"We are two ships each of which has its goal and course; our paths may cross and we may celebrate a feast together, as we did... But then the almighty force of our tasks drove us apart again into different seas and sunny zones, and perhaps we shall never see one another again,-perhaps we shall meet again but fail to recognize each other: our exposure to different seas and suns has changed us!" - Friedrich Nietzsche - The Joyful Wisdom
Divergence
Getting out of the range proved to be the most difficult part of the journey. The tall mountains that ringed the range and over which the sun hatched were almost impassable on the ground. He did eventually find a pass though after scrambling up several steep slopes. The path was high enough that he felt the chill on his belly and had to bound through snow. Then he finally stood on the ridge's peak, poised between two different paths. The one went back into the safety of his warm and familiar range and the other led down the slope into the unknown following only a whispering sleep-vision.
He stared out toward the horizon, toward the endless forest and a set of distant peaks just barely visible over what should be not even a half-sun of flight. For him though, it would take many suns of walking.
His thoughts flew back to how many times he and Hiccup had failed at learning the together-flying in another life. How long it took before they had known what was needed without words. How many times he had lain alone in the trapped-valley that became the friend-place. How many times he had wondered how this kind two-leg who rekindled his life-fire was going to change his future.
He let out his defiant growl and started carefully scrambling down the ledge without a backward glance toward his range.
He lifted his stained jaws from the large-horn four-leg and tipped his head back as its liver vanished into his belly. Three suns had passed since he left behind the safety of the familiar range. There were no signs of two-legs or any of their nests out here. In that time since he left, he realized something good. There were no sleep-visions that kept him from sleep. It was as though his journeying itself almost silenced the whispers while leaving just enough urgency in his liver that he knew to continue.
He tore off a chunk of thigh and swallowed it whole. This catch would keep him sated for several suns.
Meanwhile, the four-leg-hunter-wolves circled around him in their small pack. They did not concern him at all because they were only waiting for him to finish with the kill so they could eat what he left behind.
Once his hunger was satisfied without unnecessarily gorging himself, he turned tail on the remains and resumed his journey, wanting to put a little distance between himself and the pack before resting off his meal.
He arose again when the moon was high and waited a moment to watch it in its flight.
"You are like me. Alone in your kind and you have none flying with you. Except you can fly."
Then he yawned widely and stretched all his limbs.
I have not seen another kin in three moon-cycles... How do I even know that these are the right winds?
He continued on up the slope at the base of the mountains. The new sun had reached its highest flight when he arrived at the top of the grassy ridge, lay down on the warm grass, and stared with amazed recognition.
It was exactly as he had seen many times in his sleep-visions. There was another large line of mountains off in the distance across a large lake set in a valley. The nearest mountain on his side of the lake had a cliffside down which water was streaming into the lake. One of the mountain slopes in particular caught his attention now that he looked closer at it. The slope was very grassy and speckled with large rocks.
That is it...
He scrambled down into the valley and approached the isolated lake. It looked very dark and still, the kind of deep water that could have unknown prey or predators hiding in its depths. His tail twitched as he stared at the lake. Then, seeing nothing and knowing no better way across, he swam out into the lake.
I miss that hot-bubble-pond. This is cold and dark.
He barely caught a glimpse of small, dark shapes darting away from him in the water and was tempted to go after them for fun or as a test of his fish-hunting. But there was something else about the water that chilled his liver and bid him continue across.
He hauled himself out of the lake and shook the cold water from his wings. His attention turned to the steep slope when he noticed a flash of color. A yellow shape arose from behind several nearby trees and began to approach him.
It was a kin, that much was certain. It was the size of a small fire-scale-kin. What looked like soft, fleshy spines ran from the base of its neck all the way to the tip of its tail. Its tail was very long and dragged on the ground behind it. It also moved very slowly with its head down and a limp in every step. Its wings looked shriveled and were clearly useless.
He thought he knew why it looked so weak.
It is very old.
The strange yellow kin, a female he could tell from her scent, stopped in front of him and dropped several large fish at his feet. He stared down at the juicy fish in confusion.
What?
A strange kin just offered a fish-gift to him? That was strange but liver-warming also. He gave her a rumble of appreciation, and she lifted her head to look at him. He froze in alarm and stepped back when he saw her eyes.
The eyes were pure white. It was something he had never seen in a kin before, but the effect was unmistakable.
You cannot see.
The yellow she-kin chuffed and nudged at the fish with a forepaw.
You would be surprised, dark-wing.
The thoughts seemed to echo from his own head but did not feel like his own words. He growled at the brief pain that flared inside his head and then vanished.
What was that?
Do not pretend that you have mind-rot, dark-wing.
He looked around wildly and then realized where they had to be coming from. The she-kin kept staring at him with the same unseeing eyes. It left a very unsettling feeling in his liver.
"You can... thought-talk?"
And I will eat the fish if you do not. Do you know how long it took me to catch them?
He reached out and grabbed the fish in his forepaws with a grumble while still wondering at her. This was the first other type of kin he had ever met that could directly talk to him in a way, and it was a very strange feeling. He had always somewhat assumed that his own type of kin was the only one with real voice. And then there was the strangeness of thought-talk itself.
"You knew I was coming."
She chuffed happily.
"How?"
That is a story for another sun-cycle. For now though, you should eat and rest because you have flown far from your range.
He again shook his head and grumbled in confusion.
"How do you know that about me?"
Not now.
He gave up trying to get anything from this old female who seemed to want to keep her secrets, and then he turned his attention to the fish. They were clearly recently caught, which meant she had to have caught them just before he arrived. Caught them and not eaten them. Precisely as though she indeed knew that he was coming.
A strange explanation for something else came to his mind as he bit into and swallowed the largest fish.
"Did you make me have sleep-visions of this place?"
Make you? I only let you see as I see.
He again grumbled in confusion.
"I do not understand."
The yellow she-kin got up and slowly walked out toward the lake.
I will show you when the moon flies at its highest.
Then she slipped into the water, ducked under the surface, and vanished into the lake's dark depths. Even if she could not fly, she was clearly still adept at swimming.
With the last large fish securely in his belly, he was able to reflect on this discovery. There was at least one other type of kin that was as smart as his own and could talk. More than that though it could talk mind to mind or life-breath to life-breath. That was the far more alarming thing about the encounter. Admittedly, she did not seem dangerous or do anything threatening, but the power to influence other kin in their thinking was a power that he was innately distrusting of. The same type of power had tried to make him drop his own dear two-leg into a Monster's maw and had made many kin into thralls.
The yellow she-kin eventually broke the water's surface and slowly swam to shore. A large, wriggling fish tail disappeared down her throat as she hauled herself onto land.
Even blind she can still hunt well. Maybe she can also see with sound or feel life-fire.
Almost true, dark-wing... I know where the fish will be.
"Could you stop listening to me?" he growled in annoyance.
That is hard to do when your thinking is very loud.
She walked toward him, very slowly as her age showed far more on land, and paused at his side. He again could not help but notice the large, old tears in her wings, and he felt something strange in his liver. A sadness for this kin, for a kin who was not of his own nest or even his own type of kin.
What is this? Why are you sad for me?
"Your wings... you are grounded. Like I am."
She turned to him, her unseeing eyes still a brilliant and unsettling white.
Why do you think you are grounded?
"A fire-scale-kin broke my wing."
She tipped her head up as if to look at the sky and went silent for several moments.
I am not as grounded as you think. My old body is grounded but my life-breath flies free. Follow.
He got up and followed her as she slowly made her way up the grassy and rocky slope. Several places were steep enough that he had to dig his claws into the dirt to keep a solid hold. A very clear path had been worn where she had presumably made this passage many times. He found that it helped to follow directly behind her, despite the fact that she moved very slowly. It was quite impressive how she still managed to find her way despite her condition.
They walked and climbed until the sun fell close to the horizon. Then, with that same strange feeling of being somewhere he recognized but had never been before, he saw an outcropping of rock that created a shelter. There was also a ledge that looked out over the whole valley and could probably even see out a full sun's flight if there were no clouds flying in the skies. She walked up to the ledge and then lay down with her long tail drooping over the edge. He followed and gladly lay down on the sun-warmed rocks.
"This is your roost."
It has been for many, many season-cycles.
"Are you alone here?"
She did not move or say anything for a while.
I had a mate once, long ago. But we never had any young; that was not in our winds to fly. Not our purpose.
"What do you mean, your purpose?"
She laughed softly.
So many questions, young one. You may go to my roost by the mountain and sleep. I will stay here under the stars.
He could almost feel the finality her declaration and knew that he would not get any answers out of her now. He turned aside from her and walked the short distance over to the natural shelter. This was clearly her roosting-place as the rocks had many old claw-scratches, several shed scales, and her strange smell covered the place.
As he lay down and covered his head with his wing, he thought to himself that there was something very odd about this kin's behavior. She was not at all territorial or threatening, shared fish with him without even being asked, and the things she said or thought almost sounded and felt not like a kin.
I wonder if she has met kin-friend two-legs. I should ask her.
After many suns of walking with initially restless sleep and the long, arduous walks down into valleys and up the mountain slopes, a deep, peaceful sleep followed despite it being only shortly after dark. No sleep-visions disturbed him this time.
Something unsettled him enough that he stirred and arose, yawning widely at the disturbance. He turned to glance at the ledge and stared into a pair of eyes that glowed in the moonlight. It was very startling, and he almost bellowed in surprise.
Peace, dark-wing.
"You..." he blinked away his drowsiness and alarm.
Who else would be here? Come.
He got up and followed her as she slowly walked over to the flattest part of the small, rocky plain on her part of the mountain. The night was peaceful and cloudless with the sky-breath dancing in all its colors far up in the sky. She stopped next to a rain-water pool which reflected the stars and moon above.
I should apologize to you for clutching answers in my claws. It has been many suns, many cycles even, since I met another kin with our life-breath.
"I have never met another type of kin who could talk like this," he answered.
There were few that could give words. Soon it will be only dark-wings and those like you.
"Why?"
I am very old. Like sand sliding out from my talons, my seasons are almost gone. My life-fire dims.
"You are the last of your kin?"
Her sadness bled through even into her thought-words.
There were only two of us, me and my once-mate. The future and the past. I will be dust soon.
"Where is he? Why is he not with you?"
Her thoughts were tinged with clear regret but also certainty.
I left him many, many cycles ago. He was not bad to me, but I needed to leave. We flew on different winds. He made a choice and became something that I... I will not say more. But you did not come here to listen to my life-story.
He slowly nodded as there were indeed other questions on his mind.
"Why did you make me come here?"
Make you? How did I make you? I showed you a place. You and your own life-fire wanted to come here. But why?
"I thought I would get answers. Why was I having those sleep-visions? What would I find here? How did you show me this place?"
She hummed to herself in thought.
I do not know how I do what I do. I can see places that are far and suns that have not been. I knew that you would come here one sun, so I looked for you. I felt for your breath and fire across the lands and through the winds. My life-breath found yours and showed you where to find me.
"I do not understand."
You need not understand how. I needed you to come here so that you can learn.
"Learn what?"
Tell me, dark-wing, what do you want? What is the most important prey for you to catch?
He lay his head down on his paws and stared out toward the horizon. His usual confusion and mixed feelings seemed somehow clearer in her presence.
"I miss my nest-mate, my brother. I wish that I could see him again, fly with him, and play with him."
He sighed deeply.
"I also wanted to find a life-mate of my own, a she Night Fury."
Night Fury, so that is what they call your kind now.
"That was before I was grounded," he solemnly mumbled.
Your wings will touch the sky again.
"What?" he exclaimed.
I saw you fly down over that water and catch a fish for me.
He looked down over the dark lake.
"But I cannot do that."
You will.
He gingerly unfurled his wings and considered the broken one. The bones that had snapped did seem to have healed back somewhat, even if noticeably imperfectly. And it had been many suns since he had even tried to fly or put any stress on the wing. Throwing himself off the cliff right now was too dangerous for sure.
He stretched his wings out to their full length and gave them a slow flap. Everything was fine until the downstroke when a burning fire shot down his wing into his shoulder and made him whimper in pain.
She gave a sad sigh and hung her head without thinking anything to him for a long time.
It must be then... Go down and fly in the water when the sun flies high. That will help you get your strength back. Your wings will only remember their old strength though when they touch the sky.
"Even if I do ever fly again, then what? I cannot go back to my old home-nest-island."
Why not?
"I... was hatched in a two-leg nest. The two-leg Alpha... would not let me come back."
She became far more interested when she heard that.
You know the two-legs?
"Sadly," he nodded.
Sadly? Are they not good to kin?
"Some are good. Most use kin though or try to kill us. Even the good ones only want a kin of their own so that they can fly with it."
She hummed to herself.
They are the strangest creatures. Kind and cruel. Strong and weak. In the cycle of life but they want to be outside the cycle. No other creature has held the fire of the stars in its paws or brought...
"What?"
...nothing. That was many, many cycles ago in a world that is gone now. I am happy to hear that some two-legs are good to kin even now.
She paused and stared up toward the moon, clearly overcome by a bad memory.
Maybe that future I saw does not happen. But it seems clearer every season.
"I thought you said that you know what will happen."
Some things are certain and others depend on choice. I can see the outcome in both ways, but I do not know which choice will be made. I fear...
"What bad vision stalks you?" he kindly rumbled.
She paused.
I see kin dead. Mated pairs, juveniles, yearlings, hatchlings, the unhatched, all dead beyond count. I see dark skies in which I cannot see any kin. All gone from the world.
He shuddered at that terrible notion.
"But how could that happen? Not even the two-legs can catch all kin."
I do not know. That knowledge always escapes my grasp.
Neither of them said anything as that horrible vision lingered.
"What about me? What do you see for me even if I can ever fly again?"
Two paths there are for you. You can return to where you came from, your range with no two-legs and with plentiful hunting. You could live there for many season-cycles in safety until you grow old and become dust.
The other path is hard. You would fly toward the rising sun until you cross an ocean and a grasslands with no prey or water. The storm you meet will be a curse and a gift. Many suns you would fly until you find a range of mountains with valleys and many small ponds. There, in the tallest mountains, you would find the mate you want, a she Night Fury.
He lay motionless. It captured his mind and flamed his liver like nothing else she had yet said. There was one other thing that still gnawed at his liver though.
"What about my nest-mate, my brother? Will I see him again?"
She was silent for a while and eventually grumbled to herself before answering.
I do see you rejoicing with another he Night Fury. I do not know which wind will blow you that way.
He groaned as the choice became clear. It weighed heavily on him as he looked out at the surrounding darkness.
"Go back toward my range and see him again or fly to the rising sun and find my mate."
He moaned very softly as a faint chill circled his liver.
"I feared that this would happen. He is different from me and does not want the same things I want."
What wind would you fly? It can hurt to be apart from one you are kin to, but all things outgrow the nest with time. Change hurts but all growing hurts in its own way.
He thought of the old promise he had made that he would sire many hatchlings, of the strangeness of two-legs and the suffering caused by them, and of Hiccup, once one of the few exceptions to the rule.
"I... I would... find myself a mate. That would make me most happy. I will always remember my egg-mate, my brother, and have a place in my liver for him, but I would find another of my own kin, my life-mate."
She said nothing but hummed softly, apparently satisfied with his choice.
The kin that does not shed its scales does not grow.
"Why are you telling me all this? Why does it matter to you?"
You are important.
"I am only a small, grounded kin. What difference can I make now?" he grumbled.
Even the smallest kin can make the winds of time fly differently. Think about the swimming-brown-fur-four-legs that build dens in small rivers. They are smaller than all kin but can change waters.
She looked off toward where the sun would crack the horizon.
You should rest and then work your wings in the water.
Without saying anything else, she got to her feet and walked toward her shelter. He stayed where he lay beside the small pool. There was no need to take shelter without any clouds in the sky.
Can she really see what has not happened? She seems certain and she did catch fish for me before I arrived here.
If we can make ourselves live anew, then why can she not see what might be?
He closed his eyes and eventually returned to sleep. Sleep-visions returned again, but these started out far more pleasant.
A Night Fury asleep at his side, their tails overlapping...
A hatchling playing with him and his mate outside their own cave-den...
A shadow seemed to creep across his vision...
Two-leg water-walkers on the ocean...
Kin of all colors and types swarming in the air...
A nest of two-legs and kin against mountains...
A blue Night Fury lifting its head in mourning...
He was alone when he awoke with the sun's hatching. There was no sign of the yellow-she-kin anywhere nearby.
The blue lake down in the valley beckoned from afar. He got to his feet and began the slow and arduous climb down the mountainside. As with the climb up, he followed the path she had worn down over many seasons.
The sun was well into its flight to the highest point in the sky when he finally arrived at the water's edge. He took a drink of water and then waded out into the depths. First, he dove down under the water to clean himself of any remaining bugs and dirt acquired during the many sun cycles of walking. Several large fish darted away from him as he swam.
If only I was as good at swimming as she is.
Then he remembered what she had said he should do. Practice flying while in the water.
That is actually a good idea. Hatchlings can learn to use their wings that way.
He stretched out his wings and made a very slow and cautious attempt at a flap. There was no stinging pain or burn of fire in his wings this time. That was promising; however, his wings had grown very weak out of seasons of not being used.
Once, twice, three times.
He quickly tired and the mild activity left his wings feeling sore, but he had still been able to make it a decent way out into the lake using nothing but his wings to push him. An ember of hope started to burn in his liver as he paddled back to shore and repeated the exercise many times.
Once back on land for a brief rest, he looked around and wondered where she was. He had not seen her at all this sun.
Maybe she was sleeping in another roost.
He began the slow walk up the slope after several more ventures out into the water. His wings felt heavy against his side, but they also had the good tired feeling one always had after a long flight.
Once he finally reached the level of the ledge, he looked over to her shelter and noticed her reclining yellow bulk. She seemed very exhausted.
How did your water flying go?
"I did not ground myself," he muttered.
She chuckled her amusement.
He ascended the final length to her side and decided to broach the question with her.
"Did you know two-legs once?"
She closed her blind eyes and hummed softly to herself.
I remember when the world was different. I knew two-legs once and called them my friends and kin. Many life-cycles have passed since then.
"I do not understand. Life-cycles?"
My mate and I live far longer than all other kin. Knowing what happened then changes nothing now though. I do hope that I will see the two-legs again.
"How? They will probably kill you if they find you."
Not here, no. Two-legs and kin have life-breath that are not very different. I think that both could fly together beyond the clouds of death and above the stars.
"Can you see after death?" he incredulously wondered.
No. None can pierce that cloud, but I can hope.
"If you could fly, I would say to go to the nest-island I came from. There are some good two-legs there."
I know that I will die here soon and I accept that. I must die here soon.
"Why?"
Because... my life must fade.
He got up, lay down at her side, and stared out over the vista.
"You think much of the two-legs. I do not want to see two-legs again," he sighed.
Why not? I thought you knew good ones.
"They have hurt me many times. They have broken kinship and trust."
Did all two-legs hurt you or did a two-leg hurt you?
"Mostly one of them but they are almost all bad in their liver. Not only to kin but also to other two-legs."
She thought long before answering him.
They are more than most kin. Filled with becoming instead of staying. They have more ability to willfully do good or bad. You have that same life-breath and can choose what you will be. Do not think that you need to ground all two-legs.
He shivered at that.
Your kind can be the greatest hunter of two-legs if you wanted to be. Is that what you want to be?
He closed his eyes and envisioned a Night Fury brutally killing and devouring two-leg Hiccup in that little clearing long ago. He also recalled that twisted feeling that filled his liver when he saw the female and younglings run to the male he had downed. The feeling of remorse, of wishing that he had not done what he did.
"No."
You cannot control them. All that you can do is live and not let the bad two-legs push you down bad thought-winds. To let them do so gives them power over you; lets them guide your flight in life. And you should protect the two-legs who do good to kin.
"Why do you not do that? Why do you instead hide here?"
For the first time, she gave a clear sign of frustration. But beneath her grumble and growl he could feel a solemn resignation and sadness.
I should not be near two-legs. I started hurting them by only being close to them. My life-will-power lets me see what might be but it can also hurt others. They see things that might be and it makes their minds and livers rot. Two-legs most of all cannot endure it.
He grumbled, recognizing the difficulty of her position.
"My kind has a life-will-power also. Mine is gone now."
That got her attention very quickly.
I know of it. The greatest given to all kin I think. To wrest life away from the jaws of death in a way. How did you use it?
"I saved... another who I could not let die. I made us both new."
She said nothing for a long time.
It is curious if you think about it. That your thoughts alone can directly shape the world as you wish it through nothing but wanting. All kin with fire- and cold-breath drink from the same power but few can clutch it in their liver like your kind.
And soon none will.
"What?" he exclaimed.
She curled up and lay her head down, clearly becoming tired as the sun drew to a close. Or maybe it was the nature of what she was considering that was draining her. Her thought-words conveyed her resignation and emptiness.
I have seen it. The flame that lives in the livers and bellies of kin will die like fire under the rain.
"Why?"
She moaned softly and gave no reply as she closed her eyes and fell asleep.
He made his decision on the fifth sun since his arrival at this sanctuary with the strange yellow she-kin. Waiting any longer was not acceptable.
He stood on the precipice and stared down at the teeth-like rocks below. If something were to go wrong, if he was not strong enough... But every sun of swimming in the lake had given him more inner-lift as his wings seemed to have more strength, especially the one that had seemed to heal. Several times he had awoken to a warm, not painful burning in his wing, which felt very much like soreness from working it again. It was a good sore feeling that indicated growth and strengthening.
This was the only way to know for sure.
His paws knocked a small rock from the cliff as he caught his breath. The rock crashed against the cliff as it fell. It was a long way down off the cliff.
"Come on, Toothless, you are a Night Fury! You can do this."
His wings extended as though to touch the far horizons without even a twinge of pain. He closed his eyes and remembered a time long ago when a dear two-leg had done the impossible and, working together, had restored him to the skies. The soft wind ruffled his wings, almost beckoning to him.
Then he pushed off from the cliff and leaped for the sky.
It was only a slow glide with little attempt to gain the wind beyond a couple cautious beats of his wings. All he needed to prove to himself was that he could still fly and hold the air in his wings. To know that his wing had healed enough to let him taste the lift of flight and for his life-breath to be rekindled.
A single loop and slow spin were sufficient before he carefully pitched back and landed on the ledge as smoothly as ever before.
A moment of amazement passed.
The teeth that had been clenched about his liver since the new-life-season loosened and fell away. He spun around, dashed for the ledge once more, and threw himself into the air with a roar of joy.
A free, sky-hatched kin.
She very slowly hobbled out of the lake and walked toward him with a pair of very large fish between her teeth. She dropped them at his feet, and he rumbled his thanks while disposing of them. It was odd how she wanted to provide for him and even stranger that he did not mind being provided for. Almost like she was being a dam to him for these suns.
You should fly now if you want to go toward the sun.
"Why now?"
You will not find her if you wait here long.
"That is a good reason," he begrudgingly admitted.
He spread his wings and prepared to leave but paused with one unanswered question biting at his tail.
"You never told me your name."
She sighed deeply.
They called me... something that has no meaning to you. You can call me She-who-sees. And you, dark-wing?
"I am... Toothless," he grimaced.
She chuckled with mirth.
One-who-has-no-teeth? I do not think that name is you.
"No?"
She did a very two-leg-like thing and shook her head.
You will fight great fights. You have shed your fledgling scales. You are not without teeth.
Her words felt true but also disturbed him. To abandon that name seemed like a final break with the past, a rejection of the last bit of Hiccup he still had with him.
He turned back to her and bowed his head and wings, respecting her age and words of advice.
Go and live, dark-wing.
She turned away as he threw himself into the sky. He took another glance at the lake, saw his own reflection in free flight, and stifled a roar of joy because he noticed a few large fish near the surface. That gave him an idea. She had given him too many fish without his being able to return the favor at all.
He swooped around and shot a ball of life-fire into the water at the fish. One of them bobbed to the surface, either dead or stunned. He grabbed the fish in his talons and flew back to shore where she-who-sees was slowly ascending the slope back to her shelter. She lifted her head and grabbed the fish out of the air after he dropped it.
He pulled up and out of the valley, his sights on the clouds far above, and roared aloud, announcing to the world his joy as he turned for the horizon where the sun breaks its shell.
She let go her grasp on his life-fire that she had held onto for many moon-cycles. It had taken most of her strength, though she had tried to hide that from He-who-has-no-teeth. She very slowly dragged herself up the slope toward the mountain's peak, her old bones and joints protesting every step. Once up at her ledge, she lay down and turned to where the sun rose and a long journey was begun.
The dark-wing would never know what she had done for him in secret as he slept. How she had shaped what remained of her life-will-power into strengthening his wing's once-broken bones. It was even possible that he might have some echoes of her own future-sight for season-cycles to come. For all that she could do with her mind-sight and thought-voice, she knew that the future was not in her claws now. Her work was now finished and long sleep beckoned, hopefully bringing an end to her future-visions of dark skies in which she could not see any kin. Her journey down the path that all must take would begin very soon.
She knew that she and the dark-wing would never meet again.
He flew for several suns. Over mountains and dense forests and past the occasional small two-leg nest. Never in all the suns did he see any other kin of any type.
A large ocean eventually came into view on the horizon. He could barely see mountains far beyond on the other side.
That is a half-sun of flying. I should rest and eat here before making that flight.
As he explored the mountains in search of prey though something started to tug at his liver. Something about this place felt... familiar.
I do not remember any sleep-visions of this place.
A prominent ledge on a cliff caught his attention, and he banked toward it and landed in a grassy clearing. He cautiously continued forward along the path between the trees. There was a large pile of boulders on the side of the path, almost as though they had been pushed aside long ago.
"How do I know this place?"
Then he noticed it at last. A deep cave set into the base of the mountainside. Like a crash of sky-light, he realized why this place felt so familiar.
It was his old nest-den where he had hatched.
Slowly and fearing what he might find inside, he crept closer as old, buried memories burst into the sunlight. Gnawing on his dam's tail while she play-growled at him, leaping on the boulders in chase of his sire, being made to share the catch with his little nestmate, and running for his life from the four-leg-wolf-hunters.
A bellow of challenge echoed from inside the cave. A large, fat, and furry four-leg-brown-fur-bellower walked out to confront him, but it turned aside and dashed into the trees when it saw him. He relaxed as soon as it was gone, and then he continued on inside the den.
There were old bones of prey-animals, probably caught by that four-leg, and plenty of fur and droppings. But there was no sign of any kin; no bones, no smell, nothing at all. He looked around the inside of the den, remembering so many details from long before and especially the sandy place at the rear of the den where his dam had tended his own egg.
It was not good that a place that had been as warm as this den should be so still and fouled by the four-leg and by bad memories.
"I survived, your first survived. What a story I could tell you if you were here," he whispered to the stones.
A disquieting idea pushed to the fore of his thoughts.
She was right. I am not Toothless now. That is not a name for a survivor.
He considered his life-story, trying to figure a name that would be him. Not one of those silly, twisted names the two-legs liked giving for some reason. This name had to be one that he could live in with his head and shoulders held high.
One idea, one experience seemed to keep recurring throughout his life, and he knew in his liver that it was him.
"I am Was-Grounded."
Author's Note - Let me take a couple moments here to opine on something. A friendship that is based on need or necessity is indeed a type of friendship and usefulness. But a neediness that prevents someone from doing what is good for them and what would let them grow is a limitation. It prevents the two friends from being on equal grounds. 'Do not walk before me as I may not follow. Do not walk behind me as I may not lead you well. Walk beside me and be my friend.' Toothless must learn this lesson and become free. This freedom does not preclude friendship more among equals though. The ending of the Gift of the Night Fury bothered me a bit in this regard.