Chapter 14. Scorcher

  "Hey Stitcher Girl,

  We lost the Dragon Eye. Hiccup's pretty broke up about it. He keeps going out on these reconnaissance trips trying to track Viggo down, but the guy has completely vanished. The whole team searched for three days after we lost it, but we didn't find a trace of Viggo Grimborn or his hunters. We haven't even heard a peep from or about Dagur. He also seems to have just vanished. At least Heather is safe… or at least she's out from under Viggo's thumb. We don't actually know where Heather is either. She just flew off, to who knows where, after the fight with the dragon hunters. We haven't heard from her.

  We thought that we were setting Viggo up for a trap. Turns out he was two steps ahead and the trap was for us… and Heather. Heather had intel that Viggo was going to make a grab for the Flightmare dragon. That's the glowy one that used to come around Berk every few years. Don't know if you ever saw it. Astrid's uncle got a bad rap for being frozen in fear by the dragon. Turns out the dragon actually sprays a glowing mist that paralyzes anyone who touches it. We couldn't let Viggo get a hold of it.

  Viggo and Heather were supposed to go after the dragon alone, and we were going to ambush them. But a whole fleet came out of the mist behind Viggo and Heather's ship. We tried to get her out. Hiccup even lured the Flightmare onto the hunter ship to try and paralyze the hunters. It didn't end well. Viggo got both Heather and the Flightmare. (I really need to keep Hiccup from luring dragons toward hunters. That's at least the second time recently that has backfired.) We were forced to retreat, there were just too many ships.

  It was about then Hiccup realized that we had left The Edge undefended. Yeah, Viggo ransacked The Edge. It was a total mess, and all looking for the Dragon Eye. Good thing it wasn't in Hiccup's hut like he thought. Ruffnut had swiped it and it was in the cave Tuffnut and I turned into a clubhouse earlier in the week. A bit lucky, actually. Or it would be if Viggo didn't get it in the end anyway.

  On one of the ships Viggo abandoned, he left behind a Maces and Talons board, basically challenging Hiccup to a game of the brainiacs. Now I'm not saying Hiccup isn't smart, but I don't think Viggo realizes how often Hiccup's plans work out because of dumb luck and sheer determination. This would normally be - well not exactly fine with me - but normal at least. But this Viggo guy… he's all strategy and it was kind of unnerving, especially because Viggo was challenging Hiccup for Heather's life.

  We found Viggo's island and were planning on going in the back but we were spotted by Viggo's four Typhoomerangs. These dragons spit fire in what looks like a giant funnel, and Hiccup decided that we were going straight down the fire funnel. I can't believe the twins have done this for fun. Well actually yes, I can. It actually worked. The hunters controlling the dragons ceased fire when they thought we were burnt to a crisp and we flew low in. Hiccup went to find Heather and we were put in charge of freeing any dragons we found.

  By the time we were done and went looking for Hiccup, Viggo had already frozen Hiccup with the Flightmare, stolen the Dragon Eye from him, and vanished. As for Heather, I'm not sure how she got away. We were all so busy with the dragons, including the Flightmare, which Viggo had released. All I know is she was there on Windshear helping us with the Flightmare one minute, and the next she was flying off into the distance.

  I'm not sure how all this will affect our plans to stay at the Edge. Fishface says the Dragon Eye is useless without a Snow Wraith tooth, which we're pretty sure Viggo doesn't have. But Viggo came up with that elaborate scheme just to get something he can't use? It doesn't make sense to me. Hiccup is gloomy enough for us all.

  Anyway, enough doom and gloom. How is everything at home? Gustav still coming around? Have you filled up the cellar under your house with cheese and butter yet? We're going to have to dig you a new cellar if you get much more food to store, and you still don't have the garden in yet. Did you figure out what to do with that wolf pelt? How's your dad doing with the new upgrades to his chair?

  Anyway, I have to go. Hiccup and Astrid are determined to boost the Edge's defenses, so that means lots of work for the whole group. Although I approve of better defenses and more catapults. Berk could use a catapult or two. I'll see you next time I'm back.

  Dragon Boy.

  P.S. Thanks for the yak jerky!"

  It was unbearably hot in the Fireworm Queen's nest, and Snotlout wiped a bead of sweat from his face before it could roll into his eye. The other riders and their dragons began to dismount, the danger past. The Fireworm Queen had shown up on the Edge, anxious and insistent that Hookfang follow her back to her island. But what had made them all nervous were the injuries on the Fireworm Queen. She was a big dragon and with her skin so hot to the touch most adversaries would have been severely burned. They'd never seen a cavern crasher till today; a hook-snouted slimeball of a dragon that apparently had a taste for dragon eggs and young.

  He and Hookfang had been separated from the others when he'd chosen to break ranks and follow the Fireworm Queen rather than wait for Hiccup and Fishface to nerd out and make plans. It had been lucky because moments after he and Hookfang had left, the tunnel behind them had collapsed, cutting them and the Fireworm Queen off from the rest of the riders. But he wasn't sure Hiccup would see it that way. He would think that he had left the others alone. At least the cavern crasher had been taken care of, even if he and Hookfang had needed backup in the end.

  He watched as Hiccup approached, ready for the rebuke.

  "Snotlout? You okay?" called Hiccup, jumping down from Toothless and crossing the Fireworm Queen's cavern.

  "Yeah, I'm fine," he said, wiping another bead of sweat off his forehead. He was surprised there was any moisture left in him after Hookfang and the Fireworm Queen's combined attack on the cavern crasher. He was just glad he'd had the forethought to shelter behind the portion of the honeycombed nest that had fallen off the wall.

  "You know your hair's smoking," said Hiccup, pointing.

  Cursing, Snotlout yanked his helmet off and began to pat his head. He'd known he'd smelled burning hair.

  "Here," said Hiccup, reaching out and pinching a portion of his hair behind his ear. The fried ends came away in his fingers, crumbling into ash. Snotlout felt the burned area. He was probably missing a few inches in that spot and was sure to look kind of odd.

  "Everyone else okay?" he asked, glancing around at his friends. The twins were poking at a trail of the Cavern Crasher's slime that hadn't been burned away and Fishlegs was busily examining what remained of the Fireworm's eggs on the wall.

  "That was reckless," said Astrid, approaching the two of them, trying to wipe Cavern Crasher slime off her arms with a cloth.

  "Which bit?" asked Snotlout, crossing his arms over his chest.

  "All of it," she replied, but her voice wasn't angry.

  Snotlout looked at Hiccup. "You going to tell me off too?"

  Hiccup shook his head, frowning. "Why would I?"

  "Because I defied orders and left the group."

  Hiccup turned to Astrid. "Funny, I don't recall giving Snotlout any orders today, do you?"

  Astrid smirked. "I don't think there was time," she said, finishing with the cloth.

  Snotlout watched the two of them warily, waiting for the joke to end. Heat behind him made him turn. The Fireworm Queen had another eggcase in her mouth, which she promptly dropped into his hands.

  "Another one?" he asked as the dragon moved away.

  Beside him, Hiccup moved closer to look at the honeycomb-shaped eggs.

  "You know I could have died down here," he said, glancing at his cousin. The egg wiggled in his hand.

  "True," said Hiccup, poking at the egg. "But for once you can't complain that it was me endangering you. This plan was all Snotlout, and hey, it worked out fine. You crushed it today."

  "I didn't have much of a plan," he admitted, "outside of kick jerk dragon's butt and help the Fireworm Queen."

  "Maybe not, but I didn't have a plan either. Actually, it's the twins who got us down here. I never thought to use Zippleback gas to blast rock like that. It could speed up our work back on The Edge."

  "Looks like we got here just in time too," said Astrid. She pointed behind him. "Um, Snotlout, she's back."

  The Fireworm Queen was approaching again with even more eggs in her mouth. He barely managed to catch them all as the dragon let four more eggs fall into his arms.

  "Why does she keep bringing you those?" asked Astrid as the dragon moved off toward Hookfang, who was crooning over the new hatchlings.

  "No idea," he said, shrugging as he sank to sit on the floor rather than risk dropping an egg. He spread his legs wide and lined up the eggs in a row to keep an eye on them.

  "Oh! Are those ones hatching?" asked an excited Fishlegs, bustling over, notebook in hand. "I've never seen one of these hatch before." Before Snotlout could say anything, Fishface leaned forward and lifted a wiggling egg in front of his face, peering down into the transparent cylindrical top. The egg trembled more violently.

  "Uh, Fishface, you might want to point that away from your—"

  But it was too late. The top of the egg burst violently, sending bits of eggshell flying into Fishlegs' face. To his credit, he still managed to hold onto the egg until Hiccup could rescue it from him.

  "How did you know they did that?" asked Hiccup as the tiny dragon crept out of the little canister and twined itself around Hiccup's hands.

  "Before jerk dragon showed up, Queenie was bringing me eggs for the better part of an hour," he said, picking up another of the eggs that was trembling.

  Hiccup jumped as the Fireworm Queen appeared behind him again, her tongue flicking out between the eggs in her mouth and setting the end of Hiccup's hair smoking. Hiccup quickly held the little dragon out towards him and, snorting, Snotlout tipped his helmet into one hand. Hiccup put the little dragon inside. Placated, the Fireworm Queen gently dropped five more eggs into his lap.

  "She, ah… doesn't seem to want anyone but Snotlout to touch them," said Fishlegs, the egg debris finally brushed from his face. "I wonder why?"

  He shrugged, pointing an eggcase away from him as its top exploded outward. Placing his helmet down, he tipped the little dragon out of its egg, its tiny nails scratching and pricking his palm. The sensation sent a shiver up his spine despite the heat in the cavern. The dragon in his helmet began to glow and radiate heat, and he tipped it out in the direction of Hookfang. The dragonling scampered across the floor toward the Monstrous Nightmare, who resembled a large hen, his belly flaming and radiating heat onto the hatchlings basking beneath him.

  "Interesting," said Fishlegs, watching the dragonlings as he jotted notes in his notebook.

  "Fishlegs, if you want a sample of the Cavern Crasher slime, you better come get it before the twins do," called Astrid, who had moved back to Stormfly. Fishlegs rushed over to the twins, who groaned at not being able to set the slime ablaze.

  "What's with you and baby dragons?" asked Hiccup, still watching the dragon in his palm.

  "What, don't think I can be trusted with them?" he groused, setting the dragonling down as it began to grow hot to the touch. It scampered toward Hookfang.

  "No," said Hiccup. "Quite the opposite. First the Monstrous Nightmare babies and now these. Mothers keep entrusting their young to you."

  "That's me, Snotlout the babysitter," he said with feigned assurance. But the silence between them stretched. To be fair, the same question had been running through his head ever since Queenie had brought him the first egg. She'd brought it to him, not Hookfang… to him, and she'd watched him so expectantly. Three of the eggs in front of him began to wiggle, and within seconds there was a pip… pop… plunk. Three baby dragons peered up at him and he held out his hands to them. They eagerly climbed out of their eggs and up his arms, one staying on his palm, the other climbing to his shoulder, and the last one climbing to perch on top of his head, letting out a soft mew.

  He glanced at Hiccup. "Jealousy is a bad look on you," he said, holding the one in his palm out to his cousin. Glancing toward the Fireworm Queen, who was busy elsewhere, Hiccup gently took the dragonling.

  "I mean, what is it that makes female dragons so at ease with you?" asked Hiccup, his nose wrinkling as he held the baby close to his face.

  Snotlout hooked a thumb in Hookfang's direction. "Probably has more to do with that mutton head than anything else. The girls come to him for help, I mean who wouldn't? He's big, he's powerful, and… he cares. He's a big old bleeding heart for a female in distress. I'm just along for the ride," he finished, picking the baby off his head as it began to heat up, he'd lost enough hair today.

  Hiccup watched him for a long moment before setting the dragon on the ground. "I suppose you both have that in common, well… except for the size," said Hiccup with a grin.

  He glared at his cousin, clenching a fist. "Hey! I could still demonstrate a full Jorgenson punch for you."

  Hiccup raised his hands in mock surrender, laughing.

  "Besides, I am not a bleeding heart," he grumbled, setting the two dragonlings loose to run to Hookfang.

  Hiccup raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure about that? I'm willing to bet there is a tailor back on Berk who might agree with me."

  "Shut up, Hiccup," he shot, glancing around, but the others were all busy with their own activities.

  "Alright, alright! I'm just saying, Hookfang may not be the only one to melt for a certain blond."

  There was a growing warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with dragon fire, a warmth he doubted even a Snow Wraith could extinguish.

  Snotlout walked quickly back to his hut, glancing over his shoulder. The hand in his pocket brushed against the folded parchment of the letter from Sigyn. He'd been in the dragon stable cleaning Hookfang's saddle when the little blue-green dragon Sigyn had decided to call Pipsqueek, had landed on his shoulder, chirping, Sigyn's reply tied to its leg. Glancing around, he ducked into his hut, bolting the door behind him before going to the small table near the window. Eagerly, he pulled the twine holding the letter closed and held the letter up to the light and began to read.

  "Dragon Boy,

  Sounds like you guys have had a rough time of it. I've never met Heather, only heard you talk about her, but I'm glad she's safe. Is she also in your harem? How big is your harem these days? I doubt it's as big as my cellar… then again, even Thor's harem might not be that big.

  And thank you so much for volunteering to help me dig a new root cellar! In all seriousness though, it's a good idea. I really am at a bursting point with the current cellar under the house. So much butter and cheese! But, more is better than none. I always feel bad knowing that Stoick and Mrs. Ingerman are overly generous with their support. But if I can grow and preserve more food, then my father and I won't be a draw on the village's supplies this winter. I'll just draw on yours and Hookfang's physical labor. So yes, next time you're back let's dig a new cellar.

  On another note, I've started adding some herbs and spices into the butter and cheese. Dad likes the rosemary butter best. I tried one with some of the dried spicy peppers from last year's garden. Let's just say Gustav doesn't do spicy very well. Do you like spice? I know you have a sweet tooth.

  Mrs. Ingerman says that the chief's hut is almost rebuilt, so Hiccup won't have to stay with you next time he's back. I suspect that means Shepherd will come around more often."

  He frowned. He would have thought it would have taken longer to build the chief's new hut. And now Shepherd would hang around Sigyn more. He didn't like it. Shepherd still rubbed him the wrong way. Something about his age? His height? The stupid little beard he'd been trying to grow the last time he'd seen him in Sigyn's barn. Something…

  "Gustave still visits a couple times a week. He says he hasn't seen your dad at dragon rider training in a good long while. The chicks still follow Gustave around… well, I guess they're not chicks anymore; they're at that odd pinfeather stage, but they still love him. You'd be surprised how many worms and grubs that boy can fit in his pocket. He and Geoffrey would get along well, I think."

  He chuckled at the image of Gustave and Geoffrey comparing pockets full of bugs and flipped the sheet to read the back.

  "Dad's doing well. The brakes on his chair could use a bit of tweaking though. They don't quite have enough grip to actually stop him; just slow him down. Has Hiccup jumped off any more cliffs lately, or has he been too busy with the Dragon Eye and Viggo stuff? Must be frustrating. Why would Viggo want the Dragon Eye so badly anyway? From what you've said he seems to know just as much if not more about dragons than Hiccup.

  I'm really not making much headway with my sewing because of all the yak milk. I wonder if Bruser's milk will ever slow down. I've tried milking her less, but she gets so insistent that she kicked a hole in the stall wall waiting for me. So for now I'm just milking and trying to send as much of it away as I can. Your sister actually stopped by the other day, apparently having come from the Ingermans. She said Geoffrey was asking for more milk. I was only too happy to send her off with two buckets. I can't believe how much Geoffrey drinks. You better watch out or your younger brother will drink you under the table someday."

  He snorted, imagining his little brother with a mug of ale. Heaven help him if he ever got ahold of Astrid's yak nog. He shuddered, remembering the chunky, rancid drink. He had yet to try alcohol as kids on Berk weren't typically allowed fermented drinks till 18. Alcohol had been one thing that Stoick and the other elders had been sure to be clear about when it had come time to leave Berk. The riders would be supplied with food and other items, but no alcoholic beverages. With everyone except Hiccup under 18 at the time, it hadn't been so odd though. However, that had not deterred Tuffnut from trying to brew his own here on The Edge. Tuff had even tried to convince him to try his pungent concoction, but knowing Tuff… he'd passed. Tuff's green face and retching the next day had told him he'd chosen well. But this Snoggletog would be different. There was always a ready supply of alcohol at the feast and they were all now 18.

  "Did you look like Geoffrey at that age? He's cute in a demented little boy way. Your sister Adel looks like your mom though. Still kinda jealous you have siblings. Maybe I would have had siblings if my mother had lived.

  I have actually figured out what to do with the wolf pelt, but you'll just have to wait and see. Although at the rate I'm going, I won't be done till next summer. Hey, I forgot to ask Hiccup if he wants a sleeveless tunic like yours, or if he wants one with sleeves and how far he wants the scales to go. How's your tunic holding up? Had to replace many scales yet?"

  Snotlout glanced down at his tunic, running a hand over the green scales. He had, in fact, had to replace several of the scales, but he had been pleased with its durability. Not only was the internal leather soft and pliant, but the dragon scales acted as a pseudo armor, deadening blows and even once deflecting a hunter's arrow. He was nearly out of replacement scales though.

  "You're taking good care of yourself, right? No loose teeth, broken bones, or anything? I know you guys have a dangerous job, which is why I gave you that healing book. It's a copy of the one I copied from Gothi several years ago. I just hope you don't need it too often. Be safe, and I hope to see you soon.

  Stitcher Girl."

  He set the letter aside and pulled out his quill and a clean sheet of parchment from between the pages of the healer's book she'd given him. He'd only had it a few weeks and it had already come in handy several times. He sat back, tapping the feather against his chin, trying to decide what to write back. A knock on the door startled him just as he began to write. A blot of ink fell on the paper. Wrinkling his nose, he set the quill aside and folded Sigyn's letter before tucking it back in his pocket.

  "Snotlout," came Fishlegs' voice from outside. "The chief wants to see you."

  He opened the door and folded his arms, looking at Fishlegs. "You do know we don't have to call him that yet."

  Fishlegs looked at him in confusion before his expression cleared. "No, not Hiccup. Stoick. Stoick is here and he's looking for you."

  "For me?" he asked, confused, standing up straighter.

  "Yeah, he says it's a family matter. He's in the clubhouse."

  Uncertain, he made his way to the clubhouse. He wracked his brain, trying to think why the chief would have come all the way to The Edge looking for him. Was he in trouble again? Had something gone wrong and he was being blamed? His unease grew when he arrived to find Hiccup and Stoick waiting for him with expectant expressions. His stomach knotted. Had something happened to his Mom, Adele, or Geoffrey? Was it the Helvigs? He stood frozen in the doorway, waiting for someone to say something, his arms tight across his chest. At last he could take the silence no longer.

  "If someone's dead just say it," he said, praying to the Gods it was not true. For once it seemed the Gods weren't deaf.

  "No one's dead, son," said Stoick, raising a placating hand. "It's your father, he's missing."

  "Missing?" he said, still uncertain. "Missing how? For how long?"

  "A month," was his uncle's reply.

  He reeled, trying to get a grip on the words. A month! A few days, sure, sometimes he went off on some errand for days at a time… but a month?

  "Doesn't anyone have any idea where he went or why? My mom?"

  "He was supposed to be out doing some reconnaissance."

  "For what?" asked Hiccup.

  His uncle sighed. "Since the attacks from Dagur and the Skrill, Spitelout has been pushing for a storehouse off Berk in case of emergencies. The council and I finally agreed and he was put in charge of scouting out a location. But there's been no word from him in over a month," he said, looking at him. "Although, your mother's convinced he's been back to Berk at least once."

  "Why does she think that?" he asked.

  "Your family yak went missing, and her pantry was missing some supplies. She recognized the tracks outside as Kingstail's. That was about ten days ago and your mother has been pressuring me to go and find him, which is what I was doing until yesterday when a T-Mail found me."

  Stoick held up a thick parchment. "I know your father's handwriting well enough to recognize it… but I'll admit that I've never been able to decipher it."

  Stoic held the letter out to him. "You were closer than Berk."

  "So you want me to interpret my dad's handwriting for you so you can find him?" he asked, taking the letter.

  Stoick nodded.

  The letter consisted of two pieces of parchment and he spread them out on the clubhouse table. One parchment was his father's letter, and the other was filled with crudely drawn sketches of a storehouse.

  "Can you read it?" pressed Stoick.

  Snotlout nodded and bent over his father's letter, chewing his cheek. When his mother had taught him to write she had pointed out all the mistakes and sloppy lines that consisted of his father's handwriting. She had been determined that his handwriting, at least, would be legible. Silently he thanked his mother for all the nitpicking as he broke apart his father's writing.

  "Well?" asked his uncle, after several minutes.

  "I know where he is," he said, letting the letter fall back to the table.

  "What else does it say?" asked Hiccup.

  He sighed. "He's already built the storehouse. The letter is mostly a list of supplies he wants sent to the island. Oh, and he says something about an encounter with a new kind of dragon."

  "Already built the storehouse!?" asked Stoick, his brows drawing together like dark storm clouds.

  He shrugged. "Yeah."

  "That arrogant, self-assured… " spluttered his uncle.

  "Stubborn old yak is my mom's favorite," he supplied dryly, folding his arms over his chest.

  Stoick shot him a look but it seemed to have taken the steam out of him. "Where is he? I'll put him on night watch for the rest of the year."

  Snotlout shook his head. "I'm coming with you."

  Stoick opened his mouth to argue.

  "Me too," cut in Hiccup. "If Spitelout discovered a new dragon, I want to see it. That was one of the main reasons we came out here in the first place."

  Stoick pinched the bridge of his nose. "Very well, saddle up."

  The dragons touched down on the small island two days later, honing in on the lone rooftop poking up between the trees. The sun had been up for several hours. The clearing in front of the sturdy storehouse was empty. They dismounted and Stoick stalked up to the storehouse, hands on his hips.

  "Stubborn, insubordinate Jorgenson," he said, pushing the door open. He was greeted by silence.

  A low grunt and the stamp of hooves drew his attention and he and Hiccup followed it around the clearing to the back of the storehouse. A familiar yak stamped impatiently at the ground, unable to reach the longer grass.

  "Yakety?" he said, starting towards the animal, then pausing. Something was oddly familiar about the way the nearby tree was bent. The ground was suspiciously even and something tickled at the back of his brain.

  "Someone's staked him in place," said Hiccup, pointing to where a stake had been driven into the ground. Hiccup moved toward the yak. "Why on earth would your dad bring a yak all the way-"

  "Hiccup, wait!" he called, rushing forward to grab his cousin's shoulder, but it was too late. The mechanism sprung and the two of them were hoisted into the air, the heavy net scooping them up effortlessly. There were several moments of elbows, boots, and curses. Hookfang and Toothless made their way towards them. The dragons watched them, looking smug, if giant lizards could look smug. Hookfang was doing the huffing thing that he did when he was amused.

  "Laugh it up, big guy," he said, kicking a leg in Hookfang's direction. Hookfang stretched his nose up and bumped them, setting the net swinging and spinning lazily.

  "What is this?" asked Hiccup, as they spun past their dragons for the second time.

  "I was trying to tell you, it's a Jorgenson Yak-master. My dad designed it to catch dragons." The net started back the other way.

  "Yeah, I got that. But why is there one here?" asked Hiccup, trying to shift again and only succeeding in digging his metal foot into Snotlout's thigh.

  He opened his mouth to complain but a loud warbling cry from overhead cut him off. They froze, their attention drawn to the sky. Below them the dragons grew tense.

  A large red dragon flew into view. It was nearly as large as Hookfang and looked like Odin had accidentally stepped on it, flattening its body. It also had an extra set of wings and a trail of smoke followed it through the sky.

  "Hiccup, what is that?" he asked, not taking his eyes off it.

  Above, the dragon spotted the yak and made a dive for it. But before it got too low, a beam of plasma caught one of its wings and it pulled up roaring.

  "Take that, ya great flying lizard," called a voice he was all too familiar with.

  "Dad!?"

  His father flew into view on Kingstail, dodging the strange dragon as it turned to follow him. A moment later Stoick was in the air on Skullcrusher chasing them both, leaving he and Hiccup twisting in the net.

  "We should get out of here," said Hiccup.

  "I got it," he said, fishing the hunting knife off his hip. In a few moments he'd opened up a hole in the side of the net.

  "Hookfang," he called, tucking the knife away. His dragon stood beneath them, stretching his neck up toward them. He held the opening wide as Hiccup made his way past him and out onto Hookfang's head. A few moments later they both stood secure on the grass beside the storehouse.

  "Should we go after them?" he asked.

  "No need," said Hiccup, pointing to the sky as their fathers returned. The strange pancake dragon was gone for the moment, but even before their fathers landed on the other side of the storehouse they heard the angry voices.

  "I don't recall asking you to come here," shouted his father as he and Hiccup made their way around the storehouse.

  "When my brother-in-law goes missing for a month and his wife begins to question me about it, I don't need an invitation. Unless you forgot, Spitelout, I'm the chief."

  He and Hiccup paused before rounding the last corner. Their fathers were often at odds, but something in their tones warned that this was more than just a normal spat. They remained around the corner out of sight.

  "Oh yes, you're the chief," said his father, his tone sarcastic. "The chief of being a busybody. All ya had to do was send the supplies. You weren't needed here. I can take care of this myself."

  "This is supposed to be Berk's storehouse, not a Jorgenson's storehouse, which, need I remind you, you had no approval to build! You were only supposed to scout a location man."

  "And then what?" shot his father. "Bring back my plans to the council for all you biddies to hem and haw over like a bunch of nanny goats? There would have been weeks or months of back and forth. I wasn't waiting for pointless rhetoric. In just four weeks I have eliminated the need for talk. And the sooner the better, I say. Who knows when Berk may take another hit and need the supplies. You were so gung-ho to let your son and the other riders explore the archipelago, despite my warnings. I'm just trying to make sure Berk doesn't pay the price for it."

  Stoick sighed. "I see your point, but it wasn't your decision to make, Spitelout," said his uncle, his voice growing weary.

  "Well you weren't making it fast enough."

  There was a long quiet pause. "It's just another ill-conceived Jorgenson special," muttered his uncle.

  His father drew in a sharp breath.

  "You leave the past out of this," said his father in a deadly quiet tone.

  Hiccup looked over at him, an eyebrow raised in question. He shrugged, just as nonplussed as his cousin, but they listened all the harder.

  "Thor," cursed his uncle quietly. "I wasn't referring to that. Ya got to get over it, man. It was 18 years ago. I meant your idea to build a wooden storehouse on an island with a fire-happy dragon!"

  It was silent for a long moment again, but when his father spoke again there was a deeper rage in his voice, one he'd rarely ever heard.

  "Ill-conceived? Ya think I'm stupid enough not to check the island over before building? That beasty only showed up after. And still I didn't need your help. I trapped the lizard and Kingstail and I sent it packing. When the island was quiet for several days only then did I send that fool supply list to ya. But that thing turned up again yesterday and began to even set fires all over the island."

  "Sounds like classic territory marking," whispered Hiccup as their fathers continued to argue.

  "But the storehouse was here first," he said, watching the sky.

  "You could try explaining that to the Singetail, but I don't think it would go over well."

  "The what?"

  "That's what the dragon's called. Singetail. I just remembered it from The Book of Dragons. But there's not much else known about it.

  "Abandon it!?" roared his father, drawing their attention again. "You'd never abandon something you built with your own two hands. Do what you want, Stoick, but I'm not waiting for that beastie to destroy what's mine."

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  His father stomped into view, heading for Kingstail. He and Hiccup straightened and the sudden flurry of movement caught his father's eye. He paused and watched them for a long moment, his eyes assessing before he grunted and turned away.

  "Come on, boy-o. We can run that lizard off the both of us," called his father, swinging up onto Kingstail.

  He glanced at Hiccup who raised a brow and shrugged.

  "Worth a shot," said Hiccup.

  Moments later he was in the air beside his father. They were shortly joined by Hiccup and a supremely grumpy Stoick.

  "So what do we know about this dragon?" asked Hiccup as they all gathered in the sky, clearly trying to bridge the tangible gap between their fathers.

  "It's got eyes that can see in all directions, including through the back of its head," said Stoick moodily.

  "So it's like my mom?" he said quietly enough for only Hiccup to hear him. His cousin stifled a small grin. "But what's with the smoking tail?" he asked louder.

  "Ya best keep yer dragon on his toes, boy-o," said his father. "That beast can fire from both the tail and mouth."

  "And it's large and fast," added Hiccup.

  "No need to worry so much. We can take it," said his father.

  "We can," agreed Hiccup hastily. "But not in the conventional way or someone will get hurt. But… we might have a chance if we go at it from below."

  "Oh aye, the belly of the beast!" said his father, nodding.

  "Precisely," said Hiccup.

  "Okay then, I'll draw it out," said his father, turning to look at him. "Then you get in there and take the shot, boy-o."

  "Yeah… sure," he said, gripping Hookfang's horns tighter.

  "Actualy, let me and Toothless do it. His plasma blast is more pinpoint accurate and we can stay low and unnoticed."

  "I don't like it," said his father, frowning. "I know this dragon. Jorgensons built the storehouse, we should defend it."

  "No," cut in his uncle firmly. "Hiccup's right. Toothless takes the shot. End of story. Now let's move."

  Grumbling, his father flew out over the island and they followed behind, Hiccup and Toothless staying low. It didn't take long to draw the Singetail out as they flew towards a pillar of smoke twining into the sky. The red dragon rose from the ground, its strange warbling cry loud in his ears as he urged Hookfang faster and higher. He glanced down watching as Hiccup and Toothless climbed from their low glide over the trees, speeding up at the Singetail's belly.

  But something must have given them away, for before Toothless could muster a shot, fire erupted in a great column from the belly of the Singetail. The flames narrowly missed Hiccup who took Toothless into a barrel roll, but not before Toothless's tail fin caught fire.

  "Hookfang, dive!" he called, pulling his dragon around to speed after his cousin. They managed to catch them just above the tree line. Snotlout looked around and was relieved to see his father and uncle had the Singetail retreating to the far side of the island. He angled Hookfang back towards the storehouse where they set Toothless and Hiccup down.

  "Isn't that your third tail in as many months?" he said, jumping down from Hookfang as Hiccup rummaged through his saddlebag.

  "Yeah, good thing I always carry a spare."

  "Yeah, and a spare for your spare," he said, rolling his eyes at the familiar words. "Wouldn't it just be easier to try and find a way to make one that doesn't burn?"

  "It's not like the thought hadn't occurred to me," he said, pulling the smoking tail off Toothless with a grunt of effort and handing it to him. "I just haven't found a way to do it yet."

  He poured the contents of his water skin over the smoaking tail before packing it back into Toothless's saddle bag while Hiccup attached the new one. "Well, while you're figuring anyway, I got a letter from Sigyn. She says the brakes on her dad's chair need some more work."

  Hiccup nodded as he pulled the last strap tight. "I guessed that might be the case. I was kind of rushed last time. But I have some ideas on how to make better ones."

  Angry voices approached overhead and they both looked up to see their father's dragons landing.

  "Here we go again," he muttered. "Another lecture from Stoick, the control freak chief."

  "Hey, your dad's the reckless renegade of the archipelago," said Hiccup.

  He grinned at his cousin. "He's Jorgenson, of course he is."

  Hiccup rolled his eyes. "It runs in the family."

  But as their father's voices reached them they tensed. The words were louder and angrier than before.

  "What were you trying to do up there?" thundered Stoick, dismounting Skullcrusher and advancing on his father with clenched fists.

  "What are you going on about? I was doing what you told us to, or did you forget you're the chief. You give the orders around here," shot his father, jabbing a finger in Stoick's direction.

  "You never let me forget it!" roared his uncle. "I thought you said you knew all about this dragon."

  "Well I know more about it than you do!" argued his father, crossing tight arms over his chest.

  "And yet you conveniently left out the bit where it shoots fire from its belly?"

  "Conveniently? You think I knew about that and was trying to set you up?"

  "To set my son up perhaps," said Stoick, his voice quiet. "I never know how far you Jorgensons will go."

  "Dad, that's a pretty big-" began Hiccup, stepping forward.

  "Ah, I see," said his father, glaring at Stoick. "There it is then, isn't it."

  The two men locked eyes for a long moment before Stoick gave a snort of derision and turned away, stalking toward Skullcrusher. "Hiccup, get on your dragon. I've had enough of this nonsense. A heap of sticks is not worth our lives."

  "Good riddance to the both of you then," shot his father. "We're staying here to protect our own."

  Snotlout grimaced. He'd had a sneaking suspicion he was going to be roped into this mess even further.

  "Dad?" he asked, glancing over at his father.

  His father didn't look at him but continued to glare at Stoick. "A Jorgenson doesn't go where he's not trusted or wanted."

  "So be it," said Stoick with a snort.

  "Hey, do we ah, really need to go that far?" asked Hiccup.

  "Hiccup, get on your dragon," said his uncle firmly.

  Hiccup's shoulders dropped and he made his way to Toothless. Before mounting, his cousin looked back at him, nodding expectantly in the direction of his father.

  He glanced at his father. The two men were still glaring at one another. He looked back at Hiccup and shrugged helplessly. His father's mind was made up, that meant Thor himself wasn't going to change it. Looking as uncomfortable as he felt, Hiccup mounted Toothless and followed his uncle into the air and out of sight.

  He and his father stood there in silence for a long while.

  "Dad? Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked, looking over at his father. "If we die, Mom will march into Hellheim and drag us back just to kill us all over again."

  His father snorted, but unfolded his arms, relaxing slightly. "We'll be fine, boy-o. The two of us Jorgensons can handle a single dragon no matter how odd a beasty it is."

  "All right," he said after a beat. "Fine. Then how do you want to do this? We could set up an ambush."

  His father shook his head but clapped a hand on his shoulder. "The old ways are still best. Fix that net you cut and reset the trap. We'll use the yak as bait."

  Reluctantly, he complied and in a few minutes the trap was reset. He led Yakety back to the stake and tied him in place. He glanced up at his father who was astride Kingstail atop the storehouse, his head on a swivel. He patted the yak, trying to squash the squirming in his gut. The yak-master was a great dragon trap that was nearly foolproof, but it didn't exactly prioritize the safety of the animal used as bait. The bait who just so happened to be his childhood pet. But there was no helping it now. He'd just have to keep an extra close eye on Yakety.

  Sighing, he mounted Hookfang and joined his father on the roof. Say what you liked, his father had built a sturdy storehouse… even if it was wooden. From his vantage point it was easy to see the four different columns of smoke now rising like dark fingers into the clear sky. Hiccup had said it was territory marking, but he hadn't sounded very sure. He glanced at his father, waiting for him to say something, but the man remained silent, watching the dragon flying in the distance. Very well, they would wait in silence then.

  Perhaps an hour passed this way, waiting and watching as four pillars of smoke became six and then eight. But the dragon did not return to the storehouse.

  "Should we just go after it?" he finally asked his father. "It's going to set the whole island ablaze at this rate."

  "There are no large animals on this island," said his father, his eyes still following the dragon. "It will come for the yak. And when it does, it's ours."

  "And exactly what are we going to do with the Singetail after we catch it?" he asked.

  His father's silence and tightening grip on his ax was all the answer that he really needed. He wasn't surprised, not really, but still his father was a dragon rider now. He owned a dragon… He was simply glad Hiccup wasn't here. He did not want to be in the middle of that disagreement. Below him Hookfang rumbled unhappily and with a sinking surety he knew he would not be able to stand by and let it happen either. He reached down to rub between Hookfang's eyes, scratching softly as his thoughts swirled darker and darker. So distracted was he that he didn't notice anything amiss until his father shouted roughly.

  "Keep your wits about you, boy-o, we've got incoming!" he yelled, pointing his axe at the dragon soaring towards them.

  Its strange warbling cry filled the air… only to be answered by another roar behind them. Cursing, he turned in the saddle and his heart plummeted. Another Singetail, this one larger than the other, was closing in on them from behind. He urged Hookfang into the sky just in time to avoid the blast from the larger dragon.

  "Come on, Hookfang," he called. "Let's roast them!"

  The beat of his dragon's wings filled his ears as they chased the smaller Singetail. He glanced behind him to see his father still on top of the roof of the storehouse, Kingstail firing magnesium blasts at the new dragon. He and Hookfang followed the smaller dragon at a distance, unsure how to get close to it without getting roasted. Hookfang rolled to the side, dodging a blast from the creature's tail. No sooner had they righted themselves, then a shout came from his father.

  "Behind you!" came the warning.

  He pulled Hookfang into a backwards somersault as the larger Singetail just missed them, passing through the space they had occupied only moments before. Hookfang fired on the dragon but was met with a blast from the beast's tail, neutralizing his fire. At once the two dragons turned and charged toward them. He pulled Hookfang into a tight climb, the two Singetails chasing Hookfang and his father chasing them. A blast of flames passed by his head, the heat blinding as he jerked away.

  "Snotlout! Watch out!" called his father. But too late.

  A third Singetail slammed into Hookfang, knocking him out of the saddle and into the air. Panic clawed up his throat as he reached for something… anything to grab onto, but above him Hookfang was fighting with his new adversary. A scream ripped from his throat as the trees below rushed to meet him. Kingstail appeared above him, his father bent low over his dragon's neck, hand extended toward him. It was too far. Faster and faster he plummeted, the ground reaching up to swallow him.

  "Snotlout!" his father bellowed, his face ashen. This was it. He was sure the last thing he would see on Thor's green earth would be his father's face. He closed his eyes hoping it would be quick. Something wrapped around his chest and his falling changed into a glide. He opened his eyes to see a wall of black scales. Toothless!

  "That was too close," said his cousin, leaning down over Toothless's neck, arm extended. Gratefully, he took Hiccup's hand and hooked a leg over Toothless's wing.

  "Thor, you're heavy," said Hiccup, grunting as he pulled him up.

  "It's called muscle," he said, still trying to get his heart to slow down as he slid back to sit behind his cousin. "You should try it sometime."

  "Yeah, yeah," groused Hiccup, scooting forward. "And you're welcome! Hang on."

  They shot higher, Snotlout clinging to Hiccup's shoulders, his knees tucked over the front of Toothless's wings.

  "Are you all right, boy-o?" called his father, flying up to meet them.

  "I'm fine," he assured.

  "You're missing more hair," said Hiccup, over his shoulder.

  He patted the side of his hair and it was indeed shorter. "Whatever. Where's Hookfang?"

  His father pointed to where Hookfang and Skullcrusher were flying towards them. "What brought you Haddocks back?" asked his father, folding his arms over his chest.

  "Two things," said Hiccup evenly. "First, I reminded my father that neither one of you have had a good hot meal or comfortable bed for over a month."

  His father's frown tightened.

  "And second, I reminded my father that he and I both insisted that I take the shot at the Singetail rather than Snotlout."

  His father's brows pulled closer together but his lips eased.

  "And third," said Hiccup. "Something I didn't realize until now. The Singetail setting fires all over the island wasn't territory marking."

  "Let me guess," he said, sarcastically. "It's actually calling for backup."

  "Exactly. It's a distress call. Those pillars of smoke are visible for leagues. And it looks like they're only lighting more."

  And indeed, the three dragons had retreated temporarily to set more trees ablaze.

  "Spitelout!" called his uncle from Skullcrusher's back.

  "Stoick," acknowledged his father, his jaw tight. "Come back, have ya?"

  "I take back my earlier words. They were out of line. We're here to help protect the storehouse if you'll have us, brother."

  It was silent for a long moment, his father's jaw working, his green eyes shifting between Stoick and the dragons in the distance. When his father's gaze slid to him, he sat up straighter as his father's eyes looked him over. All at once the tension left his father's shoulders and he shook his head.

  "Let's go home."

  He felt Hiccup relax almost the same time he did.

  "What about Jorgenson's protecting their own?" asked Stoick, raising a brow.

  "Your boy says the smoke will only draw in more of the beasts." His father looked back at him again. "And Jorgensons do protect their own. Besides, Hiccup's right on another account. I've missed enough of Frida's meals for now."

  His uncle's mouth twitched upwards slightly. "Then what are we waiting for, man. Let's go. Perhaps Freda will feed us all. Gobber's cooking leaves much to be desired."

  "I imagine Freda would welcome that," said his father, nodding.

  "No doubt she's stress-cooked enough to feed the whole village by now," Snotlout whispered over Hiccup's shoulder.

  "Still probably won't be enough to feed them both at the same table," snickered Hiccup.

  Hookfang hovered below them, his neck extended toward them. Getting to his feet on Toothless's back, he dropped into Hookfang's saddle. But he hesitated as his father began to fly away.

  "You coming?" asked Hiccup, pulling Toothless up short as he looked back.

  He sighed. "I have to go get Yakety."

  Hiccup chuckled. "We'll cover you."

  It was mid-afternoon the next day when Hookfang landed in Sigyn's yard.

  He'd returned Yakety to his stall, and eaten under the close eye of his mother who could clearly sense the lingering tension in the air between the two men. When his father and Stoick had finally made their way to the great hall he and Hiccup had managed to slip away, Hiccup to the forge and Snotlout to the Helvigs.

  But the Helvig house was empty and Sigyn's sewing bag was gone from where it often hung over the end of the staircase. He wandered back out into the yard and made his way to the barn door which stood ajar. Inside, Mr. Helvig was milking Bruiser in the middle of the barn, the stall too small to accommodate both his chair and the animal.

  "Hello Snotlout," called Mr. Helvig, his empty gaze shifting in his direction. "Looking for Sigyn, I assume."

  "Yeah," he said, coming to stroke Bruiser's nose and steady the animal as Hookfang poked his head into the barn. "Her sewing bag is gone. Do you know where she went?"

  "She said something about climbing to Raven Point. Know it?"

  "Yeah, we've been there a few times. Did she say why she was going all the way up there to sew?"

  "If I had to guess I'd say she was looking for some of her favorite snacks. It rained day before yesterday."

  "At Raven Point?" he asked.

  "Indeed, she had some luck there before. Are all the other riders back or just you?"

  "Me and Hiccup," he said distractedly. "He will probably be by in a while. He had to work on something in the forge."

  "I'll look forward to his visit then. Go on, go find her. I know you didn't come here to watch an old blind man milk a yak."

  A few minutes later he and Hookfang were in the air. They flew over the pond and he was unsurprised to see no sign of Sigyn. Ahead of them Raven Point jutted up through the tops of the reaching pines below the feet of the rising mountains behind it. Hookfang landed and Snotlout slipped to the ground searching. The top of the pinnacle was deserted. Fall was only a few weeks off and this high up it was much cooler. He was unsurprised to find shallow patches of snow lingering in the deep shadows.

  He cupped his hands to his mouth. "Sigyn! You here?" With no immediate reply he strode forward into the trees. He hadn't gone far when he found her sewing bag hanging on a low branch. He called for her again.

  "Snotlout?!" came an excited reply off to the right.

  "Yeah, where are you?" he called, climbing over the trunk of a large downed tree.

  "Over here," she called, her head popping up from behind a rocky outcrop ahead. There was leaf litter in her hair which was tucked up in some sort of neat braid on top of her head. Dark damp earth was smeared across her cheek and chin but her eyes twinkled with excitement. "Come see what I found!" she urged, beckoning.

  Snorting with amusement he went to investigate. She was crouched, peering under a low shelf of gray rock.

  "In there," she said, pointing to the shadowy interior.

  Getting down at his hands and knees he squinted. "Thor," he said in a hushed tone.

  "I know, right!" she buzzed. "I've never found so many before. But I had a hunch that there would be lots up here." She reached inside and broke one of the brown mushrooms out of the earth and held it out to him.

  He wrinkled his nose. "I don't really like mushrooms, too slimy and springy." Even in his own mother's cooking he often picked them out." "Besides, are you sure those are safe to eat?"

  She popped the fungi into her mouth without hesitation. "Positive," she said around a mouthful. "I just hope they all fit in my bag. Do you have an extra bag in your saddle pack? I assume Hookfang's here with you."

  He chuckled and went to retrieve the extra sack. "Well it's almost empty, but we can put the mushrooms inside these and then inside the sack." He upturned the sack dumping its contents into the dead grass next to her.

  "What are these?" she asked, picking one up.

  "Empty Fireworm dragon eggs. See, one end is open."

  She turned the egg over in her hand examining it before holding it up to the light to look through. "It's like a honeycomb but hard and transparent like glass." She lowered it and tapped a fingernail against the side.

  "Yeah, it's sharp. Watch your fingers on the edge," he said pointing. "I meant to file them down, but I kind of forgot."

  "What are you planning to do with them?"

  He shrugged. "Don't know, put stuff in them I guess. I just picked them up because they were cool and the Fireworm Queen had hundreds of them in her cavern."

  "The Fireworm Queen?" she asked. "I don't think you told me about that dragon yet."

  "I was about to write you about it, but stuff happened. And now I'm here instead."

  "Tell me as we pick," she said, setting the egg aside and getting down on her belly.

  He told her about the Cavern Crasher and saving the Fireworm hatchlings as they slowly gathered the large patch of mushrooms.

  "Anyway, that's where I got the eggs from," he said, his helmet bumping into the rock above as he backed out from under the sheet of rock with a handful of mushrooms.

  "They really are interesting," she said, sitting up and dropping her handful of mushrooms into the growing pile between them. "You could make some interesting and unique things out of them. I doubt anyone else has ever seen them before."

  "Maybe," he said. "So what now?" He began to stuff the mushrooms into the empty eggs.

  "Well, there's a few mushrooms in the back," she said, plucking an armor bug off one of her treasures before releasing the balled insect back into the leaves.

  "You won't be happy until we get every last one, will you?" he asked, folding his arms over his chest.

  She shrugged but was unable to help the grin. "They are my favorite. I hardly ever get them."

  "Fine," he said, getting back on his belly and slithering under the rock.

  It was a tight fit this far back and his helmet and chest scraped the rock and dirt. It smelled of damp earth and rot, the air cool and close. He wiggled deeper under the shelf.

  "Can you see them?" she asked.

  "Barely," he said, reaching out an arm.

  Still a few inches to go, but it was getting hard to move. He lunged forward and his helmet knocked some dirt loose from the ceiling above. It slid down the back of his helmet before dropping down his collar. He twisted his head, the sensation uncomfortable.

  He was almost there, his fingertips just brushing against the edge of the mushroom cap. The clump of dirt on his neck moved and he grimaced, trying to stay calm. Just get the stupid mushroom and get out. He strained forward and pulled the mushroom up.

  There was definitely something in the dirt that was slowly slipping down his collar with every move he made. Something scratched across his skin and he tried to get a hand to his neck but there was no room in here. The base of his scalp was crawling… something was crawling in his hair sending prickles down his spine.

  Movement over his fingers in the leaves caught his attention and he snatched at it, squeezing his fist as he brought his hand in front of his face. He squinted in the dim light opening his fingers slightly. Legs… lots of legs… too many. But he'd seen enough to know. And then the smooth thing in his hand wriggled and a small fiery pain pinched between his fingers.

  He jerked his hand back, his body reacting before his brain could. Shrieking and thrashing, he squirmed back out from under the rock, his helmet falling off and his head hitting the stone. The moment he was free of the crevice his hands flew to his neck and hair, slapping and brushing at the prickly movement. But as he straightened, the dirt slid further down his tunic, the too many legs sliding with it.

  "Snotlout! What's wrong?" shouted Sigyn.

  "It went down my shirt!" His arm over his shoulder, he desperately tried to slap at the movement between his shoulder blades but he couldn't quite reach. Another sharp fiery pain erupted on his back and he ripped the tunic off, yanking it over his head. Something fell into his hair, wriggling.

  "Arragh!" He bent over double, his fingers raking desperately through his hair as he danced around. And then Sigyn's hands were on him, brushing over his shoulders and back before finally catching the sides of his head and holding him in place.

  "There's nothing on your back or arms," she said quietly, still holding his head. His heart was still pounding in his ears and the heat was spreading in his back and finger, but he stilled as she dug strong deliberate fingers into his hair. After many long seconds, her fingers stilled.

  "They're gone," she said, releasing him.

  "You're sure?" He could still feel the scratchy legs on his body and as he straightened he was unable to stop the full body shudder from rippling through him. She circled him again, her hands brushing firmly over his back and shoulders as his own hands smoothed over his chest and belly, even dipping down to the reassuringly snug waist of his pants. He bent, brushing his hands over his trousers, stomping on the ground to shake loose anything that he might have missed.

  "It's okay, you're clean," she assured, reaching for his tunic which lay half under the rock ledge.

  Carefully she turned it inside out and shook and brushed at the leather. Out fell a rust-colored insect, its smooth segmented body a bit longer than his longest finger. Its many legs undulated as it scurried for the cover of the leaves. Sigyn looked up at him, unable to keep her own shoulders from rolling in a shudder.

  "Eh! No offense, but I'm glad that was not me. Something about centipedes…" She shuddered again. "Are you okay?"

  He nodded. "The bite on my hand and back burn like fire though. And I hit my head on the rock." The cool air sent goose flesh across his bare skin but he was more than reluctant to put his tunic back on with the sensation of legs still fresh on his skin.

  She set his tunic aside and came to examine his hand. His finger was already beginning to swell.

  "Good news is, it's not really dangerous… just painful."

  "So I noticed," he said, shifting his arms, trying to ease the tension growing between his shoulder blades.

  "Hang on," she said. "I know what will help."

  And she dashed off towards her bag. He sank to sit on a log. She returned a few minutes later but not with a paste or cream. Instead she carried a long piece of fabric cradling a pile of snow. She retrieved the last empty egg and filled it with snow.

  "Put your finger in that," she said, spinning the rest of the snow up into the long strip of fabric. He jumped when she pressed the icy wet fabric to his back, but after a moment he relaxed into it. She came to face him and tied the two ends of the fabric together, one over his shoulder, the other under his arm, securing the snow to his back.

  "What about your head?" she asked. He bent his head and she gingerly felt for the throbbing bump.

  "A small break in the skin, but nothing too serious."

  "I'm fine," he said, straightening. "But my finger may not be of much use till the swelling goes down." He pulled it from the snow and tried to curl it unsuccessfully.

  "What happened to your hair?" she asked, surveying him critically.

  "A Cavern Crasher and a Singetail," he said simply. "Fried it."

  "You're looking a little scruffy for a Jorgenson. I can fix it for you."

  "Fix it?"

  "Your hair," she said, waving a hand in his direction. "I always do my dad's hair."

  "Yeah, but he can't see to complain if you do a bad job."

  "Hey," she pouted. "So little faith in me? Besides, your hair's so long it's starting to disappear down your collar."

  He folded his arms watching her skeptically. She folded her arms and watched him back, an eyebrow raised in mocked challenge. He chewed the inside of his lip. His hair was getting long and it was pretty lopsided. He let his shoulders drop.

  "All right, fine. You can trim it. But only a trim, just to fix it."

  Her face brightened and she bent to retrieve her sack of mushrooms, the eggs inside clicking and clacking together. "Good! Let's get out into the sunlight where I can see properly. Where's Hookfang anyway?"

  He snorted. "The big slackers probably curled up somewhere by the edge. He's done a lot of flying the past few days." But she was already off towards the pinnacle.

  Shaking his head he grabbed his tunic and fished his helmet out from under the rock. Spotting the large troublesome mushroom, he snagged it as well before following Sigyn. He found her with Hookfang, the big dragon's head tipped to the sky, throat pressed to her body as she scratched and rubbed him. He stood watching her for a moment.

  "You know, we could try introducing you to Toothless next."

  Her head jerked up, her eyes meeting his with uncertainty. "I don't know," she said, her hands growing still. Hookfang huffed impatiently, blowing the loose wisps of hair out of her face. "I don't think I'm ready for that."

  "I bet you are," he pressed gently. "If you can handle Hookfang, Toothless should be a piece of cake."

  "You really think so?" she asked, watching him as she idly scratched Hookfang's chin.

  "Toothless is smaller with less rambunctious energy. Imagine a large cat but with wings and scales."

  She cocked her head to the side, thinking.

  "We could try at any rate," he said, shrugging. "Besides, if you get more comfortable with Toothless, Hiccup won't have to lug all the pieces for your dad's chair back and forth and I won't have to lug Hiccup."

  She looked back at Hookfang for several quiet moments. Then she nodded. "Okay, let's try it." She stepped back, patting Hookfang's nose before he lay his head down again. "But first, let's cut your hair."

  "Trim," he corrected. "Trim."

  "Yes," she huffed. "Trim your hair. Go sit on that rock, Dragon Boy," she said, pointing. Soon he was seated and she stood in front of him rummaging through her too-full sewing bag. He offered her the large mushroom he still had and she popped it into her mouth. A pouch fell out of her bag and he picked it up and opened it. He pulled out a curved bone.

  "Why do you have a bag of boar tusks?"

  She glanced up at him, startled, and then looked at the tusk in his hand. "They're for a project I'm working on," she said, returning her attention to the depths of her bag, but her eyes darted back to him. He returned the tusk to the bag and pulled out another. But this one had been altered, carved short and sharp like a claw.

  "Found them," she said, pulling out a small pair of shears and squeezing them shut with an audible snickt. "All right Jorgenson, let's tidy you up."

  The file rasped sharply over the axle rod as Hiccup worked to smooth out the nicks and burrs that had accumulated since his last visit to the Helvigs. He'd need to make a new axle altogether in the coming months as this one was beginning to bow. The file slipped sideways catching his knuckle and he dropped the rod, hissing as blood began to well in the shallow cut on his knuckle.

  "Those files are sharp," said Mr. Helvig from his place at the table where he was drilling holes through dragon scales. The wheelchair was sprawled in pieces in front of Hiccup. "Sigyn keeps medical supplies in a box on the shelf in my room if you need them."

  "It's just a scrape," he said, letting the file drop to the ground as he rose to sit in the chair at the table. He pulled a rag from his pocket and pressed it over his knuckles. No sense letting the blood rust his tools or stain the chair. It was quiet for a long moment save for the tapping of his foot on the floor.

  "Something eating at you, Hiccup?" asked Mr. Helvig, the man's blind gaze trained in his direction.

  "What? What would make you think that?" he stammered too quickly. "I'm great. Nothing at all on my mind. Everything's great! My mind's as empty as a… ah… and this isn't fooling anyone, is it?"

  Mr. Helvig snorted in amusement and shook his head. And as usual his mouth had run away from him. He groaned. He ought to know by now he was a horrible liar. He didn't know why he bothered. Especially with Astrid. He was always a bumbling mess trying to hide things from her.

  "Eh, how did you know? Other than you know… that just now?"

  "You're rather aggressive with your tools today and you haven't said a word, not even to mutter about your project under your breath. Not to mention your foot seems to have a life of its own."

  Chagrined, he tried to still his bouncing leg under the table. "I forgot you see more than most."

  Mr. Helvig chuckled. "Honestly, Hiccup, most would have spotted your distraction today. But tell me, what has you halfway across the archipelago?"

  "Dagur." The name slipped out before he even made a conscious decision to speak.

  "I assume you mean Oswald the Agreeable's son. That Dagur?"

  Hiccup paused. "Yes, I suppose that's the same Dagur, though most call him Dagur the Deranged."

  "I've never seen the boy. Does he live up to the name or to the father?"

  Hiccup blew out a breath. "I'm not so certain anymore."

  Mr. Helvig let the silence build before probing, "Why?"

  "This is the same Dagur that swore to kill me and Toothless. The same guy we locked in the dungeon on Outcast Island. He's the reason the riders left Berk in the first place, to put him back. He's the one behind the attack on Berk that injured Sigyn. And he was working with the Dragon Hunters."

  "Then, I fail to understand your uncertainty."

  "That's my problem. After all he's done and all the times he's tricked me… I am still uncertain."

  "Then what's changed?"

  "Dagur has… or so he wants me to believe."

  The silence pressed long and uneven, only the faint grind of the awl on the dragon scales between them as Mr. Helvig continued to work.

  "Have you good reason to believe him?"

  He sighed, his leg beginning to bounce again, a short staccato beat on the floor.

  "I take that as a yes," said Mr Helveg before bringing the scale to his mouth to blow off the residue.

  "I have a lot more reasons not to believe him," he said.

  "Ah, but I didn't ask about quantity, did I? I asked about quality. Why are you so uncertain?"

  "He saved my life… and Toothless… several times over."

  "That does sound out of character from your description, but as you said, he can be complex and crafty."

  "Very," he agreed. "I've fallen for his tricks and traps more than a few times."

  "Why is that, do you think? Are you perhaps over-eager, at times, to see the best in someone?"

  He sighed a long weary sigh and ran his free hand through his hair. "Astrid and Snotlout would both… have both, said so before."

  "Then perhaps there is some merit to it. When you're raised by a man like Spitelout, who measures worth by outcome, you learn to spot the flaw before anyone else can… even ones that may not be there."

  "So, so what?" said Hiccup. "I should listen to them? Be cynical, skeptical, and defensive for the rest of my life."

  "No. I would not carry it that far, and neither, I think, would they. Mercy and compassion are not weaknesses, but neither are skepticism or caution. Both are required, and at times, when conscience or common sense dictate, one must yield to the other. But I sense you already know this. Tell me, what makes this time more believable than the past?"

  "Other than the fact that every time I was so certain I had seen through his trick, he proved me wrong?"

  "Yes, besides that."

  He sighed, and lifted the cloth from his knuckles but the cloth pulled at the wound and it began to bleed afresh. "Toothless. Toothless trusted him. He let Dagur ride him in order to save me."

  "And you trust your dragon's instincts?"

  He nodded, a lump in his throat. Then spotting Mr. Helvig's unfocused eyes on him said, "More than anything."

  "Then you're not truly uncertain about Dagur so much as you are uncertain what to do with your new insight."

  "Yeah, I suppose so. I haven't… told the others yet."

  "Do you fear their reaction?"

  He winced. "It would be a lie to say no. I understand how they'd react and what they would say. They would probably be right. But… they weren't there. And then again, what if I am wrong again?" He paused, weighing his words. "And… I saw the way Snotlout looks at Dagur now. It's not the same as it used to be. He doesn't just want Dagur stopped… He wants him dead."

  Mr. Helvig sighed. "I would suspect that change happened shortly after Dagur's attack on Berk."

  "Yes," he said, nodding. "I think it has everything to do with Sigyn."

  The older man chuckled darkly but there was no real mirth in it.

  "What?" he asked.

  "Oh, just how blind youth can be. Still, I understand your hesitation. Snotlout is not easily swayed from his opinion, and on this particular topic he has rather strong feelings. Even Sigyn has noted his… determination."

  "He said something to her?"

  "Not in so many words, but she can read between the lines of his letters. You are right to approach the subject with caution. Revenge is a slow-acting poison but a very corrosive one."

  "So what do I do? I'm stuck between…" But Mr. Helvig raised a hand in caution.

  "It seems we have a visitor."

  He frowned and turned towards the front door which was open and empty. But a few moments later he could faintly hear the scuff of boots over dry ground.

  "Shepherd if I had to guess," said Mr. Helvig quietly. "His visits are becoming more frequent."

  The two of them waited, listening as the footsteps approached, crossed the porch, and then the shadow of Shepherd Ingerman filled the empty doorway.

  "Mr. Helvig," called the older boy, rapping his knuckles against the door frame.

  "Come in and welcome, Shepherd. What brings you here today? Your mother was here only this morning."

  "I brought these for Sigyn," said Shepherd, stepping inside.

  He carried a wooden crate filled with crockery. Shepherd's brown eyes found him and his brow rose before a frown creased his lips. Hiccup shifted in his seat, his leg starting up again.

  "She said she had almost run out of places to store the butter," continued Shepherd, shifting his attention back to Mr. Helvig.

  "Very practical. Yes, she was running low. Set them wherever you can find space."

  The older boy looked around, his eyes scanning over the cluttered table and chairs before finally setting them down in the nearly empty chair by the hearth.

  "Is Sigyn here?" asked Shepherd. The question was directed at Mr. Helvig but Shepherd's eyes slid to Hiccup again, assessing.

  "Not at the moment, no," replied the man, still working on the dragon scales. "Just Hiccup here to work on my chair. I believe she went to Raven Point looking for mushrooms."

  "Raven Point? That's quite a climb, does she go there often?"

  "Several times a year at least."

  Shepherd walked to the porch and looked at the sky. "Perhaps I should go find her," he said, coming back inside. "The sun will be down in less than an hour."

  "You could, but if it's her safety you are concerned about, I would not worry. Snotlout will have found her hours ago."

  This, however, seemed to have the opposite effect on Shepherd. His body stiffened and his eyes snapped back to Hiccup, assessing.

  "No doubt, he'll bring her home soon," continued the older man. "Unless he takes her for a flight first. Either way, she's well looked after. That dragon of his dotes on her, and surprisingly she dotes on him in return."

  "She flies on his dragon?" asked Shepherd, scowling. "I had believed that she was deathly afraid of dragons, particularly ones of that breed."

  "So she is, but over the past year and a half, that dragon has somehow found his way into her good graces. She still fears dragons in general but has come to trust and appreciate Hookfang."

  "I wasn't aware that the other riders were back on Berk."

  "Just Snotlout and I," said Hiccup, lifting the cloth from his hand. The bleeding had finally stopped and he stuffed the cloth back in his pocket. "We arrived this morning."

  "Why only you two?" asked Shepherd, his arms crossing over his chest.

  "My father needed help locating Spitelout," said Hiccup, shrugging. He kept a careful watch on Shepherd's expression out of the corner of his eye as he resumed his place on the floor. "We'll likely return to The Edge day after tomorrow. I need to make a few new parts for this chair."

  A small frown pulled at the pursed edge of Shepherd's mouth. "Day after tomorrow you say?"

  He nodded and began to work on the axle rod again, though more carefully. Shepherd returned his attention to Mr. Helvig.

  "And you're certain she is well and safe?" he asked Mr. Helvig.

  "You don't need to fear for her. Even without the hovering dragon, my daughter is quite capable, or do you not remember your spar with her years ago?"

  Shepherd's fingers shifted from his sleeve to the faint line of a scar on his forearm, a small mirthful huff leaving him. "You're right, she's quite capable. Even then she was. Very well, I'll return to visit her the day after tomorrow."

  "I'm sure she will welcome it, but don't put yourself out on our account."

  "Not to worry," said Shepherd, waving a hand. "We finished rebuilding the chief's hut yesterday and we have a little time till the lumber for our next commission is fully ready."

  "That should make my father much easier to live with," said Hiccup.

  "Indeed," said Shepherd, nodding. Bidding them farewell, the older boy left the way he'd come. Hiccup turned his attention to the adjustments for the chair, scribbling down notes and measurements in his notebook.

  "That Shepherd Ingerman has grown into a very practical and patient young man," said Mr. Helvig, setting down the dragon scale and drumming his fingers on the table. "Very patient indeed."

  Hiccup watched the older man, not quite sure what to make of his odd expression and the drumming fingers. But when Mr. Helvig said no more, clearly absorbed in thought, he resumed his work. He'd almost reassembled the wheels with the new brake system in place when Mr. Helvig spoke again.

  "I'll have to be sure to remind Sigyn of the mushroom patch on the far northern bluff tomorrow evening."

  "But why would you…" But he was brought up short by the beat of wings outside. Hookfang touched down in the yard. The tone of the voices reached them before the actual words were audible.

  "Whatever could be the trouble with those two?" asked Mr. Helvig, sitting up straighter. Hiccup braced for the thundercloud.

  "Oh, come on," came Sigyn's voice. "It's not that bad."

  "Not that bad?!" said Snotlout, irritated. "Look at me! I told you only a trim!"

  "It's not my fault. One of the burn patches was already really short. Besides, I warned you not to move. You turned at just the wrong moment."

  "There was something in the bush," said Snotlout, stubbornly.

  "It was just a squirrel, and even if it hadn't been, Hookfang was right there. Nothing was about to attack us."

  There was a long heavy silence.

  "You couldn't know that for sure," sulked his cousin.

  Sigyn sighed. "All right, you were being vigilant. But it was still just an accident. I tried to save as much as I could."

  Another long silence.

  Now Snotlout sighed. "I know," he said, his tone calmer and resigned. "I just, I haven't had it this short since… I feel like a kid."

  "Well you certainly don't look like one."

  "Still, I don't know that anyone will take me seriously."

  "Okay sure, everyone might do a double take when they first see you, but it doesn't make you any less competent a rider or fighter. If anything, now it won't be in your face if you lose your helmet."

  "Maybe," he conceded. "But do you know how irritating it's going to be to grow back out?"

  "Yeah," she said, hesitantly. "I hadn't thought of that. Sorry."

  "Besides," said his cousin, his tone turning mischievous. "Now there's nothing for all the girls to run their fingers through. Think of my harem."

  Hiccup frowned. Snotlout with a harem? But then Sigyn chuckled and he relaxed.

  "Don't worry, there's enough luscious locks on top for them to play with. See."

  "Hey! Get off," came Snotlout's gruff voice.

  Sigyn laughed again. "I have a small mirror. Want to see it properly?"

  "I might as well," he said resigned. "It's not like I can change it."

  "Well… we could always cut it shorter," she said.

  "Not even Odin himself could compel me to let you near my hair with shears again."

  "All right, all right," she said laughing. "It was a joke. I won't cut your hair again. Come on, I'll grab the mirror."

  There was the tramp of boots and then two silhouettes stood in the sunny doorway. One was Sigyn, the other Snotlout, his arms crossed over his chest, helmet jammed firmly on his head.

  "Hey, Hiccup," said Sigyn, passing him on her way up the stairs.

  "What are you doing here?" grumbled Snotlout from the doorway, still not entering.

  "Well, you did mention that the chair needed better brakes," he said.

  Snotlout muttered something under his breath and the corner of Mr. Helvig's mouth twitched up. It was quiet for a moment.

  "You know, I'm going to see it sooner or later," he finally prompted.

  Snotlout sighed and stepped inside, yanking his helmet from his head. "There, happy?" he snapped, tossing his helmet onto the table.

  He stared at his cousin, long and hard, trying to suppress his immediate reaction. He stood and paced closer, though still staying out of arm's reach. Snotlout's hair was much shorter, the sides cut close enough so his ears were fully visible, giving the hair an almost fuzzy appearance. The fuzz gradually faded upward into longer hanks of hair which, free of his helmet or weight, stuck up in odd tufts and spikes atop his head.

  "I can't get it to lie flat," he grumbled, smoothing a hand forward and pressing the hair onto his forehead. It was just long enough to sit atop his eyebrows.

  "It's really not that bad," he said at last. "It's a smooth clean cut. Just… different is all."

  "Easy for you to say," grumbled Snotlout.

  "Here it is," called Sigyn, coming back down the stairs. "Took me a minute to find it."

  "Buried under all the dirty laundry?" jabbed Snotlout.

  "Yes actually, it was," she said, wrinkling her nose at Snotlout but holding the little bronze mirror out to him all the same. He took it and held it in front of his face.

  "See, you don't look like a kid," she offered after he had tilted the mirror this way and that.

  "Maybe not," he relented. "But I don't look like me either."

  Sigyn rescued the helmet from the table and plunked it on his head. "How about now?"

  "Have my ears always stuck out this much?" his cousin asked, lowering the mirror.

  "Yes…" she confirmed, glancing at Hiccup. "The hair just hid more of them before now."

  "Don't worry," said Hiccup, clapping a hand on Snotlout's shoulder. "Give it a few months and you won't even be able to tell."

  "If the opinion of an old blind man counts for anything, I think it's a good look for you, Snotlout," said Mr. Helvig.

  The room was silent for a long beat before he and Sigyn burst out laughing, Snotlout still muttering while trying to smooth his hair down.

  "Seriously though," said Mr. Helvig. "Hiccup's right. In a few months it will be back to normal."

  Snotlout sighed. "I know, it's still a pain though."

  "Speaking of pain," said Sigyn. "I really could use you and Hookfang's help in making a new root cellar."

  Snotlout wrinkled his nose. "Where would you even put it? Most places in your yard would cave in or flood."

  Sigyn bit her lip. "I guess I didn't think of that."

  "If you head east from the front porch over here," said Mr. Helvig, pointing, "I believe you will find a suitable spot. Maybe 150 paces past the stream if I recall. I had always thought it would be the ideal spot to make a root cellar, but we haven't had a need until now."

  It took a few minutes to find it. The three of them stood on a small hill looking down at the spot. Two giant slabs of flat grey rock jutted up out of the hill, side by side with about 4 feet of dirt between them.

  "I suppose if you dug out between them and found a third slab to cap it, it would make a decent cellar," he said, scuffing his boot in the dirt.

  "A slab like that one?" asked Sigyn, pointing.

  "That one would do," he agreed.

  They turned to look at Snotlout, who stood with his arms crossed, thinking.

  "What?" he asked, when he realized they were both staring at him.

  "Will you do it?" Sigyn asked.

  He squinted at her, his lips pursed. "Why is it that I always get roped into manual labor when I'm around you?"

  "Becuase you're a strong manly Viking male," she said. "And besides, you know Hookfang will do a lot of the heavy lifting."

  He surveyed her long and hard. "Fine," he said at last. "But you two have to help. And I want yak butter parfait for my trouble."

  She chuckled. "Agreed."

  They both turned to look at him, waiting. He rolled his eyes. "Alright, count me in."