes back, can we go fishing? I kind of... lost... my last meal." The aching pit that was her stomach growled emphatically in agreement with that.

"We should go quickly. You will soon prize time alone, I think," Mentor rumbled, "and if we are far from here when she goes looking, you will gain a little time."

Astrid totally agreed with that prediction. She was definitely going to value solitude soon. Especially because she could only plot alone. Her parents would not go unavenged.

Author's Note: So yes, the last human turned dragon was indeed a Bolt. Bad luck for Astrid... in more ways than the obvious one. Also, Stormfly as her overenthusiastic guard, and Hookfang as the son of a friend. Does that make Mentor the dragon equivalent of Spitelout, if one compares Hookfang and Snotlout, and works from there? An interesting question, though in the end an unimportant one, as Spitelout is not a character in this story yet, if he will ever be. We shall see what this world's versions of Meatlug and Barf and Belch are up to at some point.