The vision of the path was clear; no wind blew at the packed dust and dirt that was laid for villagers to walk on. A tiny clump of weeds were growing only soon to die in Berk's harsh, cold, weather.

An angry shout interrupted the calm, followed by a child's bellow. A taunt of the most offensive caliber was thrown between two figures that rushed past the picturesque, quiet morning.

In a moment the dust and dirt was all but thrown up beneath the running stomps and footsteps. The weeds had died earlier than expected, but to be in the path of the Terrible Thorston Twins, it wasn't surprising the weed was uprooted by a malevolent kick.

Bludegonstick's sister screamed once he caught a hold of her braid. It was nice to feel his power in her scream. He yanked. She always deserved it. She had shoved him into the door on their way out that morning.

Bludgeonstick hated Briar's loudmouth, the only instance he did enjoy was when she was giving off screams he was the cause of.

Like now.

It was validation for his labors of proving he was better. She never made him scream like that. In all actuality there were a few times, but he had chosen to forget them to keep his mental record untarnished.

He gave her hair another vicious tug that nearly pulled her back into a fall but she caught herself and managed to jerk a kick to his knee and he let go, distracted by the pain.

"Daddy!" she began to whine as she fled inside to their father's lodge and he straightened himself. He had forgotten where they were going in the first place. Their mother had sent them off with something—he didn't know because Briar had it—to give to their grandmother.

Their father was in the smoking parlor with a rack of fresh kills. Bludgeonstick wandered over and examined the carcasses with intrigue. Briarprick was being embraced by their father who looked somewhat startled to see them.

"Hey kid," his father addressed him.

"What?"

"You pull your sister's hair?"

"No."

Bludge had to stop himself from smirking as Tuffnut administered a scowl of disapproval at his daughter for lying, mostly lying to him—other people he wouldn't mind so much.

"He did! Daddy! He did!"

"No I didn't," Bludge refuted, and then changed the subject to further drive the favor from Briar, "These are some neat kills, Dad."

There were hares, mink, and a fox.

"Hush up, Girly," Tuff demanded to Briar's instant whines of not lying.

"Gammie, he did!" her loud mouth was still open and accusing, but now pointed at the elder woman in the room.

His grandmother had been sitting there, sewing, but she turned a cool eye on him and he became ever so unsettled and looked away. Only three people in the whole village could ever make him fearful and that was his grandmother, his mother, Harkin and then his fierce Aunt Ruffnut with whom they lived. He was rightly terrified of his aunt if she ever got angry at him. She once chased him with a knife, threatening to cut his hair so none could keep his head warm in the winter. He had knocked over her clay bottles to deserve that outburst.

"So your mother sent you over by yourselves?" Tuffnut asked, and a hint of disappointment was evident in his words. Bludge could hear it and it bothered him that they were all still apart when his Dad obviously missed them. He barely remembered, but he knew they had all lived together before.

"Yes, she wanted me to give this," Briar had gotten over her brother's offense for the time being and held out a small wrapped bundle to the master of the home.

He opened it and stared for a second before grinning. He lifted out some smoke-dried beef and chewed on it. "My favorite, tell your mom thanks for me."

"It was actually for Gammie…"

But their father pretended to ignore that fact.

"Why can't you just tell her yourself?" Bludge couldn't take it anymore and asked, being careful to avoid his grandmother's suspicious eye. He had asked his mom before why they lived apart but she always told him to ask his Dad and he didn't dare to until now.

"Bludgeonstick!" his Grandmother chided anyway, in it a tone warning him not to tread on the topic and not to use such a voice when questioning his elders.

"But everyone else lives with their mother and their father except if they died, like the Jorgensons. You're both alive so we should be living together."

"It makes sense, it does," Briar threw in her opinion-fact but she wasn't supporting him, just the idea. He knew she had snuck out to sleep by herself when their uncle's place seemed too crowded. He would tell on her to their mother if he could prove it but she was back before dawn. He had to wonder how she even snuck out in the first place. He didn't even know how seldom or often it happened.

Tuffnut's expression darkened, "Ask your mother why we don't live together."

"I did and she said to ask you!"

His father looked taken aback, and then a helpless glance was thrown at their grandmother to which she shrugged.

"You asked her?"

"Yes."

"Well..." he said, but left it at that and became involved in thinking of an answer, "It's too complicated to understand. You'll understand when you are older."

Bludgeonstick was not satisfied that answer.

"Okay, well…I'm older now from when you said it - now I can understand," he was obstinate.

"Kid, you'll get it when you're older by a few years."

"Are we ever going to live with you again? Or will Mom be mean and not let us?" That was the only thing that made sense to the boy because he could see his Dad still liked his mom.

Harkin however was very unreadable. It seemed she didn't love their father at all. She never talked about him without prompt. He didn't understand it.

Tuffnut stood and asserted himself, "Do not disrespect your mother around me kid. What she does for you is because she loves you."

Bludgeonstick frowned, doubtful.

"If she loved us, she'd let us live with you."

That remark earned him an abrupt ear-twist.

He rubbed it and an idea popped into his head, "She said she wanted to see you."

His father's frown took on a new light, "What?"

"Nuh-" Briar was about to call him out but he threw a very, daunting, nasty look to which startled her and caused her to stop what she was saying.

"Mom wants to see you, meet her by the tavern today's evening."

"Did she say why?"

He shook his head with false, unknowing innocence, "She has something for you—uh—too big for us to carry."

He swore he saw his father look hopeful.

"Come on Briar, we have to get back," he demanded. She gave a snarled face showing she was not pleased with him but it was nothing new or less offensive.

"Goodbye Daddy. Farewell Gammie!" she waved as she followed him.

He stalked out of his father's lodge quicker than usual.

"Momma didn't say she wanted to see Daddy today's afternoon. You're a big liar."

"Just shut up forever," he replied. He felt a push and he turned around and then hit her so hard she did fall back that time. Tears stung her eyes but she didn't try to push him again.

When they arrived back at their Uncle's, Frostbite took Briar's hand to go play immediately, whining that she had waited forever to play when it had only been a quarter hour. Briarprick seemed inconvenienced and he only smiled at his sister's distaste as Frost led them away to play something boring.

"Did you deliver that beef to your grandmother?" his mother asked when he had wandered into the adjoining room. She had checked her traps that morning too. He found is so odd his parents had so much in common but lived apart. His mother was a huntress, and her kills amounted to three hares. They would probably be used for stew.

His Aunt was occupying the room, he noticed. She was splitting pea pods from the garden.

"Briar did. Dad wants to see you today's evening."

"No, I am busy." Harkin hung the rabbits in preparation to skin them. If they lived with his dad, they could all skin kills together.

"But—" Bludgeonstick struggled, hating to see his plan ruined by his mother's stubbornness. He saw his Aunt gain an intrigued expression but it soon turned to suspicion.

"He said he has something to give you!"

Harkin looked up sharply, "Why didn't he send it with you two?"

"It's too big for us!" he was outwardly lying, desperate to trick his parents to meet face to face, something they rarely did. "Well I will have your uncle pick it up then after market closes."

"NO! It HAS to be you!" Bludgeon all but shouted which got the ladies to give him a very perplexed look.

He needed them to like each other again, because he was downright tired of sharing a bed with his pudgy cousin who took up most of the bed and made little piglet snores. He wanted his own bed. Even if they had to take Briarprick too, it would be worth it just to have some elbow room.

"Why?" Harkin asked rather irately.

"It's for you."

Her suspicion didn't wane, "It's for me and it's heavy?"

"Yes and you should meet him at the tavern."

"Did he buy a drum of ale for you or what?" his Aunt asked upon hearing his false claims.

"I don't know."

He turned his back on them, knowing his vague response would get his mother to become curious and go. She had to.

He was about to leave but when he opened the door a man stood there and looked as if he were about to knock. It was the village wound expert; he had a name but Bludge always forgot it. No one was currently suffering from a gaping lesion, so Bludge failed to see why the man was the there at all.

Until he asked, "Is your mother home?"

"Not if you're asking," Bludgeonstick retorted immediately with a glare, knowing the man to have taken interest in his mother which he found gross. The only man his mother should be with was his father.

"Bludgeonstick Thorston!" he heard the shrill call of Harkin, who had heard his rudeness to their guest, and he decided to leave as fast as he could. The quicker he got his parents to reconcile the better off he would be, and that man was bad news. He was a tall man with long, stringy brown hair and always serious as opposed to Tuffnut - Brazen, muscled, and who liked a good amusement, who had the encouraging laugh of a rogue. He admired his Dad. He did not like the wound expert at all.

He saw the Ingerman's Terrible Terror, Snipe, perched on a wooden post and took the opportunity to sneak up on the dragon. He swiped it into one arm and Snipe let out a squeak of terror and began to Struggle. Between Bludgeonstick's sick amusement and Frostbite's unconditional cuddling it was questionable on why Snipe stayed around the Ingerman lodge. All the other Terrors left within a day after helping his aunt Ruffnut fire her clay.

Bludgeon switched his hold to the wings and Snipe fell with one of them spread open, still in the grip of the terrible boy.

"Come on Sniper," Bludge cackled and moved forward so Snipe was forced to be drug along the ground.

He heard the familiar sound of hissing, of a terror beginning to shoot fire and dodged a fast stream, Snipe had let loose before it hit him. He'd gotten singed before by Snipe, and only punished the little dragon more for its resistance.

"Nice try lizard," he swung is arm around and let go. The Terror hit against a rock and gave a small squeak, as if the air in its belly left it.

"You know, in days of old people were too afraid to even touch a Terror."

He stopped his bullying and looked at the speaker. It was Splint. The older cousin picked up Snipe and patted him on the head before the green fire beast skittered away to the underbrush, leaving both boys wondering if that was the last time they would see the dragon for good.

"Where'd you hear that? They are the least scary things on the island!"

"My dad told me."

His Uncle was a know-it-all. His cousins ate every word up their dad said. Bludgeon didn't believe it for a second. Snipe was as easy to handle as the clay his aunt worked with.

"They could carry a full grown man away if they were in a pack."

Bludge couldn't imagine that. Terrors carrying away someone as big as his uncle just didn't seem possible. He said so with his face—a brow raise and a wrinkled nose.

"Did you do all the chores you were supposed to?" Splint asked instead of commenting further.

Bludge was supposed to clean out the goat pen but he hadn't done it yet nor did he intend to. Splint was done with his chores, so Splint could afford to do an extra one.

"The goat pen needs cleaned."

"That's your chore."

"Now it's yours. Your mom told me you had to do it since I had to take something to Grandmother's."

"Oh," Splint's eyes drifted to the ground with disheartenment and he turned around to go do his extra chore. Bludge had to hold back a snicker because his cousin was so gullible. Splint didn't even think to question to why Ruffnut didn't tell him directly. It seemed Splint should have learned by now when Bludge was pranking him but it was no inconvenience to Bludge that his cousin was stupid.

He couldn't go back to the lodge yet, not until Splint was done with the pens. Otherwise Harkin would ask him if he did it and if she looked out to see Splint doing it, Bludge would get into trouble.

He picked up a stick and dragged it behind him which carved a path in the dirt behind him. He was almost eight years old, and he wondered if they'd all get to live together again. Not that Briar counted, she was like their pet. She made loud sounds and was only good for amusement.

He waited for a good hour, entertaining himself by throwing rocks at the cats, mocking the calls of the Nadders, and chasing the free grazing pigs near the butcher's home. He had borrowed a piglet once to play a prank on splint. He ducked out of sight when the Butcher of Berk stepped out to feed the pigs the food waste.

After that, he climbed the small fence and sat on the post looking out toward the sloppy pig grounds, knowing each and everyone would be slaughtered by the end of the season. Pigs were all fat and waddl-y – but he had tasted their meat and he liked them more dead than alive.

He grew tired of waiting and ambled back to the lodge. His mother had gotten through skinning a hare and a half.

He approached cautiously, peeking his head over the table opposite his mother.

"So are you going to go see Dad?"

"No, Bludgeonstick, I'm not."

He held in an unpleasant noise at her decision, but didn't stop his question, "Why not?"

He had pestered her before, he had asked her why they didn't live together, or if they ever were to again and she always gave a quick, sharp answer that he never felt satisfied with. He still didn't understand a lot of things but knew it wasn't normal.

This time something changed, she gave him a look, "Do you really want to know?"

It made him slightly nervous but he wanted the answer so he nodded.

"Your father hit me."

He waited for more.

But nothing else was said.

He was confused. He didn't understand what the big deal of that was. He hit Briarprick so many times and she didn't leave them. Of course he couldn't admit that to his mother because she would chide him for hitting his sister and it was apparent now she was not tolerant of hitting at all.

This was maybe why it seemed Bludgeonstick could get away with so much his young life without any spankings.

Still, it wasn't fair!

Just because his mother couldn't take a hit, meant they had to live in a crowded lodge away from their father. He was surprised too, because he thought his mother was tough. Now he didn't know what to think.

He had to ask his Dad about it. Maybe his Dad could explain it now that Bludge knew what had happened. After all, his Dad hit his mom so Bludgeonstick knew his dad could understand about him hitting Briarprick. But that also meant he had to come up with a way to work around his lie about Harkin wanting to meet Tuffnut that evening. Bludge was confident he could.

After the evening meal that day, he set out before any adult could stop him and waited for his father near the tavern.

It was getting darker earlier, and there was a growing chill in the air. No one questioned why he was loitering outside an establishment he was obviously too young for.

Finally he saw his dad. His dad came out of the tavern and glanced around before seeing his son.

"What are you doing here?"

Bludge took a little gulp, mindful of how his father's gaze went from pleased to a downward bitterness. It seemed he already knew Harkin wasn't going to be there by his son's presence.

"I hadda question."

"And you couldn't wait to see me tomorrow?" Tuffnut glanced around once more before his gaze bore into Bludge, "Where's your mother?"

"She's not coming."

Tuff raised a brow, "You said she wanted to see me."

"She doesn't now. She changed her mind because you hit her."

The look on his father's face was of complete and absolute shock, a good few seconds where he was rendered speechless at his son's statement. Slowly, but surely it pulled back into a frown, "Who told you that?"

"Mom."

The frown turned to disbelief.

"I can't believe she did that," his father uttered after a moment, but more to himself than anything.

Bludgeonstick waited for his father to get done reacting so he could ask his question, but even after it seemed he should, Tuffnut still was struck.

"I hadda question, 'member?"

"What?" his father asked a little harshly.

"I hit Briarprick a lot…"

"Don't hit your sister, don't ever hit anyone" Tuffnut ordered with more force than Bludgeonstick was used too. He must have hit a nerve. But he wasn't done with his question, he was determined to understand.

"…but that didn't make her leave, so why can mom leave if she is hit? It's not fair. I don't know why because you hit her, made us have to leave you."

It took a minute for his words to sink in for Tuffnut. Once they did, his father grew very concerned in tone and expression.

"We have to get you home. It's late."

The sun had set behind the sea and the only lingering light was that of twilight. Bludgeonstick should have known his father wouldn't answer. That time he didn't even promise that Bludge would 'understand when he was older'.

Tuff picked Bludgeonstick up so he was riding his father's back all the way back to the Ingerman Lodge.

Tuffnut knocked on the entry door, alerting the inside of his presence and Ruffnut answered.

"What's up, bro?" She asked, throwing her elbow on the frame and leaning into it.

"Brought home a vagabond," Tuff let Bludge slide off and run inside.

"What a scamp, he dodged out on cleaning his dinner bowl. We wondered where he was hiding," Ruff agreed and when she turned her back, Bludgeonstick stuck his tongue out at her.

"Careful, if she sees you she'll cut it off," His uncle said in a whisper. He was sitting in his chair. Bludge didn't know if he was joking or not but didn't doubt it.

Frost and Briar were playing with their rag dolls and Splint was practicing his runes all in the main room. He didn't see his mother.

Bludge lingered around the front to see what his Dad would say.

"I have to talk to Harkin. It's important."

Tuffnut had not asked to talk to Harkin in a number of months—believing if he let her be, her anger would subside better—but never once had he stressed the importance of the action.

Good. Bludgeonstick smiled at himself because now maybe his father would talk some sense into his mother. He would later brag and hold it over his sister that it was his doing that brought their parents back together, and in a serious way – entirely unknown to him – it was.