Prodigal Son 16

Ten days?

Ten days with a lamed dragon was all it had taken for Hiccup Haddock to abandon his people?

A myriad of emotions welled up inside of Astrid as she sat there on her gods-forsaken beach, running her palms across the wrinkled cover of Hiccup's thin journal, but resentment and betrayal were foremost in her thoughts. What kind of a coward would give up on his village, his family, and his responsibilities? Hiccup was the son of a chief, after all. It was not just his own future he was supposed to think about, but the future of the clan as a whole. Hiccup Haddock was supposed to inherit the Chiefdom from his Father.

Not that anyone on Berk had been looking forward to that. How could a man lead when he could not even swing a sword? Hiccup obviously knew how the village saw him.

And it was there that Astrid's her feelings weren't entirely one-sided. Her anger was tempered by a measure of sympathy. Ten days with a lamed dragon had not given him cause to leave. It was ten days with a dragon, and fourteen years' living in Berk, where the only thing which counted was one's ability to fight and kill. An ability which he lacked.

Astrid well remembered Snotlout's wanton cruelty. No one had ever lifted a finger to prevent the children from bullying Hiccup. Hiccup was a Viking, after all. A true Viking should have been able to fight the bullies off, or failing that, be strong enough to put up with it. It was exactly that mindset which she knew Hiccup had rebelled against when he'd taken flight.

But it all still rubbed her the wrong way. To Astrid, who had declared herself a shield maiden, forgone marriage and family out of devotion to the village as a whole, was to her very core insulted by the ease with which Hiccup had simply left his clan. Had they, in the end, mattered so little to him?

Had he mattered so little to them? He was right, in his last comment. The book she held in her hands contained the secret to ending Berk's three-hundred year war. It had sat amongst his possessions in his father's house for eight years, and Stoick had never found it. Hiccup had been missed for all of a month. Then Viking life simply went back to normal. Those who cared- Stoick and Gobber- had their argument, and the chief grew more dour and quick-tempered. Yet the rest of the village had simply forgotten him.

Hiccup Haddock had been dubbed Berk's Lost Heir. He had been eaten by a dragon in what was a very minor tragedy, and life had moved on. A few of his more useful designs had come to fruition through Gobber's dedicated work, but for eight years, Berk had remained absolutely oblivious to his biggest accomplishment, and the earth-shaking revelation which accompanied it. That was Stoick's fault for not giving his child's possessions a thorough look (not that Astrid could blame him too much), and mostly it was Berk's fault for treating him as such a pariah that he accurately predicted they would never listen to him anyway. It was true Hiccup had been responsible for a fair amount of destruction and mayhem, but so had the twins. No, it was his inability to swing a flail or lift a sword or draw a bow which had devalued him to the point he felt leaving was a better option.

What if things had been different? What if he had tried to tell them? She remembered certain moments which the journal mentioned. The incident with the Zippleback had actually entered into Berk lore. Children were told the tale of Berk's lost heir, who had flourished too late and died too soon. She smirked- if only they knew what had actually happened.

Then there was the night she had caught them at the forge as well. Hiccup had been pulled through a window, only to vanish into thin air. He had escaped on his dragon, of course. But it sent chills down her spine when she realized that for a few moments of her life only a thin wooden partition and a weedy little lad had stood between her, and a Night Fury. The fastest and deadliest of all dragons. If she'd known, and had her axe with her...

No, Hiccup was right in that his thrice-damned dragon would have died had he chosen to reveal it to any of them, her included. She recalled him easily, just a thin wisp of a lad, scrawny and spotty. Always ready with a sarcastic remark. He couldn't fight, and every time he stepped out his door, disaster inevitably struck. She had not been heartbroken about his departure. This journal had not changed her opinion much. And despite her sympathy for his impossible situation, there were Vikings, and there were dragons. There were sides in this war. Astrid had just added Traitor to the list of titles for Hiccup.

She sat there a long while, contemplating. She grew quite hungry, but ignored the rumbling in her belly. She would need that food for later. She would need it for the Nadder. Oh, yes. The solution to her situation lay within the text of Hiccup's memoir. His confession. His betrayal. She would take what lessons she needed, but she was stronger than him. Hiccup may have fallen into his delusions about the beasts, but she would not. Animals they might be, but they still raided. They still stole livestock and murdered Berkians. In her mind's eye, Astrid watched that young child totter out the door of the burning Hrolfson home. No, she would not break. She was a shield maiden of Berk. A warrior, cold and ruthless as a warrior had to be. She would use the tools at her disposal to get off the island. That was all.

On her way to the Nadder she passed by the water trap she had set up the previous day. The sun had nearly reached its apex, and her hunger was only secondary to her thirst. The oiled leather bag was nearly full, and she drank in great gulps, cupping the cool water with both hands. It was clean and clear, and very refreshing. It had been heavily filtered as it passed from the ocean through the enormous sand dune which formed her island.

By the time she felt sated, the bag was a third empty. She hoisted it carefully and slung it over her shoulder. It kept the water quite well, though in the two hours it took her to wind her way across the beaches small droplets were beginning to seep through the seams, and the leather was stained dark with moisture.

She found the Nadder in much the same state as it had been before. It was still lying prone on the beach, wrapped in the rigging and cloth she so desperately needed. She could see how mightily it had struggled by the deep impressions. Left in the soft sand. The dragon spotted her immediately and let out an alarmed squawk, kicking weakly against the sand. Its eyes were wide and sharp as she moved slowly towards it, arms stretched out in what she hoped was a consoling manner.

Step One, Hiccup had written, Establish Trust.

Well, Astrid had no weapons to drop, aside from her carefully hidden knife, and she wasn't giving that up. But she had food and water, and it was likely the dragon had neither. If Hiccup was right about it being just an animal, then it needed to eat and drink. It was hungry and thirsty and that was something she could use against it.

When she was three meters away, she stopped. The dragon cawed and crowed and raised its frill in warning. Its coloring was a light blue with shades of green. Beautiful, in a deadly and horrid way. Its half-beak, half-jaw was an alien, grotesque combination, yet elegant in its own way. She was terribly aware that if it decided to flame at this distance, there wasn't much she could do.

"Alright, dragon." She said. At the sound of her voice, its head cocked to one side. It squawked twice in answer, and opened its frill, the spines spreading widely apart. Astrid said, "I don't like you, and you don't like me, but here we are. I need those ropes, and you want to be free. I help you and you help me. A truce, alright?"

It chirped and tilted its head from side to side, pupils widening as it examined her with both eyes. She took a few steps forward, and its mouth snapped open, revealing a dark maw, and a row of sharp teeth. Astrid tensed, ready to dodge the flame she knew was coming. Her movement made the water in her satchel slosh and drip onto the dry sand. The Nadder froze, its eyes fixated on the wet droplets.

Its mouth slowly closed and it cocked its head to one side pleadingly.

"Thirsty, huh?" Astrid asked triumphantly. "You kill me, you're getting none of this, you hear me beast?"

It squawked indignantly, but allowed her to approach. Steeling her nerves, Astrid knelt just a meter from the Nadder's head. She opened the satchel and cupped a handful of water, bringing it to her lips. The Nadder watched her every move as she drank a small amount. She stuck her hand into the clean liquid and pulled it out, allowing the droplets to fall from her fingertips to the sand between her and the Nadder. The beast's forked red tongue flicked out, catching a few droplets.

"Want a drink?" Astrid offered. She dug a small holed in the sand, always keeping one eye trained on the beast, lest it make any sudden moves. Yet it seemed more interested in earning itself a sip from her satchel. "Then you leave me be. Alright?"

She laid her bag in the hole, half buried so that the hole helped the soft leather keep its shape. She opened the satchel, and allowed the beast to drink, which it did. Its tongue flicked out greedily, taking in sip after sip of the precious liquid. She watched it for a few seconds. Its movements were fast and sloppy; desperate. But it seemed to be occupied.

Astrid rose to her feet and circled the enormous beast, surveyed its situation. The spear was still embedded in its thigh. Blood had run down its leg and dried, leaving a dark patch around which a few flies buzzed. Removing the weapon would be the first problem, as she couldn't predict how the creature would react. Would it think she was trying to hurt it? Not that she cared if she hurt it or not, but there was a strong chance it would strike at her.

The slurping continued at her side as the downed dragon took a long drink. The ropes were tangled around its legs, and its wings were wrapped under a large sail. Astrid moved towards the spear first. The moment she wrapped her hand around it, the Nadder squawked loudly. Astrid gave it a glance, and discovered that it had fixed her with a steady look, its eyes wide.

"I'm going to pull it out." Astrid said. "Calm down. I want to help."

There was a quiet click noise, and its tail rose into the air, spines extended and ready to fire. Astrid had nowhere to dodge, and at this range, it wouldn't miss. She let go of the spear and took a step back, holding her hands up. "Look, I know you don't trust us…" she caught sight of a hole in its wing, made by a well-aimed arrow. That, along with its colouring; blue and green, clicked into place, and she remembered just a few days ago, hanging from a sea stack, with her bow pointed up at the sky. She said, "And you and I have met before, haven't we?"

The Nadder's yellow eyes narrowed as it glared at her.

"You killed Snorri Sigurdson."

It chirped again Astrid doubted it was smart enough for the noise to be an admission of any kind. The beast just sounded curious.

She sighed. "Look, it doesn't matter right now. Tell you what-" She dug around in the folds of her clothing and pulled out the second and last wrapped salted fish. The Nadder's nostrils widened instantly and it made a cooing noise. Its eyes were fixed on the modest meal.

With one hand, Astrid moved the fish back and forth. The Nadder's eyes followed it, as if hypnotized. A small amount of drool leaked out the side of its mouth and onto the beach. With her other hand, Astrid grabbed the spear again, and once again, its tail rose in response, spines at the ready. She stuffed the food away into her clothes. "You're not getting any fish while that tail's up."

The spines flicked down, smooth against the tail, and Astrid pulled the fish back out. The tail flopped to the sand. She took a deep breath, and yanked upwards on the spear. The dragon reacted immediately. Its yellow eyes narrowed, and its mouth opened, letting out a cone of hot fire. At the same time spines flew in every direction, forcing Astrid to dive out of the way. She felt one rip through the loose fabric under her armpit, tearing a large hole, but none of them hit her.

Astrid scampered away as fast as she could, and dove over the side of a small sand dune, ignoring the Nadder's rage-filled cries. A few spines flew after her, but they went over the dune and out to sea, skipping across the water until they sank beneath the waves.

Two hours went by in silence. Astrid wanted to make sure that its initial rage had passed before she approached again. She sincerely regretted leaving her water behind, as thirst and hunger both began to eat away at her in earnest.

At last she crawled up and peered over the side of the dune. The Nadder was sipping at the water again, but it stopped, spotting her immediately. She began to make her way towards it, moving slowly and keeping low. The beast's tail had risen, cocked like a scorpion's and ready to fire more spines at her. It followed her every move, as did the dragon's beady eyes. When she was within ten meters, it blew a small fireball at her, which fell short, and Astrid recognized it as a warning shot. It would not let her get closer, but that was okay. She had a plan.

"Wait!" she ordered, lifting the spear up with one hand. She let the weapon drop to the sand. The Nadder made a curious noise, and the tail lowered a small amount. Astrid took a step closer, then another.

Another gout of fire caused her to skip backwards and halt. The dragon was fixing her with a thoroughly distrustful look.

"Alright…" Astrid said, "Fine." She dug around in her boot and pulled out her smaller knife, tossing it to the side. "Now are you happy, you demon?"

It squawked again, a nervous noise, but lacking the edge it had before. Its tail was still following every move she made. Astrid moved slowly and carefully, keeping both hands in sight. She knelt beside the water and cupped her hands, taking a few sips. To her amazement, so did the dragon, its long tongue snaking out to lap at the satchel.

Astrid waited there a little while, letting it calm down. After a time its tail lowered once again, as did the hairs on the back of her neck. She felt it was time. She pulled out the fish and unwrapped it, holding it out for the Nadder to take. "Here you go." She said, trying to keep the nervousness out of her voice.

The dragon leaned forward, watching Astrid carefully. When she made no moves to harm it, the Nadder's tongue flicked out and snatched up the slice of fish, rolling backwards into its mouth. It chirped cheerfully, and seemed to relax after that, though it sniffed at her clothing.

"I don't have any more. And keep away from me!" She backed up a meter. The dragon crooned after her and settled back against the sand. Astrid circled once again to its side, taking hold of the ropes. Once again, the Nadder's tail rose and it squawked harshly at her, eyes narrowed as it warned her to back away from its flank.

"Oh, kill me then, if you're going to do it, but you'll never get free!" Astrid barked back, losing patience, "Hiccup may have wanted to get all friendly but I couldn't care less. I already dropped my weapons. If I can't get this rigging off you then I'm dead anyway, so take your best shot!"

They glared at each other, woman and dragon. It tilted its head to the side, perturbed. Astrid resumed her work, untangling the knotted rigging which had caught the creature's legs. She worked quickly, desperately wanting to get this over with and put as much distance between herself and the Nadder as possible. It struggled a little, but things became easier once she got one of its legs free. Coils of rope dropped to the sand. The Nadder froze. Then it carefully stretched its leg out to its full length. Astrid who had been tugging on a line which ran underneath the beast, backed away. The claws on the creature's feet could easily disembowel her, and she did not want to take the risk.

The Nadder gave her a thorough examination, then rolled onto its back, exposing the line she had been tugging at, and making her task of freeing it much easier. It was cooperating, she realized. Astrid hesitated a few more seconds, then came forward once again and continued to unwind the creature until all at once it sprang free, stretching its wings to full length, chittering and squawking in jubilation as the sail came away and floated gently to the beach. It stood there for a moment, stomping its feet and beating its wings, stretching out the kinks which had built up during its imprisonment. Then it turned towards Astrid, rearing its wings and aggressively spreading its frill. Its beak snapped open and it let out a long, raucous wail, dancing from one foot to the other and flapping its wings.

Astrid tensed and dove for the fallen spear, but the Nadder reached her first, knocking her backwards and pinning her to the beach with its taloned foot. She grabbed at the black claws, trying to dislodge them. All the while its open mouth was descending towards her head. Astrid roared in defiance, staring up at the toothed maw. "Just do it, then! Just do it, Demon!" She struck out with her fist, hitting the side of its head. It was a weak blow; she had no leverage.

This had been a bad idea form the start. She should have stabbed it with the spear and taken the chance. She didn't want to die like this, impaled on those ferocious fangs. As the dragon's mouth blocked out the last of the sunlight she made up her mind then and there to rise again as a draugr, find Hiccup Haddock, and skin him.

Then there was darkness, but no pain. A wet, slimy tongue slid across her face and for a moment Astrid feared she might drown in foul-smelling dragon-spit. A gagging noise echoed loudly in the damp, dark, foul space. Then the light reappeared, and there was a great rush of wind and sand. Astrid shut her eyes and covered her head. She curled up to shield herself as she heard the Nadder's joyful calls, growing faint as it shot skyward.

Astrid lay back in the sand, spread-eagled. She coughed and spat out gobs of dragon spit. Her entire upper body was soaked in it. It was in her hair, and spread between her fingers in long, slimy strands.

Far above her head, circling the island and squawking joyfully, she could see the distant silhouette of the Nadder, contrasted against the sky. Lying on her chest was a half-eaten filet of salted fish.

The rest of the day was spent in labour. Astrid's first action was to retrieve the spear, and her knife. She planted the spear in the ground, easily accessible, and tucked the knife in her belt, then set about organizing her materials.

There was certainly enough rope, and she laid it out across the beach in three long lines to bind logs together, saving a fourth coil for binding the mast and sail.

There wasn't much wood on the island, only the smaller shards of shattered logs, and enormous bleached driftwood tree trunks which were difficult to lift. The ancient wooden logs were nearly as wide as her shoulders. They had washed high up on the shoreline long ago, likely blown above the high-tide line by some ancient storm. Lying against the sand dunes, they formed a long natural barrier which separated the sandy beach from the stiff dry grasses and larger dunes which covered that part of the island. Astrid strode up to the nearest one. She sat down on the opposite side of it, pressing her back against the log and her feet against the dune. With a considerable amount of huffing and puffing, she managed to push it off its sandy perch, and the log tumbled a few feet down the beach towards her three ropes. Astrid leapt to her feet vigorously and sprang after it. She grabbed an end and managed to lift it a few inches above the sand, setting it down half a meter further towards the ropes than it had been before. She repeated this process with the other side, and began wiggling the log down the beach, back and forth, end by end, inch by inch

She heard a familiar squawking. The Nadder had landed at the top of the nearest sand dune, and was watching her with a certain amount of interest.

"Get out of here!" Astrid yelled hoarsely. Its head tilted to the side and it crowed at her. "Go on. Get out of here! You're free! Get the hell away from me!"

The Nadder ignored her. With barely a flap of its wings, it launched itself off the dune and onto the beach, halving the distance between them. Astrid darted for the spear, fully expecting to feel the sharp bite of Nadder spines in her back at any minute. Yet when she reached the weapon and turned, she found the Nadder facing in completely the opposite direction. It was giving the beginning stages of her raft a close examination.

She charged forward, yelling at the top of her lungs and waving her spear around. The beast shrieked in alarm and took off, giving her a sour look as it headed skywards.

After an hour of huffing and puffing, it occurred to her that she would be better off bringing the ropes to the logs, and so she shifted her construction methods, inching each enormous log towards the others, laying them out in an even, strict row in preparation for binding. The process took a long time, nearly an hour a log, and Astrid found the slow progress disheartening.

She saw the Nadder quite often over the course of the afternoon, driving it away from her raft several times. It left for an hour, only to return and bombard her with raw fish, after which point in planted itself down upon one of the three logs she had managed to move,

"Leave me alone!" Astrid snapped once again. "I'm not Hiccup. We are not friends. I saved your life, and you didn't kill me. That is the beginning and the end of our association. Go! Away!" She once again waved her spear at the Nadder, who promptly blasted most of it away with a fireball. The Viking woman lowered what remained of her only weapon, and stared at its charred, smoking end. She exchanged a glance with the Nadder, who was looking slightly put out (a dragon could do that?). Astrid growled in frustration and tossed the charred stick over the nearest dune and out of sight.

To her amazement, the Nadder vanished after it like a shot. She felt momentary relief, but a few seconds later the dragon returned, only to drop the stick at Astrid's feet. It preened smugly.

Astrid stared dumbly at the stick. She looked back up at the Nadder and sighed. "Fine. Go sit over there!" She thrust her finger out towards the dune. "Over there. Don't bother me. Go sit over there! SIT!" the Nadder squawked at her indignantly and marched past her, knocking her into the sand with its tail as it passed by. It planted itself down upon the dune and stayed surprisingly still for a while, though it eventually grew bored watching her, and poked around in the tall grass, chasing some small creature Astrid didn't care about.

By sundown, she had made considerable progress towards a floatable raft, she knew she was a long way off. She had only managed to move four logs, and on the archipelago's rough seas, she knew that was not enough. Her shoulders and her back ached in protest. She was hungry, thirsty and tired beyond her wits. Her stiff, threadbare clothes were stained with sweat, and her skin was chafed and raw. What little fresh water she had left in Fishlegs' satchel had evaporated, and she began the long trek back to her pitiful water source to rebuild her moisture trap.

Halfway there, the Nadder came back, keeping pace behind her like a faithful dog. She stumbled and fell, her exhaustion and dehydration working against her. To her tired amazement, the dragon caught her, gripping her collar in its beak and holding her up. Astrid hadn't realized how spent she really felt until she was leaning against the Nadder's snout for support. She straightened quickly.

"Look, you want to help?" she said through cracked lips. "I need water. Wa-Ter. Drinking…" Astrid waved the satchel vaguely in the air. The Nadder's eyes widened as it recognized the bag. A moment later it snatched the satchel from her weakened fingers and took off into the air with hardly a sound. Astrid stood there on the sand, swaying with exhaustion and watching the dragon fly away with her only hope.

Too spent to yell, Astrid simply turned around and trudged slowly back towards the raft. Her legs finally gave out a dozen meters from her project. Her knees hit the cold sand, and the rest of her body followed a moment later. She lay there, feeling exhaustion sweep over her as she stared at the stars blossoming in the sky. "Stupid overgrown pigeon." She murmured, and was asleep moments later.

She woke once during the night to hear faint squawking, and heavy footfalls lumbering around somewhere beside her. The noises hardly registered with her, and no sooner had she awoken, then she was back in sleep's clutches bring dragged into the blissful darkness.

Sunlight shone through her eyelids, and she could hear the cry of seagulls and the ocean waves beating against the shoreline. Her head was pounding, a byproduct of the dehydration. She opened her eyes, groaning. The seagulls continued to flap around. Every noise the hellspawn birds made was a nail in her skull.

Astrid sat up, bracing herself with her arms. Seagulls had flocked to the beach to eat the fish which the Nadder had dropped on her the previous day. She still couldn't figure out why it had done such a strange thing. White bird droppings were everywhere and the entire place stank.

One of the white birds was looking at her, with its head cocked to the side. She threw a handful of sand at it, and it took off, only to land a short distance away, still giving her that beady, stupid stare.

Astrid forced herself to her feet, cringing at the ache in her back and her shoulders. She took a few steps towards her raft and froze.

The four great logs she had managed to place were still there, as were the ropes. However during the night, more logs had been dragged in line with them. Indeed, Astrid realized that every large log on that stretch of beach was now lying perpendicular to the water, and that they were all lined up in a straight, even row. They stretched as far along the beach as Astrid could see. The entire beach was covered in Nadder footprints.

She heard a loud squawking noise from the crest of the dunes. The Nadder was standing there, looking quite pleased with itself.

"You…?" Astrid gestured dumbly at the beach, with its strict rows of bleached driftwood. The colours were such a strange, stark contrast made worse with her headache; bone-white wood, yellow sand and blue sky. Such a simple world.

The Nadder hopped from its sand dune and landed beside her, chirping happily and tilting its head from side to side. It trotted a short distance away and drew Astrid's attention to the satchel, placed back in the hole she had originally dug for it. It was full of fresh, clean water.

She started running, and feel to her knees beside the water. It felt so soothing against her parched mouth that she let out a quiet moan. She took long deep gulps, cupping both hands once again to bring as much of the water as she could to her lips. When she finally felt sated, she took a handful and flung it against her face, relishing its coolness, and the clean feeling which came with it.

The Nadder was standing in front of her, chirping quietly and tilting its head from side to side. Astrid stared up at it as she kneeling over the water.

"Thanks…" she said quietly.

It squawked an acknowledgment, but didn't move. She suppressed her fear and lifted her hand to lay it carefully on the dragon's beak. It nuzzled her palm gently, tenderly, the way a horse might.

And then Astrid remembered that this was the same beast which had killed Snorri Sigurdson and tried to throw her off a seastack. She tore her hand away as if scalded and took a few steps back, glaring at the confused dragon.

"This is a truce." She explained, realizing how deranged it was to be talking to the thing at all. "That's it. I build my raft, and we never see each other again. Right?"

It stomped forward and nuzzled her chest. Feeling indebted, she scratched its neck and allowed herself a small smile at the way it crooned and rolled its eyes up, eventually shutting them. It trusted her, she realized. If she had her knife on her at that moment, she could have cut its throat. The thought made her a little guilty; they had a declared a truce, after all.

Astrid sighed. "Fine. As long as we're on this island, we help eachother. Right? But you can't tell anyone about thi… oh Thor, I'm going mad."

The Dragon kept nuzzling her.

"This is all Hiccup's fault." she snarled.

She spent that morning resting. Using the smaller pieces of driftwood, she even made a fire on the beach, far away from the carefully arranged logs. The Nadder started it with little prompting, and it wasn't long before Astrid had a warm, roaring blaze going. She coaxed it down to red hot coals, and placed a flat, thin rock at the center to let it heat up.

Astrid retrieved one of the fish the Nadder had dropped the previous afternoon- an enormous bass with more than enough meat on it to provide a large meal for a family. She used her small knife to quickly prepare it, cutting out the offal and tossing it to the gulls. She scraped the scales off of it and cut long filets from its flanks, laying the meat on the flat, hot stone and watching it sizzle. The Nadder was watching too, curious about this strange human custom.

Having hot food in her stomach was worth a hundred nights of sleep. Astrid hadn't realized how hungry she was, but she ate almost every scrape of meat she could scrape from the bass' skeleton. She scarfed it down with her knife and her fingers and lay back in the sand, smiling in satisfaction. Hunger, real hunger, was better than the highest-priced spices sold by trader Johann.

The Nadder came to join her, settling down beside like a hen on a clutch of eggs. It curled its tail up and lay down next to her. Feeling safe, Astrid allowed herself to fall into a much more refreshing sleep.

When she opened her eyes again, the sun was a little past its apex. She yawned and stretched, listening to the Nadder as it stirred beside her. Her fire was out. Small wisps of smoke rise from some warm spots, and she knew it wouldn't take much to coax it back to life.

She rose to her feet and resumed work on her raft. The labor was made much easier by the Nadder's assistance. It had gathered more logs the previous night. There was something endearing about the way it had pulled every large log down the beach and lined them all up in a row. Eager to help, but with no understanding exactly what Astrid was actually attempting. Like a small child, almost.

Astrid set about weaving the ropes between each log, binding them tightly together. It was a strange thing, working beside the dragon. Every time she tried to push or move one of the thick trunks the Nadder would be right beside her, shifting the wood easily with its snout. Within three hours, she had a large raft assembled just below the high tide line. A medium-sized trunk of driftwood sat in the center, bound up as a mast. She had a boom tied to it as well, with her sail storm-rigged to it. The last hour was spent with her ankles in the seawater as she made the finishing touches and checked her crude vessel for weaknesses. It floated well enough, though a little low in the water. She used her last length of rope to bind it to one of the largest logs left on the beach, as an anchor to insure it wouldn't just float away.

In the dying light of the day, she trekked back to her water trap and reset it. The Nadder watched curiously, craning its neck to see over her as she crouched. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise; her back was turned to a dragon, after all. But she remembered how it had helped over the past twenty-four hours, and forced herself to settle down. She tried not to think about what all the people back on Berk would say if they saw her right then.

The following morning, she woke up early in a state of panic. She had dreamt that the raft, so carefully constructed, had floated away in the night. It did not take more than a quick glance to see it was still there.

The Nadder was there as well, a few meters away. It was wound up in a tight bundle with its head down and its tail curled around itself. She settled back onto the sand for a little while, feeling her spirits rise; today was the day she was setting sail for home.

She couldn't wait to see Berk again and embrace her mother and father. She wondered how many of the others had survived the battle. Hopefully quite a few. What were the kids doing in the arena? Had they kept training without her? Had they missed her much? She was a bit of a task master, she knew, but still. They had always seemed fond of her.

She also needed to talk to Fishlegs. Badly. Had he read the journal yet? Did he know what she knew? Was he testing Hiccup's ideas on the side? Astrid had put the lessons to use and gained an unlikely- not to mention useful- ally in the process, but she hadn't had much choice. Was there a chance they'd be able to bring Dragon and Viking together in the Arena, for instance? How should they approach this? How could this be brought to the village's attention without either one of them being laughed out of the Great Hal? Or declared an exile… or worse?

At last she rose to her feet. The sky was lit in brilliant oranges and purples. The sunlight was shining on the low clouds which crept across the horizon, creating a picturesque moment. Beside her the Nadder stirred, awoken by the vibrations of her steps. The dragon was a light sleeper. Interesting information, if a little pointless at that moment. She wondered if they all were, or just this particular Nadder.

And what the hell was she going to do with it? She couldn't bring it back to Berk. It would get slaughtered. Yet the dragon had followed her everywhere, and it could fly. There was no reason to assume it wouldn't follow her home. She had declared a truce while they were both on the island, but the other residents of Berk wouldn't respect that. Hell, she wasn't even sure the dragon itself understood that their association had to end the moment she left their island.

It was a problem to be considered while she retrieved the satchel.

The dragon followed her down the beach. They walked in thoughtful silence as the sun crested the horizon.

The bag was full again, and Astrid sent up a silent prayer of thanks to the Gods. She didn't want to grow any more reliant on that dragon's help than she already had been. She even quickened her steps a little in an effort to distance herself from the beast which was constantly at her shoulder. There was no outpacing it, of course, but even so she tried as politely as she could. The Nadder seemed to sense something was off. It kept squawking at her and nuzzling her shoulder, and only grew more agitated whenever she pulled away from it.

They reached the raft, and she immediately untied its anchor and coiled up the line, gripping it tightly. The tide was in, and her raft was floating a good half a meter above the sand. She turned towards the sea and searched until she spotted the distant dark shape on the horizon; another island she had spotted on her first day. She needed to know where she was in the archipelago. There was no way she had floated out of Berk's territory. The Uglythugs and the Meatheads were miles and miles away. There was a reason the Tribes only met at the Thing. Perhaps she was near Sunstone or Boarhead or Tall Tree. If she could find any of those three, she could find her way home. It had been a long time since she had had to navigate the isles surrounding Berk, but she remembered enough.

She heard splashing to her side, and droplets of water soaked her clothes. The Nadder was wading clumsily towards her through the surf. The water, which was at her knees, was barely brushing the dragon's ankles. It chirruped at her, its precocious yellow eyes darting between the Viking and the raft.

"No no!" Astrid said, kicking up sea foam as she strode through the waves. She kept one hand locked firmly on the anchor line. She couldn't afford to lose this vessel. "No! You're staying here! We're done. That truce is over, right? This is it. We're done!"

The Dragon squawked in confusion and took a step closer as Astrid reached it. It stuck its snout out and nuzzled her, an action which forced upon her an unwilling smile.

"This is it! We're done. And don't go near Berk. I don't want you to…" Her voice died in her throat. She didn't want the dragon to die. She did not want it to get hurt, so much so, in fact, that she was feeling guilty even telling it to leave.

This was ridiculous! Since when did Astrid Hofferson care about a dragon's feelings? Since when did any Viking?

"You and I are enemies…" she tried to explain as it pecked at her stained and dirty clothing, but once again her voice died. The argument sounded hollow, and the reasons behind it unfair. There was a solution, though. Guilt washed over her as she realized what she had to do to fix this mistake, as making friends with this dragon surely was a mistake.

"Come here." She said, reaching out to the dragon. It obeyed happily and she began to scratch its neck vigorously. Where had Hiccup said? Ah, yes: under the chin. She moved her hands up, trying to block out the Nadder's low, oblivious crooning. All of a sudden its eyes rolled back and it folded up and rolled over, sleeping soundly in the shallow surf.

Astrid stared down at it in amazement, and then reached reflexively for her knife. The blade shone in the sunlight, and she stared down at the dragon's unprotected white throat, caught in a moment of indecision. She slipped her knife back into her belt and waved a finger at the prone creature.

"Don't come back to Berk." She warned. "I don't want to have to kill you." With that, she untied her anchor rope, coiled it up and pushed off with her raft, setting sail in the direction she hoped was home.

And that's part 2 of Astrid's chapter. It is not done yet. We have a whole third chapter to go before she gets back to Berk. Perhaps another 6000-8000 words. Given the length and content, I hope you guys can see why I decided to split this whole section up a little. It's also a major turning point in Astrid's story, so it needs a lot of attention.

Question: do you want me to post the next part of Astrid's journey home, and make it a giant three-part chapter, or do you want to hear from Hiccup again? I'm personally more inclined to the former, but I'm leaving it up to you guys.

In other news…

Do yourself a favor right now. Open up a second window in your browser and go look up a superb fic called 'Cold North Wind' by Sunflowerb. Don't ask questions, just do it. Trust me, you will not regret it. Please take the time to go give this story some support. It only has 25 reviews and it deserves like three times as much!

Also, Midoriko-Sama's Becoming trilogy has received another update. I'm envious of how she always manages to make Berk and the Archipelago feel so well-populated. Hiccup and his journey do not take place in a vacuum in her stories. There are tribes and politics and plenty of different people with a wide-range of perspectives all at play. You're seeing an entire region of the world, and how it goes about solving its problems. Yet she manages to make it so intimately personal at the same time. Not to mention adorable.