AUTHOR'S NOTE:

• Since my criteria of at least three people saying they wanted me to post the continuation of "Lost Time", here it is. This one is not as dark as its predecessor, but it does get a bit graphic in description at one particular point. Just a fair warning.

• This focuses a bit more on Sora's point of view on everything rather than adding a back story and details. It still does help to set things up and paint a clearer picture as to what is going on and how things are being handled. It's on a slightly lighter tone than the previous chapter, but that's mostly due to the fact that Sora is far less pessimistic than Astrid is.

• I do not own How To Train Your Dragon or Kingdom Hearts. HTTYD belongs to Dreamworks and Cressida Cowell. Kingdom Hearts belongs to Square Enix, Tetsuya Nomura, and Disney.

Three years . . .

Three years and he still wasn't used to the cold.

Three years and his initial fondness for the Meridian of Misery hadn't wavered.

Three years and he still hadn't found a way off of the dreary, frozen rock.

Three years, facing a civil war of sorts, and Sora's optimism was as strong as ever. At least, when he was within the presence of others that is. On the rare occasion that Sora found himself alone for more than thirty minutes, his mind would sometimes wonder to places best left forgotten. It didn't happen very often but the occurrence seemed more frequent these days. Whenever those thoughts began to sunk their jagged nails deep into his cerebellum , Sora would often be found staring off into space. Sometimes this would occur in the middle of another task or even in broad daylight. Just last week Sora was on his way back from a not-so-successful fishing trip. He'd stopped mid-step, fell over onto his side, and stayed there, buried partially in the snow, for a good five minutes before somebody took pity on him and jostled him from his train of thought. Most chalked it up to how strange Sora was. Everyone else just ignored it as they had more important things to do that worry about the mental state of one child.

If Sora could even be considered a child at this point that is. When he had first arrived in Berk, he was only fifteen years old. Since then he'd survived two winters and was currently sitting through his third one, so it was safe to assume he was at least eighteen by now. But there was no way for him to be sure since Berk didn't have a set calendar system to his knowledge. They just went with the changing of the seasons and, if they needed to guess on time constraints or how long ago since they had their last bath, the Vikings had strange holidays they went by that even after being on Berk for so long, Sora didn't understand them. Which was fine. They didn't completely understand his favorite holidays either for the most part.

And, he had to admit, Sora was starting to become less and less fond of leaves changing from their vibrant greens to bright yellows, dull browns, and ruby reds. He didn't mind the fall. It was just that he, like most of the dragons and Vikings he was sure, was not fond of winter. The cold wasn't what bothered Sora so much as it was the harsh trials they were all put through. By the time spring rolled around, Ullac always seemed just a little bit smaller in comparison compared to the last spring season. The leading cause, next to hypothermia and the like, was the shortage of food. It was fairly common in the winter to notice the bone structure - particularly in the ribs and face - of your fellow villagers. Sora wasn't an exception from this rule either. The brunette wasn't shocked to find he'd lost at least a third of his original weight by the time winter was at its peak. An empty stomach was never fun, but Sora always had the habit of giving what he had away to others he deemed in more need than himself. It was probably the leading reason as to why he was barely taller than Astrid despite being her senior by almost a year. Just thinking about food made his stomach plead weakly as his fingers reached up to feel his protruding ribcage through the fabric of his shirt.

Regardless of the dreary atmosphere, Sora was humbled by Ullac's hospitality. Though he wasn't from this world - the locals called it Midgard - Sora was still treated as though he was from this realm and was given some, albeit small, benefits. This was in abrupt opposition to the old Berk, where he was avoided or outright disliked by most. He wasn't anywhere near as physically strong as Snotlout and his agility was almost on par with Astrid's. He wasn't as smart as Fishlegs, but he was more than willing to cooperate with others to help get a job done, which was more than could be said for the confrontational Tuffnut. His heart was just as big as it had been when he first set foot a few degrees south of Freezing to Death.

Giving a weighted sigh, Sora dropped his hand and looked around and tried to focus on his current task. The snow was steadily starting to come down harder. Though it was boring and tiresome work, his firewood pile had been looking pretty low for the past three days and had only seemed to grow smaller by the passing hours. Keeping a decent amount readily available back at the house was one of his many self-appointed chores. The lanky brunette stood before a stack that barely reached his thigh. It wasn't much, but it was all he had been able to scrounge up given the unbearable cold and his lack of energy to do anything that even came close to being labeled hard labor. Now he just needed to haul it up the hill to his current place of residence and he could call it day despite the fact that the sun hadn't been up for more than three or four hours. Daylight didn't last anywhere near long enough in the winter. Sora knew his constant grogginess was partially due to his health and his waning motivation to do just about anything was also a key contributor.

Shaking his head, mentally pushing his body's awareness to the bitter cold aside, Sora let out a soft whistle. The call went unanswered, which he really shouldn't have been surprised about. If he disliked the cold, then he was certain his cold-blooded companions had an even tougher time with the freezing weather. Well, at least he wasn't completely alone. Spitfire had seen better days, but he usually seemed content to rest on Sora's cranium like he had always done. The Terrible Terror typically clung to any source of heat he could get in the winter, which usually lead to Spitfire being a heat vampire on Sora's reserves of warmth. At the moment, the emerald dragon was wadded up in his shirt against his stomach. The Terror's head was peeking out from the collar beneath Sora's collarbone. Spitfire's scales weren't as vibrant as they used to be due to either age or low nutrition, but the Terror was fairing pretty well aside from that. He was still as lively as ever despite that though. The dragon had a small kink near the end of his tail after getting involved in a dragon squabble with two Nadders and a Gronkle, but he had recovered nicely and it didn't hinder his flight too much. Spitfire's left horn protruding from the back of his head had been broken off near the middle due to getting it lodged in one of the Nadder's feet during that fight and the horn had yet to completely grow back. Sora gave the Terror a short scratch behind his head before he bend down and started picking up some of the firewood. He'd probably have to make more than one trip in order to get it all up the snow covered hill, but it would all be worth it tonight. For tonight, they would actually get a decent meal. Call it oblivious enthusiasm, but Sora had more than a little faith that she would get the job done. After all, Astrid was one of the best dragon slayers-turned-hunter for a reason.

With several branches, twigs, and whatever else that was flammable he could find under each arm, Sora hefted his weight and began to slow climb up the snowy incline.

And, as he climbed, Sora's mind began to wonder off on its own once again.

He wouldn't quite call it "home", but it was a place to call his own. The walls were constructed of discarded logs, shields, sheets of metal, and just about anything taller and wider than the average person was. And by "average", we mean about Sora's size. The roof was constructed of similar materials while the floor was nothing more a sea of flat rocks. It had originally just been the dirt ground, but Sora had taken the time to search nearly the entire island to find better flooring materials. Sure, rocks were more painful to sleep on than dirt, but they retained heat far better and were more resistant to fire. The only other thing worth noting about the building's physical structures were the occasional splash of color in the walls and roof. With such a shortage of building materials, Sora had been forced to scrap parts from his wrecked Gummi Ship to help add insulation to the house to get through the winter. When asked about the funny pieces, all Sora could do was shrug and say he didn't know what they were made of. Which was the truth since Sora honestly had no idea what Gummi blocks were constructed of.

The place was barren of any of Sora's personal belongings, but it was full of a small-but-steadily-growing colony of Terrible Terrors within its walls. If the house was larger, he'd have taken in a Nadder or a Nightmare by now. It also wasn't too uncommon for Sora to have guests of the human variety either. Fishlegs was a regular visitor and would often stay for weeks at a time if given permission. Sora always agreed and it was only when Fishlegs felt like he was being a burden did the blond evacuate the dwelling at the top of the hill with Horrowcow in toe. While it wasn't nearly as common, every once in a blue moon Sora would find Tuffnut standing in his doorway. But this typically only happened while Fishlegs was staying with him. Tuffnut wasn't as willing to participate in activities as Sora, but he did help lighten the mood prevailing over the entire village with his crude remarks and ability to laugh at just about anything. Snotlout and Sora still failed to see eye-to-eye despite Sora's best efforts to try and get along with the Jorgenson boy over the years, so the bulkier boy was never seen within ten yards of the house. As for Astrid, she might as well claim the house as her own. The left side was littered with her weapons and memorabilia. The right side was covered in what little things Sora claimed as his own and whoever chose to stay the night's things mixed in. About the only nights Sora had to himself these days were when Astrid spent an all-nighter hunting or when the brunette purposely put some distance between himself and others (which was very rare).

His well worn short black jacket was ratted out from overuse, but the brunette still wore it over his other layers. His old midnight blue shirt provided a thin under layer beneath his tattered dark gray tunic while his faded tan trousers had seen better days judging by the random patch work and torn knees. Sora's outer shirt was larger than his under layers for the sole purpose of giving Spitfire something to curl up in and cling to when the Terror decided that he wanted to be warm rather than on his favorite on the top of Sora's head. His overgrown yellow sneakers still served a purpose and had been lined with fur last autumn. He had on two pairs of socks bearing enough holes to merit retiring them for a newer pair if Sora had the option available to him. The chain to his necklace was rusting in places, but Sora still bore the crown insignia that rested against his chest with pride.

Outer attire put aside, he hadn't physically aged much. Sora was extremely lacking in the facial hair department and his crazy hair spikes had only gotten worse over the years. It now hung down to the bottom of the back of his neck even though cutting one's hair wasn't exactly at the top of the survival list. His hair had lightened in color a little bit and was shaggy where it draped down either side of his head and covered his ears. It worked as a great protection against the bitter cold winds in the winter. His slanted bangs had only gotten longer. Some were saying he was trying to copy Astrid's fringe, but Sora wasn't exactly a fan of having hair in his line of sight. He merely tolerated it since he wasn't walking into trees or dragons yet. The top of the back of his cranium seemed to have been pressed down against its will after years of Spitfire sitting back there. His boyish charm hadn't changed much either as he still looked as young as he felt at heart. Sora's already dark azure eyes that were the color of his namesake were in stark contrast to his pale complexion and his cheeks were sunken in due to malnutrition. His tan pigmentation of skin was a thing of the past. The brunette was a bit on the anemic side while his fingers were long and bony. His knobby knuckles sometimes seemed to pop when he made a fist. The brunette's protruding, round knees and sharp elbows jutted out through his bleached flesh like someone was using his joints to pitch a tent made out of his thinning hide. If his shirts were pulled up, one would notice the designs and intricate patterns his ribcage made. His concave stomach hadn't been properly filled in months. The way the skin on his chest would sink in and out with each inhale and exhale seemed laborious, but Sora was far away from his death bed. A few teeth had been knocked out over the years from various accidents and Sora had broken his nose at least twice. The brunette was incredibly lucky to have avoided a broken arm or lost any limbs for so long.

Despite it consistently being nearly ten below outside, Sora was never short of smiles. And, these days, it seemed like more and more people were in short supply of the simple gesture. For every frown that Sora stumbled across, he couldn't help but want to offer up one of his. While he got mixed reactions for the small sign of happiness, Sora never ceased in his personal quest to try and lighten to burdens of those around him. To him, a smile was more powerful weapon than any fist, blade, or spell. Granted, the Keyblade cut for a very, very close second. To be happy didn't mean that everything was perfect. It just meant that you've decided to look beyond all of life's little imperfections.

The brunette's thoughts traveled back toward the current state of Ullac. There were more dragons than there were people and far too many mouths to feed. The youngest person currently residing in the village was two years Astrid's junior. For every able-bodied human, there were at least three scaled beasts. Granted, the majority of the dragons were Terrible Terrors, but that was beside the point. There were four Monstrous Nightmares - including Fireworm - and about six Deadly Nadders last time Sora took count about two weeks ago. There were nearly twice as many Gronkles as there were Nadders, one BoneKnapper, and one Night Fury. Steve the BoneKnapper tended to come and go since to he ate more than half of the village combined. Some had been contemplating going with the living skeleton to find its hunting grounds and bring some back to the village. While Sora didn't think it was a bad idea, he knew he would not volunteer to make such a trip since he was already needed in Ullac as it was. Last summer a fishing party stumbled across a Scaldren. Fishlegs had nearly died from dehydration via salivation at the sight. But the dragon hadn't joined their village and merely ignored the small boat as they passed by. Toothless the sole Night Fury was Astrid's responsibility as of late and Sora did his best to help ease the burden whenever he could. Which wasn't necessarily needed since the ebony dragon mostly kept to himself and very little fights broke out that directly involved Toothless.

With food shortages going on, squabbles amongst dragons weren't entirely uncommon. Most fights involved a Nightmare since the aggressive beasts sometimes bit down on more than they could chew and were unable to release whatever they clamped onto; much like that of a crocodile. The issue with that being that a Nightmare might bite another dragon or steal food from another reptilian pilot. Sora had been a witness to a few of these fights, but most were resolved somehow before the brunette even caught wind of the disturbance. Terrible Terrors were territorial, but the small flock taking up residence at Sora's house had learned to get along early. Most of the little dragons had their own names, but none of them clung to the brunette nor were they as attached to Sora as Spitfire was.

There was a faint chirping sound, drawing Sora's attention away from his thoughts. The brunette blinked several times and focused his gaze ahead of him once again. What he saw both confused and perturbed him. He could have sworn he locked up before he left, yet the front door was ajar and swinging ever so slightly on its hinges. It was still too early for Astrid to be back from her hunting trip and he wasn't expecting any visitors today. Then again, it wasn't unheard of for someone to stop by at nearly any given hour of the day or night. What was odd about the situation was there wasn't a fire coming from inside and you didn't just barge into someone's house unannounced. He didn't hear any of the Terrors inside chirping in their sleep either. These details set Sora's nerves on edge. Slowly, Sora bent down to set his fire kindling down against the wall. With practiced ease, the brunette flexed his fingers and put his right hand behind him, summoned up his blade. The Kingdom Key answered is call without a moment's hesitation. Spitfire protested at first, but the Terror quieted down after getting a good grip with his claws on Sora's under shirt. Sora wrapped an arm around Spitfire to help hold him in place as he made his way toward the front door.

Right as the tip of his sneaker hit the entrance, a light inside caught his attention. A fire had been started near the center of the house. This caused Sora to relax a fraction, but the way of the warrior was a hard thing to bypass. His deep cerulean eyes narrowed as he tried to make out shapes within the darkness.

What awaited him on the other side shouldn't have been shocking, but it was despite the early evening hour.

With a meek smile, Sora offered a modest greeting.

Not to say that Sora was annoyed that Astrid had seen to come back to Ullac early today or anything. Far from it.

There was no exchange of words past the initial acknowledgment. Before Sora could get a good look at the blond, Astrid gave the hasty order to shut the door. More than willing to comply and keep the cold at bay, Sora retrieved his meager firewood, shut the door, and locked it with practiced ease. Before he even got the chance to look back at the blond, he heard the shuffling of blankets and what he assumed was Astrid picking up her discarded weapons up off of the floor. Fearing that the blond was spooked for one reason or another, Sora reached up and massaged Spitfire's spine beneath the fabric of the front of his shirt with some difficulty before slowly turning himself around to face whatever Astrid had seen fit to bring back to Ullac with her.

Let it be known that Sora trusted Astrid's judgment enough that, if the opportunity were to ever arise, Sora wouldn't have much trouble entrusting his life in the Viking's capable hands. He was used to surprises and often welcomed them with open arms. This time, he wasn't so sure what to make of what his eyes were telling him to be true. Though that didn't necessarily mean it was an unwelcome surprise.

His kindling fell to the floor with dull thud.

"Is that . . . ?"

The only response Sora received at first was a curt nod. Though he was a little wary, Sora approached Astrid despite the fact that all of her actions seemed more than a little bit on the ill - tempered side. Once he was standing next to the potentially hostile blond, Sora knelt down to get a closer look at what she had decided to bring home. And, sure enough, his first glance was more than enough to confirm what he was almost positive he had witnessed. The problem was that he was unable to wrap his mind around the idea. Not yet at least.

"How did you . . . Where did you . . . When did you . . ."

Being unable to form a proper question since there were so many swimming around in his brain, Sora turned his head away to look up at Astrid. The blond had already crouched down next to him and was pushing her Nadder head ornament back so that it wasn't hanging in her face as much. With fingers likely as numb as Sora's brain felt, Astrid readjusted the deteriorating quilts and tucking them in to try and stave off the winter chill. She made about as much sound as a leopard on the prowl. Astrid gave Sora a small pat on the shoulder before she rose. Sora blinked several times as he came out of his stunned stupor long enough to cast a glance behind him to see Astrid taking the firewood he had already carried up the hill into the fire. The rest would have to wait to be retrieved. For now, Sora's mind was elsewhere once again.

Twisting his head back slowly to what - or rather who - Astrid had decided to bring home, Sora attempted to get his mind to fully comprehend just what kind of situation he had on his hands. The fire behind him grew steadily, giving Sora a chance to get a better look. The brunette fell onto his rear with only a faint realization of the action. What lay before him shouldn't have been there, yet here they were. Much like Astrid's realization upon the turn of events - Sora was certain the blond almost died of a heart attack - Sora was unable to understand just how or why this was happening. Even though he hadn't known the scrawny russet - haired boy for very long in comparison to his roommate, Sora had none the less felt attached to the blacksmith apprentice. He'd spent a lot of his time way back when pestering and being bombarded with questions in return by the shorter Viking.

Three years had passed since that faithful day that threw the entire isle of Berk into turmoil.

Three years and Sora had almost seen fit to give up all hope for good.

Three long years and Sora couldn't have been happier to see a familiar, friendly face.

Forgoing the small detail that said person was unconscious at the moment.

He held no ill will toward the deceased. Well, formally deceased judging by the fact the kid was clearly alive and breathing and occasionally releasing a shiver from the cold. Though, Sora had to admit, he was incredibly curious as to how this had happened. Despite being wadded up in every blanket in the house and sprawled out on his back, Hiccup didn't look any older than the last morning Sora had woken up within the old Haddock residence three years prior. He still looked as scrawny, lively, and wily as he was in his memories. Sora wouldn't doubt the other boy was still as animated as he had ever been too.

Spitfire wiggled his way out of Sora's tunic and padded over the mattress and fabrics. The little green dragon came to a stop when he sat down on the newcomer's chest, chirping curiously and tilting his head to the left. Sora stifled a small laugh at the sight. There wasn't enough time for anyone to even snap before three more seemed to manifest out of thin air in the shrinking darkness. The first hastily clambered over Sora's left knee. The maroon Terrible Terror warbled softly as she came to a stop next to Hiccup's shoulder, sat down on her haunches, and leaned forward by placing her front paws on the boy's shoulder. If her amber eyes could get any larger, they might have popped right out of her head. The third Terror to descend on the scene climbed onto the mattress silently and sat on a corner just out of everyone's reach. He was an older dragon who was colored a rusty orange with dulled yellow highlights and lightly peppered with scars of varying lengths. That specific Terror was always wary of newcomers. He had only just recently tolerated being touched just last month despite having stayed within that very house for nearly a year now. The final Terrible Terror to join the group quite literally fell from the sky. He was a young dragon, painted a dark teal that could easily pass for a green at first glance. The little ball of scales dropped like a stone through the air and landed on top of Spitfire. The older forest green Terror squawked in a displeased tone, but refrained from turning his head around to nip at the smaller dragon since his attention was already preoccupied. So the little teal Terror split off of Spitfire's back and sat down next to the larger dragon and mimicked his head tilt.

Sora's initial snicker grew in volume with each new arrival. He only held back his chuckles to avoid scaring the dragons off or drawing attention to himself. The light-hearted sound eventually diminished, leaving only silence, the crackling of the fire, and the occasional Terror chirp in its steed. Eventually, Sora heard Astrid move. The sound of her boots against the stone floor was hard to miss. The brunette blinked and looked over his shoulder just in time to see the last remains of a smile leaving the blond's face. The thought of such a thing coming forth, especially now of all times, caused Sora's face to split into a goofy grin.

"He always seems to know what to do to make you smile."

It wasn't a question. It was a statement. One even Astrid couldn't bring herself to argue with even as she pulled Birdbrain's memorabilia back over her anemic facet. The action earned a confused head tilt from Sora. Astrid slowly rose up from the floor, her knees making a wet popping in a feeble protest that sent alarms off in Sora's mind, and placed a skeletal hand on the brunette's head. His azure gaze had followed her even before her palm touched the top of his scalp. Sora blinked up her innocently, an unspoken question that was as plain the nose on his face. The lost remnants of a long lost happy expression tugged on the corner of Astrid's lips even as she removed her hand from Sora's cranium.

"I'm going to get Toothless."

That was all Astrid said before she turned and all but ran out the door. Sora blinked owlishly at her wake. It wasn't until he heard the front door slam closed that he realized the gravity of the situation.

For one, that meant Toothless was going to be brought to Ullac. Most people in the small settlement likely thought the black beast had either died or left the Meridian of Misery to, well, escape the misery. Sora was fairly certain the dragon was still around with how often Astrid left to visit the Night Fury. The last time he had see the ebony dragon was about half a year ago. Astrid had needed a hand with another one of her attempts to get Toothless airborne. The whole fiasco ended with Astrid gaining a fractured wrist and Sora discovering what a dragon tail to the back of the head felt like. The house was big enough to keep the Night Fury so long as he didn't mind curling up for most of his stay. Sora had no idea where Toothless was currently residing nor did he know how Astrid intended to sneak him back to the house. Then again, their shared residence at the top of the hill was a good ten minutes away from the next house. Though he was accepted in Ullac, people were still wary of the Keyblade Wielder. Heck, the leading reason that Sora and Astrid even lived under the same roof had originally been because Astrid didn't like crowds and crowds tended to not like Sora on this world.

The next thing that popped into Sora's mind was that Astrid clearly had to have a significant amount of faith in the brunette to leave him alone with Hiccup. Then again, she had left the boys alone plenty of times in the past. Maybe the past three years and proven to her how trustworthy and dependable he could be. Hopefully, nobody would come by the house while Astrid was out. That would be a hard one to explain since Sora didn't even know what was going on or how this whole thing had transpired.

The third thing to cross Sora's mind was not just what Astrid had said but how she had made her point. More often than not the blond would hardly utter a word - let alone a complete sentence. But she was far from mute. Tick her off, and she would gladly shout an elaborate threat to your name. It was one of the few most constants in Sora's life to hear one of Astrid's intricate insults that usual involved bodily harm to one or more persons at least twice a week. Just the other day Sora recalled overhearing a particularly complex threat involving Thor's hammer, a few dragon burps, some pine cones, one stick of charcoal, and something about ripping Tuffnut's skull out to beat him to death with it. And by overhearing we mean Astrid was yelling it at the top of her lungs. What Tuffnut had done to garner such a threat to life was beyond Sora's comprehension. He was so used to hearing the wildly thrown insults that he hardly asked what was wrong anymore. If it was something she was seriously considering going through with such complicated methods, Astrid wouldn't have said anything. But, aside from the weekly death threats, Astrid hardly said anything outside of the occasional grunt or grimace. The most she did facial expression wise was roll her eyes, quirk an eyebrow, or pinch the bridge of her nose in frustration. So the fact that she'd said a full sentence without threatening somebody's life was astonishing in more ways than one.

Going from his thoughts of Astrid, the next thing that warily made it's way into the brunette's train of thoughts was the lack of food the blond had come back with. Unless they were planning on resorting to cannibalism, the pair might have to resort to asking around Ullac for table scraps tonight. He knew the first option was never going to happen, so he dismissed the thought the second the word entered his mind. And Astrid's pride wouldn't allow for such begging, so when it did fall to such a situation it would fall on Sora's gaunt shoulders to request subsistence from others since he was more willing to swallow his dignity. Oh well. It would seem he would likely be put in the hot seat yet again later tonight. Especially since they were going to have to feed one extra mouth tonight.

The next thing Sora noticed was more of a physical feature than anything. How he hadn't noticed it before hand was a possible testament to the brunette's attention (or lack thereof) to detail. Maybe it was because he wasn't concentrating on the smaller aspects because his brain was still trying to rein in the entire circumstance. Or maybe Sora hadn't recognized the minor plight because he hadn't had to deal with anything of the same caliber for going on several years now. But, regardless of the reasons, Sora only just now regarded the way the end of the wads of blankets abruptly stopped on one side and continued on in a thinner line. This small detail took a sum total of five seconds to register itself within his hard skull. Sora quirked an eyebrow and glanced around the house. Sure enough, there was nothing. Meaning, one way or another, they were short a prosthetic. Which, going from there, whenever Hiccup woke up again he wouldn't have a means of getting around on his own. And nobody within the village even qualified as an amateur blacksmith. Oh well. Astrid was getting Toothless, so Hiccup could just use the large dragon as a means of transportation (or a crutch depending on how he wanted to get around) until they gathered enough materials for him to replace his missing limb.

The last thing to cross Sora's mind was far less important than the other details. His firewood still lay at the bottom of the hill. Oh well. Hopefully Astrid will see it and bring it up on her way back to the house. If not, Sora would go get it once she was back at the house. Hardly anybody else traveled down this way. And, if by some odd occurrence somebody did spot the pile of wood at the foot of the hill, they would know to leave it alone since somebody else had clearly spent the time and put forth the effort to collect to flammable material despite the sub-zero temperatures outside.

He let out a soft chuckle as he reached over and massaged Spitfire between his wing joints. The maroon Terror and the dark teal one had made themselves comfortable as they settled down up against either side of the youngest human present. The older orange Terror was content to curl up next to the boy's head but refrained from touching him. Spitfire twittered quietly before he climbed into Sora's lap after the older brunette had taken a seat on the corner of the bed. His blue eyes trailed off toward the fire as the warmth seeped through the chilly shack. A nostalgic look crossed his features as his eyes started to glaze over. His mind wondered toward another point in time in his life.

An old saying came to mind. One Sora hadn't thought of in years.

A hint of a grin pulled at the corners of his lips.

"We pray for our sorrows to end, and hope that our hearts will blend . . ."