The water snatches me with icy arms as I plunge beneath its surface. The sound of the fire becomes muted, a distant roaring that can't compete with the swift rush of the river's current. I lose my grip on my bow as I'm flung downstream. I can't stop spinning. Can't break free of the current. Can't get to the surface.
My lungs burn, and my brain screams at me to take a breath, but I've spun so many times in the dark embrace of the river, I no longer know which way is up. I kick out, lash with my arms, and fight against the water.
It's useless.
My ears roar, and a strange hum grows louder within my brain as my chest convulses and I cough, sucking in a mouthful of water in exchange.
The water burns my lungs, and I cough again.
More water. More coughing. More pain.
And then it's gone. The pain recedes. My chest relaxes. My lungs stop demanding air. I'm at peace.
I let the current spin me as the world darkens into nothing. But something wraps around me, hauls me through the water, and I break the surface.
I cough feebly, but my lungs are used to water now. They don't' know what to do with air. And I don't care. I want to close my eyes and let the water take me. Let the tiny sliver of peace I felt swallow me whole.
But I can't. Because whatever is holding me won't let me slide under the surface again. By the time we reach the shore, my lungs are burning for air, and the peace I felt is gone. I'm tossed onto the shore, flipped over on my back, and a shadow looms over me. It puts its hands together, one over the other, and slams them into my chest.
Water gushes up my throat, burning and suffocating, and fills my mouth and nose. The shadow reaches forward and turns my head to the side as I spew the water onto the sand. Twice more, it hits my chest and I have to spit out mouthfuls of water.
When it raises its hands a fourth time, my lungs contract, and I start coughing on my own. It lowers its hands, turns me to my side so any water I cough up can dribble into the ground, and collapses next to me. Its breathing harsh.
I don't know how much time passes before I stop coughing and the world settles into focus.
"Are you okay?" it asks me. "Are you gonna live?"
My throat burns as I answer. "I'm fine."
It takes me a moment to realize it was the voice of a girl. Could it be the dandelion girl who saved me from death? A soft breeze kicks up as if on cue. The girl's hair sways and instead of dandelion, I catch the scent of lavender.
Lavender. Lavender!
I jerk my head up and see Skullette.
Skullette!
She's here. I haven't lost everything. Except probably my sanity.
I eye her up and down. She's dripping wet. Her hair emanates drips of the river at the ends, her clothes sticking to her beautiful body. Hugging her curves. No doubt she's the one who saved me. Her hair drapes around her exquisite face, deeply contrasting with her pale skin. But another closer look, and she's a little darker than the last time I remember. Which might've been weeks ago.
She's repositions herself, tucking her feet under her thighs. Her emerald eyes glisten like the river surface. They're wide with many emotions. But the most is longing. Her chest rises and falls in puffs of breath. My eyes unknowingly drift down the neckline of her blue outfit. The water sticks to her skin, her chest. Her breasts, and I blush. I didn't realize until just this minute they were so . . . substantial.
I force my eyes to scrape over her trim waist, but in seconds I'm staring once again at the glittering water along her neckline.
I don't want to admit my attraction to her is strong enough to rise above my grief and my sense of responsibility, but they're breasts. And with her outfit soaking wet, they're so highly . . . detailed. I force myself to look away as my cheeks grow warm.
She giggles. That beautiful thing that just emanates daylight and hope. I turn to face her and her eyes are watery. Not from the river water. Tears of her own creation. She leans in and our lips meet. The softness. The sweet scent of her skin. Her long eyelashes fluttering, tickling against my cheek. How I've longed to kiss her since the day of the ceremony.
To feel that burst of energy that drives me to get through anything. The kiss that gives me that fierce determination in times of despair. It feels so good. So incredibly good. And it's obvious she missed me too. When we pull away, I notice she has faded dark circles under her eyes. No doubt created from endless nights of no sleep.
My hand goes to her face. Her cheeks. Her smooth skin, glowing in the sunlight. Tears spill over on her cheeks. She holds my hand gently in both of hers and buries her head in my palm. Then she moves closer and we embrace each other in a hug. Strangely, this means more to me than a kiss. To feel her warmth against my own reminds me I'm still alive. I still have something worth fighting for.
When we let go, I sit up, digging my fingers into the wet sand beneath me as my head spins slowly, and look around us. Skullette stands as well, and though her knees wobble and her legs shake, she has no trouble remaining upright.
Nothing is familiar. I've traveled so far down the river. I've lost any place markers to show me where I am. The distant horizon is free of smoke, a clear indication I've traveled for miles in the swift embrace of the water.
"Where are we?" I ask, and wish for the hot, syrupy drink Mulch would give me for a sore throat.
The memory of Mulch stabs into me, and I force myself to breathe through it.
"Just outside the northern border of the wall surrounding the village." She tells me.
But if Skullette's here, then . . . my father. I look to her and she knows, "Are they here?" I ask.
She nods, "We've set up camp a good two hours walk back." she confirms.
I smile so broadly it feels like a grimace. I follow her back to the campsite. I unfasten my cloak, my fingers fumbling with the soggy leather bindings and take it off. The damp garment is dead weight against my shoulders, and I need the sun to dry my uniform and boot as we walk.
Along the way, we would alternate between talking and asking the other person questions on what's been happening with everyone lately.
Skullette's first.
She tells me about everyone's condition when they arrived back on Berk. Like I had imagined, everyone at the Dragon Academy were lost in their depression on losing me. Astrid especially. She spent most of her time alternating between axe chucking at trees and crying in the woods.
My father had gathered everyone in a meeting at the Great Hall almost immediately after they reached shore. He and Chief Boggs have been gathering plans to break me out. But thankfully with Skullette's reassurance, they remained as calm as they could get. Knowing I'd be able to break out sooner than they could plan.
But she tells me how the village felt practically empty without me. She told me how it felt weird to not hear the banging of my hammer on the anvil in the blacksmith's shop. To walk up to the arena and see nothing but weeping and sad dragons. Toothless took a hard fall to.
I can easily imagine. My last words to him were to go away and leave me at the hands of the Outcasts. Something I know he'll never forget. Now he'll be even more protective of me the minute we're reunited. After he's done licking off my skin from excitement.
She tells me about how they were each other's company during the long weeks that I've been gone. A glance at the sky tells me we still have four hours until sunset. As we're walking, I see Skullette has a large pack on her back. It's really big, almost reaching down to her knees.
Wait. A pack.
My bow!
Skullette looks to me and sees my face. Without a word, she takes off the pack, sets it on the ground, and pulls out my bow and sheath of arrows. Relief floods through my soaked body, warming me to the core. Enough to tolerate the shivering that soon comes after a breeze blows through the trees.
She digs deeper until she fishes out the knives, sheaths and awl I stole from Alvin. She picks up one knife in particular, a dainty thing with a four inch blade. Once side jagged, the other a smoother surface for carving.
"You can have it." I say. She turns her head to me and smiles, then gives me a hug as a thank you. As she slides her skirt up her leg to strap her knife sheath to her thigh, I turn around and begin rummaging aimlessly through my sheath of arrows.
I lug the sheath over my back and sling the bow over my shoulder. Skullette reaches a hand out for my cloak and carries it on her arm.
I frown, "You don't have to do that."
"It's heavy. I'll carry it for you until you're feeling a bit stronger." She says.
"It's fine. I can handle it." I assure, but she gives me a look that says she doesn't believe me.
"You're in no shape to carry it." She says.
I'm about to protest, until the pain of my rib comes back with a hard slam in my sternum. I hug my middle and nearly double over, but I stop myself before I drop to my knees. I inhale a sharp breath and stand straight.
"Maybe I should help you." Skullette gently suggests, but I shrug her off.
"I'm fine." I say.
"Do you need anything?" she asks, and it sounds like she really wants to know.
Mulch, alive and unharmed. Toothless, by my side. Dad, waiting for me with reassurance and a plan, able to help me figure out what to do next. Alvin, dead at my feet.
"Hiccup? What do you need?"
Looking her in the eye, I say, "Revenge. I need revenge."
Her eyes darken and she slides away from me as she hefts the pack over her shoulder. "Look Hiccup, I know you've been through a lot, but try not to harshly judge those of us with more than that left to live for," she says, and starts up the bank.
Does she think I have so little left to live for? I have Toothless. I have Dad. And I have a score to settle. None of these can be taken lightly. I clench my teeth around the words that want to burst free and scorch the air around me. But arguing with her will only make things worse. Especially after my previous traumatizing moment still fresh in her mind.
Instead, I run up to match her pace. I take her bicep and turn her to me. She holds my gaze, and I give her a sweet kiss on the lips. She tilts her head like she does, and I feel her nose brush against mine. We part, our foreheads still touching. We open our eyes and I intertwine our fingers as we hold hands.
Our trip was soon delayed a day as the sun had set, leaving us with no clear light to see the path Skullette had marked while on her way to the river. She had originally gone out hunting, until she, thankfully, stopped by the river to drink. That's when she found me.
If it weren't for her, I would've been swept up by the river, forever lost without my family, friends, and vengeance. I practically owe her my life.
We stop for the night in the shelter of a metallic box of a building with only two sides still standing against the ravages of time and weather. The twisted metal of other buildings that once housed a vibrant civilization are now blackened husks coated in ash and wrapped with kudzu. Walking among them makes me nervous.
I turn my back to the ruins of the city and refuse to consider the idea that I may have just glimpsed my future.
Skullette and I haven't talked much since our words on the riverbank, and that's fine with both of us. We have nothing left to say. And I just want this leg of the journey to be over with. I want to be back with Dad, and Gobber.
Thankfully Skullette has flint and fuel in her pack, so we don't have to worry about keeping ourselves warm or keeping wild animals at bay. I work with Skullette to gather firewood and stack it in the center of the makeshift shelter. She also has a flask of freshwater, and she offers it to me.
I lay her pack against one of the still-standing walls of out shelter and grab my bow and arrows.
"Where are you going?" she asks as I stride out of the shelter.
"To catch dinner."
"I'll come with you."
I toss a glance over my shoulder. After careful thinking, I accept her offer. It's been a long time since I last want hunting with Skullette. It became one of the things I took pleasure and joy from. Spending endless hours with her, alone in the shelter of the woods. Back when there wasn't anything that kept us apart. Besides my job at the Academy. I'd rather spend time hunting with her than be alone with just my thoughts of the horror I've endured.
Perhaps with her presence with me, I'll find comfort. Besides, together, we can both take down more game than a group of Viking hunters. The teamwork we share is something more than just simple coordination, it's something deeper, and I know it somehow connects back to our relationship.
Our shelter is settled against a soft swell of land covered in tall grass already gone to seed. Beyond the hill, the broken remains of an old road wind through the grass and disappear for yards at a time. On the other side of the road, a copse of trees stretches as far as I can see.
Even with the sun gone, we're gifted with a beautiful full moon to provide light in the darkness. Even without it, Skullette and I can easily take down prey in, almost, complete darkness and still take it down with one arrow.
We enter the trees, walk twenty yards into the middle of them, their skinny trunks and thin, graceful branches reaching for the heavens as if hoping to scrape against the stars, and find what I'm looking for.
A bush hugs the base of a tree, its branches curving like a bell, its leaves brushing the ground. Beneath it, a small, hollow space rests, and we crawl inside. I string an arrow, Skullette pulls her knife from its sheath strapped to her thigh; palming the hilt. And we wait.
The stars have been sprinkled along the black velvet sky when I finally catch a glimpse of movement. I tense, hardly daring to breathe. Our patience is rewarded as a creature about the size of a small sheep wanders close, nose to the ground, snuffing. I draw in a slow deep breath, rehearse each step in my mind, and then whip the bow up, close one eye to sight down the center, and release the arrow.
It flies true, striking the side of the animal, and Skullette leaps from the cover as out quarry jerks around and starts to run with faltering steps. Crossing the distance between us in seconds, Skullette yanks her knife up, leaps on the animal's back, and swings her arm beneath its neck to slice open its throat.
It dies instantly, and she wipes her knife clean on the ground beside it. Retrieving my arrow, I clean it as well and pack my weapon away. Flipping the animal over, I see we've caught a boar. A young one by the size of its tusks.
I can't easily lift it, plus I refuse to get its blood all over me. The thought makes bile surge up in my throat, and I cough, gag, and spit on the forest floor. Skullette solves the problem by sawing off a branch big enough for both of us to carry on out shoulder, and ties its legs to each end.
This solves the worry of dragging it across the grass and broken pieces of road to our shelter where the trails of blood could possibly lead a wild animal straight to us while we sleep.
Once back at the shelter, I lay out my cloak, which has by now dried, while Skullette pulls her knife from its sheath and carves into the boar; separating muscle from bone with swift hacking motions. She tosses choice pieces of meat onto the flames to sizzle and snap. I then skewer three large pieces of meat on a stick and hand it to her.
She denies it and insists I have it. I'm grateful and sink my teeth into the meat. My mouth floods with saliva and the juice is so greasy that when I yank it away, some grease drips down my chin.
Skullette laughs, then takes her thumb, running it up the trail of grease, wiping it from the corner of my mouth, then bringing it to her lips, and sucking the grease away. I smile as I lick my lips to lick away the rest of the grease.
As we finish what we can stomach, we wrap the rest in palm leaves and stow them away in Skullette's pack. We leave the fire, knowing it'll go out on its own. Skullette joins me, sprawling across my cloak, snuggling close to me as the sound of night animals echo through the woods.
With her back to my front, I drape my hand over her hip, and she brings her hand to mine, intertwining out fingers. My nose rests on the crown of her head, and I inhale her lavender scent. I missed her. More than I thought I would.
The slap of embarrassment I since felt every time I thought of her is gone. In its place, I see Skullette sacrificing sleep so she can plan on finding me when I was captured. Offering to teach me to hunt and helping me hold on to the good memories I have of my old life. Readying her arrow against Alvin, despite overwhelming odds, to protect me. Skullette is the lodestone I cling to when grief of Mulch and fear for my people and Dad threaten to rob me of what little hope I have left.
Something in me has awakened and responds only to Skullette. I lie sleepless long after she's already drifted. I press my fingers to my lips as I remember her leaning in, her breath fanning my face, her eyes locked to my mouth. A delicious ache pulses through me. I feel like a stranger waking up in my own skin – aware of every inch. Heat runs through my veins, both exhilarating and terrifying.
Exhilarating because every part of me tingles with life. But terrifying because beneath the longing lies an inescapable truth: If she's the lodestone, it's because somehow in the last few months I've to rely on her. Lean on her. Need her. My heart pounds a little faster as the realization sinks in.
I need Skullette.
Not because I need saving. Not because she can plan her way out of sticky situations. But because on some basic, soul-deep level within me, she is the solid ground beneath my feet. The one who will moves mountains to keep her promises. The one who looks at me, and sees.
I can't imagine my life without her.
Everywhere I look, she's there. A constant thread binding my past, my present, and the future I want so badly to have with her.
With her.
My eyes fly open.
I'm in love with Skullette.
Not the way I thought I was. That love was uncomplicated and innocent, designed for a simple life. The love consuming me now is fierce and absolute – forged in a crucible of loss and united by our shared strength.
I love Skullette. A laugh bubbles up, even as tears sting my eyes. I reach over and brush a few strands of her hair out of her face. Her smooth skin looking unworldly in the moonlight. I lean over and kiss the crook of her neck, then the spot where her jaw meets her neck, her cheek, her brow bone, her temple, then even behind her ear.
She stirs and a soft moan passes her perfect lips. She looks like a goddess. Her long black hair fanned out around her head. Her body positioned so her curves help form a perfect "S". God damn she's so beautiful. She's everything. Everything that's beautiful. I can't find the words to explain.
I interlock our fingers again and settle down closer. The fire now a soft glow in the darkness. The promises she's made to me, are not represented by some material object; like a necklace or bracelet. But she, herself. She is the symbol of her promises to me. I hold the tender, vibrant thought of her close as the stars chase away one another across the sky.