The days passed in a blur of consistent randomness. Land gave way to sea which gave way to land, the terrain beneath them varying immensely, and yet still repeating. Mountains, forests, coves. Trees, clearings, rocks. All arranged in a unique pattern every time, and not all present at once, but the terrain was only unique in arrangement, not composition. The monotony of repetition set in.

It helped that they were adrift, truly heading nowhere in particular except away. Beryl began avoiding any sign of intelligent life, and held to no set course, going where the wind took him. It was a journey truly left up to fate.

Hiccup didn't mind that. It let him leave the past behind, get some distance from the pain. He barely kept track of where they were in relation to Berk, and even that would fail eventually. What point were reference locations when they wanted to be lost? Lost in the eyes of Vithvarandi, lost in their own eyes. The only things they couldn't run from were what they brought with them. Memory. Of Stoick, mainly.

In a perfect example of irony, it became clear over the first few days that Ember's memories were slowly ceasing to bother him. Hiccup had, at some undefined point, become comfortable with his dual lives, that of past dragon and present human. He grieved for Flint still, but that had faded to a familiar ache, similar to the one he had already harbored for his barely-remembered mother, gone in his youth. Such pain was almost comforting, receding into melancholy and fond memories, in the case of Flint. He had no clear memories to draw on of Valka. That was another thing he envied dragons. Their memory in the early years did not seem to fade if Ember was any indication. He wished he could remember his own mother's face.

His human mother. But she was not the only mother he remembered now. He could clearly remember Herb's soft but resilient eyes, a contrast to Thorn's gentler and more expressive gaze. And in a way unique to dragons, he distinctly remembered their sounds, the deep rumbling of Herb and the subtly different sound of Thorn, so distinct he had been able to differentiate between them by sound alone.

He did not know what had become of Thorn and Herb. Hopefully, they were still out there somewhere, living happily, maybe with more children by now. If his human side had no living parents, maybe his dragon side did.

There was still a distinct longing to find them, to search the world over. That feeling had merged with his urge to find Spark. But he could act on neither of them, because there was no better way to search than what they were doing now, wandering randomly. Unlikely to ever happen across what he sought.

Then there was the consideration of what he'd do if they did find any of the ones he felt he should be seeking out. He was not truly Ember… though he felt like him, sometimes, and remembered his life...

That was where Hiccup's thoughts were when they set down for the fifth night of their wanders. After eating a dragon-cooked fish for dinner, Hiccup brought it up.

Beryl listened carefully, his eyes betraying no emotion other than attentiveness. He sighed once Hiccup was done. "I do see it."

"See what?" Hiccup didn't understand.

"You are not yourself now." Beryl didn't sound like that was a bad thing. "I've been thinking about it. What makes a person unique?"

"This is going a bit off-topic, don't you think?" Hiccup smiled.

"No. I'm making a point." Beryl poked Hiccup with a claw. "So, what makes a person who they are? Really?"

"What they look like, for starters." Hiccup glanced down at his prosthetic leg.

"Nope." Beryl shook his head. "If my scales turned pink tomorrow for no reason, am I still Beryl? I'd say so."

"That's an amazing mental image." Hiccup was laughing now. "The great pink Night Fury, terror of the night!"

Beryl snorted. "Bad example."

"Amazing example." Hiccup by degrees regained control of himself. "But continue." He was interested in hearing what Beryl was trying to lead him to.

"So, what we look like doesn't determine who we are. What does?"

"Well, personality? That seems pretty important. The only other piece is experience." Hiccup shook his head. "So one or both of those."

"I think, from what I'm seeing..." Beryl's voice dropped, his body betraying caution. "They are connected."

"How so?"

"I can remember stories told by other dragons." Beryl closed his eyes, recalling the specifics. "Cautionary tales, told to newly mated pairs. That speaking around the egg was important, so important. Horror stories of negligent Sires and Dams who did not speak around it, or spoke only in frustration and anger."

Now Hiccup was really interested. Neither side of him had ever heard these stories. Talking to the egg, making sure it knew their voices, their support, was something he had simply taken for granted as a part of raising it.

Beryl continued quietly. "In those cases, the hatchling was sullen, withdrawn, fearful. Not bad, and many grew into perfectly normal dragons, but they were all slow to trust, inclined to anger. Their personalities were darker. That got me thinking. If experience, even in the egg, can affect personality, who's to say it doesn't determine personality entirely? Maybe we are shaped by our experiences."

"It's an interesting idea." Hiccup couldn't really argue with that. "So what brought it up?"

"Hear me out." Beryl had resumed his cautious tone, as if afraid of how Hiccup might take what he had to say. "Experience shapes personality, the only thing that makes a person unique. Physical form doesn't matter, and memory is the storing of experience. So, in a way, a person is their memories. Those define their personality, how they make decisions, everything."

Here Beryl shifted, laying a paw across Hiccup's lap, looking him in the eye. "I believe that now because I have watched you this whole time. Having my Sire's memories... it has changed you, in ways you don't seem to realize. Not in bad ways, or even entirely turning you into him. You are still Hiccup... partially. But I can see habits, mannerisms of Ember too. We are shaped by memory. And his is yours now too."

Hiccup jerked away, his mind filled with doubt. "What are you saying? That I'm not me anymore? I'm turning into him?"

Beryl shook his head. "No, not turning into him. I am saying that if his memories are him, and yours are you, then the two of you have... merged, from what I can tell. Neither completely Hiccup or Ember, but some new being with traits from both. You are both. It is quite clear, to me at least, as someone who knew both separately."

"There's a problem with that." Hiccup desperately brought up the last remaining objection he had to Beryl's theory. "We have souls, don't we? There is something that goes on to Valhalla or Helheim when we die, I thought. So that also is a part of a person. What happened... to Ember's soul?"

"If that is true..." Beryl's voice suggested he truly wasn't sure. "Then I'd say his soul is also a part of his memories. You carry it with you until his memories are truly gone."

That reassured Hiccup somewhat, though he wasn't sure why. "So I am him, in every way that matters. And also myself, or some blend, according to you." It felt true and explained how Ember's memories had merged with him, changing him.

"Yes." Beryl nodded. "I think so. It... helps. To know he's still here, in a way."

Hiccup grinned despite the solemn mood. "So am I your friend, or your Sire?"

"Somehow, both. I will treat you as a friend though because it feels right." Beryl chuffed. "Friends?"

"Always." Hiccup was struck with a terribly depressing thought. "So if memories are connected to the soul, Vithvarandi is holding the ones she's taken from wherever souls end up going. Keeping them here, away from where they belong."

"Yes. And the only way to free them..." Beryl growled. "Is to kill her. Or maybe the body the memories are attached to. I don't know how that works."

"Neither do I. Vithvarandi can't possibly remember every single person she's killed, not like this." Hiccup was working off of logic. "Dozens of lives, personalities, all merged together. It would drive a person crazy." Vithvarandi definitely wasn't crazy, just completely lacking empathy.

"Didn't she say something about the first body being special?" Beryl pulled Hiccup closer with his tail, the sun now entirely set. "Maybe it is only like this the first time."

"Maybe." Hiccup realized that he was capable of testing that theory. He had been ignoring it, but Ember's form was not the only one he had acquired from Vithvarandi now. That Terror, and Stormfly. Both were also now options, though they were in the background of his mind, waiting to be acknowledged.

Was he holding their souls here too? It would make sense if everything else was true. The thought sickened him. But there was no way he could think of to fix that. Someday he'd figure it out. For now, those bodies and possibly memories were not his, and he had no right or need to access them. They could stay there, untouched.

O-O-O-O-O

The next morning Hiccup was in a far better mood than he had been stuck in the last few days. Nothing had really changed, but he felt a little bit more at peace. With himself, if nothing else. Beryl's bout of philosophy had been quite helpful. Knowing his friend could still see both sides of him was also reassuring. As long as he didn't lose anything, he could accept it.

"Wake up." Silence. Then, a quiet growl when Hiccup still didn't respond.

Being in a good mood didn't mean Hiccup wanted to get up with the sun, as was Beryl's habit. He kept his eyes closed, and faked still being asleep, in the hopes that Beryl would give up.

"I can always get some water and spit it on you." Beryl sounded entirely serious. "I need you to help me with something anyway. You can sleep in tomorrow."

Hiccup sat up. "Deal. What do you need help with?"

"Look at my tailfins. Is everything growing right?" Beryl pulled his tail over. "It hurts now, not like before. Even not wearing the false fin all night hasn't helped this time."

Hiccup pulled the tail into his lap, carefully comparing the whole and growing fins. The growing side had increased in size, faster than he had been expecting. Not fast by any means, but he hadn't been expecting this moment for a while yet.

Beryl had brought it to his attention just in time. Hiccup winced, carefully pushing the slender growths surrounded by the new membrane extending from the tail, reaching towards where they would be once fully grown. "Does this hurt?"

"A little."

"They're getting too big for the prosthetic. It's starting to bend them out of place as they grow." Before, he had modified the prosthetic to accommodate the growths, and even that had been difficult to do without making the prosthetic dangerously loose. Such modifications weren't an option now, for several reasons. Even if he had a smithy to work in, there was a limit to how much the false fin could accommodate something growing to replace it. This was going to happen at some point.

"So what do we do about it?"

Hiccup frowned. It would be risky. Who knew if they had slipped away from Vithvarandi, or if she had some way to find them. But it had to be done. "We need to find a safe place. You won't be able to wear the prosthetic by the end of the week without damaging the new fin. Until it grows enough for you to fly with it, we'll be stuck on the ground."

Beryl flinched. "That could be months!" He whimpered. "Grounded for months. With a crazy lady after us."

Hiccup gently stroked the growing membrane. "It's a risk we need to take. This is important. Besides, the prosthetic would break eventually. It's not as good as a real fin."

"It was good though." Beryl nosed at the metal and leather contraption. "You did the impossible with it."

"Don't tell me you'll be sad to get into the air on your own power." Hiccup shook his head. "I'll be glad to see the prosthetic go. It was always meant to make up for something that it could never live up to. It served its purpose."

They set out, now flying with a purpose, and a deadline. To locate the safest and most secluded place for Beryl to regain his flight.

O-O-O-O-O

Two days later, Hiccup forced Beryl to land. "We're done looking." He had felt Beryl's shudders of pain the last few hours. The prosthetic was slowly crushing those fragile growths, and Hiccup would never be able to live with himself if his work ruined Beryl's tailfin again. They were not going any further with the prosthetic. Beryl didn't protest, setting down quickly.

Once they were on the ground, Hiccup quickly removed the offending contraption, and after a moment of contemplation the entire saddle.

"I can keep the saddle." Beryl was watching, his pained tail waving in the air as he stretched the bruised portion. "You'll still need it when we leave."

"Maybe." Or, he could fly alongside Beryl. "We won't get rid of it." Yet.

Now that it wasn't strictly necessary, Hiccup was beginning to dislike the saddle. Despite the original purpose it had served, it was a symbol of subservience. It implied the wearer was a beast of burden. Sure, it was well built and designed to be comfortable for the wearer, but the principle was not changed by that.

He'd be glad to see it go along with the prosthetic. Like a very old bandage, finally coming off now that the wound had healed. The last evidence of that choice he had made, not so long ago. No matter how loved and well-crafted the bandage was, it was destined to be cast aside in favor of that which it healed.

Hiccup picked the saddle and prosthetic up anyway. "Let's find somewhere good to set up camp."

They had set down in the midst of a dense forest, the sun coming through only in scattered patches. The last day had been a journey over land, the sea left hours behind them, and nowhere in sight. The forest, from what he had seen, stretched for miles in every direction, unbroken and indistinct. There were no dragons or people around as far as he could tell.

It was perfect. An indistinguishable patch of forest just like a thousand others. No one to see them, no one for Vithvarandi to impersonate if she did find them.

The other side of that aspect became apparent after an hour of walking. Beryl stopped abruptly, snorting in annoyance. "The entire forest is the same. No caves, no mountains, no landmarks whatsoever. I'm lost." His voice betrayed how frustrating that was. "I can't even see the sun!"

Hiccup was rethinking their plan. "Yeah, it would be really hard to find anything in here. But do we have to stay in one place?"

"What are you thinking?" Beryl began pawing at an immensely thick and gnarled tree, looking up its length.

"We can just wander around in here, following prey." It was obvious they'd be relying on hunting for food. No sea meant no fish. "We would just lose any place we settled down at. Navigation in here is really hard to keep straight. That way we don't have to bother."

"So we just follow the food, and sleep wherever we end up every night?" Beryl began purring. "I like it. Better than sitting somewhere all day, waiting for my fin to grow." Then he crouched. "Now, to solve my other problem."

Hiccup was startled to see Beryl abruptly dart up the large tree, claws digging into the bark. In seconds Beryl was beyond the tree cover, at the top of the exceptionally tall and thick pine.

"This is better!" Beryl spent a few minutes staring out at the forest. "Yeah, this place has no landmarks from the air either."

After a few minutes, Hiccup was ready to move on. A few more, and he called up to Beryl. "Should we go?" They needed food sooner or later.

Beryl squirmed, looking down at Hiccup in... was that embarrassment? "I... can't."

"What do you mean?"

"I would use my wings to cushion my fall, but this place is too thick. I don't have room to spread them. And I can't climb down. I'm stuck."

Hiccup winced. An awkward fall without cushioning of some sort from that height would really hurt. Cushioning... "I'll catch you, or at least break your fall."

Beryl burst out laughing. Then after a moment he stopped, understanding. A brief time passed in which only a few distant birds could be heard. "Okay."

Hiccup supposed that Beryl felt it would be hypocritical to say Hiccup couldn't use Ember's body after convincing him he actually was Ember. He felt the same. With no reluctance whatsoever he triggered the change.

A bit of hesitation might have given him time to remember a somewhat important fact. He groaned as the transformation completed, suddenly near-collapse thanks to fatigue and various moderately serious wounds. Bodies did not heal when he wasn't using them, or recover energy. This was how he had felt immediately after fighting Vithvarandi in the village. Beryl's wounds had healed in a few days, except for the worst, which were still healing. His were still fresh.

He hid his reaction to the transformation, positioning himself under Beryl. "Ready!"

Beryl let go and dropped, landing squarely on Hiccup's back. Hiccup buckled, collapsing, his head slamming into the grass. He hadn't broken any bones... but the impact was too much.

Beryl rolled off, laughing. That is, until he took a good look at Hiccup. "You're still injured!"

Hiccup groaned. "And tired. I never rested in this body." He considered changing back, but that wouldn't solve the problem. "Can we stay here a while?"

"Sure." Beryl eyed him. "Are you going to rest?"

"I should. Not a good idea for either of my bodies to be exhausted and injured. Vithvarandi could find us. As much as I am sure you could take her yourself, I'd rather not have to assist in my human form."

"Then rest." Beryl shook his tail ruefully. "We have nothing but time."

O-O-O-O-O

Wandering the seemingly endless forest was a surprisingly pleasant way to spend time. They walked wherever the path of least resistance was, letting the forest itself guide them. Hiccup stayed in Ember's form increasingly often as the days passed. Beryl didn't object. It was clear to both of them that the body with more stamina, strength, and agility was more suited to their current lifestyle.

Hiccup became re-accustomed to life as a dragon. It was easy, given he had sixty years of experience to draw from. He didn't feel the lack of opposable thumbs, of human speech. Of missing a leg.

Now that he was given the choice, he was realizing that he preferred life as Ember. As a Night Fury.

Hunting was a great example. Before, when Beryl had taught him to hunt, he had disliked it despite understanding the necessity. It had been a difficult exercise of necessity. He still didn't like the killing part of the occupation, but Ember's love of the chase was something he embraced. It turned a chore into entertainment.

Hiccup and Beryl were hunting at the moment, stalking through the endless forest, following the scent trail of what seemed to be a large buck. Scent, scrapes on the trees, prints in the soft dirt. All told a story, a story the animal didn't know enough to conceal. He padded along, taking the lead through habit. Beryl through habit followed behind, alert and silent in motion.

These activities brought peace to his mind in a way nothing else could. A piece of normality not out of place in either of his lives. Hunting with Beryl was something both parts of him had done, had enjoyed at least in part. There was no longer any confusion or discomfort when one side of him conflicted with the other, but things both agreed upon were still disproportionately powerful, whether positive or negative. When both sides of him agreed, nothing got in his way.

A short leap over a patch of mud, noting the prints in it as it was passed over. They were moving faster now, trotting through the woods. Their quarry was nearby. Two dark shadows flitting through the erratic patches of sunlight like wraiths, silent and deadly. This was a scene no human ever saw because unless one was the target, they'd never get a chance, and if one was the target... they'd never notice until it was too late.

In these moments Hiccup knew why humans always feared dragons on first sight. Dragons were natural predators. To see one was to be reminded that there was something out there that was above humans in the natural order. It was also why humans hunted and killed dragons more than any other predator. They felt threatened and moved to eliminate the threat.

He wasn't sure who would prevail in the endless struggle. Humans or dragons, creation versus destruction.

That was the other thing. Dragons struggled to create and easily destroyed. Destruction came easier. Humans were the other way around. Clever hands and brains, but relatively weak hides and muscles. Easier to create than destroy. Two sides of nature, creation and destruction. Not to say that dragons did not create, or humans destroy. Simply what they were inclined to by design. Choice was still important.

The sound of sticks cracking ahead snapped Hiccup's attention back to the hunt. He and Beryl stopped, using their hearing to locate the animal. It was apparently on the other side of a tree a few dozen feet ahead, eating the grass around the base of a small hill. As they watched it moved into view, a large buck with fairly impressive antlers.

Those antlers weren't going to save it. This was the part Hiccup didn't really enjoy, but they needed food. He let Beryl take the lead, assisting his friend in tearing the hide off once the animal was dead. There was no point in saving the hide for later. There was nothing he needed to make, and no way to carry it.

Though, that did seem to be an odd side-effect of the switching of bodies. Whatever he was holding or had on him when he changed stayed with his body. It was how he had never changed back to find himself devoid of clothing. However, the more he had on him, the slower the blue flames carried the process. In that way, he had managed to hold onto the saddle and prosthetic, though they didn't need either. He wanted to give the pieces of equipment a proper sendoff, as pointlessly sentimental as that might be.

O-O-O-O-O

And so the days turned into weeks, and the weeks slowly into months. Beryl's tail grew slowly but steadily, pulling out to match the opposing fin more and more with every passing week. By the time the weather truly began to cool off, and Autumn was upon them, Beryl had become impatient.

"I wish I could speed it up." Beryl was gnawing toothlessly at his nearly-grown fin. "It's so close, but still not enough."

"Don't try and test that. I don't want to have to catch you a third time."

Beryl winced. "I really thought I could last time!" He whined in embarrassment.

"Well, now you know better." Catching Beryl hadn't been nearly as painful the second time around, but it was not a fun activity for Hiccup all the same. "We aren't in any real rush."

"You aren't. I haven't flown in months." Beryl said sullenly.

"And neither have I." It was true, Hiccup had very intentionally stuck to the ground. "Why do you think that is? I'm waiting with you. So I'm just as impatient."

"Oh." Clearly, Beryl hadn't made the connection. "Well then, I wish it would grow quicker even more now."

There was nothing Hiccup could say in response to that. He changed the subject, to get Beryl's mind off of the wait. "I think it's safe to say we've lost Vithvarandi for good." Months of not seeing another person, human or dragon, was a pretty good indication.

"Don't say that." Beryl quickly looked around, scanning the surrounding trees. "She found Berk. So she must have some way to track you."

That was... a good point. This was no different from that. Suddenly the overcast skies and dark forest felt threatening, no longer safe. But nothing had changed. The wind still wound through the trees, a few birds chirped in the distance. It was the same forest.

O-O-O-O-O

That feeling of darkness in the metaphorical sense grew every day. Hiccup didn't know what was causing it, or why he felt it at all, but the forest was no longer the safe, carefree place it had been for them the last few months. But they were still there. Flight would allow them to leave, and it had not yet been restored to Beryl. The feeling made him cautious, careful. It also made him more observant.

An unnaturally moving branch, quickly stilled. Was it the wind, some small squirrel? He knew that was what it had to be, but never saw the cause. Paranoia it might be, but such events seemed to occur far more frequently than he thought natural. The feeling of eyes on his back, when there was no one within sight. That of another presence in the woods.

Paranoia, or intuition?

He said nothing of his worries, his observations. Beryl would only be stressed by the idea that his growing tailfin was keeping them in possible danger, and was already on the alert for sneak attacks. It could all just be his imagination, sharpened to acting out by responsibility and the real danger Vithvarandi still presented, wherever she was.

Nothing of his paranoia, anyway. One night, as neither of them seemed inclined to sleep, he brought up something he'd never thought to be able to ask.

"Beryl. Before this whole thing with Vithvarandi, what made you so paranoid in the village?" He thought he understood pieces of it, but he wanted to hear what Beryl had to say.

"A lot of things." Beryl absently pawed at the dirt below his claws, cutting a line into the ground for each point he made. "Some of it was just that I didn't trust your people. Even Astrid and Stoick. They meant no harm, but... everyone was capable of it. I had to stop myself from threatening Astrid when she punched you, right after you woke up."

"Fair enough."

"Then there was that. You almost died. I never wanted to have to see that again, and danger was everywhere. Are you aware half of your daily routine involved sharp objects or molten metal?"

Hiccup laughed, his deep voice resonating through the trees. "It must have been a nightmare, watching me in the forge. Vikings don't really consider the danger of, well, anything."

"No, not at all. And I had to deal with all of the dragons around too." Beryl growled, carving a particularly deep line. "Some of them wanted to make you their charge because I was apparently not good enough in their eyes. I set most of those straight, but a few kept at it."

Hiccup recalled several times in which certain dragons had gotten quite friendly with him, even offering their necks or backs for him to ride. The biggest, most impressive dragons in the village for the most part, huge Nightmares and particularly striking Nadders. Always when Beryl wasn't around, though that was a rare occurrence. Now he was very glad he had never accepted such a ride. "How did you... deter them?"

"With intimidation. If not that, teeth and claws, outside the village. They were overconfident. You taught me to fight well." Beryl paused before continuing, seemingly realizing what he had said. "I never even got scratched. They gave up quickly."

"When did you do that, anyway? You never left my side, except for a few minutes every once in a while."

"Deep in the night, when few are awake. I didn't like leaving you unguarded even then, but it was necessary. Those idiots weren't backing down for anything less than a formal challenge, as is custom." Beryl looked down at the lines he had carved into the ground. Three lines, connecting at right angles, forming three sides of a square. He decisively drew the fourth side. "I couldn't bear the thought of losing anyone else I cared about."

"Neither can I." Hiccup admitted that freely. The list was as long for him as it was for Beryl, with some of the same names too.

A stick cracked out in the night. Both Furies spun, facing the sound. It was nothing, in all likelihood. They relaxed.

Hiccup chuckled. "Still paranoid, even now."

"Yes, we are." Beryl nudged him. "You as well as me. For good reason. But I look forward to someday in which it is no longer necessary."

"Agreed." How such a day would ever occur, Hiccup wasn't sure. The specter of Vithvarandi's very existence made it unlikely.

Hopefully, they'd be able to leave this forest soon. Before there was a real reason to fear every little thing.

If there wasn't already.