A/N: IMPORTANT: You guys are just the best. I cannot believe the feedback and positive response I am getting for this AU. I am so glad you guys actually like it! It honours me a lot, and please, keep it up. The reviews are encouraging and they with every favourite and alert make my fingers tingle with the need to write. KNOW THAT I LOVE YOU ALL!
The first two parts of this chapter were actually supposed to go with the previous chapter, but my document was jumbled up and in the end I missed it. I'm sorry, it's only like, three pages, so I hope it does not disrupt the flow of this chapter.
Speaking of which; you will notice that the third part is written slightly different and it might irk you. The reason is that it's from Toothless' perspective; all of you who have read my Taste Of Spring 3-Shot will know what I'm doing here. All of you who have not; more information at the end. Just know that Toothless describes things differently to us humans, thus there will be terms and phrases written to replace other words. These have been 'highlighted' with capitals, so it should not be too confusing. I have made it pretty obvious what they mean, but nonetheless I have posted a small dictionary at the end of this chapter, just in case.
Now enough with my rambling; enjoy!
Wingless
It had been the first proper experience in Hiccup's life to fall under the scrutiny of people other than his mother or Skeggi. Well, scratch the former, for she was a lot more understanding than anyone else.
His contact with other Vikings was held to a limit whilst working in the forge; but now, on Berk, with so many more (expressive) Vikings around (the island of Looting Liars was not even half as grand) and Skeggi granting him some more freedom, it became a new aspect of life.
Humans could be mean.
On the contrary to dragons, who, once you had gained their trust and undeniable friendship, were always high-spirited when they saw you, humans had a hostility in them Hiccup had yet to adjust to. It seemed like they did not only enjoy fighting dragons, but also each other. They would swing their axes or maces, curse and roar, mock and jibe.
Especially Snotlout had taken a liking to destroy ever fragment of good mood Hiccup woke up with every morning during his two week stay.
"You're not a real Viking; real one's have muscles and are capable of swinging a hammer without panting like they just ran a marathon."
'Not like I want to be one of you, anyway!' Hiccup would think with a frown, directing his view towards the dirty ground. He was a child of the dragons, his mother had often pronounced proudly. No one before him ever had had the privilege of growing up the way he did, of feeling and knowing and understanding the reptilian creatures the way he did. Speaking with a Deadly Nadder was so much more enjoyable than talking to a mutton-headed Viking brat, anyway. Even though Hiccup felt like he was never really, truthfully being understood by his winged family. There was just something always missing.
And whilst Berk fascinated him; the sheer art and skill in the sturdily built houses, the grand glamour of the Great Hall, with all its beautiful details and colours, the smell of thousands of mesmerizing foods and cheerfulness that generally inhabited Berk, its people were everything else.
Stubborn, just as Skeggi had foretold, and hard-natured. Grisly and glum, ferocious during battle, with names that did nothing to compliment them in any good way.
He guessed he fitted amongst the crowd what the last thing concerned.
"Mom, why Hiccup?"
"Pardon?"
"Why did you call me Hiccup? Could you not have called me something more endearing? Like, DragonChild, or, or, MasterRider or-"
But all she did was chortle amusedly, "Oh Hiccup. Hiccup. That name suits yuh just perfect. Yuh started as a Hiccup, but yer so much more now. And people who know yuh will see it, too."
"But no one knows me..."
"They will, give it time."
In her words he found the secret, desperate, buried hope that maybe, maybe Hiccup would be able to achieve the unachievable.
Bring peace between humans and dragons.
And ever since that day, he was more than willing to work towards that goal. He had to. He owed it to every living being in this world.
When the first dragons assaulted during a raid in those two weeks, Hiccup was more terrified than he had been during a thunderstorm and a feisty attack by a Skrill when he had been the meek age of five.
Everything burnt, and despite all the others seeing wrath and hatred in the eyes of Vikings and dragons alike, Hiccup could tell the sheer misunderstanding that truthfully existed.
But there was something else, too.
He ran towards the exit of the forge, only to pulled back by his tunic.
"Oh no yuh don't!" Gobber warned, glowering down at him, "Toothpicks are not ta fight dragons. Let the real Vikings do that."
He watched angrily as dragons were downed, screams echoed across the landscape and the war reached its climax. Never had he experienced anything more horrifying. So disgruntling, he dared not remember too many details, for he feared his sanity might play tricks on him then.
When they returned to the island of Looting Liars after the fortnight, Hiccup ran back to the outer forests, where he called upon his Typhoomerang and flew back to the sanctuary.
He was not to be seen near Skeggi's forge for at least three weeks.
"I told yuh not ta expect too much, son." Valka had stroked through his hair softly, trying to soothe away his woes.
He stayed within his makeshift cot, leaving only after the first week to interact with his beloved dragons again. When he returned during the fourth week to the forge, Skeggi was unsurprised.
"There yuh are. Thought a dragon had nibbled yuh away."
Wordlessly, Hiccup returned to his work.
They landed at what seemed to be a clearing; just on a slanting hillside. Tall Green, or trees, sprouted from the earth's rough, sturdy surface, forming an oval like shape covered with edgy rocks. Glancing down the hill, Toothless saw the grand, Vast Sparkle, or ocean, as Wispy Wingless liked to call it.
"Well then, bud, here we are. Wanna take a rest before we continue searching?" The warming hand of his rider caused a pleasant grumble to leave his maw, indicating that he indeed was content with that plan.
For months they were searching for other specimen like him, and Toothless felt truly understood by Wispy Wingless. His rider stopped at nothing to help his companion find those he belonged to; the other Black Scales, like himself. How long had it been since Toothless last saw one of his kind?
So long that he barely remembered, no matter how hard he tried. It was all just a blur and a fuzzy feeling somewhere in the back of his conscience.
What he did remember, however, was the day he had first met his Wispy Wingless. The incredible fear he had felt, facing the obscene creature. He was so pale, and smooth with random patches of fur here and there. His limbs were frail, but long, and he had no wings.
Granted, there were other beings without wings. Such as the Big Softs and the Little Softs, which mooed and bleated respectively in their own tongue. But those were food. Wispy Wingless was...was..well, he was a Wispy Wingless, at least to Toothless.
There were others, like his rider, without wings, but not nearly as wispy.
And even though he looked like nothing more but an oversized Soggy Scale (or fish, as Wispy Wingless liked to put it), easy to squish between his mighty jaw, he feared him. He had seen the Wingless' do their fair share of murder; they saw themselves as the sworn enemies of all dragons, had been for as long as Toothless could remember.
Somewhere, the back of his mind pulsated, recalling a devastating memory involving agony and loss, being the basis of contempt towards the Wingless in Toothless' life
Wispy Wingless seemed no different, what with his Sharp Shiny glinting within his hands, and the Twisted Tails that he had captured him with. They were gnawing at his sturdy scales, digging into his flesh mercilessly. Everything was painful and frightening and loud as well as clear. All the noises, all the movements, all the scents that wafted through the air. The feeling of defeat that Toothless had never before experienced; always did he hit his target. Never had he dreamt of being the target for once.
And then to be caught by something so minuscule and unimportant as that in front of him.
Tall Green extended around him, rocks patched with verdant substance and a stone face climbed up jaggedly behind them.
Between it all, his tail throbbed menacingly; he knew that when he had crashed at an unholy speed through the Tall Green, something went rip and he was missing an important part of his dragonesque anatomy. Something that need not bleed to tell him with certainty that it was a terrible loss.
And this Wispy Wingless was to blame.
Anxiety mixed with deep-rooted loathing upon the sight of his demise. He could do nothing to strike back with one last attempt at revenge; he had to watch the being of his nightmares approach, determination plastered all over his face.
Go on, kill me...Toothless had thought, bring honour to your stupid race.
His eyes, forming charcoal slits, focused on those emeralds of the Wingless. They glistened and glittered with colours and shapes Toothless had never seen with anyone else before. No dragon contained such intricate hues. But it was not the artistry of the iris that had him entrapped; it was something else.
Wispy Wingless...he saw him. Saw Toothless differently than any other Wingless ever would. Saw something that Toothless himself could see, but did not understand right at the moment. All the black dragon could concentrate on was the resonance of his thundering heart and accelerating pulse. He trembled with life. Wispy Wingless, despite the reluctance and understanding that seemed to glitter somewhere in those peripherals, meant to end it.
But he was surprised to find the being cutting at the Twisted Tails with his Sharp Shiny, freeing him from his death-trap.
Then, he began to wave around his limbs, walking in a rather peculiar manner. Toothless knew the Wingless was trying to convey some strange message, most likely even attempting to explain that he came with no ill intentions, yet hatred took over the moment he was free.
A gush of horrid memories flooded him; something about Black Scales being slaughtered, perishing by the very claws that this barbarity, no matter how lanky he was, waved through the air as if it were completely normal and harmless. Claws that had held a Sharp Shiny threateningly poised at his body.
Wispy Wingless approached much too rapidly, as if they were comrades, as if shooting him down the heavens was not a crime, as if the terrible loss of his left tail-fin (yes, he had now pin-pointed the sources of his agony) were not his fault.
Out of pure instinct and extreme, boiling resentment, Toothless shot.
And raced off the moment the burning fire left his maw.
All he could think about was attaining as much distance between himself and the Wingless as was physically possible. Every attempt at rising into the heavens proved futile; the loss of his tail-fin chained him to the grounds. He would have winds pick him up just to drop him dejectedly again – he could not balance out, his body twisted left, spiralling into the dirt.
Frustration and anger began to churn, frothing and screaming inside his head. He quickened his pace, legs carrying him in a blur forward through the dense forest. Suddenly, he stumbled, staggering across rocks and gnarled vines from the Tall Greens, barrelling down a sloping, rocky hillside until he landed in a tiny cove.
There was barely any space; a Tall Green not far off, mud all around him, a joking patch of Wet to his right with boulders sticking out, covered in the obscene-tasting jade texture. He would take five normal strides and reach the end of it all. Around him, however, circling like a threatening trap were smooth, green slabs that curled to lean above his figure, looming darkly.
Toothless' nose flared, he returned to the spot where he had tumbled down and jolted with all his muscle-power, clambering up the rubble back into the forest, but found himself losing his hold and crashing back into the cove. Shadows crept across him; he was imprisoned.
The Wet was empty of any aquatic life to please his stomach, each and every time he attempted to escape he was chucked back down to the ground with pain and grievance at his heart. Crying out several forlorn times, the dark-scaled creature had to accept his intolerable fate. He, the almighty hunter of the night, the one who never missed his target and who followed no laws or rules set by anyone; who destroyed out of pleasure and always won, had lost.
He wailed and wailed, awaiting his demise.
Yet fate had something entirely different planned for him; and soon, he discovered, life the way he knew and loved it would change.
Toothless did not expect to see Wispy Wingless again, soon after, with something looking like part of a Tall Green sticking out of his left leg. Obviously his shot had not killed (Toothless' pride did not allow for him to blame it on the sheer nervousness he had had) but only wounded.
Serves him right... He knew this Wingless was responsible for the deprivation of his flying capabilities; who else would shoot down a Black Scale and approach it hence after? He felt edgy again, and insecure. Why had he returned? Had he not learnt his lesson with the loss of his leg – had Toothless not made it clear that nearing him meant death? Despite it all, he had come, yet what he wanted, though, Toothless did not know. Something. He desired something.
It only occurred later to him that it was friendship. When he placated the obsidian beast with a rather delicious Soggy Scale and calm words, with careful steps and warming feelings, with forgiveness and hope.
He visited him daily, feeding him, staying despite Toothless' best attempt to keep several metres of distance. After Toothless kindly regurgitated a Soggy Scale for him as a reward, he pulled his maw up in a peculiar manner, revealing his teeth – yet unlike in dragon language, it was not a threat but a symbol of friendliness. And when Wispy Wingless began to draw with a small stick from a Tall Green in the accumulating dirt, Toothless got curious.
It had been the first time he allowed the small, frail being to touch him with his blunt claw – feeling no contempt nor pain nor ill intentions.
Toothless had to admire Wispy Wingless for his relentlessness. As they worked on their communication, on their bond, he came to see what Wispy Wingless truthfully felt.
No anger nor hatred due to his missing limb. Just understanding.
I took yours, you took mine.
All he wanted was trust, and to build up a bond. He was just as alone in this world as Toothless had been; searching for the right place to go and stay, for the home that never appeared. Despite being surrounded by hundreds of Wingless', or in Toothless' case, dragons, he was one of a kind, travelling amongst the world in solitude. What had once been an utter source of wrath and despisement suddenly morphed into something warm and new and exciting whilst also being so entirely thrilling and intimidating.
That was why he forgave Wispy Wingless, and befriended him. He began to trust him; for he saw himself, just the way he believed Wispy Wingless did too. Whatever powers had caused the dragon to be hit and plummet down on that fateful night, losing his left tail-fin to this Wingless was worth it. For now, it bound him to his Wingless – who ultimately became his rider. Flying had never felt this way before; life suddenly had a new purpose.
Now, it felt like a bond existed between them that, in all his life, Toothless would never have dreamt to possess. He was his Wingless; little and feeble, now taller and a somewhat stronger, but still so wispy.
They flew, and his rider always played an important part in flying with him. The construction he had created, after all, that replaced his tail-fin, could only be controlled by Wispy Wingless. Toothless wanted it no other way; they depended on each other. Wispy Wingless could be sure that, whatever happened, Toothless would come to save him; would always protect him.
For he knew his Wispy Wingless would do the same.
Suddenly, all anger towards the Wingless' tribe was forgotten. Only his friendship with Wispy Wingless counted, and their adventures and missions together. Their battles against foes, both dragon and not, as well as their seemingly endless journey trying to discover other Black Scales. With every day that passed, they understood each other more, a connection forming that could never be destroyed.
The Endless Shifter began to morph again; the beautiful teal colour it primarily contained now dipping into its mesmerizing oranges and ambers and maroons, painting the world a miraculous, warm shade.
Toothless enjoyed these late hours, when the intensity of the Large Hot faded, but still existed, tickling his scales, warming his flesh, making him feel content and relaxed. Flying underneath it, enjoying the change of scenery, the whiplash of wind and moisture was simply priceless. Wispy Wingless would whoop and cheer, and Toothless would grunt and warble along.
They had a mutual understanding in everything they did.
"Over there was the island of Freya's Cot. Maybe we'll find some indications there. What do you say, bud?" The funny, nasal voice of his rider called him out of his reverie.
A growl was the response, and with a tender smile (Toothless practised tweaking his lips up just like Wispy Wingless, although it proved to be a strange and tiring act) his rider patted his thick neck, and thus called for them to become airborne once more.
The meeting had been brief.
Although the main topic was the discussion about the increase of dragon raids, and what to do about it, the Vikings were rather reluctant. No one seemed prepared to face all of the dragons at once on unknown territory; territory which still had to be found. Vikings had tried to discover the secret of the winged reptiles since the day they first set sail, yet had always been unsuccessful. And on that particular endeavour, many lives were sacrificed.
The tribe of Berk did not know what would change now, with their generation, to at all aid them in revealing the dragons' dark secrets and destroying their existence once and for all, ensuring peace to every Viking tribe. If three-hundred years of relentless searching produced no final results; not even a hint, then what hopes did the Hairy Hooligans have?
"We'd come back with less men, an' less goods, an' destroyed vessels." One Viking argued.
"But we cannot keep goin' like this. It ain't a life!" Another threw in.
Fists smacked the tables, voices rose above one another, maces and axes were swung threateningly, but no true conclusion came out of the debate which Stoick ended as quickly as it had begun.
"Enough already!" His strong, reverberating voice boomed across the entire hall; probably even all of Berk heard him roar like an infuriated Monstrous Nightmare, "We shall decide on a crew of men who will join me on my voyage ta find tha source of these...these brutes. So that we may exterminate them, once an' fer all. Tha rest will stay here and train together with tha warriors of tha Looting Liars."
Further arguments broke out the moment the chief stopped his talk.
"Tha Looting Liars? Why them? What does Berk want with those guys?"
"Their village is tiny in comparison to ours! They are no help!"
"I'd rather train with tha Liars than go an' find tha dragon nest. It's hopeless, if yuh ask me."
Astrid observed as the stress built up on Stoick's face, his patience running thin as his almighty fist balled together all the more tightly. The protruding muscles of his arms were flexing incredibly.
"We have made an agreement with tha Looting Liars" The chief once more bellowed, causing all other men to shrink back, jolting and falling silent immediately, "Berk has, by far, tha best fightin' skills and trained men. We will train their warriors so that they can defend themselves betta against those monsters. That way, we can also help out each otha. Their village might not be grand, but they have capable Vikings. One of their men will be enough to represent five standard Viking warriors, once fully trained."
Some mumbling and muttering followed, but no one seemed to object. The deal had been made, anyway, and Stoick was their chief. He knew what was best for Berk. At least, everyone expected that from him.
"We will now discuss who will travel and search fer tha nest, and who will stay 'ere and teach our guests in one week time."
Astrid had high hopes to be a part of Stoick's personal team of warriors that would go out to destroy the source of all sleepless nights. He had said, after all, that she was his most formidable fighter; so she would be most suited to eradicate the lair of the dragons. There was, actually, barely a doubt in Astrid's conscience that Stoick would take her along. Only the best should dare to face off with all of the dragons. And maybe, if she was lucky, the Night Fury was there too. She would be able to attain her much desired glory.
"Astrid!" He called her out of her reverie, causing the young girl's cerulean eyes to focus on him.
"Yes, chief?" Her tone of voice was balanced, despite glee threatening to spill over and consume her at the mere thought of the obsidian-scaled reptile.
"I want yuh ta stay 'ere with the others I just mentioned. Yuh shall train tha Lootin' Liars once they arrive."
It felt as if someone had chucked an ice cold bucket of sea water on top of her. Or smacked her into the face without her even believing it to be possible.
He wanted her here!?
Her heart sank incredibly, but she forbade herself any open display of emotions. That would just be as un-Viking as it could get.
"Of course, chief." She replied with as much dignity as she could cram together.
And just as speedily as the people of Berk had gathered, they dispersed, and Astrid saw herself near to alone in the Great Hall.
Thousand thoughts swirled within her mind, doubt now nestling inside her. Why had he not chosen her to accompany him on the journey? Was she not good enough in his eyes? But had he not claimed otherwise, mere hours ago? Did he believe her not to be able to stand all the mayhem? The countless weeks of journeying?
"Astrid, you comin'?" Fishleg's meek voice called from near the entrance, where he lingered, glancing over his shoulder.
She turned towards him, "What?"
"We want to discuss training plans for our guests. At the training grounds." He explained, frowning. Astrid was usually not so aloof.
"I'll come in a while..." She muttered, scowling herself as she turned back towards the main table in the hall, where Stoick still arranged some papers he had had earlier on.
Shrugging, the chubby boy left, shutting the door as silently as possible. Which still sounded ear-shuddering.
"Chief?" Her courage had come bubbling to the surface and poured down into her voice before she could properly contemplate how to approach the topic.
The large man averted his eyes briefly towards her, signalling his undivided attention. Her mouth opened curtly, just to slam shut again. She began to gape like a fish, her eyebrows furrowing tightly. 'You are a Viking! Show some bravery!'
"Why did you not-"
"Choose ta take yuh with me on tha voyage?"
His calm, serene termination of her sentence caught her flabbergasted. She stood straight, observing him with her large orbs. After several seconds of silence, she nodded.
And after another amount of seconds Astrid did not bother to count, he finally responded, "Astrid, I understand that yuh feel insulted. But yuh should not. Know that what I said on tha battlefield was indeed tha truth. Yuh are one of tha best fighters Berk has ta offer. And that is why I need yuh here."
His words seemed to make no sense; as if they were nothing but a jumble of garbled sounds that simply would not fit into the logic of her mind.
Stoick sighed, "Yuh will make a great teacher. The other Vikings are too stubborn and impatient ta teach. We need someone with finesse, like yuh." He smiled briefly, having finally stacked all of the parchments.
"Is that really the only reason?" Gradually, the blonde took a step towards the table again. The chief seemed astounded as he did not respond, simply stared in bewilderment. So Astrid decided to continue, "I just...I...It's seems to me as if that were an excuse. If you do not consider me strong enough for this journey, then please, be honest-"
"I'm sorry, Astrid." Once more, the burly red-haired man sighed, squeezing his eyes shut as he rubbed them. They had not slept in days; especially not him, with all the work he had to do.
Being a chief was far from an easy task. That, Astrid knew.
"Yuh know...when yuh were born, my son was but a few months older." Confusion spread across Astrid's expression; how come they had changed the topic so speedily?
"Yer father and I had arranged that, when yuh two were ta be grown up, yer'd be wed."
Astrid's eyes widened marginally, the indigo of her iris sparkling with the light. She could not believe the words that were exiting this man's mouth. She had been engaged!?
And no one ever bothered to tell her? Probably because her to-be-husband had died long before she could speak her first word.
But nonetheless, the news seemed peculiar to her ears. Astrid had decided on a life as a shield-maiden, yet wanted to take it one step further and become a maiden warrior, in general. It meant that she declined all prospects of marriage and child-bearing in favour of fighting like a male Viking. As long as her father agreed to the terms, she could be announced as such by the chief. She had not yet asked him, but she knew her dad well. He adored her with every fibre of his being, and granted her anything she desired.
So if her lips uttered that she did not want to be promised to anyone, no matter who proposed (one more courting-attempt by Snotlout and she would burst), she was sure he would not object.
She respected all warriors of Berk; their strength and agility as well as resilience. Even so, not one of them came anywhere near to the term suitable. They were all...well, Vikings. Hairy Hooligans, nonetheless. And she knew that, once she were married to a gross, buff, egocentric Berkian (her breakfast dared to jolt up her throat at the thought as again Snotlout's face appeared before her inner eye) she would be damned to a domesticated life of sewing and cooking and minding little, screaming, wailing toddlers.
Yuck!
Astrid's skin scrawled at the thought. Now hearing the chief talk about her meant-to-be-marriage with his deceased son was simply...perturbing.
"Sadly enough...it neva happened" she detected the heaviness with which he continued to speak, "but nonetheless, yuh are like a daughter ta me. Know that I hold yuh very dear, and that I don't want yuh out there, with those beasts." His hand pointed towards the entrance of the Meade Hall, "It will put me mind at ease knowin' yuh are here, protectin' Berk and keeping our people togetha. I hope yuh understand."
The blonde warrior could not find any words to explain how she felt; or what she felt, for that matter. She was not sure herself, in all honesty. She guessed it was a mixture out of confusion, fear, pride and worry, as well as a mild trace of understanding and gratitude.
Feeling their conversation having reached its climax, the chief nodded, grasping the parchment pieces and circling the table, "Well then, Astrid" His heavy hand came to rest upon her shoulder as he smiled genuinely, "yuh best prepare with yer friends. It will be several weeks that yuh will spend with tha Looting Liars, afta all."
Astrid nodded absentmindedly, and did not hear as Stoick left, exiting the hall, leaving her to herself.
She could not help it; the thought of having been the chief's son's fiancé made her feel like she was burning.
A/N: I hope you all enjoyed this chapter as much as I did writing it!
A wonderful reviewer from the last chapter has actually noted that they want more on the relationship between Hiccup and Toothless and their whole bonding. Funnily enough, I had this chapter started and in its raw state when I read said review; I wasn't sure if I should go and post it. But then I thought "well, just do it!" I hope this really explains the whole dynamic between Hiccup and Toothless' bonding more clearly – it really is just like in the movie with the drawing and the trial-and-error flying lessons, except that Hiccup hides from his mother and not his father, seeing as she does not want him anywhere near the dangerous dragon. And of course it's a different place. I thought it would be a lot more interesting having Toothless' perspective on things this time round. I like irony, I guess? I will probably add in more, but later, from Hiccup's POV.
The style I have been following has been inspired by the Chronicles Of Ancient Darkness book series by Michelle Paver. If you know it, then you have fantastic taste, if not, then you should TOTALLY read it. Literally, in there is a wolf who also describes things his own way. I found it so intriguing when I read it that I tried it out in my TOS 3shot and wanted to adapt it here, too. So here it is; there will only be occasional chapters with Toothless' POV, don't worry. And I will also put in more on Valka/Hiccup, but later. Don't wanna overload you.
Anywho, tell me how you felt about this chapter, and what you thought about my nice twist of Astrid having been Hiccup's promised gal. Oh and, the maiden warrior part is something I invented. Hope you don't mind.
Gosh, not used to writing such long A/N's.
Here is the Toothless dictionary I promised, it will be posted at the end of every chapter in which his POV will appear for you to refer to:
Tall Green – Trees
Vast Sparkle – Ocean
Wispy Wingless – Hiccup
She Wingless – Astrid
Mother Wingless – Valka
Black Scales – Night Fury
Big Soft – Yak
Little Soft – Sheep
Wingless – Human
Sharp Shiny – Dagger
Twisted Tails – Bolas
Wet – Pond
Endless Shifter – Sky
Large Hot – Sun
Soggy Scale – Fish
Large Cold – Moon
Sparks- Stars