XIII.
"This is so stupid," Snotlout determined.
The broad shouldered teenager leaned his back up against the rail of The Sparrowhawk, thick arms crossed over his body and scowl pulling down his lightly-haired upper lip. "Why are we riding on ships when we could just fly there on dragons? Wouldn't that be five times faster?"
"In ordinary circumstances, yes, it would, Snotlout," Astrid answered tersely. Even under pleasanter conditions, she found Snotlout's presence trying; now, she found him absolutely intolerable. She clutched the wood rail aboard the ship tightly to try to prevent herself from grabbing Snotlout's gray fur coat and hurling the short young man overboard. If dunking Snotlout into the sea would not have slowed the mission, she would have done so in a heartbeat.
"Chief Stoick explained right before we left exactly why we aren't on our dragons," Fishlegs reminded Snotlout. "Right after we meet up with this 'Drago', we're sailing straight toward the Vigilante's fortress. If Drago agrees to help, then we'll go together, but if not, we're still going after Hiccup right away. There isn't any time to lose, after all! That means we're likely to get spotted by the Vigilante as we approach her fortress, but it would be much more dangerous if we got spotted riding dragons. At least on boats we look exactly like any other Viking fleet – and hopefully non-threatening. On dragons, well, we don't know what she would do. She might try to take us like we did Hiccup, and even if not, we'd lose our element of surprise when –"
"We wouldn't have to do this if only a few dragons flew into her fortress thing and tried to sneak in to save Hiccup."
"The Vigilante's fortress is said to be impenetrable," Fishlegs answered promptly, but in a tense whisper. He continued rattling off words at a lightning pace. "I've been talking to some of those dragon trappers, and they said no one has ever made it out alive. Stoick will definitely try to fly in stealthily first, but it's expected that we're going to have to attack by force. Meaning we need a lot of ships from the get-go."
"Alright, alright, I get it," Snotlout protested, waving his hands to shush Fishlegs before the husky Viking man could recount the entire, extensive strategy Stoick had outlined before the ships left port. The young man had already blabbed more than a bit of what Snotlout already remembered hearing. "I just don't like it. Hookfang doesn't like being cooped up below deck."
"Meatlug doesn't either," Fishlegs said gloomily.
"At least your dragon won't light itself on fire when angry. Hookfang might get so stressed he'll burn us up."
"Then how about you go down and check up on him?" Astrid suggested, more as an attempt to make Snotlout leave than out of actual worry Hookfang might flare up. To her regret, Snotlout pretended not to hear her. Maybe she should not have voiced her suggestion so curtly.
"Seriously, how many times has Hiccup gotten himself kidnapped anyway?" he continued ranting. "Has anybody been counting?"
"I certainly haven't," Tuffnut piped up. He and his sister stood a little ways away, leaning up against the nearest mast. "I'm not even very good at counting."
His sister jibed, "I've never seen him get above nine." Tuffnut nodded proudly.
"Well, I don't need to count to know that I am really sick of saving his skinny a –"
"Snotlout!" Astrid snapped, hands almost crushing the wood railing of the ship. "His life is in danger. Have a little sensitivity."
The conversation closed, and everyone shuffled on deck uncomfortably. The young adults contented themselves with staring out into the sea, glancing idly up into the increasingly cloudy skies, and frowning at their fingernails. Beneath them, they could hear the creak of The Sparrowhawk bobbing up and down serenely on the waters, as well as the occasional discomfited shuffle of dragons rearranging themselves below deck. Astrid herself considered stepping down to check on Stormfly, still recuperating from the Vigilante's earlier attack, but with the promise of being able to fly again soon; but then they all noticed a black smudge on the horizon. Initially only a few blackened masts were distinguishable, but as Stoick's small fleet of ships sailed forward, another collection of seaborne vessels materialized.
To Astrid's surprise, these ships bore very little resemblance to Eret's dragon trapping boat. These ships were far larger and sturdier, much squarer in shape, and seemed more equipped for offensive war than simple, desperate defense. However, she could see Eret's shape aboard The Peregrine Falcon, pointing Stoick toward the ships. They were indeed heading in the right direction.
Something about Eret's story of his people desperately killing off dragons to save themselves tickled Astrid wrong. She hoped that the wariness entering the back in her mind would be appeased once they made contact with this Drago Bludvist.