Sure enough, it was crowded. The ceiling of the hull came just inches above Astrid's head, and barrels and crates were stacked two high and two across, from one wall to the other. Hiccup was right, the aisle was just wide enough for her to continue forward comfortably. The pathway in front of her was pitch black, so she took the lantern off the peg as a guide. Two feet ahead she saw a rope, pulled tight, spanning the width of the aisle. She could just make out another taut line four feet ahead of the first. She hopped and stepped over each one effortlessly, looking around to make sure she wasn't missing a cage or hiding space.

Footsteps sounded on the floor above her and she froze. Hushed tones accompanied the footfalls but there was no response and they sounded almost rushed. Her shoulders relaxed when she realized it was only Hiccup, muttering to himself like he did. Continuing on she found herself in-front of the brig at the very back of the hull. In one corner were a few full sacks filled with something she couldn't make out, and in the other was a large lump under a well worn scrap of canvas that she could only guess was once an old sail. She saw it rise slowly. Mimicking steady breathing.

As to not scare the wit's out of the poor girl, Astrid quietly called out to her. Relieved when she saw it tensed at her voice. At least she was awake and responsive.

"We've come to get you out of here." She hung the lantern near the cells door and using both hands she gave a small tug. It groaned from rust but that's not what caught Astrid off guard. The door opened. No key needed. Or leverage required. She didn't even pull that hard. Something wasn't right but she had to get the girl up and out of there first.

"But the captain would like to have a word with you." Her eyes hardened. Stopping halfway within the hold as the canvas fell to reveal a rather broad form starring down at her. His eyes dark yet calm as his face was stern. "And seeing as how you've shown up uninvited, it would be quite rude to decline." She squirmed and kicked as two sets of hands clasped on her arms. The man before her removed her helmet and took the axe from her hands. Still fighting her feet were lifted off the ground and she was whisked back upwards to the main deck.

Hiccup stopped just before the last step of the first flight of stairs. When he heard no movement he proceeded to make his way through the galley and crews quarters. Searching every nook and cranny, every cage and barrel and chest.

"There's got to be some clues around here somewhere. Anything. A map or account book. The crew would have to keep some secrets. Something even the captain doesn't know about. A diary or something, eh bud?" No response. "And I'm talking to myself." He blew out his cheeks, rubbing his face in mild frustration. He had always had the habit of thinking out loud at times, but it seems to have gotten worse after he made peace with Dagur the Deranged.

Having found nothing but a few discarded socks he headed back towards the stairs, but stopped three steps up. A piece of parchment wedged between two barrels under the steps caught his eye. He managed to reach it and tug it free. Mumbling to himself, studying the context.

Should've left that bitch on that island. Damned fog lead us there. Captain said it were a sign. Hela left her song-bird for us to find. Said she'd lead us to the beasts of other realms. Said she'd be the key to our enemies defeat. Came upon that island on the full moon night. Couldn't see your hand in front of your eyes. But I saw those daemon eyes, piercing the fog. All six of em. Then we heard it. The cries of Helheim. Made the men tremble and cover their ears. Some spilled their guts. The captain had madness in his eyes. He marched into the fog and came back with the girl draped over his shoulder.

Shoulda left that bitch where she was. Hela is surely coming for us. We took her song-bird. When the moon is dark, she'll come. She'll come.

Odin spare us.

Hiccup turned his head to the stairway when the sound of heavy steps reached his ears. He knew they weren't Astrid's. Something was off. He felt it in his gut. Lowering his helmet he drew his sword. His eyes burned with pure fury at what he saw. Three rather large men came plodding up the stairs, two carrying Astrid in a firm grip. The one in front of the group stopped when he saw Hiccup, his face never changing its expression.

"Put that away boy." But he didn't listen. Instead he set the blade aflame. The man countered by pressing Astrid's axe against her throat. "Chose your next move wisely boy. Harek only wants to speak with you. No need to send her to the golden halls." A small drop of blood trickled down her throat as he firmly held the blade to her. Hiccup faltered, breathing deeply he extinguished the flame and tossed the sword at their feet. "Smart lad."

The evenness of his tone held a disturbing edge to it. He was enjoying this, even if he wasn't showing it. He marched up to Hiccup and landed a heavy blow to his head. His knuckles where bloodied from coming into the contact with the helmet, but easily gripped Hiccups arm and hoisted him back to his feet, shoving and kicking him up the stairs to the main deck.

He wasn't used to full armour. It added weight he wasn't used to and the face plate only showed what was straight ahead.

So he missed the last step leading to the passageway. Eret's heel clipped the line when he fell on his backside and felt the bolts make contact. Opening his eyes he saw them scattered on the floor. Lifting his helmet he noticed they barely scratched the plates and bracers. A heavy sigh escaped as he got back onto his feet. Moving slowly this time he made it to the end of the hall.

The light from outside the open door was fading as the clouds moved in. Skitr, he
was working blind now. With outstretched hands he felt for the door frame. It was harder still with the gloves he wore. He'd have to work out some designs with Hiccup after this. He rattled his brain, trying to remember which carving wouldn't spew gas in his face if pressed. Long fingers brushed against rough detailing, on the left side, that moved slightly at the touch.

A heavy thud from above made his whole body jerk and his hand pressed the carving into the frame. The grinding of gears had him panicked, but he calmed his racing heart when the door cracked open.

"If I live through this, I'm going to kill that damned dragon." Pressing himself against the wall, he kicked the door open, should anything come swinging from the rafters. But when nothing did, he peeked through the frame. The air was still as he entered. When he was sure nothing would jump out at him he began his search. He checked the chests and larger crates. In hidden corners and under mounds of charts. His hunch was good enough to find the trap door under the small table near the door. He took in the map that was splayed on its surface, taking note of a good handful of islands were scratched out.

The clouds passed and moonlight slipped through the few window slits. He followed the rays of light to the bed on the far wall. A crude and well worn satchel sat before it. Eret got on his knees, gingerly lifting the bags cover to see if anything was inside. He felt like he was in a trance, something was pulling at him. Inside he found a few bundles of dried herbs, some small bottles of oils, one that smelled of cedar and mint, four coins, and a bundle of wool.

He also pulled out a knife from the bag. It was dull and the blade had a few chips in it. The handle was coming apart, the leather bindings held together by fraying threads. His brow furrowed as he turned it over. On the handle was a very crude child like etching of a bird. The same bird as the one he wore. The same bird as his father bore. The symbol of his people.

"Who are you?"

Dragon cries tore his attention away from the marking. Gathering everything back in the satchel, he settled the strap on his shoulder and ran out the door to the main deck. Leaping up the steps he was brought back to a harsh reality when an outstretched arm caught his neck and brought him to the ground. Sputtering he tried to roll back onto his feet but instead was met with several kicks to the back and side.

"Enough lads. Best not upset the lady with all this violence." The captain's voice he recognized. It's brisk and gritty sound carried on the breeze, adding depth and volume.

Eret found himself lifted to his feet and ushered before the captain himself.

"Right. Now that we are all settled. Let's talk."

Skitr means shit