The dropped scales and scattered dragon scent led Wakko to a surprisingly familiar place.
It was a large cove deep in the woods. The indentation was roughly circular, the sides sheer cliffs that were incredibly high, and made of smooth stone.
The only blemish was a narrow crevice, connected to a ravine.
Which, at one point, the three Warners had used to get inside.
It had been the middle of winter. Wakko and Dot loved playing in the snow; unlike Yakko, who had never been fond of snow or the season it was associated with. But he would play in it, if his younger siblings really wanted him to.
However, a near-tragic incident within the cove had ensured that the Warners had no desire to return here. In the couple of years that had passed since, Wakko had almost entirely forgotten that this place existed.
A bellow rang from within the confines of the cove, followed by the frantic scraping of claws on rock. Wakko jumped, then - very carefully - crept through the undergrowth towards the noise. Even though part of him wanted to go in the opposite direction, he continued on; drawn by the inexplicable urge to see the downed dragon again, and a growing sense of curiosity.
Reaching the edge of the cove, Wakko crawled the last few feet, and peered over the edge of the cliff.
He beheld a thoroughly infuriated Night Fury.
The dragon kept throwing itself into the air, flapping frantically; only to tip awkwardly to one side, and tumble to earth. Wakko kept watching as the dragon then attempted to climb the wall of the cove.
Yet the vertical, smooth stone utterly thwarted it's efforts.
It went on like that for several minutes, Wakko's confusion mounting all the while.
Why don't you just…fly away?
The Night Fury tried to fly once again, only to fall and create a new trench in the ground. He - Wakko wasn't entirely sure how he knew that the dragon was male - staggered back up onto all four paws. Then he threw his vast wings wide, and roared at the sky; a sound full of raw anger and frustration.
With an irate growl, the dragon padded over to the cove's small lake. He started thrusting his paws and head into the water, the action accompanied by occasional snarling.
Frowning, Wakko started to scratch a drawing in the dirt with one forefinger.
He hadn't fully processed it the day he'd freed the dragon; but the Night Fury's attempts to fly seemed stilted and off.
More than off. It seemed like the dragon couldn't fly at all.
Studying his dirt drawing of the Night Fury, Wakko realized he'd automatically given him two tailfins.
Probably as the dragon had two fins on his hips. And so it would only follow that there would be two on his tail; it made symmetrical sense. Except…
Wakko leaned forward as the Night Fury once again tried and failed to fly, this time crashing into the shallows of the cove's small lake.
It…kinda looks like he only has one fin on his tail?
With how far away the dragon was, Wakko wasn't entirely sure he was seeing correctly. He leaned even further over the edge, trying to see better.
Then his hands slipped, and a startled bark escaped his throat as Wakko pitched over the edge of the cliff. He frantically scrabbled at the vertical cliff as he fell, his blunt claws ineffectually scraping the stone.
Wakko was briefly relieved when he managed to grab a vine growing from between the rocks; only for it to snap under his weight, and he fell another couple feet before hitting the ground.
He landed heavily on his back, Wakko's lungs seizing as the air was violently knocked out of him. He wheezed, trying to regain his breath.
Luckily, he was sturdy enough to take no real damage from the impact.
Even so, Wakko wasn't thrilled that he'd hurt himself for a third time today. But at least it hadn't been his snout again.
He'd squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them, Wakko was greeted with the sight of the Night Fury; ears down, slinking closer on careful paws, orange eyes narrowed.
With a barely audible gasp, Wakko wriggled onto his side and got up on all fours. Then he clumsily tried to back up, tail hovering between his legs. He couldn't help but slightly bare his teeth.
The Night Fury slowed, then stopped. He canted his spadelike head to one side, the action imparting a dual sense of wariness and - perhaps - curiosity. The dragon's eyes stayed narrowed the entire time.
Wakko almost felt he was being studied.
Maybe I am?
He blew a shaky breath. He forced his lips to relax, ceasing to bare his teeth.
Very carefully, he sat back on his haunches and watched the dragon.
The Night Fury titled his head to one side, then to the other. He slowly weaved to the left, then the right, one eye always on Wakko. He paused, ears slightly lifting, eyes opening a little more.
Wakko swallowed, suddenly feeling extremely captivated by the dragon's stare; like he sinking into the orange depths. Enthralled once again by the intelligent glint there, and by the haunting feeling that...
That I'm looking at myself? That makes no sense, I'm not a dragon.
Seeing water and mud coating the dragon's paws, Wakko recalled him splashing in the small lake. It had almost looked like the Night Fury had been trying to fish, but hadn't been able to catch anything.
Guilt turned Wakko's stomach.
The dragon was probably hungry. And if he did eat fish, Wakko guessed the Night Fury was adapted to hunt them from the sky.
But, because of me - he can't fly. He can't get out of here.
Not like Wakko could. The crevice that would allow him to leave the cove was too small for the Night Fury. Even if, as dragons went, he wasn't one of the larger ones.
The missing tailfin must have been keeping him grounded. It must have been ripped off the dragon's tail at some point, during the crash landing.
That would explain why Wakko had smelled blood upon finding the Night Fury in that clearing; which at the time had seemed strange, when he hadn't seen any obvious injuries on the dragon. It explained the awkward flailing, and the continued inability to fly.
Very gingerly, Wakko lifted one hand. Just as carefully, he reached behind his back.
Arching his spine, the Night Fury's jaws cracked open, showing a flash of razored white teeth. Sucking in a breath, Wakko drew his hand out of hammerspace; he was now holding a few strips of smoked meat.
He tended to carry snacks at all times. If he didn't eat frequently enough, Wakko started to feel really weird. Dizzy, strangely lethargic, and oddly short-tempered.
Still, Wakko could part with some of the food he was carrying, if it meant he'd feel a little less guilty.
And he still wasn't sure how the dragon felt about him. An offering of food could possibly help keep the peace…
Wakko held his hand out, all too aware of how it was shaking; despite his best efforts to keep it steady.
The dragon's nostrils twitched, but he didn't move. Wakko gulped and tossed the smoked meat. It landed on the ground, at the midway point between himself and the Night Fury.
After a moment, the Night Fury inched closer and licked the piece of meat up. It was barely anything for such a large creature, and Wakko was unpleasantly aware of that.
Wakko blinked as the dragon lay down, one ear laying back. The other stayed partially pricked.
"I'm getting a little tired of calling you 'the dragon.' So…" Wakko canted his head to one side.
The Night Fury twitched an ear, his pupils becoming a little less slitted; turning rounder, appearing just a little more friendly.
Wakko thought for several moments. "Um…is it okay if I call you Saffo?"
It wasn't very imaginative, he knew, but he liked it even though it was close to his own name.
The dragon blinked twice, laying his head on his forepaws.
"Seems like a yes," Wakko muttered.
For a while, he continued to sit there and watch the newly dubbed Saffo; caught between feeling wary and being in awe at the fact that somehow, someway, he was within several feet of a dragon and hadn't been attacked. And that it wasn't just any dragon, but one of the rarest and elusive one on the whole archipelago.
When Saffo started trying to catch fish in the small lake again, Wakko attempted to do the same.
The problem was, he was entirely unequipped.
While Wakko could create a gag fish with a gag fishing rod easily enough, summoned hammerspace objects weren't actually 'real.' They only existed for a short time. Which meant that if he tried to feed a gag fish to Saffo, the dragon would essentially be eating nothing but air.
Unfortunately, Wakko wasn't able to catch a fish by hand.
Yakko can…
Yet his brother wasn't here.
But maybe it was better that way; because in the wake of everything that had happened today, Wakko had forgotten something. Primarily, that if anyone from his tribe knew he had spared the life of a dragon, he could be in trouble.
His father had sworn to eradicate the dragon's nest, should he ever find it. William had launched countless expeditions into the wall of fog known as Hellhiem's Gate. The vikings had seen fleeing dragons enter that mist, and therefore assumed the nest must be somewhere beyond. Yet no Viking ship had ever been able to navigate through the foggy veil.
William being the stubborn type, he had never stopped trying.
Meanwhile, Yakko and Dot had spent their childhoods looking forward to fighting their ancestral enemy.
If they knew about this…
What if they decide I'm a traitor, and disown me? Or banish me?
The possibility terrified Wakko.
His family was a part of him; he wasn't sure he could live without them. Or that he could handle it, if his father and siblings hated him as a result of what he had done.
No, I have to keep this a secret.
Wakko fuzzily blinked down at the water he was standing in, absently rubbing his golden armband.
Come to think of it, all of the fish darting around his feet were very small. Even if he had a fishing pole or a net with him, Wakko would have to catch a lot of them to feed Saffo.
He was pretty sure the lake would run out of fish in a few days if he did that. If not in less time, except he wasn't sure what he could do instead.
Saffo retreated from the water, shook himself, and lay down. The dragon's jaws gaped in a yawn.
Yawning, Wakko lay down too…suddenly unbelievably tired. It hit him that he hadn't slept well for two nights in a row, and he suddenly wanted nothing more than to take a nap.
Yet, he knew it was a bad idea to fall asleep, when he was in the presence of a…
He half-lidded his eyes, fighting to stay awake.
He lost that battle.
/
Wakko's nose twitched when something tickled it, dragging him up from the depths of sleep. He cracked his eyes open in time to see a bird flying away.
He was laying outside, staring up at a sunset sky instead of a ceiling. For a few seconds he blankly stared, confused.
A soft huff sounded from nearby, and Wakko abruptly remembered everything.
Falling into the cove. Tossing the Night Fury some of his food stash. Giving him a name. Trying to help him catch fish, then…
Falling asleep.
When he was in this cove with a trapped dragon, a possibly hungry dragon -
Hastily sitting up, Wakko frantically looked for Saffo.
Saffo was still in roughly the same position as before; except he had relocated, and was now on the other side of the small lake. He had clearly been watching Wakko, eyes unblinking and ears raised.
Wakko gulped and quickly checked himself over, a little worried he might find bite or claw marks on him. All the while, he kept one eye on the dragon.
He was unharmed aside from his previous bruises. Though he did feel better on account of taking a nap.
Standing up, he took a single step in the direction of the crevice that would allow him to leave the cove.
A crevice that was too small for the dragon.
Wakko stopped and looked back at the Night Fury.
Saffo hadn't moved. Instead, he'd simply continued to watch him with bright orange eyes.
"You didn't hurt me?"
The amazed question slipped out before Wakko could stop it.
Saffo's response was a one-eyed, very slow blink. Wakko found himself tentatively smiling back.
"I…think I'm gonna try and get food for you."
Somehow.
"I'll be back."
/
The Isle of Neutrality was what Yakko had expected it to be, all things considered; a tiny piece of rocky, barren land in the middle of the ocean. He estimated it was probably, on the whole, only a little larger than the village on Berk. There was one large, unadorned building on the tiny island, and nothing else. The visiting Vikings would be sleeping on the longships, rather than staying on the tiny island itself.
Once they had docked, Yakko sullenly followed William and Guanta up the shore and into the bare bones meeting hall.
"William! How you doing, you old dog?" A burly human with a long, elaborately braided black beard approached his father and shook his hand.
An equally huge bear toon - wearing leather armor with multiple layers and hung with rings - was at the man's side. His arms were crossed, teeth showing in a broad smile.
The Berkian chief laughed and merrily clapped the human's shoulder. "We're the same age, Talvan. If anyone here is old -" he gestured at the toon bear. "It's Ironside."
Ironside snorted, but his grin didn't falter. "Only by a few years! Of course, your fossil of a smith could easily claim the title from all of us."
Guanta scowled, but there was an amused glint in his eye. "This fossil could still beat your sorry tail to the other end of the archipelago and back," he groused.
The four laughed together. Yakko continued to grumpily stare at the meeting hall, his arms crossed.
"Brought Yakko with you?" Ironside raised a shaggy brow. "Still a skinny fella, eh?"
"He's old enough to be in dragon training now, yes?" Talvan added.
William paused, then answered. "Technically. But I've decided it's best for him to apply his talents elsewhere."
"Hah! Figures the runt would get kicked outta dragon training."
Yakko grit his teeth and turned around, treating the speaker to a withering glare.
The two boys lounging by the meeting hall's plain double doors were the sons of chieftains as well.
One was a bear toon, named Ralk. The human teen went by the name Dogsbreath. Both were an inch or so taller than him, and much more burly.
And both were a pain in Yakko's tail each year, whenever the Thawfest games were held.
"Well, what do you know, it's Captain Dullard of the good ship S.S Dung!" Yakko snapped, in an acidic tone of voice. "And his first mate, Sir Peabrain."
Ralk sneered at him. "Big talk for a loser."
"Try winning Thawfest for once," Dogsbreath contributed snidely. "Then maybe we'll care about what you say."
Yakko hissed at both of them. "You ignoramuses conveniently forget that I routinely beat you in the racing and climbing events -"
"So? You've still never actually won first place, loser," Ralk cackled.
Yakko took a step towards them, his fur spiking in anger, only for his father to grasp his arm.
"Yakko," William's tone was stern. "No fighting."
"Ralk!" Ironside barked at the same moment. "Quiet down and come here. The meeting's starting and it's time for you to learn how these things go, pup."
Fuming, Yakko went to the chair to be left of his father and sat down on the plain wooden bench, one of a few set around a vast table.
Despite his advantages in speed and agility, the strength events in Thawfest always served to handicap his chances at winning first place. Perhaps the most humiliating challenge for Yakko was the wrestling portion; he often ended up thoroughly pinned down, his face pressed into the dirt.
Even so, Yakko was too proud - and too stubborn - to give up and throw in the towel. So each year, he tried anyway.
He found his hand going to the hilt of his sword. And his thumb going to the hilt, with its tiny etched sigil of Berk.
His most recent gift. Crafted with immense care by his brother.
He wished more than ever that he was back home, participating in dragon training with his siblings and his best friend.
Right then and there, Yakko came up with a plan as the meeting was called to order.
He'd use the gift of gab to speak up, when he was only supposed to be observing. He would be as annoying as possible, and he would make sure to say things that - should everything go according to plan - should see him dismissed from the meeting hall.
And better yet, would prove that he didn't belong here.
That he should be in the Kill Ring instead.
/
The remainder of Dot's day had been fantastic.
She had solidly defeated Babs and Buster in their extra sparring matches. The last few rounds had seen her and Max facing off. He had been able to challenge her more than her other two peers. It made sense, the two being the most promising recruits.
They'd called the last bout a draw; to the disappointment of the rabbits, who had been taking bets on who would win the most sparring matches.
She wandered back into their house at sunset and found it empty.
Of course, Dot hadn't expected her father or Yakko to be home. But to her mild surprise, there was no sign of Wakko.
The family always ate dinner around sunset. And with dinner being one of Wakko's favorite things, he was usually in the main living area of the croft ahead of time.
Dot didn't enjoy cooking. Not like her dad and Yakko, both of whom liked to add spices and would treat the food almost like a work of art.
As such her cooking methods were much simpler. Dot proceeded to cook plain deer meat over the croft's firepit, and put out some bread. She was a warrior in training; even if Dot did have an interest in cooking, she had bigger priorities.
Her resolve to be the best in dragon training was stronger than ever. And even though Max was legitimate competition, Dot knew her chances were still good in regards to being top of the class. With Wakko having agreed to let her have the spotlight, and given Yakko had wasn't being allowed to participate at all…
She was strong, and she would prove it.
I can fight my own battles now.
She had mostly finished eating when at last, she heard hinges creak. Dot looked over her shoulder and saw the front door opening, and Wakko stepping inside.
He looked as if he'd lost a fight with a bush. His blue shirt was dusty, and his short fur was speckled with bits of grass. A stick and a few leaves were caught in the tuft of fur between his ears, and he was breathing hard; as though he'd been running.
"I never thought I'd see you late to dinner," Dot commented dryly. A little more seriously, she added, "What have you been up to all this time?"
She had assumed that Wakko would spend the rest of his day in the forge. But the debris all over him said otherwise.
"I - felt like hanging out in the forest," Wakko muttered, somewhat awkwardly. He ran his hands through his fur, dislodging the sticks and leaves. "And, I kind of fell asleep for a little while."
This information sated Dot's slight curiosity; aside from the forge, the forest was another place Wako liked to spend time in.
Wakko absently patted at his dusty shirt; only to stop a second later as his eyes landed on the food. The next instant, he was next to Dot, devouring bread and meat right off the grilling apparatus she had put over the now-dying fire.
"Were you playing tag with the undergrowth?" she inquired.
"I tripped when I was running back," Wakko's voice was muffled past the food in his mouth; Dot grimaced at his lack of manners as he swallowed mightily and stuck another hunk of bread into his mouth. "Fell right into a bush."
It didn't take long for Wakko to eliminate what was left of the food. Dot watched him sit back, a lazy and content smile on his face.
She found herself going up to him, sitting down and leaning against her brother. He put an arm around her, a thickset arm with a lot of muscle; courtesy of both his work and in the forge, and inheriting their father's build.
On the surface, Wakko looked like he would be good at fighting.
Wakko's reluctance to fight the dragons had always baffled Dot, when it was what just about every Viking youth aspired to do.
Though, he didn't like maiming animals in general. And the best example of this had been when the three kids had started going on hunting trips, where William had taught his three children to hunt with bows and arrows; as well as with nothing but their bare hands, and animal characteristics.
Yakko had taken to it swiftly, as had Dot.
On the other hand, while Wakko had been eager to chase the potential prey, he was never willing to actually kill anything.
Wakko had only ended up going on one or two hunting excursions; when he had teared up upon being asked to kill a deer, he had been sent back to the village. He hadn't been on any hunting trips since. Unlike Yakko and Dot, who had continued to go on hunting expeditions with their father over the years.
She sometimes wondered how Wakko would feel about fighting - and injuring - humans and toons. It was hard to know; with dragons as a common enemy, the Viking tribes hadn't fought each other for at least two hundred years.
"I'm not sure how Dad expects you to kill dragons, when you couldn't even kill a deer."
Wakko moved slightly, and Dot realized she must have spoken her thoughts aloud. She turned her head and met his eyes, dark as hers but a little rounder.
"Dunno," Wakko mumbled. "I guess he's hoping that if you're fighting dragons when I'm there, it'll be like that time with the fox attack. That I'd feel a need to fight, to protect you -"
Dot stiffened and drew back, even though part of her wanted to keep snuggling up against Wakko's solid frame.
"We were four," Dot snapped; she hated that memory, because of how helpless she had felt in the moment. "I don't need to be protected anymore!"
Wakko flinched and looked away.
"I know you can take care of yourself," he muttered. "I saw how good you were in the ring today."
Dot sighed, feeling just a bit guilty.
"...I didn't - sorry," she mumbled.
Wakko shrugged, picking up a fire poker and prodding at the smoldering remains of the fire. "It's okay…"
There was nothing but silence for a few moments. Dot braced her chin on Wakko's sturdy shoulder.
"It's always really weird not having Yakko around," she eventually muttered. "You know?"
"Yeah, he would be talking our ears off," Wakko agreed.
"Well, it's up to me to make sure it's not too quiet, then," Dot declared. "Want to hear about my sparring matches with the other kids? I kicked butt," she added proudly.
Wakko nodded, and Dot instantly started telling him about her day.
However, Wakko wasn't fully listening.
Instead, he was mulling over Saffo.
He had to get the dragon more food somehow. And more than that; Wakko wanted to help Saffo fly again.
The Night Fury's remaining tail fin appeared in his mind's eye, and Wakko found himself mentally analyzing it; trying to determine how it worked. Picking out details, from the notches at the end, to the shape, to how the fin had flexed…
When Saffo had moved the tail fin, he'd seen the outlines of spurs. Spurs running from a common point on the tail, which then ran through the fin itself…
Like a dragon's wings, but even simpler. Spurs with membrane over them -
And then, it hit him. The perfect idea.
I know what to do.