"Frostbiiiiite!"
The sever-year old being addressed cringed, not knowing what she did this time to cause her mother's displeasure.
They were near the clay walls, on the other side of the island. Usually her mother wouldn't let either her or her brother come along and made her father keep watch of them—which was alright—Frostbite liked it in the shop stall where her father carved and worked on his craft, but her father had decreed he needed no distractions; Fishlegs had some big projects with orders to fill and needed a perfect, quiet working environment. She could tell her mother wasn't pleased in bringing them all the way over there but they couldn't be left at home.
She didn't know why her auntie couldn't watch them again, her cousins and aunt lived at the same home but she remembered her aunt using a word called 'overwhelming' after the last time her father and mother had stuff to do and they were all left alone together under their aunt's supervision. She remembered accidentally spilling a jar of honey that Bludgeonstick, her younger cousin wandered through and tracked across the floorboards while her other cousin, Briarprick was pulling Splint's hair because he took her doll.
Earlier, Frostbite had been throwing clumps of clay at her little brother—they bounced off of him but he whined too much. Their mother finally snapped at them to separate so Frostbite climbed the hill above and entertained herself by picking some wild flowers.
She was currently sitting in the tall grass and weaving the stalks so they made a flower crown. Her father had taught her how that year and she thought they looked pretty so tried it herself.
"What mama?"
"What in Odin's name are you doing?"
Her mother had a block clay tied with thin rope to carry back and work with. Her mama made pots and dishes out of it. Frostbite's favorite part was when Snipe the Terrible Terror came out from hiding and fired them—just because he always was scarce and she wanted to hold him. Frostbite's favorite kind of dragon were Terrible Terrors. Immediately after would be a game of cat-and-mouse as Frostbite tried to catch him before he skittered away. Her mother usually yelled at her for that too.
"Making flowery crowns," she answered.
Her mother gave a look of disgust.
"What's wrong with flowers?" she asked in defense. They were pretty! Frostbite loved pretty things. She didn't think there were enough pretty things on the island.
"Flowers are dub," Splint commented as he was picking his nose.
"You're dumb!"
"Don't you think you would have more fun climbing trees or skipping rocks in the water?" Her mother instead asked with an encouraging tone.
"No."
And then her mother did it again, that subtle disapproving, exasperated roll of her eyes. "Come on, we're done here."
She gave a shrill whistle and soon enough her two-headed fire beast appeared behind her from the sky. They had rode the Zippleback there and it was by the Zippleback they would return.
Her mother lifted the loop of rope upward and left head secured it in it's mouth. She then lifted Splint onto the right neck and motioned Frostbite to hurry up.
"But I'm not done with my crown!"
"You can make more some other time!"
"But they don't have these flowers near at the village!" she indicated to some red-petaled ones she had been quite happy to find up that hill.
"Just get your rear in gear, I do not have time for this."
Frostbite frowned and pouted out of habit, crossing her arms stubbornly.
Her mother threw her arms up as well as a curse that lingered somewhere above their heads. She then swiped up a bunch of the red flowers from the ground and motioned yet again, "We'll bring some with us then—now can we leave?"
Frostbite smiled, because it was acceptable to her. She scrambled upward and approached the neck. Her mother mounted behind Splint to make sure he didn't fall off and Frost climbed up behind her mother and held her waist. The Zippleback would only fly her and her brother if Ruffnut or their Uncle Tuffnut was also riding. They all had to share a neck because it must have balanced weight the block of clay in the others' mouth.
Another whistle from her mother prompted the dragon to take flight. It had done this activity long enough to know their next destination was behind the Ingerman lodge where her mother sliced the block into slabs and kept them in a moist pit.
"Mama, can I have my flowers now?"
"Sure," her mother held them out, but the wind from flying had blown a lot of the petals off. Frostbite frowned in disappointment. They were useless and her crown wouldn't be finished. She placed it on her head anyway.
"Do flowers taste good?" Splint wondered as he picked up a fallen red petal and stuffed it in his mouth. He immediately spit it out with a disgusted shout and continued spitting the taste out, 'blech'-ing and ich-ing and making a general mess of himself.
"You're so stupid," she reminded him, figuring he deserved that for asking and not waiting for her to say that flowers didn't taste good.
"Mama, can I go play?"
"Fine, but take your brother with you," Her mother insisted. Her sleeves were already rolled up ready to work. Frost bit liked making stuff out of the clay too. Sometimes her mother let her but nothing she ever made looked as good as what her mothers earthenware did.
Frostbite didn't want to look after her brother; he was too slow and whined when she walked too fast. He wouldn't even play her games right! Instead she opened up the door that led to the back of the her home and looked to see if her auntie was around. Maybe she could watch Splint.
"Frost!"
She was taken by surprise at her younger cousin who was hiding under a table and had grabbed her boot. It was Briarprick.
"What?"
"Hide!"
"Why?"
"Yahh, gotcha!" Briarprick's twin charged in and basically punched Frost in the arm.
"OW! You maggot!" She hauled back and returned the favor.
Bludgeonstick fell back and started whining. Boys were so whiny.
"We played hide n' seek," Briar explained and crawled out from under the table. She gave a kick to her brother for good measure. He curled into a ball and gave a slight whimper after threatening to kill her.
"Well I wasn't playing!"
Her aunt then entered the room carrying a bundle of fresh vegetables from their garden, "Are you back then from clay gathering?"
"Yeah," Frostbite smiled and put on her most polite voice, "I was going to go play—can't Splint stay here?"
Her aunt Harkin set out a bunch of parsnips and bean pods across the table and got a thoughtful look, "Actually can you take your cousins with you? They need to run around for awhile."
That was not what Frostbite wanted to do.
"But I can't look after them all. I'm only seven and they might get into a bad fight," she indicated to her cousins because it wasn't unheard of. They were already four and ready to beat the innards out of one another at any given moment. Bludgeonstick was already grabbing for his sister's braid to yank her a good one.
"Why don't you get a bunch of kids together and play bashy ball? It's a nice day outside. They don't last for very long before the summer rains."
She could protest but knew it was true. There was a time in the summer where it would rain for a few weeks; everything got wet and soggy and Frostbite didn't like it. She knew and had learned through trial and error and observing other kids that obeying went a long way with adults, and she needed to be on Harkin's good side ever should she need to convince her aunt to watch her brother in the future.
"Thanks sweetie," Harkin smiled. She looked tired but it was only midday at most. Frost didn't understand how adults could look so sleepy all the time. Maybe it was an older-person thing.
So now Frostbite was burdened with not only her dumb brother but her violent twin cousins as well. That was a lot to ask a seven year old to keep watch on such hooligans.
However, the mention of bashy ball did present an advantage. There was only two bashy balls she knew of, the older kids had one—the children possessed the other and and whoever's team won the last game had keep of it. The person who had won last time was Svenan. Svenan's team always won.
This was the perfect excuse for her to go to his place and see him.
Also one of her favorite things to do was ask if Icky, Svenan's younger brother, wanted to play because he never said no to it. He was such an agreeable child and she appreciated it; he would play whatever game she wanted, go along with any idea she had and even liked them all too! She knocked on the door to see if his mother was there to tell her where they were.
"Can Icky play?" she asked as soon as the door opened but it was Svenan instead of his mother.
"No!"
He almost closed the door on her but a big black creature nearly trampled over her in a hasty exit. It was Toothless, the Night Fury and had a rug slung over his back. Then she heard a adamant, "Yeah I can! I can play! I can play!" and Icky pushed Svenan before evading his arm in the way between him and the outside.
"Hiya Frostbite! Watcha wanna play?"
"Icky can't play he is supposed to beat the dust out of our rugs."
"I was almost done!" he pointed in the direction that Toothless had run in.
She found it amusing when the brothers fought. She could relate though because she got into quite a few arguments with her dumb brother. Though she always won those.
"Actually we want to play bashy ball," she stated and gestured behind her where her brother was staring vacantly and her cousins were already squabbling again, pushing each other back and forth.
"Stop fighting!" Icky demanded, disturbed attheir violence, but the twins didn't even bat an eyelid.
"You can't just tell them, you have to make them," Frostbite instructed, reaching into the fray and smacking whichever one across the face, and like the Zippleback, it had to be fair. The initial slap caught on Briar's cheek and she sniffled with a glare. Bludge was amused until he received the same treatment.
"If you two don't cut it out I'll tell your dad."
Her Uncle Tuffnut would set them straight. They were always on best behavior when they saw him. They rubbed at their cheeks, full of scowling but otherwise ceased fighting.
"But yes, bashy ball. Can we have the ball please Svenan?" she wore her most convincing smile she made at adults to get her way though it never worked on him.
"Nuh-uh, you're not playing bashy ball without me!" he wouldn't be de-throned as highest scorer. Svenan never missed a game, and she knew he wouldn't let her play without him.
"Mo-om! We're gonna go play now!" Svenan, with the ball under arm, yelled so his voice carried to the back of the home. He hurried Icky along and all children skedaddled before Astrid could raise protest or ask what had happened to the rug she had weaved.
They picked up a few more of the village children on their way to the sheep pasture which served as best space for the game. Frostbite proclaimed herself leader of the first team and since no one wanted to hear her whine, which she would if she did not get her way, they did not protest. Svenan insisted he was the leader of the second team—he always was because he was the eldest son of the chief.
Since she was leader of the first team, she got to pick first, "Hailstrom."
Frostbite picked Hailstrom, just because he could run the second-fastest behind Svenan and Svenan threw her a dirty look. He always chose his best friend and she had stolen him for her team.
"Brig."
It was her turn to scowl at him for stealing players because Brig was the better thrower.
"Icky."
"Bludgeonstick."
"Briarprick."
"Cur."
"Buzzkill."
They went on and on until one child playing was left.
Splint was the last. The slowest and roundest. Her own brother was last pick. She shook her head in disappointment or embarrassment for him as Svenan was forced to claim him for his team. She didn't pick her team out of pity, she wanted to win and put a stop to Svenan's undefeated record.
They commenced play throwing the wrapped material ball around, out of the other teams reach until the end of the field. The teens in the village put the 'bash' in 'bashy ball', often tackling the player with the ball before they could throw it. The children weren't as rough. Bludgeonstick was the most dangerous because he piled headfirst into the other team players, not caring about his own bruisings.
It wasn't long until their noise had attracted the attentions of some curious dragons. A Nadderhead and a blazing copper-scaled Zippleback. The Nadder eyed the ball until it decided to try and taste it, it leaped and landed in the center of the game causing a few children to yell in surprise. With a swift jerk of its head, it grabbed the ball out of Brig's hands and engulfed it with it's mouth.
The Zippleback was more interested in the running children, often bumping them on the head with it's nose as if to tag them.
"Stop it, stop it!" laughed Cur as the fire beast kept nosing him.
"Give the ball back!" Brig demanded pointing right at the Nadder.
It snackled in stubbornness.
Frostbite ran up, to them since the game was at a halt, "I know what to do! My auntie's Nadder likes grabbing stuff with her mouth." She then stood in front of the big snout and began feeling for the ticklish spot that she saw her aunt use to take back whatever Cringe had stolen.
The thieving dragon hissled as Frost tickled her neck scales lightly and the ball lolled out of it's mouth.
"Ewww," Brig picked it up. It was covered in dragon-spit and dirt.
Briarprick yanked it from her almost immediately, unbothered by the grime and ran towards the end of the pasture to get a point. Bludgeonstick collided with her, sending them flipping stomaches to back through the grass and the ball was in neither team's possession as it rolled away.
Where Svenan grabbed it.
Svenan threw the ball to Splint as a last resort since everyone else was being blocked or distracted. The rotund kid reached up and fumbled with the ball a bit before it dropped. He was only five years old, and he had watched plenty of games to know how to play—but he just didn't have the skill.
"Splint, you useless piglet! Can't you at least catch a ball!" Svenan called with frustration. The other kids laughed at the insult, even Svenan after he thought about it.
Frostbite saw her brother look to the ground with shame and an anger seared through her.
She stopped petting the Nadder and marched up to Svenan with the mother of all glares before punching him hard in the ribs, "Don't ever talk to my brother that way again. You will 'pologize."
Svenan winced and held his tender stomach. She didn't care if she did like him, no one but her could make fun of Splint!
"Say sorry now!"
The pitch of her shout caused the Zippleback to shudder it's wings.
"But he didn't catch the ball!"
She lifted her foot and brought it down on his boot, eliciting a yelp and a rather entertaining spectacle of the Chief's son hopping about with hurt toes. The other children laughed at him.
If she didn't know any better, Svenan looked like he would punch her a good one for making him look foolish, being bossed around by a girl nearly two years younger than himself. He wouldn't though, because would tattle on him to his father and Icky would back her claim. Icky never lied.
With an angry huff he turned and mumbled, "Imsurry."
"NO! You don't mean it! You have to be sorry for real!" she reprimanded. She knew his mumbled apologies were never sincere.
"I said sorry," he insisted and grabbed the ball from Splint who had picked it up from at his feet. He brushed past her, ignoring.
She shook her head vigorously, and in a fury grabbed splint's hand and said, "We aren't playing anymore! Come on cousins!"
"But I want to plaaaay!" Bludge whined, finally ending his fight with his sister.
"Me tooo!" Briar insisted though neither of them had been actually playing for many minutes.
All it took was an unspoken scowl over her shoulder to change their minds. The famous scowl the village children knew to heed when Frostbite shot it. A borderline tantrum, a screaming frenzy of unmatched proportions. No one wanted to set it off.
Her cousins took to trudging on behind her. She wouldn't have cared if they stayed but she was responsible for them and plus, without them Svenan couldn't finish the game.
"Come on! The teams are too small now!" he shouted.
"No! Not until you're really sorry for making fun of my brother!"
"You're ruining the game for everyone!"
"No, you are!"
She still liked Svenan, he just needed to be taught a lesson.
She ushered her herd of relatives back into her home and curled herself in her father's chair, now sad she couldn't play. It was important though that her point was made. She had forgotten even after all that, the flowery crown was still on her head. She pulled it off and looked at the pretty red flowers of her unfinished project.
"Thank you Frosty," Splint tugged at her braid.
"Go away slug," she threw it at him. She was not happy with him.
If it wasn't for him, they all could still be playing. But lessons needed taught and brothers needed defending even if they were dumb.
Her aunt looked surprised they were back so soon when she heard the commotion.
"That was a quick game. I remember one round lasting for hours," she then gave a light laugh, "Mostly because Rootstain would over-throw the ball into the woods and we'd have to spend more time searching for it than playing with it."
A knock on the door caused her aunt to stop musing and answer it, "Oh. Hello Svenan."
Frostbite jumped up but before she could make it to the threshold, Svenan emphasized he was looking for Splint.
Harkin called for him and after a few moments he waddled into view and Frost could see he had been sniffling sadly.
They heard a crash from the eating area and Harkin hastily followed the noise; it was the twins most definitely.
Svenan bent over and put a hand on Splint's shoulder, "I'm sorry I called you names."
Frostbite felt herself smile because it was sincere. He shouldn't be mean to little kids, especially her brother. And he was showing his good leadership by swallowing his stupid pride and being nice to even people who had caused his team to lose points.
"Okay." Splint rubbed a hand across his snotty nose.
"You should come back and play."
Splint nodded at the invitation and stepped forward with renewed confidence.
Frostbite slipped past him, intending on re-joining as well.
He grabbed her by one of her braided pigtails and yanked her back, effectively passing her with an assured grumble, "I hate you."
Most little girls might cry if a boy they adored told them such a thing, but Svenan had been saying it since he was four years old and Frostbite would never be convinced it was truth, not when the things she did made him a better boy.
A/N: Not dead. Promise. Just been hella busy, example: this was written Monday but I had not time to upload until today. Hope you enjoyed the look into Frostbite among other surrounding things :)