A/N – First, I must say thank you to all my awesome reader. You guys rock. No doubt.

I've never done this before, but is there anyone one out there willing to do some cover art for this story? So far all my covers have been the icon I drew in the "paint" program. As you can see, I have very little artistic ability. If there are any volunteers, please PM me!

In other news, I finished my draft of a novel today. That means I'll have more time to write these stories. Whoo! But not tonight, because I'm exhausted. Too much writing makes Blue's brain mushy. Like it is right now.

X

Chapter 3: Fighting the Chill

Astrid woke to a chill and hugged her blanket around her. She'd slept in an extra pair of socks, but her toes still tingled. She hugged her blanket tighter as she got up and padded to the window. Berk lay underneath a layer of fresh, bright white snow. She wanted to keep the blanket, but knew she couldn't. She wasn't a child anymore. She threw it back onto her bed and pulled on an extra fur over her shoulders.

She tucked her feet into her boots and grabbed her trusted axe from its resting place beside her bedside table before heading downstairs. Gobber would never cancel training, no matter how much snow fell.

"Morning, dear," Ingrid said from her place by the fire. She lifted another log onto the flames and encouraged the embers with a well-used iron poker. She, too, wore more layers than normal. She used the table to stand, and hadn't been on her feet a moment before an awful cough shook her entire frame.

"Sit down, Ma, I'll make some tea." Astrid set her axe by the door. She scooped water into the kettle and set it over the warm fire.

"Thank you, Astrid." Ingrid sat in her favorite chair that had been scooted closer to the hearth. Dark circles under her eyes grew in the shadow from the fire. Her gaze shifted to the window. "Those skies promise more snow. Thor, I wanted to be rid of his cough before winter."

"There's still time." Astrid measured the herbs into a mug like she had watched her mother do so many times. She'd been drinking more tea of late.

"There's nary a leaf left out there," Ingrid said, a bit accusatory.

Astrid inhaled. She remember only a part of the old rhyme: winter begins when the leaves disappear. There was more, but her memory didn't hold onto such useless things.

"I can take it from here, Astrid. You don't want to be late to training. Gobber may not look fierce, but he's still a Viking when he's angry." Ingrid tried to laugh, but a cough wracked her chest.

Astrid reached for her axe and held it firm. She bit her lip as she walked through door and into snowy Berk. She met the others before the edge of the village; none of them were eager about the weather either, and they started to the arena together.

"Why is it so cold?" Snotlout shivered. The tip of his nose had gone a bright red.

"It's called winter," Fishlegs chimed with his chubby finger in the air. Snotlout glared and Fishlegs dropped his hand to his side. "Does it bother you Snotlout? I'm not cold."

"That's because you're a yak," Snotlout pointed.

Astrid ignored their banter. Her mother's cough had gotten worse and winter wouldn't be pleasant to her. She would need to stay indoors. Astrid accepted that it meant she would be doing more work around the house, but her mother's health was worth it.

She crossed her arms. If only her father would come home. Her mother missed him a little more every day. Why did he have to stay away so long? Was adventure really worth more to him than his wife and daughter? If something happened to Ingrid, he wouldn't know. Astrid bit her tongue and forced those thoughts out of her head. Nothing would happen to Ingrid. Colds and coughs went around like a shared bread basket. It was nothing to worry about.

The arena loomed out of the mountainside and Astrid gladly ducked inside. Gobber was already there and the straw-stuffed dummies had been arranged. He greeted them with his golly shout and the training began just as a light snow fluttered from above.

X

The woods looked so empty this time of year. Everything was dead and brown. He stood among the empty Blood Trees. Their once bright red leaves had rotted and faded, trampled upon by dragon feet into nothing. The empty trees reached in every direction with their small, twisted branches and snagged more than once on his cloak.

A chilled wind blew through the bare forest and he hugged the cloak around himself. He should return home. His mother would be upset if she knew he wandered this far to the village. He could just see the tips of snowy rooftops and smoking chimneys from where he stood, and he wanted so much to go farther, to walk right into the village and meet those he'd watched for so long.

He had seen her a few times, that girl from the trail. He watched her and the others her age leave and return to the village. They walked around the Blood Trees to that training arena where Vikings were trained to kill and fight. His mother said teaching children to fight was an absurd, ruthless, and brutal practice. He had watched them a few times, swinging swords and hammers at fake people and dragons. It certainly look absurd, but also entertaining.

She said that it had been their fighting that had taken Yellow, most likely. He hadn't told her that he witness the little yellow dragon being shot from the sky. He wouldn't admit to being that close to the village.

Why had they done so? If he asked her, would she tell him?

He had also watched them return to the village. He knew where she lived, too. He would never go see her. She wouldn't know him. Would she?

Something moved behind him and he spun, afraid that his mother had snuck up on him once again. The forest floor muffled careful footsteps. He lowered himself to the floor and waited, but no one spoke. Finally, a Deadly Nadder poked through the far trees. Relieved, he stood and raised a hand to greet the dragon.

X

Astrid and the other Vikings waded through snow thrice as deep as it had been that morning. She'd gotten used to the chill in the air and held her arms at her sides. Snotlout held himself most of the walk, shivering and complaining. Her stare lingered down the narrow path leading to Blood Tree Pass. She saw nothing out of the ordinary. They went the long way around, just like always, and rejoined the shivering village.

Looking forward to a warm cup of tea, maybe some soup that night, Astrid jogged the rest of the way to the house. Of course, she'd need to chop some firewood before dinner. She pushed the door open and stomped the powder from her boots on the threshold.

"I'm back," Astrid announced to the empty hearth. No soup bubbled over the simmering hearth fire. Astrid dropped her axe by the door. "Mom?"

The house's deafened silence tugged on her chest. Astrid ran to her mother's room and shoved the door out of the way. Ingrid was on the floor, crumpled with one hand above her head.

"Mom?" Astrid cried and collapsed on the floor beside her. She lifted her mother onto the bed. Ingrid responded with a mumble and her eyes flickered. Astrid placed a hand on her mother's cheek. "Mom, you're on fire."

"I just…I just need a nap," Ingrid said softly. "Astrid, would you make me some tea?"

"Yea," Astrid said immediately. "Of course. I'll be right back. Just stay in bed."

Ingrid's eyes closed and Astrid pulled the blanket over her. Her hands shook as she set the kettle on the fire.

X

Astrid sat in her mother's chair by the warm hearth. Stoick stepped out of the bedroom, followed shortly by Gothi's tiny slumped shoulders.

"Well?" Astrid jumped out of her chair.

Stoick inhaled, but didn't speak. Gothi shook her gray head.

"What does that mean?" Astrid demanded.

"Gothi has herbs for you to give her," Stoick said as Gothi reached into an old satchel. She took out two bottles and serval pouches. "Mix it in with tea, three times a day. Is that right?"

Gothi nodded.

Astrid took the herbs in her shaking hands and set them on the table. Stoick said something else, but she didn't hear him. His large hand fell onto her shoulder.

"Don't worry, Astrid. The village will take care of you." Stoick's words were meant as a comfort, but their grim meaning only worsened the unease in her stomach.

The day passed slowly. The Jorgensons brought dinner, but didn't linger too long. Gobber stopped by and excused Astrid from training until her mother felt better.

"Don't you worry Astrid, you're the best warrior of your age, and maybe even of the village. It'll take the others years before they come close to you." Gobber winked and patted her arm with his real hand. "Don't let that axe get rusty, though."

"I won't," Astrid said.

The sun faded and rose the next morning, and still Ingrid slept. Astrid made the tea as Gothi instructed and watched to make sure her mother drank it all. She kept the house going and the hearth burning. She tried to weave the wool together, like her mother had shone her, but it never looked as good.

The next few days passed in the same dismal manner. Dinner came with sorrowful guests, sad to hear that Ingrid had fallen ill, giving Astrid firm knowledge that she would be alright if somewhere were to happen. Astrid thanked them, but wished they would stop. Nothing would happen to her mother. She wouldn't need substitute parents.

The house no longer smelled of warm mutton or rich soup, instead incense hung heavy on the air and herbal tea had sunk into the wood. Ingrid came in and out of her feverish daze, and no day brought her closer to recovery. Astrid sat by her bedside, but doubted if Ingrid knew she was there. When her thoughts threatened to push on her tears, she would leave.

"It was no doubt your gallivanting down that pass that did this," Spitelout said one day after he had brought dinner that his wife had made.

Astrid swallowed hard. "I doubt that."

Spitelout shrugged. "It's forbidden for a reason, lass. I hope you learned your lesson."

"Thank you for dinner," Astrid said sharply and closed the door.

Her heart hammered. Could he be right? She set the bowl down on the table and walked to her mother's bedroom door. Her labored breathing broke Astrid's heart in two. Had she caused this? Instead of cursing her, that witch had cursed her mother? Could it had been that little dragon? She knew shooting it down had been a horrible idea. This could be some revenge scheme. But Ingrid hadn't shot it down. Why?

Tears stung Astrid's eyes and she turned away. Even if her mother slept, she refused to let anyone see her cry. Astrid crumpled on the floor by the hearth as tears ran down her cheeks. What if her mother died? What if it was her fault? There had to be something she could do. Without thinking much about it, Astrid raced toward the door. She burst out into the evening air and ran toward the pass.

The cold stung her lungs and froze old tears to her lids. Her chest ached and her lungs shivered with each breath as she bolted down through the bare, gnarled Blood Trees. Her feet stomped on the snowy, untouched ground. Finally, she collapsed onto her knees. Her breath slowly caught up with her.

The sky had faded from daylight into wintery twilight. A few steps ahead of her were several sets of fresh tracks in the snow. Astrid stood back up on shaken legs. This was where she had first seen the witch. She was sure. That green eyed witch had to be around here somewhere. Astrid drug her feet out of the snow and into the crunchy, winter-rotten underbrush. She looked in every direction, but saw no one.

Several things, large things, moved in the distance. Great shadows lumbered through the forest. The monsters paid no mind to Astrid, if that was indeed what they were. Astrid kept her eyes open, shutting them only to blink. She was determined to find that witch or die trying. She pressed on through the never-ending trees. At last, in the fleeting rays of twilight, she spotting a lean something moving about just out of view. It paused, then continued.

"Wait!" Astrid shouted. Her voice broke through the deafening silence with such force it surprised her. The figure paused. "Wait! Don't go!"

The figure did not wait, but ran. Astrid darted after it. She kept her eyes on the witch and slowly gained her ground, but the forest was an unfriendly place to strangers. The witch easy slid down a small ravine, but a bramble grabbed Astrid's foot and into the ravine she tumbled. The hard ground poked and prodded and something hard met her head, sending her vision into bright lights and darkness.

She stopped falling, but her head pounded. In her blurred vision, a garish mask loomed out of the darkness. Behind it, a great, yellow dragon eye blinked. Astrid knew she should run, scream, or anything but lie down. Her limbs refused to obey her and the world felt too far away for her to be a part of it.

"Please…," Astrid panted. Her voice drifted in the space between her and the witch, a vapor, a gasp. "I'm sorry…for whatever I did to upset you…"

The mask tilted.

"Please, lift the curse from my mother…take me…instead." Astrid tried to hold onto her reality, but it pulled from her grip and sent her spiraling into the darkness.

A strange dream plagued her sleep, of a cavern-house and a warm, bright fire, of a mask looming over her. A hand touched her cheek, first a rough palm and then the smoothed back of the hand. A soft voice spoke but the words were lost in the dream-space. She was warm, and safe, and nothing else mattered.

X

Astrid woke up with a start. She stared up into the night sky where stars waved back at her. She blinked, and the bare Blood Trees came into view. Their branches swayed in the breeze. Astrid pushed herself onto her feet and a horrible pain shot through her head that brought her to her knees. She pressed a hand to her head.

The forest around her was empty, except for one shadow that looked too full.

"Is that you?" Astrid asked, head in her hands. From her sideways view, the shadow came closer and turned into the cloaked figure. Two green eyes looked out from the hood and two very human hands poked out from the sleeves. "Who are you?"

Whether or not the witch would response, Astrid wouldn't know. The silent pass erupted into a loud cried.

"Astrid!" Gobber shouted. "Astrid! Stoick, she's here!"

Astrid took her eyes off the witch for just a moment to see Gobber, torch in hand, running as fast as he could toward her. Stoick appeared not far behind. Astrid quickly looked back toward the witch, but he was gone.

"Astrid!" Stoick roared. He passed Gobber and scooped Astrid up in his large arms. "She's freezing. We need to get her back to the village."

"Right." Gobber limped behind him.

He felt impossibly warm. It reminded her of her dream, of the surrounding warmth. Stoick brought Astrid back to her home, where Ingrid leaned over a warming kettle.

"Gods, what happened?" Ingrid asked softly, a hand over her chest. She stepped over as Stoick set Astrid back on her feet. Ingrid reached for her hands immediately and pulled her daughter into a hug.

"Mom?" Astrid hugged her mother in disbelief. "You're okay?"

"Yes," Ingrid said, putting a hand on Astrid's face, first the palm and then the back, just as the dream-hand had. "Are you?"

Astrid blinked. "Yes."

Ingrid sighed. Bags lingered under her eyes and her lips were chapped. "Thank the gods, child, I thought something terrible had happened to you."

"Why? I don't understand," Astrid began, but Stoick cut her off.

"You've been gone for three days, Astrid." His face told her he wasn't kidding.

Astrid gapped and shook her head. "No, I left just this evening, I-I…couldn't have been gone that long."

"You were," Ingrid said softly. "But we can talk about this in the morning. You need your rest."

"I agree." Stoick nodded. "We will talk about it in the morning."