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THE SHADOW
(Day 2 - Midnight)
If nothing else, Hiccup thinks grimly, he's definitely getting better at climbing. He only lost his footing and scraped the hell out of his shin once on his way up tonight's tree. It's probably helping that he isn't going quite as high tonight, or in as much of a panic. The weight of his knife hanging at his belt is reassuring, too. And…
Well. Hiccup isn't sure how to feel about the rest of what happened today, yet.
He sighs and picks a promising couple of branches, settling his back against the scratchy tree trunk for the night. A few loops of the biggest remaining piece of his rope make a quick harness. At least he won't fall to his death tonight if he rolls over in his sleep.
Hiccup hopes not, anyway. Although, technically, if he falls wrong, the ropes might break his neck…or if he's really unlucky, he might strangle to death…
Realizing his fingers have gone still and cold on the knots, Hiccup shudders and gives the ropes a resolute yank, tightening them as much as he dares. Then he lies back and tries to enjoy the stars, twinkling overhead in a clear sky. If he didn't know better, he'd think they were real.
There's a faint rustling below, and then the sound of a snapping branch. Hiccup goes very still.
Far below, he hears a soft keening whine. It fades away into a rumbling rattle. He sighs, and leans over a bit to peer into the dark bushes. If he squints, he can just make out the shadowy shape of the Mutt.
It seems to know he's watching; it lifts its head and peers back at him. Its huge eyes glimmer with reflected moonlight.
"Oh, come on," Hiccup moans under his breath. "You've been following me all day. I don't have any fish left!"
The Mutt makes a gurgling sound, and tilts its head. The way its pupils flash yellowish in the dark reminds him of a cat. So does the hungry, plaintive look it's giving him.
"God," Hiccup grumbles, and gives up. "Fine. Fine!" He rummages in his knapsack and pulls out the smelly remaining half of a fish. He never did get around to building that fire. It's probably no good anymore, at least for human consumption, but a guy can hope. "This is all I've got left, okay?" he says. "No more food. None."
He tosses the slimy thing down. It slaps wetly into the dirt, and the Mutt lunges for it. Sharp teeth snap in the shadows, tearing the damp flesh apart.
Hiccup winces, and nervously pulls both feet up onto his branch. "I'm glad somebody's happy," he mutters.
Far below, the Mutt smacks its jowls with relish. Then it lets out a contented sigh, and curls its bulk around the base of the tree. Hiccup leans out again to watch, curious in spite of himself. Is it…settling down to sleep?
In the dark, with its eyes closed, the Mutt is almost impossible to see. It's a puddle of shifting shadow and leathery wings. And claws. Lots and lots of claws.
"Well," Hiccup says, feeling a bit dizzy. "I…guess nothing's getting up the tree tonight? That's, uh…good to know." He pauses, then adds - nonsensically, as if it could understand him - "Thanks."
He settles back onto his branch, and folds his arms behind his head. The stars are a beautiful lie, twinkling high overhead in their artificial perches. Far out of reach…
Hiccup falls asleep thinking about the possibilities of wings.