Happy May, guys!

Chapter 4: Far Away, All Alone

Hiccup was washed under by the running waters and swept off as if he were a leaf in a galewind. It was dark and murky and almost impossible to distinguish anything from underwater. His sight was an aqueous blur. His ears were muffled with water. He was tossed this way and that under the current, turning somersaults while he flailed his arms, blindly trying to reach the surface.

His lungs screamed at him for oxygen. He needed to breathe. He needed air, but he was being swept away so violently and speedily that he could not tell up from down. Panic began to set in, and he kicked furiously, trying to fight against the riptide, but to no avail. Against the powerful current, he did not stand a chance and his prosthetic which weighed him down like a ball and chain certainly did not do him any favors.

A muffled, bubbly scream escaped him when an enormous boulder loomed into his vision. Before he had time to react, he found himself crashing into it, its dull, smooth surface hitting him square in the abdomen. In normal circumstances, he might have come to a halt, but the riptide beat against him and pushed him straight over the boulder. The fresh, sharp pain stung like fire, and it was so bad that Hiccup involuntarily gulped in water. He sputtered and coughed, but with every cough he breathed in more water. His lungs burned in protest, and his vision swam and blurred. Then, the world darkened, and he knew no more.

He did not know how long he remained in that blackness until something awoke him and his chest heaved in violent convulsions as if from very, very small earthquakes. He felt like he was spitting fire as he coughed out copious amounts of dirty water. He panted and sputtered, relishing the cool, damp air. His eyes swiveled around, scanning his surroundings. He was still in this dense, misty forest. He shivered and then gave a cough that sent shooting pain from his ribs which burned every time he took on a gulp of air. His careful fingers examined his side before instantly regretting it as the slightest bit of pressure exacerbated the throbbing agony.

Yep. If his ribs had not been broken before, they most definitely were now.

"Oh, gods," Hiccup winced through gritted teeth.

He pushed himself slowly, carefully, into a sitting position, before checking himself over to see if he was all there. He was relieved to find all his limbs, save his left leg, were still intact. However, the left shoulder pad of his riding vest was completely torn off, and the damaged leather strap that had once been connected to it drooped limply, barely hanging on like a half-broken branch of a tree. His clothes were littered with various rips and tears through which peeked fresh and still-breeding cuts on his arms and legs. He supposed he could say it could have been worse. After all, he could very well have been eaten a few moments ago. He pushed his wet bangs that had plastered themselves to his forehead and looked around, unsure whether it had been just a few moments ago that he had been hurtled around like a ragdoll in that river or several hours ago. The dull, grey sky and the depressing onslaught of rain made it hard to tell when it was.

"What is this place?" he asked aloud.

That was an excellent question, but there was no one around to answer it. The only response he got was the gracious, sleety downpour dripping through the canopy down onto him. Not that it mattered much, since Hiccup was already shivering from his damp clothes that were so damp that they dripped themselves.

Hiccup had no idea where on Odin's green Earth he was. Surely this place was not Healer's Island. For one thing, Healer's Island was a relatively flat, rocky island. Here, the terrain was thick with evergreens and sloped and curved like a miniature mountain range. For another, Hiccup was at least three or four hours from his destination when the storm struck him from the sky. Plus, last time he checked-he had been there before to gather ingredients for a cure for the Eel Pox- he was pretty sure that there were no Changewings inhabiting the island.

Okay, Hiccup thought to himself, trying his hardest not to panic. So if this isn't Healer's Island, where am I? Then, a thought struck his mind. The closest thing to Healer's Island was the Shivering Shores, a place known for its evergreen forests and its bitter cold climate. He remembered that a Viking tribe lived here, too. Although Stoick had mentioned they had anger issues-they decapitated a visiting for neglecting to bring a gift-, they were probably Hiccup and Toothless' best shot at getting home to Berk-

"Oh, Toothless!" he exclaimed, and gave himself a mental slap for not remembering sooner. "I gotta find him!"

Hiccup made ready to push himself to his feet and look for his buddy-better to find him before that Changewing or something else did-when he caught sight of his broken prosthetic. It clinked lightly and drooped pathetically to the side as he gently lifted it up. Better to fix it first. After all, no use trying to find Toothless if he was tripping in the mud every few seconds. Plus, how could he get back in the air if he could not even work the pedal?

Without wasting another second, Hiccup tore off the loose strap on his riding vest which was now only held together in the front by the three straps remaining. He planted the prosthetic firmly on the ground and braced the leather strip tightly around it. Note to self, he thought while he tied a knot, bring spare legs from now on. He tapped his leg lightly to experiment, and when the brace seemed to have done its job, he then carefully got to his feet. Even with his prosthetic temporarily fixed, he did not feel quite steady and swayed a little. He groaned lightly and put a hand to his throbbing side.

"Alright, buddy, just hang on," Hiccup said lowly, even though he knew Toothless could not hear him. "I'm coming."

And with that, he ventured deeper into the forest to find his lost friend.

. . .

Hiccup trudged on for quite some time, going squish-squish-squish through the marshy, boggy forest, not really knowing where he was going. He figured if he could get back to the place where he had first woken up, he might find some clue as to where Toothless was. Surely he had not fallen far from where he did. However, for whatever the reason, he could not find his way. Every turn he took seemed to lead him wrong, and he found himself passing the same patches of overgrown heather for the third time that hour. And it did not help that he was walking at a much, much slower pace. His ribs pulsed with a dull, pins-and-needle sensation with every breath he took and whenever he jerked a little too much, they gave a stabbing throb in retaliation.

"Toothless?" Hiccup called yet again, one hand cupped to his mouth, the other wrapped around his injured side as he walked along. "Toothless? If you're out here, show yourself!"

But his frail voice was drowned out by the steady fall of rain.

"Come on, where are you, Toothless?" Hiccup sighed with the shake of his head. Brushing away a drooping vine, he stepped over a fallen, rotting log into a carpet of spongy moss. "Shivering Shores, huh? They should have called it the Shivering Swamps."

Squish-squish, Squish, Squish-squish, squeaked the grass under his feet. It was at this instant that Hiccup wondered why on earth Vikings picked places with the most disgusting and distasteful habitats to settle down. He did not see why a tribe would want to live in this wet blanket of an island. Then again, when he thought of his own home, he could imagine living anywhere else, and he supposed that home was where you made it. Although the more he looked around, the more he began to wonder if any Vikings did inhabit this island. He had been walking for hours upon hours and had not met with a single Viking hut or village. There was no lack of dragon wildlife, however. Several packs of Terrible Terrors were nestled high in the treetops. Some were chittering noisily to their neighbors, two or three would be fighting over a freshly-caught fish, having a vicious tug of war for their supper. Mostly, though, they were piled on top of each other, snoring and shivering in the sleety mist. It might have been a pleasant sight if did not have Hiccup wishing to be home himself. If only he could navigate his way through this soggy territory…

He was shaken from his foggy state when he felt a Terrible Terror dive at him and narrowly missed biting him on the ear. Hiccup then found a swarm encircling around him like a cloud of great, scaly mosquitoes. They were not hungry, no, but they were bored from the wet, cold day. Their boredom and lack of activity had aroused their mischievous streak, and right now, irritating passers-by, especially one as small and skinny as Hiccup, was especially enjoyable.

A yellow Terror zipped over to Hiccup and yipped cheerily and began to chomp on his pant leg while a flame-red one went for his sleeve cuff.

"What are you doing?! No, stop it!" Hiccup pleaded desperately, waving his arms about him like a bird preparing to take flight and trying to shake the Terror gnawing at his pants. "Get off of me!"

A chase ensued as Hiccup bolted away with an entire train of Terrors trailing after him in a kind of freak dragon parade. Squish-Squish, Squish-squish, Squish-squish went Hiccup through the puddles which vomited their muddy bile at him in vengeance for being so rudely disturbed.

"Oh, pick on someone else, will you, you crazy dragons!" Hiccup cried, but this only succeeded in fanning the flames of their mischief.

Hiccup ran, rushing through groping branches of pines. His broken ribs pulsed in pain in protest all the while. Every breath he took felt like he was being stabbed in the side by a thousand lancets. He did not know how much more he could take. If Hiccup had something reflective, a shield or dagger or even a spoon, he would have distracted them by holding it up to the sun. Of course, the sun's radiant face was currently shrouded by a thick, grey veil of stormy clouds.

The deafening cacophony of fluttering wings and chitters was coming closer and closer, droning madly in his ears. After him! After him! After him! the Terrors seemed to be chanting over and over and over. Hiccup panted, wheezing in pain. If ever he thought some god hated him, now was indubitably the time. I'm dead, was all he thought amidst his panic. Even his feet squishing in the boggy heather seemed to repeat, I'm so dead, I'm so dead, I'm so dead.

He was taken completely by surprise when a straggler zoomed on ahead and rammed its head into his side and knocked him clean to the ground. He wheezed out a squeaky breath of agony as fresh pain flared up in his ribs. Hot tears leaked out of his eyes without permission. He tried to move while the Terrors began to flit over him like a plague of locusts, but the pain was too fresh.

They descended upon him, gnawing at his clothes, yanking at his drenched hair, scratching him all over with their tiny talons, and Hiccup was unable to do anything except cry out in pain because he was so weak. They chittered loudly and cheerily in almost giggles like wee winged devils. Some of the tiny dragons looked through his pockets for possible morsels to pilfer from off the boy.

Hiccup failed to see how his situation could get any worse than it already was. Of course, the gods had been known to twist the knife in hitherto unconceived ways, and it was just then that behind him came a bone-chilling roar.

Almost instantly, the Terrors left Hiccup and scattered frantically like a cornucopia of disturbed dust mites. When he lifted his head, Hiccup found a Monstrous Nightmare charging towards him, snarling aggressively. Whether its aggression was towards Hiccup or the bevy of Terrors, it was impossible to tell, but what Hiccup knew was that this type of dragon was extremely territorial and extremely dangerous and was making a beeline straight to him. The acid green Nightmare charging towards him was getting closer and closer…

Hiccup ducked his head down into the mud. This was the way he died. After surviving everything, this was how Hiccup went out: death by an angry Nightmare. This truly was the end for him. But then…

The band of Terrors flocked together around the Monstrous Nightmare and swirled around him with a flurry of blows, scratching, clawing, biting. One of the strangest things about Terrors was because of their subpar intelligence and being pack dragons, they would attack opponents significantly larger than them. The Nightmare snarled and screeched furiously and snapped its jaws at its pesky attackers. Wasting no time, Hiccup scrambled to his feet while both the Terrors and the Nightmare were focused on each other and made a limping run for the right of the forest. He clambered awkwardly over a moss-encrusted log in his path, rushing through the moist tangle of vines, past the low-hanging branches that reached out with their wooden claws, daring not to look behind, to stop for anything until he was far, far away from the terrible sound of echoing roars. Only when the flaring pain in his side became so unbearable did he finally pause to lean against a tree, panting wheezily as if he had just run a marathon.

When he lifted his head to get a better view of his surroundings, he found -thank the gods!- a break in the forest that thinned itself out into what looked like an open field. At long last, he was out of the woods, at least literally. Excitement and hope built up in his chest as he staggered forward. He pushed past the dewy heather, through the rain-bejeweled branches, only to have his heart sink as quickly as it rose.

He had come upon a short cliff jutting off the island like a broken bone. He looked around, hoping that perhaps there was something, someone that could help his current predicament. Alas, he only was met with rain and the smell of salt from the rushing water below. He gingerly approached the precipice like a cat until he stood at its very edge and looked down. His stomach got a sick feeling staring at the dizzying height from the murky water that slapped against the sharp rocks below him. Shuddering half from the damp cold, half from unease, he backed away and turned his eyes upward again.

Then, on the horizon, about a four hours' sail away, was the distant outline of another island. Hiccup had nearly missed it because it was so fuzzy and murky from the grey veil of rain, yet there it should, lonely, stalwart, and tall with its bony, ice-capped turrets.

At first, Hiccup thought he was staring at Healer's Island, but the fact that it was unrecognizable caused him to suspect otherwise. Healer's Island had been much, much flatter than this one. Plus, he and Toothless were still a ways off from their destination when they crashed. Hiccup's heart sank like a stone. What he was gazing upon was the Shivering Shores.

He was stranded on this islet, cut off from help that lay so close yet so far across the stormy sea. No one knew where he was, and no one could reach him. Not his family, not the Vikings of the Shores, no one. He was too far away, and he was all alone.

All. Alone. The words echoed hollowly in his brain, bouncing off the walls of his skull like a lonely, desperate call for help. A hopeless, sinking feeling washed over him, like drowning, like suffocating. Hiccup backed away from the ledge, his fingers digging into scalp as his breath hitched in panic.

"No, no. No, no, no, no, no," Hiccup gasped. He hardly knew what he was saying "no" to, yet that seemed to be the only thing he could get out. He did not know what to do, where to go. What could he do? Where could he go? He was all alone, all alone, all alone, all alone…

Then, his eyes popped open when to the far left, he caught sight of a distant, crimson canvas waving in the wind like a majestic flag off a pallid, low-hanging branch of a tree. A newfound sense of hope chased away his anxiety, and Hiccup raced over to the tree.

He tore down the canvas and examined it. It was shredded in various places from the scratching of wooden claws, yet somehow, the blanched Viking-dragon skull had remained completely intact in the center.

Toothless had been here.