A/N: My only excuse for this chapter taking so long is it was damn hard to write and I've redone it like eight separate times until I was actually happy with it (that and the original draft I had half-written some while ago got eaten entirely so I had to start over - which was fine, because I hated the first pass anyway).

The main trouble with this chapter was coordinated "what would Alekt do" with "what would Hiccup and Toothless do", especially in the later part of the chapter. Suffice to say, one chapter is being broken into two because this got so long I didn't feel justified in making it one big "read in one go", since even breaking it into two parts, this is the longest of all the LftM chapters. Besides, where I left off made a perfect break in the chapters anyway, but I guess now I'm breaking the tradition of Nightfall's number of chapters per installation laughs.

Learning from the Masters
A How To Train Your Dragon Fanfiction
Based off Le'Letha's "Nightfall"

Alekt fully expects now that the injured dragons are well enough to leave that (click)-uhp and Toothless will go, even more now that the dragon-man has his gift, which he took to quite excitedly. Its unfortunate, because he feels he could still learn a lot from the pair, but an inevitability he'd simply have to accept. The two of them, no matter their shape, were wild animals. To wander freely was as much their right as anything else's and regardless of whether he would have to continue this course alone, they had done much to help.

That he met them at all was a great stroke of fortune, the odds of which were staggering. He couldn't exactly complain. At the very least, maybe after establishing himself as something "good" to them, perhaps it wouldn't be the last he saw of them.

As it stood, they had places to return to, or explore, or wherever they went. He suspected their dragon nest might be a first stop, and while he was curious of it, it wasn't his place or much to his benefit to find out where it was. Crows were much the same in that they hid and guarded their nests well, for obvious reason.

Really, he doesn't even expect any sign of departure. He simply expects them to be gone, disappearing into the night the same way they came, quietly and without warning. He's surprised to find out that's not the case, and it raises the possibility that he's earned good standing with them. Its not like a wild animal to announce their leaving unless they have good reason and interest in another creature.

He nods his blessing for them to leave, knowing this would come, but it came later than he expected all the same. That in itself he considers an accomplishment. He gives them his thanks for all they've contributed. And then just like that, they're gone, disappeared into the night almost as soon as they start to fly.

Even had he wanted to catch sight of them from further away and track their movements, something else catches his eye more immediately. A glowing spot of orange on the ocean, which he first simply assumes to be a ship passing in the night. When the spot of glow becomes a line, he squints and stands, moving closer to the edge of the cliffs to get a look. Arvaken shifts her weight on his shoulder and tilts her head to see it as well, sensing his unease, however subtle it is.

When the glow not only grows brighter, but arcs through the sky, his suspicions about what it is are confirmed, but what the fireballs are being aimed at, he only figures out after they've already crashed into the trees and started setting them ablaze.

They weren't fired after the Night Fury pair. They were fired at the island. He has a sneaking suspicion that was no accident.

Scaling down the rocks, he's quick to return to the cave where the rest of his men are mingling with little to do but daily tasks. They seem almost too-interested in his sudden return, as if boredom had spread to the whole group like a contagion. Good. If they were restless to do something, now couldn't be a better time.

"The woods are ablaze. Catapults from a ship just off-shore." Everyone starts glancing between each other with a few curious but otherwise unconcerned murmurs.

Fighting is one thing Vikings know how to handle, especially when their foes are other people. "Ready the ships to sail if need be, and be prepared for a fight. I feel like our trapper friends have come back to repay the favor."

There's little more that needs to be said before the men jump to gathering their weapons and arms for combat, but Alekt's own attention is diverted by the sound of a familiar shriek. Toothless swoops into the cave and hovers near the entrance, eyes large and alert and head darting behind him with a warning sound of danger!

(click)-uhp hisses from his back pfikingr!

"I know."

Unsurprisingly, Hartvig as it his side in a moment, the talon-scarred lines of his face set like steel with expectation. "Do you have a plan?" He's silent all the while that Alekt is, younger eyes shifting about the stone floor as the gears of calculation turn.

"I do. I trust you to lead the men here to sail out to meet them. I'll pave the way and create a distraction for your ships to move in. Now's as good a time as any to see just how useful the wings really are."

Hartvig nodded, clapping a firm hand on his shoulder. "I trust you know what you're doing. Be safe all the same."

Alekt gave the older man a dip of his head in acknowledgement, before turning for the outside and scaling his way back up the rocks to a higher vantage point. The woods were burning fiercely now, the island caught in a bright glow. They certainly caused problems in their own way, but they also provided an advantage their enemies wouldn't count on. The heat would give his wings lift.

Somewhere off to his side, he heard a rumbling warble of question and concern, two pairs of green eyes watching him and asking the same thing. What are you going to do?

"This is our fight, not yours... but I would very much like the help." Its a request he let's carry into his voice and gestures so the meaning is clear even if the words are not.

The dragon pair gave each other a glance before Toothless snarled teeth and furled out his wings.

"Bad pfikingr kkko!"

Alekt nodded, lowering his head in thanks, before turning his sights past the pillars of smoke and at the ships. After several moments of deliberation, looking for a few loose stones on the ground, he clicked for their attention.

He vocalized "pfikingr" for the stones as he held them up to show before setting them down in a row like the ships. Motioned between himself and them to indicate me-and-you-two. Made a motion with his hand for flying over the ocean to the ships. He indicated at himself as going down to the ships, and then he indicated at them before making a circle motion above, and indicating with his body a sneaking crouch, and a hand up in a signal he'd told them during their last plan to free the dragons was Wait. The last he indicated a whistle as a signal-call to mean come now, and indicated a dive at the ships.

He gave them a last look. "Understand?"

"Isss."

Alekt nodded, pulling up a half-mask to cover his nose and mouth, and then fitting himself into the wings and extending them. "Then we go."

Running and leaping is a little more nerve-wracking now than with the storm ready to take him upward with nothing but ocean below. The ground and flames is still a ways down from the higher peaks though, and its a leap he makes. For several too-long moments, it feels as though the heat will never catch under him until he's already in the flames, but as he closes his eyes and enters the pillars of smoke, he feels the lift start to jet him up.

The travel through the smoke and heat leaves him wondering where it ends and where open sky begins, until a blast of cold air hits his face like a wall of formless ice. He blinks a few times to clear away any lingering smoke before surveying the ocean below them. The waves are dark with only the faintest glimmers, but the ships are a beacon for miles as a result, outshone only by the island behind him.

A quick glance to the sides catches only vague hints of where Toothless and (click)-phuh are, but its enough to assure him they're following. Its enough to discern another unintended but helpful detail. The smoke left traces of soot against his skin and underside of the wings, not as dark as the Fury, but dark enough that the canvas would not easily give him away in the night from afar.

Adjusting his hold, he shifts only enough to let the air currents take him higher, focusing in on the ships below, which are sitting stationary for now, waiting. From what he can tell, no one has seen his or the Fury-pair's approach, so he takes a moment to survey what they have to work with.

There aren't a great deal of ships, but they're not small ones for sure. Large enough to keep both people and dragons housed inside its hulls. Some of their construction is unfamiliar to him, somewhat foreign, but by how far, he can't be sure. But some is familiar. Some is definitely Norse.

From what he can see in the flickers of movement and figures standing near firelight, the most focus is turned on the island, watching and waiting for a direct approach. Not appearing to suspect that they might be caught unaware from behind.

There's a lookout on the higher mast, but only one. Likely, he thinks, waiting to spot dragons incoming. Probably at least some tales of their freeing the injured dragons using other dragons survived.

If their look-out is posted to watch for dragons, they're going to get something entirely different.

Alekt doesn't make any signals, trusting that the Fury-pair know enough of his plan to follow it without much trouble. Wild as they are, they're still coordinated. They know how to make plans and, as time had shown, how to follow them, when the motivations are right. It makes sense. Dragons are hunters.

Circling, he tilts and sways into the wind to approach the mast where the lookout is posted, lining himself up to the cross-tree, which is not the easiest endeavor, since the waves sway the ship just as the wind pushes and pulls him.

Its difficult, but manageable, even though landing is a near-miss. He takes a moment simply to make sure he's steady and fold in his wings, before crawling across the cross-tree to the lookout deck. The sentry is taken down with one well-placed pounce, a hand over their mouth to muffle any sound and a quick flick of a blade. If anyone noticed a noise, it wasn't enough to start raising alarms.

Straightening himself up, he peers over the deck at those gathered below, standing as though he's standing sentry but his eyes survey below rather than ahead. Many details are lost to the sharp contrast of firelight and shadows accentuating some features too much and others too obscurely, but there's enough to see by to determine these are likely trappers and hunters.

Most of them stand ready and waiting. Some of them pace. One such figure that keeps moving carries himself with an err of dominance and impatience.

"-one way or another," he's saying, voice baritoned by a deep growl. "We'll flush them out. If they won't come to us, we'll go to them once everywhere that could hide them has burned."

There's an undeniable tension of uneasiness in the stances of most of the men and how they shift their weight. Enough time has gone by that they're expecting a fight to have come that hasn't yet made any appearance, ready to jump at the first drop of a pin.

For a moment, Alekt's eyes wander the dark above in all directions, not disappointed to find that he can't determine even the smallest flicker of the Fury-pair's whereabouts, even with eyes better adjusted to the dark than some of his peers. Its then that his eyes wander to the bow and quiver of arrows that the sentry had been armed with.

"Keep working on flushing them out. They have to show themselves at some point, even if its to turn tail and run!"

The men below moved to catapult more flaming balls at the island, as though they haven't already set enough blazes, but it inspires a moment of brilliance. He gathers up the arrows and bow, nocking one, and waits.

More balls of flame are sent arcing through the sky, and all the brightness that previously illuminated the deck was lost to thick darkness, broken only by a few smaller, stray torches. Alekt drew the string back and let an arrow fly as soon as the chaos of gathering more unlit ammunition for the catapults began.

The first two arrows halted those hit but made no noise. By the third arrow, someone shouted in pain. From there it was a slow-forming eruption of confusion and fear, men shouting their stings, some moving to tend those hit, some hit in turn because of it, and others darting into hiding to escape the unknown threat.

Its the one Alekt assumed to be their leader who properly regroups first, snarling aloud and focusing in on the mast where the sentry should be. The realization doesn't come fast enough to spare the leader from an arrow, however, and the man roars aloud like a dragon himself.

"Up on the mast! Whoever they are, I want them brought down here, if it has to be in pieces!"

Arrows start to fly in return towards him now, and he flattens himself closer to the platform out of the way, dropping the bow and arrows with the body.

Eyes glance to the side and see the ratlines up the mast tremble with the tell-tale that someone, maybe many someones, have already started to climb them. He uses the moment to retreat higher up the mast towards a more elevated cross-tree, which pitches and waves farther in either direction than lower down.

Snapping his wings back out, he stands up and balances for a moment only to get a feel for the wind, before leaping to catch it underneath. Twisting the tail around into a sharp curve, he manages to barely ghost over the tops of everyone's head, satisfied to hear the cries of surprise and scattering.

Someone shouts about dragons. It only infuriates their leader more, snapping the end off of an arrow in his shoulder.

"Dragons do not fire arrows, fool! Shoot them down! Now!"

Didn't take long for him to figure that out, did it? Someone quick enough to calculate that promptly, but nothing he didn't think he couldn't handle.

Following the wind higher first, he circled back around, worrying less for riding the blind spot behind the ship and avoiding the front since their eyes were looking everywhere now. No, coming in smooth and easy wouldn't be the way to handle this. Now he needed to be quicker than they could react, not unseen.

That in mind, he tested the wind, circling, avoiding arrows that came far too close for comfort but missed all the same, save for one that only shallowly grazed him. As soon as he caught the right whip of wind and angle, he dove towards the ship and leapt upon someone poised at the edge of the deck, knocking them down.

He only pauses long enough to fold his wings back in place before leaping at the next man, who's more ready than the first. A single, swift motion has Alekt's sickle blades unsheathed. The next moment he's diving forward, transitioning into a sideways roll beneath a blade that swings downward and bites into deck wood.

As he gets up, he hooks one blade into their leg and yanks them off balance, cutting flesh as he does so. There's a half-grunt, half-cry as they go down, but adrenaline has them recovering fast. Alekt is faster, giving a swift kick to their head that Alekt assumes knocked them unconscious when the man falls limp.

There's still a lot of confused scrambling, but those that haven't figured out where to go yet follow after those who have in a small herd. Alekt ducks low out of sight beneath the nearest rampart, listening to the footfalls up the steps to the higher deck. At the last moment, he swivels around to whip the glider's tail into the way and trip the steps of the first person up. The next few after them aren't fast enough slowing their pace not to then trip themselves, clogging up the one side.

The other side is a different story that he chooses to avoid altogether, skirting the dog-pile he'd created to leap onto the ocean-side rampart and across the ratlines around them and onto the center deck.

It takes no time for someone to leap at him, and he's careful not to get caught in a grapple, feinting to one side so he can dart around the other. A downward slash from Alekt catches the inside of their leather-armor collar, ripping a jagged gash straight through it and more shallowly into flesh. It sets them off balance though and gives him an opening to catch their lower back with the deep point of his second blade. Not a lethal wound, but one that will leave them reconsidering continuing the fight for a while.

He unhooks his blades and kicks them forward just in time for someone to leap at his back and try to grab him, a move that may have worked if he hadn't spent a long time training himself on counteracting. His arms are in position faster than theirs are, catching the shoulder of their gear and their belt and rolling them forward over his back.

Its still a move that leaves him stumbling for a moment, their greater weight making him lose some of his footing to the momentum. He's aware that whatever recovery he takes has to be swift though. There's no moment to let his vigilance lapse.

One breath. Two, and a half-

He whirls as another rushes at his back with a snarl, moving low and fluid. His half-circle sickle blades snake around the attacker's upper arm, slicing in the same moment he twists to pull and fling them. A scream rises from them at the pain of stripped flesh and muscle.

Another quick weave between several much larger men brings him up to score across one man's face, catching the bridge of his nose, before he's darting between people again, using the dark and his much smaller size to his advantage.

He hooks another by a belt across the back, tilting them back enough his second blade can catch them by the throat in bringing them down. The moment of delay it takes to get the first blade unstuck almost costs him as another man lunges at him, and he barely has time to bring both blades up to hold an unsteady block, tightening his jaw as the other man throws his weight into it.

Its a moment of strain that evolves into a bloom of pain and then realization-panic, one leg buckling when an arrow finds its mark. He thinks fast, pitches his weight, and dips backward so that he can roll the other over and off him instead of on top. It turns into rolling the man off to the side instead, before he quickly reverses his own roll the other direction to find his feet.

Pain sparks up his leg again when he finds his footing, and he's hyper-aware of being closed in on. He brings his fingers to his lips, and lets out a shrill whistle, loud as he can manage.

Its answered in turn by one far more distinct, one that has battle-drunk trappers instantly panicking and looking for cover. He takes the moment as an opening and moves to take cover as well, just before violet flame explodes across the deck out of nowhere, the dragon-pair showing in only a blurred sliver of night that may as well have never been there.

The blinding flash leaves a darkness even thicker than a clouded night to the eyes, a moment crouched out of sight and temporarily out of mind that he can push the arrowhead through and break the rest off, leaving his leg with a sharp-burning pain.

As the shadows appear to brighten again, it seems as though most of the crew has forgotten him, or thought he'd flown off into the night with that flash, fearful-uncertain whispers passing across the ship like gentle waves against the hull; Night Fury.

His eyes dart about the ship, traveling across it where many of the men huddle with their backs to each other, watching all sides of the night sky with weapons ready and clutched to their chests, and up the masts. He won't be able to get up there unnoticed now.

Still, its several beats long enough that he thinks their leader will start to remember his presence, and he needs to move before then. The nearby bowsprit is his next best bet, the long wooden nose of the ship hanging over open waves. He counts three helmet-heads blocking his path there, ready and waiting with eyes to all sides, and nothing nearby he can use without getting close.

So the only way through is to give himself away.

Another shrill whistle has them jump, whirling on him, squinting to make sense of him in the shadows. They're tense; they can guess what to expect this time, when the loud shriek of a Fury's dive cuts the air again. They scatter more readily, and he takes that moment to dart right through the center of them as they scatter.

Violet flame explodes at his back, close enough to feel the heat without getting burned. It stalls his movements a moment as the ship rocks unsteadily under his feet from the impact, but momentum keeps him balanced enough not to slip into the water. The next whistle is different, multiple short, sharp sounds that are less of a fire-cry and more a signal Attention-alert-here! He hears the deeper, approaching woosh of banking wings fighting the air streams, snapping his made-wings out and tensing to leap.

He doesn't ever feel the sensation of falling, or even the brief stall of hovering in the air before the fall.

He leaps, and he's snapped from the air, wind immediately smacking him in the face and leaving him momentarily blind with nothing but the rush of too fast and ascending higher and being pulled and the roaring voice of an angry trapper at his tail only just loud enough to sneak past the howl of air through his ears and around leather dragon wings.

His heart is in his throat and lungs somewhere outside it when he feels the slower snap of Toothless letting go of the glider to catch the wind on his own, every hair along his body raised against the chill of the air's bite. He's of enough wit to still keep his path steady and remember which way is up, but dizzied enough by the swiftness of the flight to almost forget where he is for a moment beyond that.

He has to gulp down air when he remembers how to breathe, and then limit himself before that in itself makes him dizzy again.

His senses finally return with full sharpness and only a dull throbbing in his skull, and he realizes he's veered somewhat off-course, but the fire aboard the trapper ships and their tall masts rising into the night still make themselves beacon enough that he never loses sight of them.

He takes his while to regroup, unaware of the flicker of black dragon and rider hovering close in his blind-spot, but even if he knew exactly where they were he would be unconcerned with it. A few more steadying breaths, and his attention turned back to the island, pillars of smoke still rising from the glow and melting into the night.

Somewhere over the horizon running flank along the island, he thought he could make out shapes. Sails. Ships unmarked by light.

Now more than before, they need to create a diversion, and draw the trapper's eyes away from their initial mark.

Hold on the glider adjusts, and with a quick tail-snap to the side, he tips into a spiral going down. Three full turns, and then a sharp, banking swoop to level himself out. Its nothing as fast as the stomach-twisting ascent away from the ships, but its an exhilaration still unmatched by anything else, the wind rushing past too quickly for his lungs to catch if not for the cover over his face.

He hears the wind-keen of Toothless making a dive above him and past, faster than his ears and eyes can track even as the dragon lights up the center ship ahead of him. He passes over at Toothless's tail, the blast giving him lift above the deck, satisfied to hear scattering screams and a woop of delight that can only belong to one wild dragon boy.

Alekt doesn't land on the center ship, instead twisting past it and onto the one bobbing in place at its nose, while its crew is still too busy gawking somewhere else.

Two of them are ready enough to leap when he lands, and leap with an axe swing that unfortunately snaps clean through wood and canvas, rendering the wings completely useless to him now. He curses that, but wood and cloth can be reforged. At the very least, it kept the axe's bite away from his body.

There's a moment of snarled glee from the axeman, likely thinking he's downed some dragon in all the haste and confusion. Alekt hasn't quite unfastened the straps when he feels and hears the wood base for the wing armatures split, but its thick enough that the blade doesn't reach through and cleave his spine. A moment later and he's free from the device.

Triumph becomes undoing, a single swift twist catching his blades in one of the men's arm to ravage the muscles in two different places. The one loses his grip on his axe, and Alekt takes it willingly, twirling and lashing it towards the other. The axe is, simply put, built to be wielded by someone larger than him. It takes effort to swing it around, and with his strong-but-slight frame, the momentum carries his spin further than he would have chosen.

But it is a thing he is used to, standing only at the breast of many other people, sometimes even shorter.

He touches down one leg only briefly, only to keep balance, and spin a second time when his enemy dodges back. The second swing has the opposing axe raise to stop its path, handle-to-handle, and Alekt wrenches his back, catching and pulling it by the blunt enclave between where axe blade curls back to wood. It doesn't set off balance by much, but its and the small tug-of-war over weapons is enough to land a foot in the other's gut and knock some wind out of him, ignoring the sharp spasm that runs up his thigh.

He predicts a grab to take hold of him and pin him. He's not wrong, and ducks beneath grasping arms, letting go of the axe. In a fluid, low movement, he manages to slip out from underneath their forward tilt and behind them, leaping at their back. Armor straps provide perfect places to hold into, slipping his own sickle blade across their throat before leaping forward and off.

Its more than enough to have drawn attention, the other men swarming across the deck towards him. His eyes dart about them, calculating. He turns, taking one of the axes abandoned on the ground, and swings it through several secured rope lines. Pulled sails above snap down unevenly and catch the wind, and the ship starts to lurch.

Toothless's dive-screech comes before he can ever whistle. Some scatter. Some leap for him all the more determined. He moves to the side of the ship, leaping up onto the ramparts and up the ratlines quick and skillful as a startled squirrel. Any chance the men after him have of catching him is thwarted by another explosion on the deck, while he makes his way up and across the cross-trees.

He whistles again, this time short and sharp. There's no screech on the winds this time, but his ears catch an echo of it, like a cry swallowed, and he extends an open hand up into the sky with another signal-call.

A flicker of night moves in his vision, and in a moment, his feet are dangling over open air by little more than his wrist.

From the air, he can see the one ship at the front of the line lurching away from the other two, its crew scrambling to re-secure the sails, while the rear-most ship is busied with people putting out the last of the flames across its deck. He points now to the center deck, alerting the dragon-and-rider "There!"

There's an almost-grumble of uncertainty and you-sure-there? but there is little to argue. After what seems like a moment of hesitating indecision, they bank towards the ship and dive towards it.

Even prepared, its an unnerving moment when Toothless let's go of his arm and he's falling, short but quick of a drop as it is. His legs buckle under him when he lands and he rolls forward across the deck and back to his feet. The crew startle for only a moment and then regroup at once, starting to close in, but by now they've trained themselves to the sound of Toothless's dive and halt their advance.

This time no fire explodes across the deck, but the sound and the wind as the dragon passes are enough to rattle every nerve. The lack of an expected blast may be even more fear-inducing, if only for a moment.

Its a break in the chaos where everything seems to slow and his sense are too sharp, gaze focused on too many details even in the darkness of night, every bead of sweat on his skin kissed by cold air and streaking pale lines through the smoke-ash that had clung to him earlier to make stripes of dark and pale, his breath slow and deep out of his chest, the dull roar of waves rolling against the side of the ship and boots shuffling over wood planks, the smell of people and smoke and salt. Somewhere he hears something else underneath it all, something he can't quite pick out, but that his mind struggles to interpret and comes away with identifying as mournful.

Various faces, all unknown to him, watch him with a mixture of different emotions and impressions. Awe and fear, disbelief and contempt, perhaps wounded pride and heated challenge. He's a small enemy, strong for his size but ultimately still outmatched in a direct head-to-head, face half-hidden by cloth and skin mottled with touches of dark grey ash and smoke, leaving his blue eyes to gleam brightest in what moonlight and caught firelight there is to be had.

In some faces, he thinks he sees without words the formation of the idea something-not-human, a look that comes paired with fear.

But not all are of the same superstition, and the one face and voice he does recognize coming out of the crowd is the one he had thumbed as their band leader at the start, unimpressed and angry and pointing a blade at where he stands crouched low in mimicry of something feral and ready to strike.

"I don't know who you are, but you've caused us no small amount of grief here today!" Most eyes are on their ringleader. Some watch him. None seem daring enough to move, whether by fear of him or of their leader; he can't be sure which. "I'm getting paid no small amount of wealth for getting these dragons for a client of highest importance, and I won't be upstaged by anyone! Least of all, by some runt or welp or whatever you are and some wild creature tricks!"

Alekt considers remaining silent. Talking won't get him anywhere with someone like this, and perhaps giving voice to his form will break the others around him out of their fear, shatter the illusion he might be something other than just a young man. He's not here to win on his own though. He's here to distract.

As if on cue, a keening growl creeps down from above them, and over his shoulder Alekt spies an obscure black shape moving across the masts above, given away only by the illumination of a contained throat-fire. In the half-light of his own flame, Toothless appears far more menacing than any clear sighting could inspire, body and wings and the unknown shape of (click)-phuh melting together into one liquid-like mass of moving shadow and fire to the eye that immediately has several trappers shrinking back.

"The dragons are free. They aren't yours to take," Alekt says finally, lifting himself partially from his low crouch and immediately catching attention back on himself. "Turn around, and go."

"I don't think you understand, boy," their leader snarls, taking several steps towards him. He has to resist the urge to meet that advance with a retreat to match every step, rigid with readiness to strike out. "Everything is easy to take, with enough strength and cunning. It will be too easy to kill all of you and yours for disrupting business."

"You may think that, but it would also be too easy for you to die."

He hears the trapper leader growl deep in his throat. "Yes... for you, it would be!"

Alekt sees him move before he even finishes speaking, swinging a sword in a large arc towards him. It only barely misses, Alekt feeling the wind of it passing before it bites into wood. He sweeps around the side and back of the man, starts to consider where to move next when the burly leader starts to swivel to swing at him again.

Shouts echo from both this and the other nearby ship. The deck under Alekt's feet abruptly jolts to the side with a loud crack, throwing everyone on it off-balance and stumbling. He steadies himself quicker than the rest, falling from a partial-crouch into a full one, digging the points of his blades into the deck boards. Before anyone else can recover from their stumble and make sense of what happened, he's already disappeared into the shadow of several bigger vikings who are more focused on the ship that rammed their flank than where he is.

Alekt catches their leader sweeping his eyes over the deck for him, having not forgotten, but when he's unable to locate where Alekt retreated, he re-focuses on the new ship with an audible growl.

There's a moment of silence that falls on both sides, save for the moan of damaged wood and sloshing waves, and among the silence Alekt hears something else. Similar to the animal sounds of mournful from before, louder and sharper noises that are shrieks of outrage-fear and startled-ruffled. He pauses. He watches carefully to make certain no one notices him before pressing his ear to the boards and quieting his own breath and pulse.

He hears it again, muffled as it is by the barrier between them: distressed dragons.

And then in the next moment the sounds are drowned out by the battle-cries of men, pounding feet and shifting armors, as viking-against-viking explodes across the deck with the arrival of his own men.

Finally.

His mind works quick to observe and calculate the chaos, watching as he catches his breath at the bulky flickers of people all much bigger than him. This isn't his fight anymore; he's just as likely to get trampled or crushed between someone as he is to make any difference, at least in a direct scuffle, and the dark means fighting at a distance might hit someone he doesn't intend.

But there's something else to be done here just as important.

He slips and dodges quietly between bigger fighters, his eyes scanning for Toothless, but the black dragon appears to have disappeared just as quick and skillful as he did himself before the fighting fully broke. Likely they disappeared together seeing the ships first, before the crash. Its what he would have done.

He thinks of climbing up the ratlines onto the masts again, but he thinks even if all the rest of the crew miss seeing him, their leader won't. Instead he swings over the side of the ship, hanging in the shadow of it where he won't be spotted from the other ship still anchored behind it.

He almost raises his fingers to his lips to whistle, but he reconsiders. That's a signal the enemy knows now.

He's wracking his brain for something else to use that's distinct enough to draw the dragon-pair without alerting the enemy leader, but while he's thinking, the duo is already moving in on their own. He almost startles when the black dragon lands next to him with a dull thump against the side of the ship's hull, claws expertly perching into crevices and small ledges making up the siding.

Toothless warbles a low throaty sound like amusement and smug found-you-startled-you that's lost to all ears but his under the din of battle a few feet above, carried as much in the curl of reflective green eyes as it is in the sounds made. Claw-stuck to the side of the ship, Toothless spreads himself flat against its surface like nothing more than a shadow that belongs, his whole body speaking sneaking-hiding.

Its (click)-phuh who speaks most, in quiet whistles and croons that he chooses to interpret as what now?

Alekt lightly raps the back of his hand against the ship hull, voicing back a quiet, more dragon-accented, "Drakkkn. Inside."

(click)-phuh nods understanding, crouching over Toothless's back with small touches and gestures over his head and neck, paired with noises that are like together-us devotion mixed with looks of determined-knowing. All three in agreement that these dragons won't remain captive any longer either. "Drakkkn fuh-ree. Pfikingr kkko!"

Alekt nods in turn to them, peeking his head over the side of the ship, searching. There has to be a way to get down below. He sees something that looks promising, past blurs of fighting and flickering shadows in what little light there is to be had. It looks like a hatch. Big enough for a man, too small for a dragon. If there's another way down, it won't be discreet and unnoticed, and being noticed could mean being trapped to only await death if things go bad.

He could try and go it alone, but the dragons below deck will be frightened and ready to fight, most likely. He'd have much better chances with at least one of the pair. Will they go separate if he suggests it though? If it makes their chance of success better? His eyes scan further, up the masts. His mind works quick. Cripple the ship above; free the dragons below.

He indicates attention with a low whistle, pointing between himself and the dragon-man, vocalizing, "(click)-phuh, Alekt," a motion with his hand like a dive and another tap at the ship, trying to impress inside ship, "Free drakkkn."

That much is agreeable.

"Tt-th-ss," he adds next, making a wait-stay motion.

Its met with an immediate snort and sharp shake of the dragon's head that speaks clearly Refuse-No!

Its a moment where Alekt remembers strongly the language barriers that exist, the complexity of what he's asking needing to be explained in a simple way, and the perch they're on not being properly suited to showing-telling the plan he's made in his head. Toothless sees only splitting-up in a place of danger and humans who hunt dragons. His instinct is protection. He won't leave his dragon-boy undefended, and offense ripples all down the dragon's back at the suggestion of it.

He thinks for a moment, trying to find a way through what communication he has to work with. He indicates me with a touch to his chest, a motion at (click)-phuh and "Protect. Safe. No hurt." He let's meanings leak into his posture, trying to signal trust-me with a low drop of his shoulders and bow of his head that is also meant as forgive-me submission no-threat. He reminds "Drakkkn" with a dart of his eyes at the ship, and he reminds "Help," also. They need to move fast. Now its chaos. Soon it will become more organized, more watchful. They need to slip through before the fights become coordinated.

Toothless growls quiet in his chest with posturing and low grumbling of reluctance don't-like no no protect, but there is also conflict in his eyes, knowing that it would not be the first time they have trusted him and the other times that trust turned into a good thing. And they cannot leave dragons trapped here to suffer. They-two know this.

(click)-phuh presses himself low against Toothless's skull, crooning a mix of uncertain wary don't-like to echo the dragon's and a lighter breathing-out of reassurance here-safe affection calm easy. They hum together a moment a yes yes love devotion us-together calm love easy calm affection with eyes closed and breathing in unison, and then their eyes are on him with a returned spark of determined-but-cautious. A look that doesn't quite speak trust but a knowing there is something that needs to be done.

"Drakkkn, fuh-ree."

Alekt nods to them before starting to climb up, poised ready but waiting for (click)-phuh to join him. He indicates fire which a small motion of his hand from his lips outward, directing Toothless's eyes at the sails and masts. Ruffled as the Fury is, he thinks it understands, by the look of calculation it gives. The dragon-man climbs up near him but still just out of reach, and Toothless's soft-keens and signals in small motions quiet demands of careful caution concerned stay-safe you! at his dragon-rider. (click)-phuh blinks slow and breathes back yes yes careful caution safe you-see yes.

They're running out of time. Alekt can see the fighting turning into regrouping, both sides trying to overwhelm the other. He breathes out in a way that signals almost-ready, his sights set on the hatch, watching where all the men move, and where they're going to go. His body is tense, ready-to-pounce, and he catches (click)-phuh in the corner of his eye, waiting for him to make the first leap so he can follow.

He finally sees their opportunity, when the fighting moves from one side of the ship to the other like the sweep of a wave, blades and shields locked and pushing against each other. He darts out quick and low, reaching the hatch. A last glance above and he moves quickly down a ladder into the hold, which is somewhat brighter than the deck. The dragon-man is only a few steps behind him, following all of exactly three bounds at his back and sticking in his blind-spot all the while in the wary fashion of a wild animal stalking something it doesn't wish to be seen by.

He's not concerned about that, though, or a leap from behind. If an attack comes, it won't be from the feral.

He only turns his head enough to see anxiety pent up in the dragon-man's lope, his watching-looking and quick movements at every new corner or human-thing where something might be hiding. He's tense, but silent, and they both move skillfully from one shadow to the next in a manner that speaks of lengthy practice.

He has no idea if (click)-phuh has ever seen the inside of a ship, with the way he startles at things, or it may be he startles because he has. Its not important enough to ask, but he seems lost enough inside the space that if he has, it hasn't been often. Not often enough to know where to look, as he himself has a strong inkling. Still, there's a certain lack of hesitation to follow that surprises him, but when he thinks about it more, he realizes its probably a matter of choosing to stay closer to what's familiar to him than risk the things that aren't. Alekt at least isn't going to attack him, but (click)-phuh probably can't think so with certainty about anything else around him. A small privilege Alekt doesn't plan to betray.

His suspicions of where to go prove to be right, but even if he hadn't known for certain, the musk of many dragons and smoke and dry air made by fire tells enough to lead them closer.

In the shadow of some crates, Alekt carefully pulled himself up to peek over the top of them, now hearing the dragon-chatter more clearly than he had been able to above-deck. Mostly it was low, agitated sounds of clicking and growling and rattling wings bumping against cage bars too enclosed to allow them to fully spread. A few dragons with just enough space spun in pacing-circles and bumped their bodies and heads against the cages, their movements speaking scared-angry-escape-break-free.

A superficial glance showed that it seemed like many of the cages needed a key to open. Unfortunate. This would be a little harder than he hoped for, most likely.

He lightly touched down from the crates and circled around them, catching (click)-phuh slinking just behind him in watchful caution. The dragon-man glances around one side of the room, then the other. The dragons in the cages hissed and growled warily at him as he approached, eyeing both Alekt and (click)-phuh with looks of both fear and wondering, and for a moment he's thankful these dragons have muzzles to keep them from spitting fire.

It takes the dragon-man no time at all to weave complex coos and warbles and friendly-peaceful noises of reassurance, with a posture that falls somewhere between almost-submissive and playfully welcoming. It sets the dragons somewhat more at-ease, still tense but now just as much curious and interested in the dragon-boy who speaks so fluently as they do.

Alekt is more focused on the locks in the meantime. They'll need a key, or at the very least, a good pick. His bird won't be able to help them here, so they'll need to find it themselves.

He moves along the row of cages to look, finding none in the immediate vicinity. Shame that it shouldn't be as easy as a key ring on a hook in easy view.

He softly clicks for the dragon-man's attention, the sound mostly-lost under the other noises of dragons chattering listlessly to each other, but its enough to catch the attention he wanted. He taps the key-hole, to show locked, and he motions to both of his own eyes, before pointing around the ship search.

Its easy enough communication that (click)-phuh seems to understand, nodding his head. If he hadn't seen a key before meeting Alekt - and Alekt thinks he must have - he'd seen one during their last raid to free dragons from trappers, when paired up with Embrik. That's as far as he lets that thought wander before he pushes it aside to focus on the present.

They move quietly around, searching for the key. Even though there's still an edginess about him, motions somewhat stiff, (click)-phuh seems to know what he's doing. His movements are quieted by his own clawed gloves curled so they don't click against wood, hugging corners and walls close with arms and legs all gathered beneath him, ready to leap away at the first sign of danger.

Alekt can't read the other's thoughts, and (click)-huh's sounds are mostly-quiet in hunting, but he can see in the small fidgets of glances over his shoulder and the way his eyes look around that he feels deeply unsettled working on his own. He's searching for the key, yes, but part of him is also searching for his dragon that isn't there and wishing that it was. That want has him gravitating more towards the farther-away rooms, the ones nearer the deck-hatch where they came in. Alekt wonders if its on purpose or subconscious, and guesses at the latter.

There's a job that needs doing that won't be abandoned, but its difficult for the dragon-man to ignore not having Toothless watching his back. Alekt can't say he doesn't understand. He's always had other eyes watching for him, and in some ways he feels blind when he doesn't have his birds.

He focuses on his task and lets (click)-phuh focus on his. Likely it will go faster if they both search different places.

There are empty beds and hammocks, dressers and chests for small items, sacks. Alekt quickly searches through everything he can, even under beds and pillows and among blankets and finds nothing he needs. Frustrating, but hardly surprising.

He starts to double back to look elsewhere and see if (click)-phuh has had any better success, only to hear the dragon man screech in alarm and another shout that's more intelligibly human. Alekt leaps from the room, ready for whatever fight managed to find them, and he's not surprised that one did.

(click)-phuh arches like an angry cat the same as he retreats with claws poised and ready to strike, snarling and hissing in agitation and warning, but wild eyes ever on the sword in the hand of the much larger trapper. The dragon-man hides any fear he has well, covering it with chatters of challenge and aggression, but Alekt can see in the trying jolts and changes of direction that he doesn't want a fight, he wants to slip past the large man and escape back up the deck hatch, and the other keeps cutting him off.

Alekt gives one short, sharp whistle of his own when he runs towards them, catching (click)-phuh's attention and giving him someone to dart behind, with his dragon nowhere in sight. Even standing at his tallest, Alekt couldn't compare to the height of the other man, and standing at his tallest here wouldn't be wise for a good defense.

The trapper catches sight of him and sneers at his size, a reaction he's not unused to, even as he brandishes his sickles ready to fight. His eyes catch the jangle of rough iron at his belt. Keys. Hopefully, one of which he needs.

"Well, well, what do we have here... a shrieking little freak and a boy." Even at the taunts, Alekt's eyes remain sharp and steely focused. Its enough to cause a small doubt, a shift in the other man's confidence, though only slightly. Still, even an inch of leeway is more than he had a moment ago, and he'll work with it.

Alekt doesn't say anything, and when it becomes clear he isn't going to, the larger man lunges for him with a swing of his sword. He can see in the corner of his vision (click)-phuh already leaping away, clearing up space and giving him the room Alekt needs to back-step and parry safely. With the larger viking in front of him, he can't spare any further attention tracking the dragon-man's movements, leaping back again when the trapper reverses their swing. It clears past his stomach without touching, if only barely, but it leaves the man's arm open.

Its protected by a bracer, but made of leather and straps, and Alekt's sickles are more like long talons than the straight-edged swords of most bladesmen. He catches the point only shallowly into flesh, hooked more properly underneath leather seams, and twists around the trapper's back to pull his arm around. It doesn't sever the leather, but in this case he doesn't want it to.

Fingers find another torso-strap around the other side of the trapper's back, sneaking their way underneath to keep the man from yanking him back around or twisting to face him properly, and Alekt is ready with his legs to push off a wall of the hull when the bigger man tries to slam him against it. It reminds him of the pain in his leg, but only briefly, something to shove to the back of his mind to focus on the more immediate problem.

Alekt catches a flash of black, feels the viking recoil away from something other than him, before the man slams down to the deck hard underneath him with a sharp grunt. As he's dislodging himself and his blade from the trapper's back, rolling over, he catches sight of (click)-phuh alongside him, gone and then suddenly there. (click)-phuh's fingers and a small knife work with quick precision to take the ring of keys from the man's belt in but a few seconds, almost faster than it takes the man to recover from being stunned.

The keys come free just as the man starts to gather himself under Alekt's weight and rise, throwing him off. Alekt rolls with the landing easily to re-find his feet, but if the trapper still remembers him there, he's brushed him off in favor of lunging at (click)-phuh instead.

With one hand occupied by keys and the other with a knife, the sword misses but comes far too close for either his or Alekt's comfort. Alekt watches him leap in reverse, land on his back and roll all the way back to his feet in a single movement. The blade slips into a sheath on his forearm with practiced ease, freeing up one hand, but its all he has time for before the trapper lunges again.

In the lunging-and-dodging, (click)-phuh moves in a quick three-and-a-half-legged dart around the side of them, chattering low, distinct noises of stress and agitation, while his tense form screams slinking-sneaking-escaping and his face speaks clear as day looking-for-Toothless. (click)-phuh tries to leap ahead before the sword can swing down again, but he re-considers as his eyes catch its path, and he scrambles backwards over himself, onto his back, rolling to all-fours, and darts the other way instead.

(click)-phuh moves with undeniable skill and swiftness as one would expect of a wild animal, but there is also a cornered-panic to his gestures, the dart of his eyes looking for another way out before they're back on the threat. He feints to one side, darts to the other. The trapper is only fooled for a moment, not a moment enough not to pursue. Another swing only barely misses the dragon-man, biting into wood and startling him into an uncoordinated side-leap.

Alekt takes the moment to lunge at his back, but he's less forgotten than he'd hoped, and the trapper moves a lot more nimbly than his size would imply. Alekt's blades cut only air, if barely, and the next sword-swing grazes his cheek. The cut hurts worse than it is, but what has him the most on-edge was how narrowly his eye escaped the slash.

For as close as the strike comes, Alekt thinks he's glad the attention is on him, instead of (click)-phuh who clearly doesn't care to fight, if he doesn't have to. At least not without his usual companion.

There's a moment, crouched low, his eyes meet that of the trapper's, who sizes him up and stares him down, face betraying calculation just before he lashes out again. They trade a few blows and parries, and Alekt doesn't take the risk of another clean dodge in such a small space just yet, even as their position migrates somewhat.

Another swing comes, this one harder and more determined. Alekt manages to block it, but with a small wince as his wounded leg cramps in protest. Its almost seen, but he tempers his reaction, slamming it back in his mind and dancing away lightly. The trapper's eyes are still on him, and he prefers it as he catches (click)-phuh - who had disappeared from sight for a time - trying to creep past them in careful, lurching movements, this time away from the escape of the hatch and towards the dragon cages.

The attention Alekt had been determined to keep is lost again, the trapper catching the movement and whirling with a snarl. It startles the dragon-man into a swift scramble away from the sword's path. Alekt isn't far behind them, even as (click)-phuh narrowly avoids another strike, lunges and slams low into the trapper's stomach and sets them stumbling and out of breath. It only lasts a moment, and the trapper advances again. (click)-phuh dives out of the way of him, just in time for Alekt to slam into his back and send the man stumbling into a stack of smaller crates, making them snap and splinter with a resounding crash.

Alekt takes a few steps back, readying himself for a recover, and catches (click)-phuh watching and hovering off to his side, still bristling and ready. Alekt catches the dragon-man's wild green eyes with his own blues, jerking his head twice towards the cages, before refocusing on the trapper still finding his feet.

The trapper recovers faster than Alekt is anticipating. With a swift swivel around and back to his feet, the man hurls the remains of a half-shattered crate and mess of nets at the dragon-man and topples him over. Alekt braces himself when the man lunges towards him, readying to dart to the side to avoid him.

Alekt's step falters, his injured thigh cramping tight in refusal to move. Practice has him managing to block the next swing that comes for him, but not the free hand that clamps around the collar of his shirt and hoists him into the air, well over the trapper's head and into the air. When he lands against wooden cargo, he can't be sure which crack is splintering wood and which cracks are his body, sputtering out a winded cough.

Its a renewed lesson he's heard and memorized time and again, long nights and longer days spent going head-to-head with Gyrfalcon, his bodyguard and spearhead of sorts - never let yourself get pinned, never let yourself get thrown. Even among his people, he's one of the smallest, while Gyr tends to overshadow even some of the biggest vikings in height. You can't afford to let someone else use your size against you.

Suffice to say, for all the times he's been told this, remembered it, and practiced it, he's rarely ever beaten Gyr, unless he tag-teams him alongside Spyttebrann, Alekt's wife. He supposes that's just fine, in most cases, but Gyr isn't here to back him up, and neither is Spytte.

Just him and the dragon-man, who Alekt is all too aware of as (click)-phuh scrambles to untangle from the thrown mess of nets and retreat from an advancing trapper.

He doesn't have the luxury to wait and catch his breath, expecting back-up.

He has to move.

He has to move now.

His wounded leg finds purchase under him with a painful hop, the other leg pushing himself up more properly, inhaling deep and forcing himself to move in the nearest thing to a limping sprint he can manage. There's a flash of determined victory set into the trapper's face as he lifts his blade to strike a mortal blow, and panic in (click)-phuh's as he tries and partially fails to twist free and leap away.

Alekt barely manages to make it in time to ram into the man's side and set him stumbling off balance, making his swing falter for a moment, but he's no less relentless than before and tries to grab a hold of Alekt again.

He's more ready for it this time, ducking below and sweeping between him and the dragon-man, even with one leg halfway buckled towards the floor. His blades come up to block a hard downward swing that has his leg give and lock like a stone. Gritting his teeth with a soft scoff in his throat, he exhales when a boot connects with his torso to knock him on his back, partially falling against the almost-free (click)-phuh.

He catches the movement of a sword-thrust with just enough time to know what's coming, not enough time or a proper position to prevent it, but he twists as well as he can anyway and brings one blade up to set the sword off-course with a screech of skating metal-on-metal.

The cold of the metal punctures his side first, the pain creeping in second, and the deafening caterwaul that rings in his ears isn't his own. He thinks the scream might be a name, but he's not sure. The sound is more than he can focus on in the moment.

Its agony, but he doesn't scream, his breath catching in his throat and blocking any noise that might have once tried to crawl its way free with force of will alone.

He knows its bad that he's been stabbed. He knows its worse when the blade pulls loose. He hopes the misfortune begins and ends at him. He's not sure what he'll do if it hasn't. He can already feel cold edging the fringes of his nerves, despite as distant as it feels.

The man chuckles and grins preemptively, thinking himself won."Foolish boy, leaving yourself wide open."

What else Alekt hears is the distant memory of a whistling scream, uniquely distinct and widely feared, steadily growing louder.

No.

Not a memory.

He breathes out deeply, trying to steady himself with a hand pressed to the wound, choking down nausea and bile, giving a slow shake of his head as its all he can manage. "This is nothing-" he exhales, the muffled keen splitting the air louder by the moment. The slow-creeping shift of uncertainty taking over the trapper's face is almost enough to be smug over, were he the type to boast. "-compared to what that Night Fury is going to do to you."

The man's eyebrows are only halfway to furrowed in question before the floor above them explodes with a couple bursts of violet fire and smoke and enraged yowling. The trapper stumbles back and away with a fit of coughing, squinting into the smoke and waving a hand in front of his face to clear it away.

There are many things Alekt knows people fear and many more that they regret, but he thinks there are few regrets worse than coming face-to-face with a mouth of bared fangs, lit by fire only withheld long enough to contemplate whats about to come, jet black wings spread wide to take up the entire girth of the corridor to form a wall between Alekt and dragon-man, and trapper.

The human scream of cowardice just before its overpowered by a Fury's screech is enough to tell Alekt all he needs on which direction the trapper goes; somewhere away and not fast enough.

All he can see is the bulk of black scales and fins ahead of him, obscured by smoke wisping through the air in quick swirls that whip about and then slow to a crawl just ahead of him. He can't be sure whether they've naturally slowed their drifting or if its his awareness that's swimming, but the pain blooming through his torso and pulsing under fingertips pressed against his wound tell him he's still alive and awake.

He's mentally counting each slow, steadying breath in his head to give himself something to focus on. On breath three, the bulk of black scales that momentarily dove through the grey smoke and faded into it returns, pulling up short just in front of him. Large green eyes regard him with searching and panic, nose twitching at him, and then past him. The rest of the dragon bowls past the side of him and into (click)-phuh.

The wild-man gives a squeal as he's tackled that's somewhere between indignation and relief, wrapping himself around the Fury's head as it nuzzles into him and rolls him over, shoving its nose into him. Alekt has to duck beneath a swung tail as Toothless paces a distressed, protective circle around his feral-boy, shielding him with its bulk and an outstretched wing like a canopy cover.

(click)-phuh tries to push the dragon off him in protest. Toothless only looks up and around long enough to determine there are no immediate threats to heed, before pinning him back down with a firm paw and nosing against him, covering his dragon-boy in spit with long swipes of his tongue. Alekt catches sight of spots of blood on the dark black-scaled leathers, but its all quickly washed away with Night Fury licks, and a quick flash of bare skin beneath lifted clothing shows no sort of injury that could be responsible for its presence.

So it must have been his blood.

At least only one of them had been injured, then.

(click)-phuh finally manages to free himself and hop to his feet, crouched low and balancing with ease, speaking in distressed chatters and clicks and swiping gestures like a fight and other signals he can't follow. Alekt guesses he's retelling what happened, but his attention lapses for a moment as his head swims, fading back in soon enough that he catches Toothless's own low croons and coos of comfort and concern, gently pressing against his wild friend.

Alekt is somewhat surprised when the concern shifts to him, neither dragon nor feral getting close enough to touch, but (click)-phuh lurching forward and crouching low, tilting his head to get a look at the wound covered by his hand. Alekt waves him away and (click)-phuh rolls back slightly on his heels, but his eyes still remain fixed at Alekt's side until he motions again for his attention and waves him and Toothless towards the cages of ruffled, still-watching dragons in cages.

"Go. Dragons."

Uncertainty and soft trills of hesitance keep them both there for a moment, but another bit of insistence has them finally moving to finish what they started.

He would have to properly treat it later, when they were somewhere less dangerous. For now, a bundle of canvas roughly cut from a larger rolled piece with his blades and another strip to tie around his body and hold it in place would have to do. It made him somewhat glad for the moment he was such a small person. Less material needed to wrap around himself.

His leg still wanted to lock up and refuse to move, so he had to slowly, carefully find support against the nearest wall to make his way up onto one foot. Even without putting his weight down on the injured leg, he winced as the muscle of his thigh gave a spasm in painful protest. Every breath was careful, but controlled. He would be fine. He just needed to breathe and pace himself.

A glance to the Fury pair told him that they were making easy enough progress, both easing the captured dragons into a state of better calm and getting them free of their muzzles.

At first the captive dragons crawled from their cages one at a time and hunched down, huddling together uncertain of what to do next or where to go. Dragon and dragon-man encouraged them with light nudges and warbles of encouragement, turning their attention upward to the shattered remnants of the deck above. After some insistent coaxing, one of the more daring dragons launched upward, crashing through the patchwork of broken and hanging boards, and the rest of the flock quickly followed upward through the enlarged gap.

The dragons were free. Now they just had to get off this ship.

He swiveled around on one foot, only using the other to keep his balance rather than fully put his weight down on it, leaning into the wall for support. Really he wasn't sure what he was going to do once he got to the top deck, but first he had to reach the ladder. Focus on one step at a time. He could figure that out once he got there.

He managed to hop a few paces heavily, leaving light fingerprints of red blended in with the wood of the hull walls, before teetering slightly. He didn't dare shake his head as he swayed, pressing his side further against the wall to catch his breath and regain his bearings with the inky-black shape of Toothless and (click)-phuh hovering towards his side barely within his periphery. Just a bit further...

Another limping-hop forward and he teetered again, this time farther to the side until his fingertips lost contact with the wall and the ground rushed up. He was only partially aware of catching his arm over the bulk of something, the brief brush of rough scales against his cheek, before the textured black that crowded his narrowing vision gave way to deeper darkness.