"Mrs. Envel," Everlynh said timidly a couple of hours later, "can I ask you something?"
Mrs. Envel, who was getting ready to make dinner, stopped spicing the yak chops. "What do you need?"
"The lady who saved me, where is she?"
"Miss Kint?" Mrs. Envel turned to look at Everlynh. "She's gone. I'm not sure where. She isn't on New Berk very often this time of year. I asked her about it once, and she said that it was the best time to search for the Missing. Does that answer your question, Everlynh?"
"The dragons. . .," Everlynh began, then stopped. How do I put this? "Why do the dragons obey her?"
"She can speak with them telepathically," Mrs. Envel answered, then brightened. "Oh! I've thought up a nickname for you, if you're okay with it, of course."
"A nickname?" Everlynh's face lit up. "I've never had a nickname before!"
"How about 'Ever'?" Mrs. Envel suggested.
Everlynh grinned. "I like it. Nobody ever gave me a nickname."
"Not even your mother and father?"
"I haven't got any. I mean, I know that I have them, but I never knew them."
"Well, Ever," Mrs. Envel said after a moment, "I think that you and I are going to get along just fine. Just fine."
0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0
Honest stood in front of a small pool, and stared down at her reflection, thinking. Memories - voices and images - floated in and out of her mind.
"Do you see that, little Honest?"
That was her father, Flamefang.
"I see water."
That was the voice of her younger self. Honest closed her eyes, and watched the scene play out in her mind's eye for the hundredth time.
Flamefang had taken her down to a small pool, beneath the caves, hidden by glowing crystals and waterfalls, when she was still very young; it had been mere weeks before he'd disappeared, taking with him the egg of her oldest sister's youngest hatchling (assuming the egg ever hatched). It had been the first time she'd been out of her home cave.
Now Flamefang was speaking again. "Not only water. What else?"
"Me?"
"That, Honest, is how you appear to the world. Looks mean nothing, dear one. If you allow yourself to be categorized by your scale patterns, then you limit yourself, and no matter what you do, you will only be known by that one characteristic. Your personality traits, abilities, core values, and above all, actions, should be what defines you, and what others remember you by. There are plenty of good-looking dragons whose scales are more lovely than their hearts, and plenty of sorry-looking dragons whose hearts are more lovely than their appearances. Let your scales be an example, a milestone, and always strive for improvement. Your end goal should be to have an inner person that is far more beautiful, more lovely, more precious than your outer person ever could be."
Honest opened her eyes, and felt a pang as she remembered that Flamefang was gone, she knew not where. New Berk's problems are greater than yours, Honest, she reminded herself. When the raider is found, you can go as far as you like when you search for your father. Now is not the time, and never will be.
Ever since Flamefang had disappeared, Honest had thrown herself completely into becoming the dragon he must have wanted her to be, a dragon that he would be proud of. When she was younger, she'd told herself that he would come back for her, and she had to be ready with every part of herself for that day he would return. But he hadn't returned.
When the new year had come, Honest had finally admitted to herself that Flamefang wasn't coming back. But even so, there was still a small part of her that waited, hoped.
Honest closed her eyes again, and took a deep breath. Calm down. Just. . . calm down.
"Hey," said an unfamiliar voice. "You okay?"
Honest whipped around, and was surprised to see a male Light Fury, about her age, perhaps a bit older, standing at the end of the beach, watching her with concern. "Oh, yes, I'm. . . I'm fine, thank you."
"You don't look it," he said, beginning to walk toward her, his eyes never leaving hers. "My name is Moon Raider. What's yours?"
"Flaming Honesty."