I tried to brace myself for the sight of the dragon again. It was close enough to the house that you couldn't just "look away" from it, and you could easily smell that penetrating coppery odor when entering and exiting the house. There was no choice. I'd just have to hurry.

Before we exited the woods, Henrik stopped and turned toward me. "Keep that dragon a secret." He motioned with his head behind us, referring to his dragon.

"What dragon?" I asked with a hint of sarcasm.

He picked up on it immediately and answered, "Exactly."

Henrik led me back toward the village, away from the forge and armory. As we rounded a corner, the dragon's corpse appeared, bringing back the same wave of nausea as earlier. I looked down and focused on Henrik's heels, following them. After about ten steps, he stopped briefly and pulled the door open.

We entered the same house where Dagur was before the hunt yesterday. It was definitely larger than most of the other buildings around. Just like I had observed yesterday.

Inside, the hearth boasted a welcoming fire. A long table was set about halfway between the hearth and the entry. On it were cuts of meat and fish, as well as an assortment of berries. Not all that dissimilar to Berk. I figured the meat was from some kind of dragon. Possibly from the "Night Fury" Dagur had killed. I didn't want to eat or drink anything, having lost my appetite. But I made a mental note to swipe some of the berries and a little water for the trip back.

"Here's the treaty," Henrik said as he directed me toward the table. "You'll need to sign it."

The treaty was a sheet of parchment that had not been rolled or bent in any way. Not like how we present it.

As I leaned over to begin reading, Dagur's voice came from near the hearth. "I thought Stoick was supposed to be here." His voice was barely audible and sounded nothing like what I was used to. Normally Dagur was pretty close to Snotlout in his speech: loud and obnoxious. Today, his voice was a hoarse rasp, almost like even breathing hurt his throat.

Before I could say anything, Henrik reminded him, "Stoick has a head injury. Remember?"

I looked up and saw a pale and haggard Dagur. His eyes were sunken just slightly, like he was short on sleep. Just like me. His upper right arm was heavily wrapped, and blood was still seeping through the bandages. I also noticed his skin on his right shoulder, neck and chest was a mottled pinkish-red, like he had accidentally fallen into a fire. Must have been where the dragon shot him with that fireball.

I wondered if this much risk and injury was really worth hunting dragons. Dagur would take several weeks, if not months, to recover from last night, and he'd probably just go on another hunt again. This was a lifestyle I definitely did not want to have.

He made a show of slowly thinking about what Henrik had reminded him and finally said quietly, "Yes, you told me. Hiccup can sign the treaty." Dagur made absolutely no effort to move his head, so every time he looked at me, he was looking upward slightly.

What Henrik had said about Dagur last night seemed to be correct. I didn't want to entertain staying here longer than we needed to, so I read through the treaty.

Berserker and Hooligan Peace Treaty

This treaty certifies for one year that the tribes between Berk and Berserker Island will remain at peace. The treaty is broken if the Hooligans attack Berserker Island in any way, shape, or form, and Berk will be subject to retaliation as the Berserkers see fit. Contact between the two tribes shall not be limited as long as representatives from each tribe can agree to meet peacefully and without conflict. Any activities involving dragons are not covered under the treaty. This includes dragon hunting, defending a village from dragon raids, etc. The Berserkers may hunt dragons on Berk, given permission from any Hooligan representative.

The representatives of each tribe, signed below, give full enactment of the treaty, effective immediately.

Berserkers: Dagur the Deranged

Hooligans:

The writing on the treaty was perfectly legible, and there were no errors. I wondered if the same scribe who wrote the request for us to come here was the author of this treaty.

The contents of the treaty were pretty straightforward, almost what I expected, except for the dragon thing. That was a decision I mulled over for a second before resigning myself to accepting that condition. I felt a small weight drop in my stomach as I made the decision because I knew the Berserkers could ask anyone on Berk for "permission" to hunt dragons. Including someone like Mildew. But the treaty would have probably been null and void had I objected right here to that clause. Most of the Vikings who lived in Berk were at least tolerant of dragons, so I guessed it wouldn't be a stretch to warn them about the treaty.

I sighed as I signed my full name next to the word "Hooligans."

Step one was finished. Step two was now in effect. I had to find a tactful way to leave this island.

"Dagur, thanks for your hospitality," I said, trying to make it sound like I wasn't lying.

He slowly nodded in disinterest without saying a word.

I turned to Henrik. "Thanks for your help." I winked surreptitiously at him, giving him a subtle hint that his secret about the dragon was safe with me. He grinned slightly back at me, returning the message.

"Anytime," he said. Based on the way Dagur was acting and the way he treated that dragon, I chose to believe Henrik about the ginger.

"We need to get ready for the trip back to Berk," I said succinctly.

"Do you need any food or drink for the trip back?" Henrik asked before I could move.

I paused for a brief second. "That'd be nice," I said.

"Take whatever you want," he replied. "There are leather satchels behind you. I'll get a canteen with water for you."

I turned around. Just like Henrik said, there were several small leather pouches piled against the wall. I grabbed one and stuffed it mostly with berries. And to make sure I was a decent guest, I took some of the meat strips, which looked eerily similar to the Nadder meat I had eaten last night.

"Thank you again," I said after I had filled the pouch.

Henrik pressed a leather canteen into my hand, presumably filled with water. "Don't forget," he whispered. He was referring to Toothless.

I nodded slightly, holding eye contact with him.

Henrik motioned with his hand, saying I was free to leave. He turned back to Dagur and said something, who slowly moved his gaze toward his cohort.

I exited without another word. And quickly walked past the dragon's corpse, holding my breath. As I rounded the corner, I exhaled and checked the direction to the docks. My dad would be able to see the dragon on our path, but we wouldn't have to walk past it. I strode toward our guest house and entered. Packed my belongings, including my ruined shirt, the ginger, and the food pouch into the knapsack. Walked over to my dad and nudged his shoulder.

He stirred with a groan and sat up slowly, his head probably still throbbing.

I sighed. "The treaty's signed. We can go."

He was still looking down, sitting on the edge of the bed. Slowly, his eyes rose to meet mine. "You signed it?" he asked.

I nodded. "Yeah, I did. Dagur let me."

Without another word, my dad stood, wobbled for a bit on his feet, and began shuffling toward the door. He had a noticeable slope in his upper back, like he was trying to keep from moving his head too much.

We made our way toward the ocean. On our right was the dragon. On the left was the cave system we were in last night. I noticed a trail of blood leading from the cave toward the dragon, where Dagur had dragged its corpse last night. But I kept walking, my eyes set on the boat we had here.

It was still intact with its food stores. The berries I had originally brought were probably no good anymore. I figured we could stay alive on the hardtack that was left, coupled with the berries, meat and water I had taken from Dagur's house.

I threw my knapsack into the boat and helped my dad step in. Rummaged around in the knapsack and pulled out the ginger. And handed it to my dad. "One of the Berserkers says this will keep you from getting seasick," I told him.

My dad looked at the ginger, trying to focus. Eventually, he said, "What is it?"

"They call it 'ginger.' I think you have to peel it first."

He shrugged. Placed the ginger with the food supplies. "I think I'll be fine," he said stubbornly.

I tied the sail to the mast and untied the mooring rope. Sat down and grabbed the oars. And began rowing. Slowly. There was nobody to see us off, and I wasn't sure how I felt about that. I didn't want to think about it for too long.

I watched as Berserker Island slowly receded into the distance. I kept rowing at a slow pace, each stroke moving us just slightly closer toward Berk. And Toothless.

Toothless.

Toothless.

Toothless.

I kept my mind focused only on my dragon as I rowed. Berserker Island had already faded into the distance, and around us, the open ocean was the only thing to see. It was amazing how empty the ocean's surface really was. I wondered how Trader Johann seemed to know where he was going so easily.

We were heading in the right direction. I kept occasional watch on my shadow as it moved from my left to right. At the moment, my shadow ended almost on my right side of the boat. Port side, I guessed, because my back was facing our destination. At my best estimate, I had been rowing for about three hours. I had worked myself into a trance with rowing, so the lack of food or sleep didn't faze me. At least until I thought about it, breaking the trance. My stomach growled, telling me for the umpteenth time I hadn't eaten all day.

I sighed as I pulled the oars into the boat. Stood and shuffled toward the meager store of food we had available. Like I had thought, the berries from Berk were withered. No good to eat. I threw them into the water behind us for any fish to find. We only had four hardtack biscuits left, plus the food and water I had snagged from Dagur's table. I pulled a biscuit out and began crunching on it. And relaxed for a few minutes to let my muscles rest. I opened the canteen and took a few swigs of water, then closed it and placed it back with the food stores.

Neither my dad nor I said a word after we had cast off from Berserker Island. But as I finished the biscuit, my dad groaned like he was gonna be ill.

"Eat some of the ginger," I suggested to him.

His stubbornness wasn't invincible, because he turned slightly and grabbed the ginger Henrik had given us. He broke off part of the root with an audible snap and peeled it. Looked it over. And ate it.

"You could almost drink that," he said as he put the ginger back down. "Doesn't taste that bad either." He was still moving slowly, as if he was trying to avoid becoming sick.

I sat there, resting for about ten minutes. The muscles under my shoulder blades were aching from all the rowing I had been doing. It was a small price to pay, because I had a Night Fury waiting for me on Berk. I didn't want to make him wait any longer than I already had.

My dad slowly sat up with another groan. His head was still hurting, but I saw a hint of focus in his eyes.

"I'm feeling a lot better. You can rest, Hiccup." My dad stood, rocking the boat slightly, and took my place at the oars. I sat down where he was, marveling at what the ginger did for him. Henrik was absolutely correct on both counts. He told me exactly how Dagur was gonna act, and he told me exactly what to use the ginger for. I absolutely trusted him. And I was beginning to hope I would see him next year during the peace treaty renewal so that I could return the favor.

I saw my dad grimace as he pulled on the oars, getting us a small distance closer to Berk. He shortened his stroke a little to keep from moving his head and slowed his pace. Our speed also slowed considerably, but we were still moving in the right direction. And on top of that, I got to rest for a while. I knew I'd have to take over rowing again soon to keep my dad from overexerting himself, but for now, I squeezed myself near our food stores for some much-needed sleep.

I woke up under a dark sky filled with stars and soft green swirls. It reminded me of Toothless breathing, how the sounds he produced were rhythmic and gentle. I took a deep breath as I sat up and stretched my lower back. My dad had already given up rowing for the time being, but I wasn't sure how long ago that was. He was asleep again on the opposite side of the boat.

Checking the food stores, we had two hardtack biscuits left. Some of the berries were also gone. There were two strips of meat left, both of which were beginning to dry out. I grumbled as I pulled the meat out of the bag. This was a moral quandary because I didn't want to be eating Nadder meat. I couldn't help but think of Stormfly. But if I let it sit, the meat would probably be spoiled the next time my dad got to it. No sense in letting perfectly good food go to waste, especially when our stores were already limited.

I forced down the meat and sat down at the oars. Began rowing, working myself into a trance. I focused on my breathing, trying to shut down all of my senses except for my hearing. I heard the oars splash as they entered the water for each stroke. Heard them pull through the water. And I heard them dripping as I moved them backward for another stroke. I tried to match my breathing with the rhythm I was creating with the oars. Exhale when pulling through the water. Inhale when out of the water.

Before long, I had a steady rhythm going. Every time I breathed out, my throat made a slight guttural sound as I exhaled. But I wasn't getting tired, and my breathing wasn't any harder than it should have been. I retreated into my little world as the rest of the night disappeared around me.

Time moves faster when you're engaged in something. And it was moving especially fast, because the eastern sky was just beginning to show a hint of lighter color. Daylight was quickly approaching. I had rowed throughout most of the night without stopping.

I relaxed as my senses came filtering back to me. I felt my chest heaving from breathing heavily through my mouth. The sun began peeking over the eastern horizon, giving me just enough light to see around us. I turned around, hoping to spot anything that might have been an island. But I wasn't expecting to see anything except more water.

I wondered how long my dad and I had actually rowed on our way to Berserker Island. Couldn't remember. We had a favorable wind going there, which definitely eased the workload on us. And that same wind from the north was gently blowing today, so that was why we had the sail tied to the mast.

One day finished. Our absolute limit was three days once the canteen ran dry. Because you can't survive without water for more than about three days on end. So, assuming we had no water left, we had two days left at sea before our situation became dire. Just to be sure, I checked my neck with my hand. Pulled it away and noticed a faint sheen of sweat on my palm. I still had enough water to function.

I slowly stood and reached over my dad's side toward the canteen. Sloshed it around. Maybe a third of the way full with water. I opened it and took a sip.

I turned around again and saw a small, faint shape breaking the horizon. My heart rate quickened. The sun was on my right-hand side, and the day had just begun. We were heading north. I was pretty certain that was Berk. And Toothless. And Astrid.

I took a deep breath and turned back around. Grabbed the oars and started rowing again. My throat felt much drier than normal, probably because of the grunting I was doing throughout the night coupled with no water. I scowled, looking at the canteen by my right foot. I wondered if I should finish the water or if I should wait. Our water stores would probably buy me about another day, as long as I slowed my pace down enough to keep from breathing heavily.

I shrugged on the inside and drank the last of our water. We still had the berries, which had at least some water in them, but the hardtack biscuits weren't going to be a food source anymore, considering how dry they naturally were.

Rowing this time was much more difficult. My head was throbbing slightly, and my muscles wouldn't quite obey what I wanted them to do. It was harder to pull the oars through the water, but I tried to lose myself in a trance again, hoping to block out any problems and just get home. Couldn't do it this time. I slowed my pace down, and that seemed to work for a short while.

After maybe ten minutes, I felt my muscles beginning to work a little more efficiently again. I sighed in a mixture of relief and frustration, cursing my impatience. I took a deep breath trying to calm myself and turned around to check our direction once more.

It was Berk for certain. That familiar mountain was becoming more of a feature than a generic shape. At a decent rowing pace, we had maybe thirty minutes to go. At my pace, probably an hour. It was doable.

Inhale when resetting for a stroke. Exhale when pulling the oars through the water.

Inhale. Exhale.

I focused only on my breathing rhythm again, listening to the cues from the water to guide me. And slowly lost my perception of everything around me again.

I only came out of my trance when I heard the tone of the splashing water change. It was very slight, but still noticeable. Looking up, I noticed we were maybe five minutes away from tying up at the docks. Five minutes away from Berk.

Five minutes away from home.

Just a little longer, I told myself. I turned and saw a green two-headed dragon peek over the ledge leading toward the docks. And a second later, two long-haired Vikings on either side of it. Barf and Belch and the twins. Joining them was an earth-colored dragon and Fishlegs.

Fishlegs was first onto his dragon's back. Meatlug took off and headed on a beeline straight toward us. As they approached I saw an excited look on her face. And Fishlegs was just as happy.

Unable to contain myself any longer, I bolted upright, rocking the boat and nearly capsizing it. My dad stirred with a grunt, wondering what was happening. I waited for the rocking to stop, then grabbed our mooring rope and tossed it upward. And predictably, it fell miserably short.

"We'll get there!" Fishlegs shouted.

I scooped up the mooring rope from the water and waited for a few seconds.

"Okay, try it again," he said as he got within close range of the boat.

I heaved the rope upward, and Fishlegs caught it with his left hand. No problem. I stood and tied the mooring rope to the end of the boat for Fishlegs and Meatlug to bring us to the docks, noticing how sore my middle back was. Compared to what Dagur had to heal, this was almost nothing. But I knew how difficult it would be to use my shoulders for anything for the next few days.

As soon as I cinched the rope, I felt a sudden pull as Meatlug began flying back toward Berk. I sighed in relief. We were seconds away from home. I was seconds away from seeing Toothless and Astrid again.

And I didn't want to do anything except relax and decompress. I just wanted to be with them. Doing absolutely nothing. I wanted to forget about what I had witnessed on Berserker Island, except for Henrik's dragon. Maybe sometime I'd ask Fishlegs about her.

The boat crunched into the wooden slats on the docks. I squeezed past my dad again and grabbed the knapsack. And helped him out of the boat. I was definitely excited about being home, but I knew I still had to help my dad up to level ground.

We climbed the ramps up to the village at a moderate pace. Gobber was the first to meet us there. He saw my dad's pained expression, and his look of anticipation turned into one of mild shock.

"What happened to him?" he asked.

"Head injury," I mumbled.

Gobber didn't need me to fill in the blanks for him. He looped my dad's right arm over his shoulder and said, "Go see your dragon."

I didn't need to be told twice. Immediately, I took off toward Astrid's house, noticing she wasn't outside. Neither was Stormfly or Toothless. That was odd, because she would have found out very quickly from the others and brought Toothless out to greet me.

I didn't even knock, pushing her door open. Inside, Astrid was sitting on the floor next to her dragon. Both of them looked at me. Astrid's expression told me something was horribly wrong nearby. Toothless was maybe ten feet away, his breathing shallow. I saw the slats of his ribs, regardless of whether he was inhaling or exhaling. And he never raised his head to look at me.

I froze, Astrid's door completely open. Nobody made a sound for a few seconds. Eventually, I was the first to break the silence.

"He...he didn't eat," I whispered.