I'm huddled on the floor, pressed against the cold, stone wall of the Dragon Academy. Toothless is sitting near me, watching me, crying.
After Astrid had found me walking toward the campsite, just one look at me and everyone knew something was wrong. I was rushed back to Berk with half of my team and the other young dragon riders. I don't know how I survived the boat ride, but the minute we landed, I vaulted over the edge of the boat.
Someone called me, but it didn't register. I ran off the docks and sprinted through the village until I was behind the blacksmith's shop, curled up on my hands and knees. It doesn't change a thing. My pointless escape has done nothing to subdue the wailing of the boy inside me. Even worse, Mulch is back on the horrid place.
The memory squeezes my stomach with such force. And my throat tightens until I'm desperately gasping for breath, as if I'm being strangled. I want to go back. Go back and find him. But it won't matter. They tossed him to the forest floor. Where that could've been? Anywhere. He should have a proper burial, but he isn't going to get it.
The words taste like ashes. I'll never lay Mulch to rest. Never say the words he deserved to hear. Never bring flowers to a sacred patch of ground set aside for Mulch alone.
I wanted to let it out, but screaming would indicate my whereabouts, and I just wanted to alone for the time being. I had to ball up the front of my new tunic, and stuff it in my mouth. But nothing happened I didn't scream. And when I remember it's new, the reason why it's new comes back, and I began to gag. I coughed it out and just resulted to rocking like I did before.
Gobber found me later found me later. And they'll find me soon again. I snuck out of the house early this morning, and it's early afternoon.
Sure enough, the heavy gate of the Dragon Academy opens, and dad, Gobber, Skullette, Chief Boggs, Astrid and the others show up. No one can process this. They've never seen me like this.
Toothless looks up and stands up so Skullette can take his place.
She crouches on the floor beside me. She looks into my eyes, and I can just see my reflection in them. Nothing but glassy shock in my eyes.
I can just see her heart sink. "Hiccup? Hiccup. What's wrong?"
I'm rocking back and forth as if I need this simple rhythm to keep myself anchored. What's wrong? Don't they know what's wrong? Wait, no they don't. For all they know, Mulch was dragged away and captured by the Outcasts. But the fact that only one person was captured out of how many they could've taken should've raised a red flag. For all they know, he's just being tortured for information.
If only he was that lucky.
"Can you tell me?" Skullette asks. I can see her mind racing.
My lips tremble, and I clamp both hands across my mouth.
"Hiccup?" she asks, but I'm not listening.
"Skullette, maybe you could tell us what happened." Dad says.
Skullette doesn't leave my side as she explains her side of the story. "Alvin and his Outcasts ambushed us. They took Hiccup."
Panic erases all rational thinking from everyone's heads.
"Where'd they take him?" Dad asks, trying to keep his voice calm for my sake, though I hear the edge beneath it.
"I don't know. They knocked me out before I could stop them."
My eyes flick to Astrid, and I can see her fists clenched tight, and she results to biting her lip to prevent herself from saying every foul word she knows to Skullette. I know she's furious Skullette didn't fight hard enough. But who can win in an ambush attack when it's seven on one?
The only thing keeping her from screaming and yelling is the sight of me, huddled in a fetal position, in some state of shock.
"How long was he gone?" Chief Boggs asks.
"Over an hour." Skullette concludes.
"And then when he returned, he was like this." Astrid adds.
Fierce anger surges through my father. He can't speak or he might release it on those who don't deserve it. Instead, he turns back to me. Even a chief knows when he's in over his head. He can't fix this. Can't understand where to begin making it right if he doesn't have all the information. And I can't bear to tell him.
"It's going to be okay," Skullette whispers so no one else can hear her. "You can talk about it with Mulch soon. He can help."
He's dead! The boy screams.
I rock faster, banging my head against the wall behind me. Everyone stares at me in excessive horror. Dad lunges for me, wraps his arms around me, and pulls me against him. Skullette leaps up as he came forward, and backed up, feeling the upmost guilt since she made things worse.
Dad whispers promises he doesn't know how to keep in my ear. And yet the attempted comforting gesture alone gives me a little peace. I quiet into an unnatural stillness that I'm sure scares him more than the rocking did.
"He hasn't spoken since he returned?" Fishlegs asks, and Astrid and the others shake their heads in unison.
Even Snotlout looks to me in horror and pain. The look on his face; wishing he could somehow make it better. Never knew he cared.
Dad meets my tear-filled eyes and makes another promise he won't know how to keep. "We'll get him to speak soon. He just needs to go home now."
Tightening his arm around me, he guides me from the Academy and into the weak afternoon sunlight shining through the clouds. I know Dad's eager to get back to Outcast Island so he can have someone to attack. The rage I can sense within him begs for a target. The fact that the real target is the most fear enemy of Berk makes no difference.
But I have to tell dad that Alvin is still mine. He has to be in order for me to give Mulch and Hunter the justice they deserve. So that I can have my arrow slice through his heart and have his body fall still and bloody at my feet.
Gosh, even my thoughts have changed. They don't even sound mentally stable. Maybe I'm not even mentally stable anymore. So much for my plan to show dad that I'm unchanged.
"We'll be taking you home, son." He says to me, though he doesn't get a response. Not that he's expecting one. "Will it be too difficult to walk?"
I don't respond to that either. They're about to pick me up, the feeling of being lifted brings back the memory of Mulch. And the wagon. And the sword. And the cloth-covered lump.
And the crimson.
I push myself to my feet, and they watch my gait carefully. But if I had been violated, I would've had trouble walking.
I walk with wooden steps, my eyes on the ground. Despite the evidence that physically I can handle the journey, they can't bear to put me through it. Gobber leaves, but then comes back with a wheelbarrow. It's Bucket's. I guess they thought the experience would be fun. But it only reminds of what unsaid news still lingers inside me.
I stand still, looking at their feet, and Gobber whistles to get my attention. I jerk away from Dad at the sound, and tremble.
His heart hurts as he gathers me to him again. "It's okay, Hiccup."
I lean into him, close my eyes, and breathe deeply. He presses his chin to the crown of my head, and watch as Gobber readies the wheelbarrow.
Wait, I'm still going?!
Dad tries to tug me toward the wheelbarrow, but anything wooden and on wheels only brings back the memory. So I dig my heels in and pull against his arm.
"You don't need to walk, son. You can take a ride home. It'll be easier on you this way."
I tug harder, eyes widening.
"It's okay, Hiccup. You know you can't fly. And you usually love a wheelbarrow ride." He says. And something inside me breaks loose.
I twist free of his arm and take off.
They race after me as I cut through the Town's Square and fly into the Plaza. They're fools. No duh Alvin picked me up in a wagon. He wasn't going to hurt me in the woods where they would soon discover me.
I turn a corner and slide into an alley. The only one who follows me in time is Toothless. And he follows just in time to see me stumble and fall toward the dirt. Lunging forward, he catches me, twisting his body so that he lands on the road beneath me. My breath crapes his ears in harsh pants, and I'm shaking from head to toe.
He wraps his wings around his body, cocooning us both, just like he did when I had fallen into the burning flames of the Green Death. His breaths soft and warm on my moist forehead. I feel a sense of brief protection and comfort. His pitch back wings encasing me from the world, his front legs gathering me in his chest. As if he knows how breakable I am.
Soon the sound of dad's heavy footsteps reaches the corner, and Toothless' wings break away along with my protection. Now I have to settle for Dad's as he gathers me to his chest and say, "I'm sorry, son. I'm so sorry." His voice breaks, and he has to swallow hard to get the next few words out. "I didn't know he had you in a wagon. I was trying to spare you the long walk home. I'm sorry."
Everyone else gathers, except for Gobber who probably took the wheelbarrow back to the animal farm, and Fighlegs and Snotlout since they know they won't be useful now. I feel unbelievably fragile in his arms. And now he doesn't know how to get us home without hurting me further, and his options are limited.
The sounds of a large group of men, swords most likely drawn, block the mouth of the alley. The middle one smiles wide enough to show gaps where his teeth should be and, and says, "Give us your money and no one gets hurt."
For one brief, blazing second, I feel Dad tense. His senses honing the rage blistering through him into something he can use to obliterate the sorry excuses for human beings who dare threaten us now. It wouldn't be hard. They sound like drunkards. Probably shaking already from withdrawal. Desperate to have just enough money for their next drink.
As comforting as I'm sure the idea is, I guess the confrontation isn't worth it. Or he could if he didn't have to worry about getting me home.
Gobber tosses a small handful of coin away from me and Dad and we walk out of the alley as they scramble across the filthy dirt and mud to snatch it. Looking back, I see the men and freeze. They were former Outcast soldiers. This is what they've been doing with their lives since we gave them freedom?!
Gobber's about to coach me on his exit strategy when I suck in a raspy breath, and my expression goes from blank to feral in a heartbeat. I push against Dad's chest and twirl to face the men. Dad turns, reaching out a cautionary hand to me.
"Hiccup, they just want money. I'll take care of it."
I don't listen. Shoving his hand away from me, I curl my lip into a fierce snarl. Before anyone can stop me, I whip my knife out of my belt, raise it above my head and rush toward the men.
"Hiccup, no!" I hear Dad grab for his sword as the men brace themselves for my attack. I know he's racing for me, but he's too late.
Aiming for the man in the middle, I duck beneath his raised sword arm and launch myself into him. We both slam into the dirt street, not having time to see whose hurt worse. The other four men are attacking Dad and the others.
They block, parry, thrust and slice, but I know they can barely focus. I am screaming, harsh bursts of sound that flay the air. Dad slams the butt of his sword into the man closest to him, whirl to block a blow from the other.
I rise from the inert body of the first man, my eyes desperate and wild, and I race over and jump on the back of the man Gobber just hit. I press the tip of my knife into the soft tissue beneath his throat, and he raises his arm and drops his sword in surrender.
The man Skullette's fighting glances at us, and Skullette takes advantage of his distraction to lower her shoulder and body-slam him into the mold wooden wall beside us. The man punches my knife hand away from his throat. The tip gouges his skin as it goes and a steam of blood arcs through the air.
I watch it and come undone.
The man throws me to the ground, but I kick his legs out from beneath him, and scrabble across him that terrible scream still ripping its way out of my throat as I punch, kick, and try to stab him with my knife.
Astrid yells my name until her voice goes hoarse, but I can't hear any of them, and the two of us are too tangled up for anyone to intervene without injuring me. All they can do it wait for the first available opportunity, and watch in horror.
I take the man's blow like they're nothing. Digging my nails into his skin as if it's a wall I have to climb, I claw my way up his body. I slam my knife hilt into his forehead, rendering him nearly senseless, and flip my weapon around and drive the blade toward his neck. An unknown power of dominance germinating inside me. Having a sense of power over this man.
Skullette knocks me off him from the side before my blade finds skin, and I sprawl on the dirt, my knife skittering across the alley. Traitor! But the impact of the hard packed ground has left me weak and shaking. Feeling helpless, panic sets in.
I need to get my knife.
I push myself up to my hands and knees and crawl toward it.
Leaping ahead of me, Skullette reaches it first. Grasping it she turns and approaches me carefully. My eyes are that of a panicked animal cornered and fighting for my life. My voice is nearly gone from screaming. I reach for my knife, but Skullette holds it away from me.
"Hiccup," she breathes my name in a voice full of pain.
I look at her, my eyes still glassy from shock, and reach for my knife again.
"They just wanted money," she says in that soft recognizable voice that could always snap me back to my senses. "Just money. You don't need your knife."
Something's wrong. My nerves grow rather than calm down at the sound of her voice. The need for my knife grows. And I can't stop my thoughts from swirling. The thoughts that scream she's wrong. The thoughts that say I do need my knife, and that I'm never safe unless it's in my hands, drenched in someone's blood.
I shake my head and whimper. Skullette slowly extends her hand that doesn't hold my knife.
"I'm sorry." She says.
I don't respond.
It's a hollow offering in the face of what I've been through, and I don't intend for it to be the best she can do. But for now, all she cares about is getting me home.
"I don't know what he did to you, but killing someone else isn't going to make it better. We're going to help you up. That's all we're doing. Can we touch you?"
I look down at myself and start shaking again as the memory of Mulch's blood staining my hands returns. Skullette and Astrid pull me to my feet, though I'm not sure I can stand on my own now. I'm trembling uncontrollably, and I can tell everyone wants to rip Alvin into tiny little pieces and light each of them on fire.
Skullette tucks my knife in her belt and Dad scoops me up in his arms.
"We're taking you home, son." Dad says, though they no longer hope for a reply from me. "We'll figure out what to do from there."
Good.
And they will. They have to.