The stick pierced the sand with expert precision, creating smooth lines in it. After all, Hiccup was still and expert in drawing, even if he saw his subject for just a moment. Ragnar was leaning against the boulder he sat on. Observing his war axe, it looked similar to the head of his halberd. Just without the spearhead on top, and the fact that it wasn't secured to a long pole, but instead to a smaller handle.

"It was close." Ragnar said calmly, thinking back at what Hiccup had told him about the battle. Especially the part about his shattered blade. "Too close for comfort."

"I should have seen it coming." Hiccup said softly. "I got distracted, I'm sorry."

Ragnar turned to his brother. "Don't be." Ragnar said sternly. "It would have happened to anyone." He wanted to get his friend to calm down, after yesterday's battle he had been exhausted, physically and mentally. Seeing his childhood 'friends' again had taken a toll on the young assassin, but Ragnar and Hiccup both knew that they couldn't stay in one place for too long.

Ragnar listened as he heard the stick pierce the sand again, dragging through the small grains. He closed his eyes, he knew drawing calmed Hiccup down, it was his way to think in silence. Ragnar was the type that meditated or fought to calm down, two entirely different things. Meditation calmed his mind and body, while fighting actually activated them. Both allowed him easier thinking.

Hiccup would also mediate, often together with Ragnar. It would however often be at the strangest places. The tops of towers, mountains, or other high objects. The cold wind would remind the two of their homeland, the strong gusts trying to throw their balance off. They both found it beautiful, the calmness being in the sky, for once not on dragonback.

But every time Hiccup needed to think and he couldn't find a good place to meditate he would draw. He would draw all sorts of things, from the dragons to equipment, from buildings to people. What always amazed Ragnar was how amazing Hiccup's memory was when it came to drawing. He would only have to see a scene once, and not even for a long period of time. Just a quick glance would often be enough for entire drawings of the location.

It wasn't any different now, the lines in the sand, a very crude tool for drawing, formed up together to form a perfect picture. And even though he had only seen his inspiration for a split second, the tiniest fragment of time before he had to divert his attention, the drawing was perfect. He had never seen the girl, but he didn't doubt the accuracy of the drawing. The way the lines formed the hair, a thick braid that lead through her neck. One line that formed a band through her hair. Everything seemed so natural, all pictured by lines in rugged, weathered sand.

"We should get to a village." Ragnar said calmly as he observed Hiccup finishing the drawing. "You need to fix your blade, and I could do with a warm meal." It was true, their meals consisted mostly of dried meat and fish. Capable of being eaten for a long time, not rotting or spoiling.

Hiccup stood up with a sigh, sticking the stick into the sand next to the drawing. He looked at it for a last time, content with his work. Most people would just see the lines in the sand that resembled her face. But he could see her in it. Her golden hair that matched the sand, her paler Nordic skin. Still rather toned thanks to the sunnier days that they had. It was absolutely beautiful to him.

"Yea we should go." Hiccup said calmly as he turned to Ragnar. Who had already started packing his equipment. They had spent the night at the small beach, eating the dried food and sleeping under the stars. It had been too late to arrive at a village undetected, if they were to arrive at such a time, a time where no ships were to arrive at port, they would certainly be noticed quickly.

Hiccup walked over to his bags, quickly finding the one with the reserve weapons. The extra set of blades was in there, but he would need some tools to replace it. Tools that only proper blacksmiths had. "So where are we going?" Hiccup asked calmly as he grabbed the spare blades, wrapped in leather, and put it in the satchel that he kept on his back. "We could go to Stilby."

"Stilby sounds good." Ragnar commented as he continued to pack his materials, carefully putting everything in the back before looking for his dragon.

Hiccup also finished packing his materials, and now just needed to find Toothless to strap the bags to his saddle. Something that could prove to become a problem. The dragon didn't minded the bags on his side, but that didn't mean that he would make it easy for his rider to attach them. It would usually end up in a game of chase, which the dragon would usually win, just like their play fights.

It wasn't something that he dislikes either, Hiccup loved the little contests with his dragon, and he wasn't the only one. Ragnar was now pulling with all his might on the end of a branch, the other end secured in the mouth of Blitz, the Skrill pulling on his end.

Hiccup chuckled at the sight, happy to have found someone who believed in his vision of dragons. It had been difficult at first. Ragnar had found Hiccup washed up on a beach one day, his clothes and leg scorched. The rest, was history.

Berk was chaos, as the first few rays of the sun had hit the island most of the inhabitants had risen from their bed, still exhausted after the broken night. The remainders of the sunken fleet still lay on their coast, the smell of burned flesh lightly in the air, being overthrown by the smell of the sea. Several groups had been tasked with picking up the dead bodies from their cliff-filled coasts. All of them being put on the longboat that Alvin's men had come with, which would now function us their final vessel towards the afterlife.

Stoick had been up early, the chief wanting to personally oversee the ship burning on the horizon, closing what could have been the worst raid in the history of Berk, but what became the strangest one. He stood on the platform of their main defence, the large trebuchet that overlooked the entire village. He saw how the bodies piled up on the ship on the coast, they had already sailed it out of the harbour to avoid the smell of the water-logged bodies.

He closed his eyes for a moment, just listening to the quiet breeze of the wind through the sturdy, weathered wooden beams that supported the trebuchet. The breeze was interrupted by the heavy sound of a boot on the wooden supports, followed by a soft 'thud' of a wooden leg hitting it too.

Stoick turned to the the path that lead upwards to the catapult, spotting his friend climbing up the supports. "Ready to go?" He asked as the smith walked the last parts of the route towards the chief.

"Aye Stoick." Gobber confirmed as he sat down on the base of the trebuchet. "Kids are saddling up as we speak."

"Good." Stoick muttered as he watched as the last bodies were dropped on the ship. "I one alive remember?"

"Oh sure, one alive assassin, coming right up." Gobber said sarcastically. "Are you picky about which one?"

Stoick looked at his friend. "This is serious Gobber." He said with a stern expression. "These men are excellent warriors, imagine the possibilities."

"That's the point Stoick." Gobber said with distress. "They are excellent warriors, are you sure you want to go after them?"

"We got dragons Gobber." Stoick said with a hearty laugh. "It's going to be two assassins against six dragons with riders, the best that Berk has to offer."

"I hope you're right Stoick." Gobber said as he headed back towards the steps. "I hope you're right."

Meanwhile on the other side of the village Astrid swung her saddle across Stormfly's back. "Ready girl?" She asked her dragon, earning a happy croon from the beast. "Good, we're going to catch ourselves some assassins."

"Hey Astrid!" Someone yelled from behind her, Astrid turned around while strapping her axe on her back. Spotting a raven-haired girl sitting on the back of a Seashocker. Shimmer walked over towards Stormfly and Heather slipped off her back. "Getting ready for the hunt I see."

Astrid looked at the folded net that hung from the side of Stormfly. It was meant for rogue dragons, but it would probably work for people too. "Yea, you can never be too prepared."

"Indeed, we still don't really know what we're up against." Fishlegs said as he walked over to the two girl with Meatlug, Snotlout also approaching the stables. "Who knows where they went."

It didn't take long for the twins to arrive on their Zippleback, and now they only had to go and get Gobber with Skullcrusher. The chief would stay back on Berk to oversee the funeral of the fallen foes and to regulate the normal village life. So Gobber would go with his dragon to sniff out the assassins.

They found them at the Smithy, Gobber already holding the broken blade before the dragon, who was calmly sniffing it to get a proper smell through. Rumblehorn had amazing noses, and Skullcrushed had been used to search for lost cattle, people and even ships. The dragon didn't mind, as long as it could leisurely fly, following the scent, it was content with the work, and since its owner was often busy he didn't mind the extra attention and belly rubs that he got when he did a good job.

As they approached the forge they noticed that Skullcrusher was starting to track, now sniffing around him in the air with his large nose, before quickly turning to the chief's home and walking in that direction, slowly climbing the stars. "Oh no, you overgrown sausage." Gobber called out as he ran after him, stopping the dragon as it climbed the stairs. "Stoick won't be coming with us."

Gobber led the dragon back down, before walking towards the last place they saw the assassin, the cliff of which he jumped. The Rumblehorn sniffed around again, smelling the faint scent that was also present on the metal they presented before him. Skullcrusher unfolded his wings, giving Gobber the queue that he needed to mount the dragon. Signalling the other riders to follow. The large dragon leaped of the cliff, using his large wings to guide him through the air, following the scent of his target.

The flight was uneventful, the dragon led them towards the cove where Hiccup had hid his dragon. There were some marks in the ground, some dragons and some humans, but since it was a place that was often visited by some of the Berkian population it wasn't a true lead. There were still the occasional Nightfury scales scattered around. Nobody wanted to remove or collect those, they had been a part of the cove for the last few years. Only a few scales had been moved, a handful for studying, and three for vanity usage, they had been made into necklaces, carried by Gobber, Astrid and Stoick. Each of them keeping it safely hidden underneath their clothes.

They took to the skies again, the Rumblehorn still in the lead.

"Looks like they had a stop here." Gobber yelled back towards the group that followed him. "Must have stored their excess gear for the fights."

"Do you think it's safe to assume they have dragons?" Fishlegs yelled back as his Gronkle did his best to keep up with the group. "With the attack on the ships and all."

"We can assume it, but we don't have any hard proof." Astrid argued as her Nadder casually flew between the members of the group. "We shouldn't jump to conclusions."

They flew further, discussing how the assassins would have gotten their hands on dragons if they were foreigners. The Rumblehorn was slowly descending towards the ground, approaching a small island that lay a short flight from a nearby settlement. The group followed and started to hover above the calm beach. They landed their dragons and the shore, where the sand slowly turned into grassy hills.

"So, this is where they've been." Gobber said as he slid out of Skullcrusher's saddle. "Look for clues."

The gang immediately started to, it wasn't that difficult. The beach was littered with tracks, quite fresh ones. They consisted of two different types of dragon tracks and two sets of footprints, well, one and a half.

The dragons, according to Fishlegs, matched the visual idea they had. One Nightfury, four sleek, short clawed, paws, and one Skrill, two sturdy back paws and the claws on the wings. What directly matched them to their assassin was the footprints, one set of regular boots and another one consisting of one sturdy boot and a small square print, the mark of the prosthetic leg.

"Look like we're closing in." Astrid said as she and Gobber inspected the prosthetic's print. "What do you think?"

Gobber, the expert on prosthetics and amputees, was carefully examining the hole. "Well, it sure is a clever contraption." He said as he traced the outline of the print with his finger. "It takes a bit of the weight away, balancing his body more." He compared the thickness of the sand with some of the untouched grains. "Definitely a spring loaded contraption, but there's something clever about it." He took a step back, his peg-leg digging into the sand. Astrid watched his struggle as he tried to find sturdy ground. "This is what I mean." Gobber said as he found a rock to rest his leg on. "He's not having this problem."

"Erm, guys." Tuffnut interrupted them, standing on a lone boulder on the beach. "This is weird."

"Super weird." Ruffnut added as she looked besides the boulder. The gang approached the two teens. It was rare to see them this silent, so there had to be something peculiar. As Gobber approached the boulder he was immediately gobsmacked. And so was Astrid when she came to see the discovery.

In the sand, drawn with a stick that was safely placed into the sand besides the drawing was a perfect picture of her, Astrid Hofferson. The drawing was completely correct, the way her hair flowed down her shoulder and her band that was hidden behind her bangs.

"This is so weird." Ruffnut muttered as she observed the drawing. She and her brother didn't know much about art or drawing. But they could guess that making such a drawing would take some time and skill. "Maybe you're his target."

"Or he has a crush on you!" Tuffnut added, before being greeted with a fist to the face by Astrid. Knocking him into the drawing.

"Stop it!" Gobber said as he grabbed Astrid by her collar, stopping her from hurting the Thorson boy any further, who in the meanwhile was crawling away muttering something about being 'very much hurt'. "We still got an assassin to catch."

"And he just got one more question to answer." Astrid muttered as she shook free from Gobber's grasp and walked over to Stormfly. The rest also mounting their dragons.

Skullcrusher quickly followed the scent further, leading them towards the settlement. They diverted of the track, landing their dragons in the woods nearby. Not all Viking settlements were that accustomed to dragons after the raids had stopped. And coming in on giant beasts would certainly arouse suspicion and alert the assassins.

They landed their dragons into the woods, finding a nice covered area for their dragons to hide for the time being. The group themselves slowly made their way into the town, but not before they made plans for what they were going to do.

"I'll take the tavern." Heather said as she and Astrid walked at the front of the group. "Someone has to have seen something, and nothing talks better than drunken Vikings."

"Alright, take Fishlegs and Snotlout, with you." Gobber said from the back of the group. "The rest will go with me to the Smithy, lad needed to repair his weapon."

They split up, the smithy and the tavern were at different parts of the village, which was quite usual. The smithy would be in the back, as far away from any possible danger as possible. Raiders or other attackers would first have to destroy most of the town before reaching the location where their weapons would be repaired during the battle. The tavern was usually closer to the harbour, so travelling merchants and other visitors were close to their vessels, and wouldn't have to stroll through the unknown town.

Heather opened the thick door of the tavern, directly being greeted by the heavy smell of alcoholic beverages and sweat, a typical Viking tavern. They had agreed upon a simple plan, Heather would enter first, finding a place to sit down in the back, Snotlout would find a place near the bar, talking with the bartender, and Fishlegs would stay outside, scanning the street and securing their exit.

As Heather walked in she quickly scanned the crowd, it consisted of multiple kinds of people, there were some locals, who were calmly drinking and eating at the fire, there were some visitors, sitting together in a group, a map sprawled across their table, discussing which port they would take when the winter would blow over.

One person didn't stand out though, and Heather had missed him on her first glance. A young man sat in the corner of the building, his back to the crowd and a hood covering his head. He had a simple wooden plate in front of him, filled with some chicken and potatoes. Although his clothing was far from local, and he wasn't acting like the typical visitor, he blended in perfectly.

Heather noticed him on her third pass, wondering why she hadn't seen him before. She considered that they were indeed masters of blending in. She formulated a plan in her head, she herself was also pretty well as deceiving people, and one way to get a guy's attention was a trick older then Gothi, food. She walked to the bar, handing a few pieces of silver for a plate and a knife, before cutting off a piece of the large boar that was being roasted in the middle of the room. Along with a tankard of ale she headed towards the hooded man, taking a seat in front of him, on the other side of the table.

Ragnar had felt someone watching him, and wasn't surprised when someone joined his table. What did surprise him was the fact that it was a young girl, who handed him a piece of her boar, something that he didn't want to spend the silver on.

"Here." Heather said casually as she handed the mead to Ragnar, who slowly accepted it. Putting it down on his plate before continuing eating. She couldn't see his face, his hood created a shadow that only made his chin visible. "You're not from around here, are you?"

Ragnar swallowed the chicken before replying, he could see the girl very well. She had black hair and green eyes, just like Hiccup had, but just a bit different. "Is it that clear?" He said as he took another bite of his food. Not yet trusting her food that rested on his plate.

"The clothes give it away." Heather explained as she ate a piece of her boar. His clothes were as foreign as they would get, there was no chainmail, pelts or horns, something that was abundant in their culture. "Where are you from?"

"South." Was all Ragnar said before taking a drink from his tankard, his head swung far enough back that Heather could see the basic complexity of his face. "Far south." He finished as he wiped the last pieces of drink away with his arm.

"You look like a Nord though." Heather said as she also took a sip of her drink. The sweetness of the mead on her tongue.

Ragnar was now starting to pay attention, the mysterious girl had already earned his curiosity, but now he decided to focus a bit. She was rather forward in her questions, almost like she knew most of the answers. He gave her a good long stare. The face was familiar, but he couldn't place it. Normally his mind would say something along the lines of locations where he could have seen her, or thing like 'trustworthy' or 'dangerous'. But the only word that came to mind when he looked at her was: 'Cute'.

"And you?" Ragnar asked, hoping to shift the tides of the conversation to his odds. "Are you a local here?"

"No." Heather answered calmly, a bit shocked by the fact that he was also asking questions. She hadn't prepared for this. "From an island a few weeks out." She said, it wasn't exactly a lie, Berk was definitely a few weeks away from them, but that was by boat.

Ragnar just nodded. He didn't trust the girl, but in a strange way. He didn't see her as a threat, but he knew she had some kind of ulterior motive. "What brings you to this place?" He asked. Hoping to keep the questions off his back for the moment.

"Hunting." Heather said, not exactly a lie. "We're heading back home soon though."

Now that statement Ragnar didn't like, there was something about the way she said hunting that made him feel, strange. Almost like she was talking to her prey. "No fear for the ice?" He asked. He knew that soon the ports would freeze, and if she was truly just passing by, she would have taking notice of that.

"My village is further down south." Heather lied, hoping to throw the assassin off his game. "Our ports usually don't freeze until a few weeks after the rest." She knew the lie was farfetched, so she didn't give him much time to think about her answer. "And what brings to this place."

"Work." Ragnar answered calmly. He was slowly getting more comfortable with the girl, because he was pretty sure he was telling the truth. That, or she had been practicing these questions.

"With which boat did you come?" Heather asked, hoping to finally break the man's web of lies. They knew they were coming in with dragons. So she had kept a keen eye on the boats in the harbour. "I mean, port's pretty empty."

Ragnar was at an absolute loss of words, he didn't have an answer to that one, not even a simple quick lie. The only thing that came to his mind was changing the subject. "The name's Ragnar, by the way." He said, cursing himself for not taking a second to think of a proper alias.

"Heather." Heather replied with a grin. Taking the introduction as a good sign she decided to be a bit more bolt. "You can ditch the hood you know. It's not raining in here."

Ragnar slowly undid his hood, sometimes blending in meant changing plans, and this was one of those times. Heather could now clearly see that the assassin was indeed a Nord, confirming her suspicion. This would also explain why they had dragons. Nordic people had more experience with dragons, so it would be more logical for a Nord to have a dragon than for an actual person from the south.

"So what brings you back to the archipelago?" Heather asked. "It's quite clear that you have some roots in Nordic soil."

"I travel with a friend of mine." Ragnar explained. "We are currently looking for a place to stay the winter." The last part was far from a lie, they needed to find a tribe or village which would accept them for the winter, since it would be harsh to survive in old ruins and tens in the freezing temperatures of horrible winter months.

"Well, you could always try with my village." Heather jokes, hoping to draw Ragnar to come with her, that way she could jump him with the rest, but not before she got to know him a bit better. "We are quite open about visitors during the winter, everyone needs a place to stay."

"Really?" Ragnar said, interested in the prospect of a proper place to call home for a while. "And which village would this be."

Heather swallowed, this could either scare him of or interest him. "Berk." She said calmly. "Heard of it?"

"Just stories." Ragnar said as he took a sip from his mead. Heather had seen the split second of panic on his face.

"Yea, they should have everything ready for winter now, haven't been there in a month." Heather lied, hoping to make Ragnar more comfortable with the idea of talking to a Berkian. "But I think there is still some room in the town." She said as she leaned across the table. "And you could always crash at my place."

Snotlout had already taken his place at the bar, and had downed his fair share of tankards as he was asking around for information about the assassin. It was at this point that he saw the hooded man in the back of the tavern, Heather sitting in front of him, leaning in towards him.

His blood boiled, the alcohol in it only fuelling the fire. He excused himself politely with the bartender, before downing his last tankard and making his way over to Heather, his fists balled at his side.

Ragnar was observed by the girl in front of him, she was pretty, mysterious, and certainly nice company. His gaze was broken when he saw her looking past his head with worry, and he turned around just in time to receive the full blow of Snotlout's fist. Ragnar rolled of the bank, using his momentum to get on his feet, just a little bit dazed of the hit.

"She's my girl!" Snotlout yelled, drawing the attention of other visitors. "Don't you even come close to her." Other Vikings were getting up. Ragnar had put his hood on as a reflex when he was hit, and the Vikings were now watching how a fellow Viking was protecting his 'love' from this stranger, and quickly sided with Snotlout.

"I don't want to fight." Ragnar said calmly, but it was too late. Some other foreigners had backed him up, and when someone threw a bottle to the opposing party, both groups clashed together.

The fight was awful, tankards, chairs and benches were used as improvised weapons. Both groups fighting both friends and foes in the chaos. Chairs flew around and the tavern was filled with yelling and screaming. The bartender remained calmly at his post, used to these things, his mind only wandering to the cost of repairing all his furniture.

In the chaos, Snotlout had pulled out a knife, and while Ragnar was busy dodging a chair that was aimed for him he struck. Swiping at his face, he managed to make a small cut in his cheek, also making another cut in the already war-damaged hood. It wasn't deep, but it did bleed.

Ragnar felt the cut clearly, the sharp sting on his cheek and the wet, warm blood running down it. He turned to Snotlout, who was already occupied with another brawl. Ragnar checked his hand, making sure he wouldn't accidently extend his blade, and gave Snotlout one of the most powerful right hooks that he could. Which followed by a loud thud of his unconscious body hitting the floor.

Heather had cornered herself, keeping out of the fight. She was focussing on not getting pulled into the brawl, she could hold herself in a fight, but this was just utter chaos. Her attention was then directed when she saw Snotlout's body hitting the floor, his nose a bit off centre. And in the corner of her eye she could see a white blur leaving through the door.

She made her way around the fight, hugging the wall and dodging brawling Viking men and women alike, before quickly slipping out of the door.

Fishlegs had his back turned to the door, obviously listening to the chaos that erupted from inside the building. Heather slipped past him, not wanting to alert the chubby boy of her leaving. It was only midday, and it was quite calm on the streets. But on the smooth stone paths she could see a trail of little red droplets, leading down a corridor between two longhouses.

She followed it, finding Ragnar leaning against a house. She hurried up to him, making him suddenly turn around and look at her, ready to run.

"Oh, it's you." He said as he had his cheek covered with his hand, blood dripping underneath it. Heather slowly walked up to him, she was glad that the corridor was a dead end, because she was sure he was planning on running.

"Let me help." She said as she approached him further. "It's not like you can see the wound yourself." Ragnar sighted at this statement, allowing her to inspect the injury.

The cut was not deep, it was harmless. But it could still get infected easily, especially since it was already full of dirt and dust that had been kicked up during the fight. Luckily for the two of them, Heather had skills with the healers in her village, and knew how to treat these minor, but possibly harmful, injuries.

"Hold this." She said as she handed a bottle to Ragnar, who held it with one hand while using the other to keep the blood of his clothes. Heather tore a piece of her sleeve off and took the bottle back. Putting some of the liquid from the bottle on the cloth. She put the bottle on the ground and turned to Ragnar. "This will sting a bit."

Gobber, Astrid and the twins now approached the Blacksmith, it was quite a walk from, having parted just a bit before the tavern, and having gotten lost in the relatively unknown settlement. They finally saw a rusty shield hanging from weathered ropes, a hammer and bellows depicted on it, indicating that this was the smithy.

They slowly opened the door. The smithy consisted of a main room, used as a shop, in the back was the actual forge, where hammering could be heard, along with faint talking.

"Let me handle this lads." Gobber said as they walked into the shop. "This smith's an old friend of mine, only likes to talk to other smiths." The gang nodded, staying at the door as Gobber walked to the counter. "Bekan!" Gobber loudly yelled, causing the hammering to stop.

An old man came around the corner. "Well hang me up and call me dragon bait, I'll be dammed." The older smith exclaimed as he walked over to Gobber. "How've you been my old friend?"

"Good, Bekan, Good." Gobber said as he shook hands with the man. "What were you working on?"

"Oh, just some general requests, sharpening some tools and mending some weapons." Bekan said as he leaned on the counter. "But what brings you to this isle?"

"We're looking for someone." Gobber explained. "Strange fellow, clad in leather armour and probably wearing a hood." As soon as Gobber finished he could see the confused and intrigued look on Bekan's face.

"And why would you be looking for this fellow?" He asked calmly. "He doesn't sound like you're regular customer."

"He isn't, he's a foreign warrior from the south, an assassin." Gobber explained. "He defended Berk from invaders and our chief want's a word with him." But when he felt Astrid's gaze on his back he quickly added. "Along with some other people."

"I see." Bekan said slowly, before leaning in over the counter to whisper something in Gobber's ear. "He's in the forge, try not to break too much." Before walking around the counter and heading to the front of the shop. "I'll wait here." He said softly.

The twins and Astrid looked at Gobber, who just motioned for them to grab their weapons and follow. They silently did. When they entered the forge they were first met with and incredible heat. But none of them noticed. They were focussed on something different, more someone. On the far end of the forge a men was standing with his back to them, sharpening a blade with a whetstone.

The assassin had his hood over his head, but the gang could see the helmet dangling from his side. They slowly approached him, but Astrid and Gobber quickly regretted bringing the twins with them. Tuffnut tripped over the bellows that lead into the base of the forge, Ruffnut tripping over him. The sound, alerting the assassin.

Hiccup spun around, his blades already repaired, he was merely sharpening it for the moment, something that he could also do back at their camp. He unsheathed his blades, hoping to threaten his former friends enough to force them to leave. But to no avail.

Astrid charged first, her axe swung high above her head, Hiccup stepped aside on the last moment, making her embed her axe into the table that he was working on, the tools falling on the ground thanks to the shock.

The twins, having recovered quickly followed her, the assassin was cornered, and they were confident in their tactic. They ran at him with all their might, their double-ended spears ready for the attack. They were to bring him back alive, barely breathing was alive. Hiccup dodged them like it was child's play, which it was considering it were the twins. They ran full speed into a rack of shields, tumbling it back a bit, before it fell on top of the two, pinning them down under the heavy wood.

Gobber tried his luck, but Hiccup had sharpened his blades with the skill he learned and practiced every day for almost 4 years. A quick duck and turn was all it took, and Gobber saw the ground approaching rapidly, his peg-leg sliced in two.

Astrid finally pulled her axe from the sturdy oak wood of the table and turned back to the assassin, now using a sideward swing that was difficult to dodge. Instead of stepping back, what she expected, he stepped forward, closing their distance and using her own momentum to slam her against the wall, his arm on her throat, along with the tip of his blade.

She would never admit it if anyone asked, but she was scared. The slam had made her loosen the grip on her axe, and she had seen how sharp the blades of the assassin were. Even if she kicked him she could risk getting cut, which would probably lead to her death. Her eyes were fixed on the blade, slowly following it to the point where it disappeared into his gauntlets. She looked down, fearing what was to come, when she noticed his helmet, dangling from his side.

She looked up, but the light from the forge behind the man took away her vision, making her only able to see the man's chin. It was round, and there were small stubbles of hair on it. Indicating that he was a rather young man. But there was one thing that caught her eye. A small scar, parallel to the side of his chin, lighter than the rest of the skin.

She remembered it, but she couldn't place it. She had seen it before, it was just like the scar that. . .

It all fell together, the reason Skullcrusher headed to Stoick's house, the drawing, the Nightfury. It could only mean one thing.

"Hiccup"

She wanted to say it, but no sound came out of her mouth. But whether she was right or wrong, it had effect on the assassin.

He stepped back, and Astrid dropped on the ground, gasping for air. The pressure on her neck, along with the end of the blade, was just enough to make her hold her breath without realizing, and now she lay on the ground, gasping for air for her burning lungs.

Bekan stood in the front of the shop, waiting for his friend to walk out with their target, either unconscious or tied up. But instead the man casually walked out. The smith looked at him with a look of surprise and horror. He had heard the fighting inside his shop and was certain that there would be sufficient damage.

Hiccup walked up to him, handing him a strip of silver. "For the damage." He said, before walking out of the shop.

AN :

HUZZAH! Here it is! Another Chapter!

I hope you guys liked it, and I hope you have an amazing Easter.

Man, this one took some time to write. Anyway, my school / life / universe being a bitch on my stage is over (For now). And we can continue with the regular scheduled uploads, what means that I'll say that I'll upload in the weekend, and then forget and crank something out either on the latest moment of Sunday or Monday.

So, here it is.

Don't forget to go visit the poll on my page, it's about the next story, which will either be when this one or my other one ends.

If anyone is interested in how I write my chapters or other things about writing in general, do say. I'm thinking of beginning a blog or something about it. It would consist of a QA, tips and tricks and probably sneak previews of new chapters and upcoming stories.

Take Care

- R4y