The next year on Berserker Island seemed to go by slowly. Dagur almost always felt angry. Each passing second irritated him more. Snide remarks from Ansson could send him into a rage. Things were getting rougher with Oswald as well. More of the Berserkers were seeing the heir's violent temper. This made it simple for the chief to explain away his own marks. Dagur was a menace after all. If Oswald had a bruised cheek, it was because of the redhead. If Dagur had a limp, it was because he had just snapped at the wrong person. One of those days had the teenager in the center of the island. There was a cave that was dark, quiet, and empty besides his presence. No one would find him because they were not even looking. Dagur liked it that way. He stabbed into the cave wall, carving out ideas for how he could slay dragons and certain Vikings. The boy stopped, staring at the person he had just drawn. It made him angry again, so he kicked the cave a few times. Dagur only stopped when he sensed someone else. A light appeared, creating a long shadow of a man. Herald was behind the heir, holding a torch. Dagur regarded him suspiciously for a moment.

"Why are you here right now? Nobody comes to this cave."

"Except you," the older Berserker said. "I hadn't seen you anywhere all day."

"Then, why were you looking for me?"

"I was worried."

The boy's frown faded slightly. As quickly as it disappeared, a bored look crossed his face in its place.

"You worry too much. I just wanted to be on my own. Now, I'm not, so I'll go somewhere else where I can be."

Dagur went past him, then set his jaw as Herald caught his arm. Barely, the redhead stopped himself in time before he punched him. The genuine concern on the man's face made him hesitate long enough for him to realize that he would have easily been blocked if he still went through with the attack.

"You've seemed angry for a while."

"That's not really a shock to anyone," Dagur retorted.

"I mean, you've seemed angrier. If you want to talk about what happened with your friend…"

"I don't."

A question was in his eyes, but he did not ask. Dagur was glad he did not. Herald's expression changed to become slightly more stern.

"You should find a way to let out your anger without directing it at anyone. The others are getting a little wary of you."

"So what if they are? Nothing wrong with becoming a terrifying chief," the boy said, eyes twinkling dangerously.

Herald continued to look at him with the same almost sad expression. For some reason, Dagur did not like to see that sadness on the man's face. He was not sure why.

"Is Ansson becoming more of a problem?" the soldier asked.

Dagur regarded him unsurely until he remembered the bruises on his face. He did not want Herald to ask him anything because he did not want to lie to him. Again, the boy could not explain why this was the case. Either way, he could not tell him that Ansson had only been mocking him. The bruises just came from one person, but he could not reveal the man's identity.

"Nothing I can't handle," he said dismissively.

There was that expression again from Herald. Dagur hated how it made him feel, so he went around the Berserker and began to leave the cave.

"I'll see you out there," he called behind himself.

Dagur did not turn to see the soldier again. He just wanted to do something that did not confuse him. It had been a vexing year overall. Rage so hot that it made him feel like he was boiling, then enough sadness to make his throat ache; disappointment in the world to make him want to change everything, then emptiness that made him not want to do anything–confusion afterwards as he wondered how he could experience that all in a day. Dagur tried to keep his thoughts far from Berk, but they wandered so easily. Feeling angry again, he went into the forest to take it out on the first thing he saw. On Berk, the year was strange for Snotlout as well. The other Berkian kids nearly thought he had been swapped out for another boy. He seemed so mean and rude to them. Astrid nearly killed him for flirting so much. The twins became sad at always being abandoned when they were planning to hang out together. The boy never said that he would not show up, he just made fun of them when they got disappointed. Hiccup became the target of many harsh words and Fishlegs was an equally easy target. Snotlout was sharpening an ax, still feeling the sting on his knuckles from when he had punched Fishlegs for little reason other than Spitelout being nearby when the blond invited him over to spend time together. He was hoping that Snotlout would return to the way he had been acting over the past few years. The miserable expression on his face afterwards let Snotlout know it was unlikely he would make that mistake again.

Snotlout felt bad, but it was between the two of them. Why value Fishlegs or the others more than himself? It made Spitelout proud to see him becoming such a feared presence on the island. Who needed friends when he could have a happy family? Karina did not get so angry with her husband for speaking cruelly to Snotlout because he had no reason to. It was the boy's goal to continue to not give him a reason. He could walk through the tribe with his head held high and enter his home, not hearing anyone arguing. It was all worth it. Still, he disliked the feelings of guilt that hit him at moments like those or when he thought of a certain day. He had to push them down so that he could keep up his new habits. Snotlout turned to the call of his name. Karina was approaching with a frown on her face.

"Hey, Mom," he greeted.

"Young man, Mrs. Ingerman just told me that Fishlegs was punched in the face."

"Oh, that's too bad. Who did it?"

Karina's eyes narrowed. "He didn't say. Of course, considering who all are on Berk, I have my suspicions."

"I guess he shouldn't have gotten in someone's face."

"Fishlegs doesn't seem like the type to get unnecessarily aggressive."

Snotlout just shrugged and Karina frowned deeper before looking worried.

"What's going on?" she asked. "Ever since the peace treaty signing, you've been mistreating the other kids. I even heard you being rude to Gobber last week."

The mother was not sure if this was just the moodiness often expected of teenagers, but her son was twelve. She hoped he was not getting an early start. It was difficult to think that because whenever he was around her and Spitelout, he was like the son she knew. Yet, what she would hear from everyone else was so different. She had a guess, but she was not sure.

"Is this because of your father?"

Snotlout's eyes widened, but he tried to look unfazed. "Dad? No, this is just me. Warriors have to be tough."

"They don't have to be mean," the woman said, crossing her arms. "I want you to apologize to Fishlegs."

"He didn't even say it was me!"

"I know that it was, so I'm going to make this right."

"That's not fair."

"Not one more word out of you, young man, unless it's an apology. Go."

Karina pointed towards the other Berkian's hut. Snotlout frowned and scuffed his boot on the ground before walking that way.

"Leave the ax," she ordered. "No need to scare the poor boy more than you already have."

Snotlout reluctantly dropped the weapon and went over to Fishlegs's home. His mother answered the door, immediately frowning when she saw who it was.

"Fishy," she called, "someone is here to say sorry."

Fishlegs timidly exited the hut and his mother went back in. Snotlout noticed that he had a bandage on his head as well.

"I didn't punch him in the head," he thought. "Maybe when he fell, he got hurt by hitting something too."

More guilt filled the boy, but he swallowed it down. Instead, he gave a harsh look.

"You're gonna tell your mom that I said sorry. If not…"

Snotlout clenched a hand into a fist and Fishlegs quickly nodded his head, wincing a little as he did.

"I'll tell her."

"Good."

Snotlout spun and began walking back to his hut. That guilt seemed like it was following him, but he tried to pay it no mind. The boy kept doing what he had been doing, though he dreaded the day that he knew the Berserkers would return. Oswald and Stoick greeted one another as usual. Nothing had changed for them, but Snotlout did not go to meet the visitors. Karina was fixing some more clothes and Spitelout was putting together a few swords.

"Alright, Boy-o, I think we have everything we need for hunting," he said. "We should be able to bring back several boars for tonight's dinner and to salt for later this week."

"Sounds good to me, Dad," Snotlout said.

Spitelout smiled, then it faded as he looked into a bag. The boy noticed this and went closer.

"What are we missing?"

"I must have forgotten about the rope I lent to Silent Sven. Go and get that while I put together the last of what we'll need."

Snotlout nodded and left the hut, heading over to Sven. The man answered his door and immediately remembered why the Jorgenson was there. Pointing, he directed Snotlout to where the rope had been put. The younger Berkian went and collected it, then started to return to his hut. He began feeling like his feet had a mind of their own. Despite where he wanted to go, he was walking towards the Great Hall. He could not stop himself. Before Snotlout knew it, he was right at the entrance. This would have been fine if Dagur had not felt bored and gone outside to wait. A silent moment passed between the two boys as they looked at each other. When it ended, Dagur turned to go back inside.

"Wait," Snotlout said.

The Berserker's next step slowed down. "Why?"

"B-because…" The shorter boy paused, not really sure what possible explanation he could give. "I don't know."

"Then, I'm going back in. See you around, Snotlout."

Hearing his own name had never offended the Berkian before, but it felt like a punch straight to his heart.

"He hates me," he thought sadly. "Of course, he does. Why wouldn't he after everything I said?"

Unhappily, Snotlout began returning to his hut and put the rope back in Spitelout's bag. The father noticed and patted his shoulder.

"We're good to go now."

The boy gave an absent-minded nod, then he followed his father out of the hut. They headed into the forest. Snotlout almost did not notice as some boars began making noises. Spitelout heard them and held out an arm to stop the boy from going further. Three boars were walking together, rooting around in the dirt.

"You get the one on the right. I'll get the others," Spitelout said.

Snotlout agreed, then went after the animal. He struggled to focus on the task. It was difficult to be around a boar and not think of his former friend. Doing that when they were hardly on speaking terms made his chest hurt and he did not like the feeling. He grabbed the animal's tusks, stopping from running forward. Snotlout frowned at himself, remembering Dagur doing the same before he was supposed to get on the beast's back. This took enough of his attention that the boar yanked free and ran off, squealing loudly. There were two more loud squeals as Spitelout ran his sword through the other animals. When he saw that Snotlout had not done the same, he glared at him.

"What was that?" he questioned.

"Nothing. I'll go get it."

The man's frown seemed perplexed. "You've been doing so well this year. I would've thought you'd be able to consistently hunt boars. Maybe I've been expecting too much of you. You're distracted in the middle of a hunt."

Snotlout's head lowered. "Sorry. I'll fix this."

Spitelout's eyes widened as he heard a loud crash. The father and son hurried towards it. In shock, they saw that the boar had changed its course, heading into the village. It had gotten spooked and rammed into the door of the Great Hall, breaking it. When the animal charged over, Stoick grabbed its head and easily pinned it to the ground. The other father ran to join him.

"That's ours," he said. "We were about to capture it."

Stoick sighed and slashed the animal's throat before handing it over to the shorter Berkian.

"Then, you can repair the damage it caused. Try to keep your prey from entering the village next time."

Spitelout's face was bright red as he nodded. He did not like how the Berserkers were regarding him with contempt. The man saw Oswald's face, full of false interest. This only enraged the Berkian more. He was proving the chief was right about his family. Actually, no, he was not the one who had done that. Seething, Spitelout turned and began leaving. Snotlout's stomach was in knots and he walked briskly alongside the man as they returned to the forest to get the other boars.

"I'm really sorry, Dad," he said. "I'll fix the door. It was my fault–"

"You're right it's your fault!" Spitelout snapped. "You made me look like a fool in front of Stoick and the Berserkers."

"I wasn't trying to!"

A punch went into Snotlout's stomach, doubling him over. It took his breath and made his eyes watery. His head was grabbed and the back of it got slammed into one of the trees. Dazed, Snotlout struggled to stay upright. Spitelout continued to glare at him.

"I'll fix the door myself. You'd just ruin that too. Get up and get out of my sight." The elder Viking's tone became icy. "Just when I think you're improving, you disappoint me."

The man began tying the boars together so that he could drag them all back. Sadly, Snotlout left the forest. Pausing, he sensed someone and sighed.

"Here to say 'I told you so?'"

He was met with no response, so he turned to look at Dagur. The redhead had an unreadable expression on his face. Snotlout could not interpret it no matter how hard he tried.

"Come on, Dagur. Just say something."

The Berserker began to frown. "I still like my plan."

He said nothing else before he left. Snotlout crossed his arms, unsure what he could do. He could not go back home yet. Spitelout would be angry and then Karina would be mad. It would just spiral out of control. Snotlout remained outside, hoping he could think of a good apology for his father. After a half hour, he heard another loud sound and someone cursing loudly. It was Spitelout's voice. Snotlout hurried to it, then found his father near some chopped down trees in the forest. His face was contorted in pain and Snotlout could easily see why. Spitelout's right leg was trapped in a large hole in the ground. The youth's stomach tensed, but he was quick to respond.

Snotlout hurried over to his father and helped get him out of the hole. As soon as he did, he felt a little ill. The leg was badly broken by the accident. Even some of the bones were showing. Snotlout saw piles of grass and twigs at the bottom of the hole Spitelout had stepped into. It looked as though they had been put over top. The hole itself was just shallow enough to force Spitelout's leg into the wrong direction when his momentum from walking opposed how he had been caught. Snotlout put his father's left arm around him so that he could help him get back to their hut. After Spitelout was settled in a seat, the boy got some water. Karina heard the pair and her eyes widened upon seeing the injury. Snotlout hurried past her to begin cleaning the wound. While he did that, the mother got some items to make a splint.

Spitelout would not stop cursing from the pain, but he could do little else while he was there. He stayed still as Snotlout cleaned the wound to keep it from getting infected. Once Karina put the splint on, Spitelout started getting quieter, but he was still in agony. The mother went into their kitchen and poured out a drink into a mug. Snotlout guessed what it was and had his idea confirmed when he saw his father nearly fall asleep immediately.

"That will knock him out for the day," Karina said. "When he comes to, hopefully, he'll be in less pain and a better mood." She turned to her son. "Did you see what happened?"

"No, I didn't. I was in a different part of the forest."

"I'm glad you weren't hurt too." Karina tapped her chin. "I'm just curious what caused this."

Snotlout became quiet. "I'll be right back," he said.

Speedily, he headed out of the hut. He spotted Dagur near the harbor, looking like he wanted to go.

"Why'd you do that?" Snotlout asked, walking over to him.

The Berserker glanced his way. "I do a lot of stuff."

"You know what I mean."

"Then, you shouldn't have to ask."

"But I thought we weren't friends anymore," the boy said quietly. "Why would you still try to help?"

Dagur frowned. "I don't know. Maybe because we used to be. I've been thinking about this stupid day all week. Probably longer. After the boar broke into the Great Hall, I knew your dad would be pissed. Figured he'd take it out on you since he'd gotten embarrassed. So, I set up something to break his leg. He's alive, so shut up about that. He's just out of commission for a while. He won't be hurting you in this state."

Snotlout was silent for a moment. Dagur looked away from him, then back when he heard him talking again. The boy appeared to be miserable.

"You were right," he admitted. "I've been doing everything he's said all year, but it didn't matter. He still doesn't believe in me."

The Berserker's harsh expression melted. "I didn't want to be right about that."

Snotlout sighed. "This year's been awful. Even with him seeming proud of me, I lost almost everyone who mattered to me. Mom's the only person who hasn't turned against me yet and I don't even think she likes who I am because of him." He took a breath, making his voice less shaky. "Because of me. I was the one who still decided to go through with everything. I'm really sorry for what I said last year. I didn't mean it."

Dagur began frowning again as his fists clenched. "I knew that," he snapped. His eyes were blazing, but they became sadder. "What you said didn't hurt. What hurt was the fact that you said it."

"Huh?" the younger boy asked, confused.

"You know about my mind, but you still used it as a weapon against me. Even if you didn't mean it, you wanted that to hurt. You picked your dad over me." Dagur's voice sounded more hurt. "You picked the same dad who's happy one second, then berates you for no good reason over me. Our friendship didn't mean anything to you."

"That's not true," Snotlout insisted. "It did. It still does. I've really missed hanging out."

Dagur regarded him suspiciously. "You're as wishy washy as he is. You might want to hang out today, then send me away tomorrow because of what he says."

"I won't," the boy promised.

"Just like I won't believe that."

"I'll prove it! I'll help you with your dad."

Dagur started laughing. "You can't! That's why I get so frustrated with you. There's actually a way for you to fix what's going on. You can just tell somebody and then things will get better. Who am I going to tell? The chief?!" He began laughing harder. "You said your dad would be proud of you if you were an heir. Be lucky you're not. Having a dad like ours who's also the chief is a nightmare. There's one other Viking I think would care if I told him what Dad does, but it's not like he could do anything either. If he tried, he would probably be banished. That's why you're not going to help me. It's not even possible. You could've helped me by helping yourself. Then, I'd have the fun of seeing at least one of our dads be brought down, but you won't even do that. So, don't act like you'll repay me for what I did. Let's just say that I did it for an old friend and leave it at that."

Dagur started to leave and Snotlout reached for him.

"But I–"

"I said we'll leave it at that!"

The redhead had turned sharply, teeth bared. Snotlout pulled back his hand as his eyes widened. He began looking sad.

"I'm sorry," he repeated.

The Berserker looked at him for a moment longer, then sighed. "It doesn't matter."

Saying nothing else, Dagur got on one of the ships. Snotlout unhappily watched him go, hoping it was not too late to repair what he had broken.