Dawn is a whisper in the cold morning air as I tighten the leather fastenings on my cloak. Skullette adjusts her travel pack until it fits smoothly against her spine. The morning dew hangs just as heavy in the air as it does on the ground, and large fields of waist-high grass ripples sluggishly beneath the half-hearted breeze.
Halfway through the next day's travel, we finally reach the clearing where Skullette said they had posted camp. I pull the hood of my cloak up over my head as we approach the camp. In the dead center, there's an enormous fire pit that has several men - including my father, Gobber and Chief Boggs.
They turn their heads and Skullette is the first they notice. Their looks become questionable as their eyes lay on me. I can't help but smile. Astrid and the others are gathered too. Astrid's sitting on a wooden box, elbows to her knees. Her head braced between her fists.
"Skullette, who do you have here?" my father asks. His hand already going to the hilt of his sword.
"A friend." She says and when she smiles, everyone's face goes into bewilderment.
I step closer, then bring my hand forward, and pull my hood back. The button unlatches on its own and puddles at my feet. My father's face becomes a mixture of emotions.
"Hiccup . . . ?"
"Hi Dad." I say.
He comes over and lays a hand on my shoulder as if testing to see if I'm really there. Then he pulls me into a tight hug. The pain in my rib explodes, but I don't tell him to let go. I wrap my arms around his neck and bury into his beard.
Gobber's next and he gives me a more gentle hug, then suddenly I have the entire camp surrounding me. Padding me on the back, giving me endless hugs. I try to shrug off the pain until Astrid gives the most constricting bear–hug I've ever had. I wince, but I hold her close. The pain only means how much she missed me.
When she's done, the looks up to me and sees my face, "What's wrong?"
"Broken rib."
"What happened?" she asks while Skullette places her pack next to the fire.
"It's been broke since I had a fight with Alvin in the dungeon." I say, holding my middle. "I don't know how long it's been broken, but it still hurts a little." I say.
"Well then, let's get you to Goathy and-"
Dad's voice is cut off by the sound of a shrieking in the distance. Suddenly I'm pounded into the ground by Toothless. I don't even have to laugh as he's licking me nonstop. Switching between licking and nuzzling close to my face.
I don't tell him to get off, and no one pulls him off despite my broken rib. All I do is hold his head and hug him by his neck. The feeling of his cold, scaly skin feels comforting. Just like the time he had been gone for days during Snoggletog.
Finally he gets off once I'm practically drenched in his saliva, and I push myself up, wiping my wet face with my hand.
My father laughs, "Why don't you go, rinse off, then we'll bring you to Goathy."
"'Kay Dad." I say.
Then I'm escorted to the river a few yards away from the border of the camp. I'm given two guards to watch me, and while it's really uncomfortable, I don't argue since, as expected, they'll be more protective of me than ever.
I quickly rinse off, and after I'm dry, I'm lead to my tent and given a simple shirt and pants with my usual boot. My Dragon Conqueror suit was given to the seamstresses to sew and stitch, while I go to Goathy for the same treatment.
I was so caught up in seeing Skullette again the pain of the welts on my hands didn't even register. But now they've blistered a little since my escape from the Outcasts. Goathy traces her slender, bony fingers over the welts, then after applying simple burn medicine, she looks to treating my ribs.
With a smooth pull, I pull my shirt off and fold it in my lap. I can see my reflection on the cross axes posted on the side of the tent's supports. It's now ugly black and purple bruises spreading like decaying blossoms across my chest. Goathy writes in the dirt and Gobber translates.
She wants me to lift my arms above my head to see if I feel any pain. If I do, they'll need to work overnight to fix me. But I don't feel any pain. Which means the rib is close to being healed, but it been delayed since my chaotic escape. So all she does is apply a smooth layer of solvent to dull the pain, and then wraps my ribs in gauze.
I join the other men around the fire and I'm given an overdose of beets, yak milk, and some of the meat from the wild boar Skullette and I shot. I haven't eaten a full meal since I've been in the dungeon, so swallowing this meal is a little hard, and the rest I give to Toothless. He snuggles down at my foot and purrs nonstop.
"Better than when you were gone." Says Gobber. "He wouldn't stop howling until you got back."
I laugh and pat his head and he opens his eyes and lifts his head and licks my chin. "I missed you too, bud." He replies to me with a deep but high-toned guttural purr.
I chuckle and resume to eating my remaining food. I listen to the men converse while I eat. I'm not in much of a mood to talk, and they easily understand. As I'm finishing my glass of yak milk, I look to my right and see Astrid. She's so pale. Ghostly white. I look to her in confusion.
She gets up and walks over to me. This motion seems to catch everyone's attention, including my father, and the conversations go silent. I don't move as Astrid's fingers gently slide onto the skin on my neck. As if by magic, Astrid's concern goes to immediately feeling sick.
Suddenly, after a slight pinch of pain, I remember.
The insignia of the Outcasts is burned into my skin.
Astrid retreats her hand as I move my own to the spot on my neck. From the feel of it, the burn is now a welt of blistered red skin turning black at the edges. My father comes over and his face is full of hatred, rage and guilt.
"He's been branded." He whispers, but it looks like he shouted it across a valley from the looks of the men surrounding the fire. Gobber joins my father at his side and his eyes water.
My heart pounds in my ears as Toothless sniffs the burn and tries to lick it, but it only stings. I wince and clasp my hand over it. Everyone's looks make me feel so self-conscious. I'm marked for life by the man everything in me, and everyone else longs to destroy. Every time anyone looks at me, they'll know Alvin once had me at his mercy and proved to be stronger.
Dad calls Goathy over and she brings some antiseptic. I sit still as she dabs is across my wound. Slouching away dead skin and trying her best not her hurt me. I can see Astrid out of the corner of my eye, trying not to gag at the sight.
I can see Dad too. And the look on his face ices me to the core. He wants to torture Alvin before he dies. Hear him scream for mercy and know he has the power to deny him. The thought, I can tell, fills him with a heady sense of power, and his lips peel back from his teeth into a snarl as Goathy gently cuts away the blackened skin at the edge of the wound.
I stir restlessly as she spreads the salve over the burn and attach a fresh patch of gauze. "Thank you." I say in a raspy tone, and she nods her head and gives me a weak, pitiful smile.
Dad walks over and kneels down in front of me. His large hand goes to my face, his palm touching my cheek. My father, whom I've never seen cry, has tears in his eyes. His lip slightly quivers as his same hand moves to the hair that dangles over my forehead. He takes his fingers and sways them out of my face.
"My boy." He almost whimpers. And before the tears get the chance to spill over, I lean forward and hug him tight.
He wraps his arms around me, and I pat his back. I can just see the original plan in his head – the one where I shoot Alvin dead in the arena – just changing in his head.
He might not be able to torture Alvin. He might not be able to make him beg. But he'll make sure that Alvin's death is so horrific, so legendary, that for the rest of my life whenever anyone sees the mark on my neck, they won't see a man who was once broken before his enemy. They'll see the mark of a man, who helped destroy the most feared man in our world, and they'll tread with caution.
I can't allow it. I'm only hoping that Dad still has enough sense to remember that Alvin is mine. And my dream of vengeance and revenge is all riding on my killing him. But I let him hold the thought close as he releases me, stands up, and walks back to his tent.
Goathy writes me that I'm supposed to take it easy the next few days until m rib heals. I'm happy to oblige, and I toss my milk into the fire, then heading to my tent.
I snuggle down in my blankets and Toothless circles me and lies down so that our heads are close. I pet his snout and he purrs. He opens his eyes, and the green orbs stare down into my soul. I'm immensely grateful that he's the only one Alvin hasn't hurt. Both physically and emotionally. Or at least not as severe. Compared to what I've seen, to what Toothless has seen, and he's still the same old dragon that I befriended in the woods. All those days back.
Back to when I had a good life and didn't even know it. This life seems like it's a nightmare. And someday I'll wake up; and I'll find Mulch alive and well, Bucket mentally stable, dragons free and soaring in the skies. Just peace, on the island of Berk.
Holding this thought close, I close my eyes and drift to sleep as Toothless breathes steadily beside me, and the rain taps lightly against the cloth of the tent.
The next morning, after a quick breakfast of dried fruit, I saddle up Toothless and we go flying together. Wrapped in clouds, we take things steady and fly smoothly across the sky. We avoid doing any flips since I'm still recovering from my rib; but the pain feels less than before and compared to how I felt in the dungeon, I could do endless flips and spirals. But of course I promised Goathy I'd keep things slow.
I guess I can allow it. In retrospect, I deserve a breather.
Toothless and I make sure to stay close to the campsite n case of emergencies. And while I want to get that usual adrenaline rush I always get from flying, just cruising in the sky is enough. Seeing as how I'm taking a rest, this is my grace period.
We fly for almost half the day, heading back to camp once the lunch bell is sounded. We land and Toothless follows me all throughout the camp, never leaving my side and I don't ask him to. He's been away from me for so long, I want to spend a much time with him as possible. As we sit around the fire, Astrid, Skullette and the others join us.
Fighlegs sits on my left while Skullette's on my right. Then Astrid, then Snotlout and the twins sit across the pit. As Snotlout and the Tuffnut carry one a conversation, I look up and see Hookfang walk up behind Snotlout. Immediately the memory of the blue Monstrous Nightmare returns to my thoughts and refuses to subside.
My heart beats fast and I push myself off my seat on shaky legs. I place my plate on my seat and walk slowly over to Hookfang. Snotlout looks up at me and gives me a weird look, "What are you doing?" he asks. But I just keep walking over to Hookfang.
When he sees me getting close, he raises his head. "I'd be careful," Snotlout warns. "He's been in a bad mood all day."
His words barely register as I continue to see flashes of the other Nightmare, dying in a puddle of mud. I extend my arm and Hookfang lowers his head and places his snout on my hand. I can see Snotlout giving me a dirty look. I can't help but weakly smile knowing that he's jealous his dragon like me better than him.
But I quickly wipe the smile away as I rub Hookfang's snout. Tears sting my eyes, and I clench my jaw so tight my teeth grind together. Hookfang looks me in the eyes and as if he read my mind, his eyes narrow and he inches his head closer.
Then, I begin to sob.
I hug Hookfang's snout and begin to cry and sob so hard I fall to my knees. Hookfang follows so I don't lose my grip. He quietly purrs as wave after wave of sobs wrecks my body.
"I'm so sorry." I whisper to him. He continues to purr as if he's saying, "It's okay. It's okay."
To be honest, I don't even know why I'm crying. Could it be that I'm still mourning the loss of the dragon? Because I watched him die right I front of me like Hunter or Mulch? Or because he died trying to keep me alive. Just like everyone else in the army is doing, giving up their lives just to save mine.
I feel and hand on my shoulder and I know it's Skullette. She doesn't need to ask why I'm sad. Why I'm suddenly crying out of nowhere. She, as well as everyone else, knows that I've witnessed a dragon's death right before my eyes. I never thought the death of a dragon would hit me so hard.
It's almost as if it's as bad as watching a soldier die. I never thought it would mean so much to me. Maybe even more.
My grip on Hookfang's snout loosens and he lifts it out of my arms. He breathes on my face to get my attention; blowing my hair out of my eyes. I wipe my eyes and look up and he licks my cheek.
I rub his snout again and whisper, "I'm so sorry."
He purrs and nuzzles my cheek. With that I turn to Skullette, but don't get up. She kneels down next to me, her hand still on my shoulder. "I'm so sorry Hiccup."
"I have to go back." I say. I turn to face Skullette as worry and surprise come across her face. "I need to say goodbye to him. Properly."
She doesn't protest and even agrees to ride Hookfang while I ride with Toothless. Dad, Astrid, the twins, and Fishlegs all ride together to the site near the river where the Nightmare couldn't make it to the river with me. Snotlout rides with Astrid as we near the location. Up ahead, water glistens beneath the afternoon sun, a piercing beauty that hurts my eyes.
But once we reach the puddle of mud, it's like I've been away for months, years at the sight. I don't find life, but death is waiting for me near the edge of the trees. The Nightmare still lies in the puddle of mud, now dried and hardened like stone. Forever freezing the dragon in the last horrid frame of his life.
The bones of his face nearly picked clean by scavengers but the mark of the Outcast's knife still in his neck. The small puncture wound rests over his heart. The others gag and get queasy at the gruesome sight, but I don't tear my eyes away from this. I did this. I deserve to have the spirit of the dragon torment me in my dreams.
I did this.
Hookfang walks up the dragon and the two look completely opposite with the color of their skin. Hookfang's red-orange blaze against the other Nightmare's ocean and sky-blue.
Thankfully for me, its eyes are closed, giving me a little relief of having to look it in the eyes again. Only to see death, instead of its life fading with every passing second.
He was murdered efficiently, and the ramification chills me to the core.
Hookfang sniffs the dragons head and snout. I can see his claws stiffen. Then that's when he lifts his head, and screams. So full of pain and agony, it ices my blood. He keeps this up and soon Stormfly, Barf and Belch, Toothless and Tornado have all joined in. Creating a chorus of mourning riding all through the forest. Through the trees. Down the riverbank. Tainting the sky.
Dad comes to my side and places a hand on my shoulder. I flashback to Hunter's death, and how we floated him down the river. Dad had begun to sing to mourn the loss. This is the same only for dragons.
"Hiccup," Skullette says. Her voice is quiet, pained. Her fingers curl around mine and force them open, and I realize I've clenched my fists so tight, my nails have gouged four crescents of crimson into my palm. The blood mixes in my hands and I can't look away.
Words won't come. Maybe they don't exist. I strain to feel it. To let it cut me so I can cry again. So I can share the grief with the one person who will understand the depth of what I've lost.
I feel Skullette's thumb wiping away the blood, and I withdraw my hand. "Please don't." I say, and she looks to me in confusion. "I deserve to bleed. I earned this. I did this. I deserve to be marked." I say as I hold up my hands.
"No." she takes my hands in hers. "You don't."
It's useless to argue. I know what I've become inside. And if she can't see it now, it won't take long before she does. I can't escape this hell. No one will ever change this animal I have become.
"I know something that'll help." She says, and I look and see she has a gentle smile on her face.
"What?" I ask.
She takes my hand and leads me into the woods. A few steps in, and a large bank of wildflowers grows. Beautiful blossoms of blue, white, violet, yellow and pink. But all I see is the color crimson. The crimson blossoms that bloomed when Mulch was stabbed and forever taken from me.
Skullette just smiles softly and takes my hand. Everyone else follows and they see the flowers. We each gather a good armful and come back to the dragon. Gobber had tagged along and had packed a net. Skullette and I spend the next half hour wreathing the net with bright colors. Slowly, stem by stem.
Meanwhile, Astrid and Gobber and Dad decorate the border of the once mud-puddle with white flowers. Ruffnut weaves a few purple and blue ones into a crown of flowers. Covering the ugly wound.
Then once Skullette and I are done, Gobber and Dad go to the other side of the puddle, and we cast the net over the Nightmare's body. The flowers sway and once over the dragon, they all combine into a beautiful gathering, adorning every inch of the dragon so nothing of its terrible death can penetrate through.
Only the promise of a better life. I imagine the dragon sleeping in a meadow. Free of danger, blood, Outcasts. And with nothing to do but fly through the fresh air. Wild and free.
We all then gather near the edge of the puddle where the dragon's had rests. With another look, he looks at peace, and I can almost not even see the dragon that die in a fire. Almost.
After we have a moment of silence, we all hop aboard our dragons, Skullette riding with me this time, and we head back to the camp. I feel a little bit better. I feel like I have a little bit of closure with him, but it still doesn't mean my debt's been paid. I add him to the list of those I need to avenge to Alvin.
Skullette wraps her arms around my torso and rests her chin on my shoulders. I relax a little and take a deep breath.
She leans her head against mine and we fly back to the camp.
Once back, Dad gathers everyone around the fire to discuss the plan on invading the Outcast village. As we sit, I look at my hands and see the blood. I cover my hands with my cloak as the fire cracks.
I try to listen to my Dad over the cracking. Though it seems like it's drowning him out.
According to Dad, they're now ready to complete the final phase of taking Alvin out of power. The numerous barrels of Monstrous Nightmare saliva have all been smuggled into the village and now wait to be ignited. How?
We storm the city on our dragons, then once the entire army of soldiers is out in the open, an armada aerial attack of dragons will fly overhead and fire at the barrels. With the undercover Vikings still in the city, they'll send a signal to let us know where to fire. The idea is to set the entire city ablaze, enough to scare the citizens out and Alvin too, hopefully.
If we're provoked into attacking, we are to only fire at the soldiers and avoid any villagers unless they attack first. The barrels are going to be scattered all across the village, and one of our undercover men managed to get Alvin to buy enough of the barrel's so that with one shot from Toothless, will blow the entire thing to smithereens. I tell dad about the prisoners in Alvin's dungeon and I tell them about Rachel. They promise to rescue the prisoners before they set Alvin's place ablaze. We set for the village at dawn.
Once the meeting is adjourned, I'm escorted to the seamstresses' tent to fetch my Dragon Conqueror uniform. The thing looks brand new and I thank the ladies for their hard work. The thing's been through a lot. When I arrive back at my tent, I decide to go through some of the pockets and am shocked when I find an Oleander berry still perfectly preserved from when I was locked in Alvin's dungeon.
I roll it between my thumb and pointer finger, then I carefully place it back into the pocket concealing it, and continue to rummage through my uniform. My fingers clasp around something hard and pointy.
My heart rate speeds up as I pull it out.
The arrowhead I'd been given to by the Outcast who helped me back in Tower 3. It's still here. It managed to survive through everything. I completely forgot about it.
I clutch it with desperate fingers. Suddenly remembering that mutual feeling of trust I felt towards him. I hold it so close to my chest that I swear it could pierce my heart if it keeps beating so fast. This must be a sign of hope that all of my suffering and loss will pay off. All of the sacrifices set by those will not die in vain.
I keep the arrowhead close to my chest as I drift off to sleep.