Hi, lovelies!

Thanks for the support and reviews and favorites and follows through this mess of a story. I think I've finally decided where I want this story to go! Yayyyy for future planning! Much melodrama this chapter. Will not be so fluffy in the future. (who am I kidding I live for the fluff.)

Enjoy and leave a review!

Phlegma sends me to gather fishgrass up the hill while she returns to Niamh and our long-term patients. I wade through knee-high straw and stretch my legs, sore from kneeling.

Past the old iron ore is an expanse of scraggly grass like an ocean. It crunches underfoot, bristly, rough...like us. Soon, the field slopes into a gentle hill. The grass comes to a short stop at the black rock cliffs, and I hoist my basket higher on my back and carefully pick my way down into the valley. The terrain's rocky, but a little ways down is the thicket of fishgrass, impossibly green and stiff, like toothpicks planted in the ground. I shift my boot and squint into the sun—

WOOSH!

My braid smacks me in the eye and I stumble back against the sudden gale, landing on my butt and sliding, rolling, tumble down the rocky slope.

I flip and land on something soft.

It groans and I look at it.

"Hiccup?" I say.

He cringes and squints up.

"Vel?"

I'm on top of him and breathing in his face and he's breathing in mine.

I sit up. There's a thick stripe of flattened fishgrass where Hiccup and Toothless crash-landed stretching from the edge of the valley fifty paces from me. Toothless rolls around, tongue flapping. The fishgrass snaps, releasing their sweet scents, and Toothless growls happily from inside his throat.

Hiccup sits up too and rolls a few blades experimentally in his fingers.

"Fishgrass," I explain, snapping a blade and bringing it to my nose. "We use it for fever. Phlegma says it grows where fish die. Says this whole valley used to be swollen in water when she was a girl."

"Fishgrass," Hiccup says thoughtfully. He holds a strand up to his eye. "Dragon nip?"

We watch as Toothless rolls over to us and shakes himself. He stomps a circle around Hiccup and I, then nudges my slightly crumpled basket with his nose.

"Nothing for you today," I say apologetically.

Toothless warbles and starts making a weird sound down his throat.

A half-eaten fish squelches on the grass. He looks at me with those big yellow eyes.

I crinkle my nose in a smile. "Oh, I'm okay."

Toothless snorts and shakes his head like I'm crazy for missing out, then carefully slurps it back up. "Clever boy," I say, and rub the scales twixt his eyes. Toothless makes a deep, content sound and lays his head by my lap, breath pressing like a warm hand on my knee.

He blinks at me, then closes his eyes.

I touch his ears and count the soft little spines on his head. "How did you ever find him, Hiccup?"

He laughs nervously. "Well, you know about his tail. I uh...caught a Night Fury. But it all worked out. Right, bud?"

Toothless opens his eyes and growls.

Hiccup sighs. "See? He's over it. We're fine."

"Yeah," I say, staring at Toothless' closed eyes. I soften. "And to think...we've been enemies all these years."

We just sit for a while, just quiet.

"Hey," Hiccup says, standing up slowly. "Hey, Vel!"

I look up, squinting against the sun. "What? What idea? What crazy idea do you got this time?"

"A good one," Hiccup says, rubbing his hands together. He smiles for effect, then bursts: "You can train your own dragon!"

I blink.

"You go so well with Toothless," Hiccup continues, pacing now. His arms wave to illustrate his points. "If you had your own dragon, everything would change!"

I raise an eyebrow. Then, seeing that he's serious, I snort. "Nothing would change. I'm a healer's apprentice, remember? Not, say...the chieftain's son?"

Hiccup decides to ignore that.

"A Zippleback? Nah, two heads are a bother to feed, not to mention favoritism...Gronckle? There're a lot of those..." he snaps his fingers. "That's it, then. You're getting a Gronckle."

"I'd be bored to death," I say sardonically, leaning against Toothless' sleeping frame. "No speed at all. And you're not giving up, are you?"

"A Nadder...even a Monstrous Nightmare?"

Suddenly, Hiccup claps and Toothless jolts in his sleep. "I got it. A Timberjack. Oh ho, you'll down forests like a guillotine. Dragons in Berk..." he rubs his hands together excitedly. "Don't you see what this could do for us, Vel?"

I press my mouth into a line. "Might as well go all out strike class," I say. "Maybe a Skrill. Velekha the Healer, riding the lightning."

"Maybe we'll find another Night Fury," Hiccup continues, and his eyes burn green, green, green. "Heck, we could discover a whole new class of dragons! Find new species...but first, we'll get a dragon for you to train—"

"-and I'll fly away, Hiccup," I say. It comes out louder than I expected.

Hiccup stops and looks at me.

I beat my hand against the grass and look up at him, trying to keep the whine out of my voice. "I don't want to ride a Timberjack and cut wood for bonfires, or use Gronckles to start kitchen fires, Hiccup. That's you. I want—"

But I look at his face and can't find the words.

"I want—"

I realize all I want is to just...belong. And I realize that that's precisely what Hiccup's trying to give me, but I don't want any of it. So all that's left to do is shake my head.

I stand up and Toothless lifts his head in confusion.

"All that inventing and making this place better...that's you," I say again, not looking at him. "I just—"

"Just what, Vel?" he insists, taking a step closer. "I want to know—"

"That's the problem," I suddenly snap, suddenly angry, suddenly hating how he always has to fix things, has to ruin them, has to mock me like this. "I don't know either. It's not me you're looking for to join you in this ridiculous mission of yours. You will get hurt, Hiccup. And gods know I'm not going to be there when you do."

I start up the rocky cliff again. My foot slips and I curse, but keep moving until I feel loose soil under my fingers and pry myself up.

I hear flapping wings but by then I'm running back to the village. My nearly empty basket bounces on my back as I stumble over weeds and rocks. I hobble up the last few paces, hugging a stitch in my side and coughing.

"Sweet Valhalla," Phlegma says, suddenly appearing out the back. "Get in here, child."

She half-carries me into the back room and sits me on one of the empty beds. "Your lungs?"

I nod and focus on breathing.

Phlegma drags the basket off my back and glances in it, not seeing fishgrass. But the moment I start getting some real air in me, I start shaking again and crying and hiccupping and Phlegma just dumps the basket of gnadders on the ground, forgotten.

"Pretty thing, what's in your heart?" she says, eyes creased, taking my shoulders.

I shake my head and keep shaking it. Tears dribble down my face.

"Pretty thing?" she urges.

"Hiccup," I say, wiping my face with my sleeve. "We were talking and we just—"

"The guts," Phlegma says suddenly, rising with her hand placed threateningly on her dagger. "The guts. Why, that boy—"

"Oh no," I say, suddenly pleading, grabbing her arm. "It wasn't...it wasn't anything important, Phlegma, I swear it. I'm just being stupid...you know me."

She grunts. "Then you cry too much." But she lowers her hand and grabs my basket, disappearing with it through the curtains.

I wipe my face and try to reason with myself.

I'm not sad because I'm scared of training a dragon.

I'm also not sad about Hiccup planning my life. I trust him more than Astrid, more than Uncle Finn...maybe as much as I trust Phlegma.

I'm upset because Hiccup's planned his own future, and I can't picture myself in it. I don't even belong in a hypothetical world. I ball my fists up in my tunic. Phlegma's right. Where will I be after? Will there even be an after for me? If not, then where else is there besides this dusty island we call Berk? And that brings me back to training a dragon...

"Don't worry," a gruff voice says. Asger the Angry shifts on his cot near the window. "No worries, young Velekha. Odin's got plans for even the worst of us."

"Odin can stuff it," I mutter. "The way things have been going so far..."

Asger growls and I realize he's laughing. "Your honor and spirit, young Velekha. Your honor and spirit."

"And yours," I say, a little surprised.

But I look back and see he's fallen asleep. I get up and shuffle to his cot. My throat tightens. Sweat dribbles off his skin into his tangled beard even though it's not been five hours since I last saw him.

I lift up the blanket and see that Asger's arm burns red, red, red.

I'm sitting back at home with a little jar of gnadders and a needle and thread, stitching myself back up from all the little scratches from my tumble with...

I poke the needle through my arm and smile.

...a dragon.

The deepest ones are from the rocks in the cove. I tie the last stitch off and carefully snip the thread when Astrid bursts into the house like a thunderstorm.

Her hair's flyaway and smoking.

I stick the needle and the ball of thread into my pocket. I scramble to fetch her a bucket of water. "Snotlout set you on fire again?"

"Fishlegs," Astrid spits, slapping at her smoldering skirt. "Thought it would be interesting to summon a Whispering Death."

I use a bucket to draw water from the wheelbarrow in the corner and look up. "He summoned a Whispering Death?"

"He dug the foundations of a house too deep," Astrid says crossly. "We all fell in one of its tunnels." She takes the water and dips her singed braid in. "Stoick the Vast and Uncle Finn managed to run the monster off a cliff. Darned beast burnt my new skirt," Astrid mutters.

I look at her with wide eyes. "What cliff?"

She narrows her eyes and flips her braid out of the water. "Down Terror Beach- hey, where're you going?!"

"Phlegma's," I lie. I grab a fish from our cutting board and run out the house.

I'm not even thinking as I run down the hill. Terror Beach is all the way on the other side of the island. We hear stories about mad Vikings jumping off and cracking themselves open on the beach below. If a dragon fell—

"Hiccup!" I yell, pounding on the blacksmith's window. "Hiccup?"

The boards creak open.

"Aye, Valka," Gobber says, a fire blazing inside and a piece of red metal resting on it. "What're you up to? Hiccup's up at the house—"

"Thanks," I breathe, taking off again.

I run up the sloping hill and knock on the door. I bounce on my heels for a solid ten seconds and suddenly I feel too prim, too proper, given the circumstances.

The door swings open.

"Hiccup—"

Stoick the Vast stands before me, seven feet tall and five feet wide. He looks over my head before he notices me standing, craning my head to peer up.

"Velekha Hofferson," he says, surprised.

"Where's Hiccup?" I plead, skipping the formalities. "Please, I need Hiccup—"

"Vel?" Hiccup turns the corner, chopped firewood in his arms. He drops it next to the house and runs over, brushing splinters all over his vest. He looks at me with asking but even though I need his help, I still can't look at him straight.

"Can we just go—" I murmur.

"OH," Stoick says suddenly, much too loud. He gives Hiccup a not-so-discreet wink and turns inside, nearly knocking his Viking hat off. "I HAVE THINGS," he announces. "MANY THINGS. I'LL JUST...LEAVE YOU TWO YOUNG ONES ALONE."

He closes the door way too hard.

I look at it for a second, then grab the front of Hiccup's tunic. "A dragon was downed at Terror Beach," I say. "A Whispering Death."

Hiccup's eyes change in understanding. He looks down.

I look down, wondering if I'm not wearing pants again.

"Is that a fish, Vel?"

I hug it closer. "Yes."

His mouth twitches. "C'mon," is all Hiccup says, running around the back of the house and into the woods.

My lungs protest and I have to stop at the first tree to cough, but Hiccup doesn't say anything, just waits patiently until we start going again.

We go until I'm sure my lungs are red and raw, but then I see a shield lodged twixt two boulders. We crawl under it and Hiccup catches my arm so I don't pitch forward into the cove...again. In daylight it's beautiful, a pane of water so clear I see fish flicking their tails. A thin waterfall sprays against the rocks. Suddenly, a familiar face pops up behind some of the rocks.

"Toothless," I say, clutching my side but still breathing.

We make our way down the cove. Toothless stays patiently at the bottom, and Hiccup slides down into the saddle first before turning to help me. I step lightly on Toothless' wing and catch Hiccup's shoulder, landing behind him. I don't let go.

"Let's go, bud," Hiccup says, patting Toothless' side. We start running and Hiccup flicks his foot, sending us up and up and up. The rush brings a familiar feeling, but something's off and I know it's my own fault.

"I'm sorry," I say, squeezing Hiccup's shoulder.

"Don't be," he responds lightly. "I'd get pretty mad at myself too if I hung out with me all the time."

And like everything with Hiccup, it all suddenly becomes okay when we go into a dive and he turns to smile at me. He smiles that crooked smile that makes me laugh even louder and bring my arms even higher, and I know it's fine. That it's okay.

Toothless flies low so as not to be seen, and the trees turn into mountains. The other side of the island approaches quickly and I crane my neck to look for any sign of Whispering Death.

Turns out I don't have to. Toothless lets out a roar and tips his wings. We turn sharply toward the sloping side of the cliffs and descend past the trees, down the steep ravine. Cold air ripples through my tunic and I press against Hiccup, blinking hard. Fog sweeps in with the waves and we land in a shower of black rocks. The sky on this side of the island is cloudy and dark, a whole different world. Fog rolls in great billows around my waist, and Toothless shakes his head in discomfort. The beach is dark and covered in wet, black rocks. The cliff face is stark and the beach stretches on for two hundred paces before the cliff side cuts back into it.

I slip off Toothless' back and then stop.

The fog shifts and a Whispering Death lays, coiled into itself not a hundred paces from us, hissing and licking its wounds. It's impossibly long, all tail and circular mouth rimmed by thousands of teeth. It holds itself defensively on the black rocks, pressed against a span of sharp boulders. It groans and growls, snapping its great jaws, moving its clouded eyes, coiling into itself like the spirals of a seashell. Moisture trickles down my face and Toothless shivers next to me.

Hiccup lands on his feet and stumbles over.

"Plan?" I whisper to him.

He shrugs, but I see by the way he flexes his hands that he's nervous. "Still got that fish?"

We look down.

"Still got it." I say.

Hiccup swallows. "Then that's our plan."

"Hello," I whisper, creeping closer. The rocks shift unsteadily under my feet and I have to stop to gather my breath.

The Whispering Death hisses, wrapping into itself. Its tail ripples on the ground, and its head turns in my direction.

"Hello," I breathe again, walking closer. Sixty paces.

From what Vikings know, Whispering Deaths are mostly blind and have no visible ears. Most of this one's face is a cavernous mouth filled with shiny, spiny teeth. It has nostrils twixt its eyes under a spine. Hiccup says it must feel to understand its surroundings, since it can't seem to see, hear, or smell particularly well.

I take a few more steps, and its tail beats against the ground. Tremors ripple the spines along its back up onto its head and the Death looks at me again.

I swallow hard and keep going. Forty paces. Thirty.

From this close, I can see its wounds better. Great, jagged scars tear its scales along its body. I squint up the cliff. A fall like that would kill a Viking any day. But the Whispering Death is alive, obviously, with these cuts that bleed but aren't anything close to life-threatening. The worst thing I see is its wing, torn a little around the edges, with a hole the size of my hand. A hole that'd make it hard to fly, no doubt.

My hands grow slightly less clammy as I feel a twinge of sympathy and shift the fish in twixt my hands. I know what it's like not to fly.

Like it senses the sadness, the Death curls closer and rests its head on its roping body. Even relaxed, its mouth doesn't close. I look down its throat, at the rows and rows of teeth. Whispering Deaths can spin their teeth faster than a windmill. They can't see, hear, or smell. But I bet it can taste.

Twenty paces—

My foot crunches against the rocks.

Suddenly, its head whips at me and it snaps at the air in my direction and I jump back, dropping the fish.

The Death raises its head...but to my horror, it doesn't stop there. Its neck extends, impossibly long. Piles of ropy body unwind as it approaches. Fifteen paces, ten paces...one...and it's sniffing me, its gaping mouth smelling earthy, like dirt and rock. I squeeze my eyes shut, fingers closing hard against the rocks—

I hear a million voices whispering as its million teeth whir and open my eyes, unable to push down the curiosity of my own doom, unable to just take it in without learning one last thing—

And I watch the Death plummet into a tunnel right in front of me. Paces upon paces of dragon fly into the ground, green scales and red cuts blurring and disappearing as it drills deep, deep, deeper into the ground.

Its tail flicks the side of my cheek, spine not nearly as sharp as I imagined.

The fish is gone too.

So is my breath.

My fingers drop the rocks. Eventually I find my lungs and inflate them manually. I find my heart in my throat and put it back into place. My arms rope around my middle like I'm trying to keep everything in me in, and I feel my bones, these are my hips, my ribs, my heart.

My hips.

My ribs.

My heart.

"Gods, that was amazing!" Hiccup yells, popping out from behind a boulder. Toothless growls under him and dumps Hiccup on the ground. Hiccup pops back up and runs over the me, careful to skirt around the dark hole right in front of me. "Did you see it? Odin, it was...it was amazing. We were just about to fire and get you out when it drilled down!"

I just breathe and look down at my feet, the edge of my boot a finger's length from the edge of the hole.

"Toothless was all ready to spring in when it uncoiled but I had to grab him really tight—"

Toothless snorts moodily and nudges my shoulder in comfort.

"-but oh gods, Vel," Hiccup continues excitedly, "you were amazing!"

"Thanks," is all I can muster before Toothless mewls and pushes his nose into my hair. "It...was pretty amazing."

"Well, we'd best get back," Hiccup says, squinting into the breaking clouds. "Or else my dad may think something weird's happening."

"Yeah," I agree, still on my butt, still staring at the toes of my boots.

Still feeling the spiny tail stroke my face, like goodbye. The ground under my fingers vibrates...subtly.

Hiccup mounts Toothless and Toothless stretches his wings to release the tension. I take a breath to make sure everything in me is in the right place, then crawl to the edge of the Whispering Death's hole. I touch the edge, and black rocks skitter down into the darkness.

My finger comes back wet.

Deep red dragon blood coats the tips of my fingers. They start to sting.

You will see a return of the Whispering Death!

I've started updating faster than I can write...phew.

Review and have an awesome week!

Cheers!