Freefall, Part Twenty-One

Edge can still taste blood.

It lies on her tongue very sharp, as heavy as a shadow, bitter and bright. Close by, some of her flock-mates play in a waterfall pool of clear, sweet water, pouncing at the fish scattering away from their paws and nipping at the little plants that sway beneath the sunlit surface. They cry out to each other in amazement for this green world, so different from the endless ocean they saw before, but Edge makes no effort to rise from her resting place in the grass.

She can roll in it, if she wishes to. Grass is hers to lie in, if she wants to. There is no grass in her caves, and she had thought never to see it again. She can show her belly to the warmth of the sunlight without surrender. The Creature will not pounce into her and tear. The Creature will never hurt her again. She knows this for sure.

Edge rolls, slow and pleased and scornful, sighing the tickling blades of grass away from her nose.

The wide little ravine, deep in the forest, swarms with excited dragons and exhausted ones. Her flock-mates shriek and dance and spin, their cries echoing off the sheer walls of the surrounding cliffs. These stones do not glow. Instead, they are covered in many shades of green, from the grey-green of lichens and mosses to the rich dark of strong-smelling pine needles to the rippling golden-green of Edge's shallow lake of grass. Some of her flock-mates play at mimicking the new shades, flaring delighted colors across their scales and fading into the tumbledown stone.

From the forest above, a very tall tree reaches down towards the ground of the pit and rears up high above, making a maze of exposed roots for Barely Traces and Loud She to scramble among, whistling together. Look look this here us here look what this? curious wondering not-sure interested you see? you see? look-at-me yes us good bold fast-fast-fast amazement here look!

Follows Along curls himself into a hollow the roots make and rests his jaw on one of them, watching his mate play as his eyes flicker half-shut. The grey of tired dapples shadows across his sides, fighting the sunlight turning his tinted scales richer.

Across the sandy earth of the hollow, her flock-mates drowse, sprawled out fearlessly. Many of them have put their backs to stones for the comfort of it, to feel a little like home, but their paws and wingtips twitch as if flying even in brief dreams. They sleep only in snatches. There is too much exploring to do, and too much of an adventure to wonder over!

With her head on her stained paws again, every pounding beat of Edge's heart against the ground is a triumphant pawstep away from the Creature. It will never, never catch her again. Stone cliffs rear high above her as grass waves around her eyes, but Edge is floating, high in the endless sky without even wingbeats to bear her up.

She is free.

Never again heavy vines cold around her paws and her wings. Never again a thing to hold her jaw shut and her fires within her belly. Never again dreams pulled over her head and fish forced down her throat. Never again an intruding, unwanted paw tracing along her lines and a mocking voice, light and hungry, gloating over her as she struggles and cries. All these things are gone as surely as if she had burnt a not-to-eat mushroom to ashes, smearing its dust into the stone.

With a very great sigh, blowing all those ashes away, Edge listens to the sounds of her flock-mates meeting the outside world, shuttering her eyes at the sight of Tumble and Disregard, who sit staring, awestruck by the blue sky above. Little wisps of color flow across their scales, surprise and surprise and surprise again for every cloud and darting bird and floating leaf. Walks Dark stands with all his paws in the pool of fresh water without even a trace of salt, gulping down the sweetness and bugling delight into bubbles.

Caught An Octopus and Liar Lure flutter around the small waterfall, playing at out and peering over the lip of the cliff face, staring into the green darkness of the forest beyond. There is even more world out there! Both dragons shudder with interest, but together, they turn and dive back down again, racing to tell their flock-mates, c'mon, c'mon, and urging them to come see too, there is another waterfall to climb!

This? Swimmer wonders, and Edge opens one eye to see her pawing at the waving grass, uncertainty flaring across her chest. She looks to Edge, tilting her head this good?

Edge burrows deeper into the grass, spreading out her wings under the sun. Good good good, Edge answers with a lazy wave of her tail.

Swimmer hesitates, and takes a cautious step into the grass, wary of undercurrents to sweep her away into the drowning dark. Edge had been sure that there must be cave-darkness somewhere, in this very bright world, and she had whimpered in fear when inescapable darkness found her. All that first night, she had trembled with horror, cringing low with her wings wrapped tight around her, wailing abandonment to the little glows in a roof too high to touch and the cold white light far above. It had looked just like a cave-mouth from below, too far to climb to, too narrow to let her fly out.

If the sun had not come back, Edge would have turned around and flown straight home, and it had taken all her terrified courage to face another night. But she had faced it like an enemy with her fangs bared, stepping through it like she would a cavern where she is not welcome. Now she smirks to herself, wondering how her flock-mates will react when they, too, meet the night.

Swimmer shrieks a tiny startled sound as the grass tickles her scales, but she wades in deeper with her ear-flaps tilting up confidence, and yowls brave before hurling herself into the grass in a thrashing wild roll. All her paws tear at the untouchable sky as she wriggles, chirruping delight for the touch of it.

Flitabout Friend and Ripple Shades and Ambush follow her in, and Edge watches them amusement as they find that grass can be a toy and a nest and full of interesting smells. They also discover that grass sometimes hides little jumping bugs. Swimmer and Ambush and Ripple Shades scatter screaming with excitement, leaving Flitabout Friend to spring at the jumping bugs, snapping uselessly at the air with her tail waving laughter.

Edge breathes in the scent of a world without the Creature, and feels the sun come up in her chest, bringing back all the colors and burning down the long shadow of her captivity. She knows as well as any dragon that dead is dead, and dead does not come back, and so she is safe from the Creature forevermore. Now she can run and fly and explore this world, and her flock-mates too, if they wish to.

She knows there are other dangers in this world. Marvel and Magpie warned them all, and she remembers those threats like dreams half-forgotten.

Well, she will bite those dangers too, if she needs to.

Look! Shoves Hard whistles through the broken, jagged stick in his jaws, dragging it over to her. Edge blinks at it, and him, in puzzlement as he drops it before her with a growl. This you this you see? danger-caution? Fierce? I growl bite bite this look! yes?

She chirrups confusion. No-threat, she looks away with a yawn, flowing to her paws to lean on a piece of the stick with all her weight. It snaps, and Shoves Hard jumps, fading to match grass and earth and stone before all his scales wash white again, reappearing with a tongue-lolling grin.

He purrs reassured, and dances backwards, dropping into a pounce and batting at the stick. You play? he invites her, and Edge stares at him in silent shock. Never before has Shoves Hard so much as looked at her, except to push her away. He has no markings, but he is bigger than she.

Shoves Hard glances past the stick to Edge's bloodstained paws, and his eyes go wide. His pounce becomes a crouch, his chirrup of invitation a low cry of realization. You you that pounce you good fierce! pouncing-game this yes you-win!

He snatches up his stick and races away, and Edge watches in confusion as he swoops into the air, drops the stick to the ground, and pounces on it again from above, shaking it in his jaws.

Strange, Edge bristles, pawing at the grass. And when she pads to the little lake to drink deeply, no one stands in her way, even by pretend-accident. Dragons who would have pushed her into the water and laughed, back home, move aside and make a place for her where the water runs clear. They look up, and they see her.

She watches uncertainly out of the side of her eyes as Tumble creeps towards her, sidling pawsteps dragging scars through the sandy ground. Tentatively, while all the rest of her strains away no no fear no no daring-maybe trying no, the other white dragon stretches out her nose and touches it to a spot of dried blood, still splattered dark across Edge's scales. Too surprised to spring away, Edge watches as Tumble trembles all over, her tail-fins spreading wide and her ear-flaps standing out in alarm. Her breath comes short and shuddering. Wonder and horror and fear cascade across her sides in vibrant colors.

Tumble springs away a heartbeat later, grunting a deep, proud noise to herself, as if she has done something very brave. But she crouches respect very low to Edge as well, and runs away in a quick snap of fluttering wings and waving tail and flailing paws.

They are…

Her flock is proud of her?

Edge stands baffled, her pawprints sinking deeper into the silty shore while her flock-mates play and explore, chirruping curiosity and wonder. A singing bird soars out of the tree cover and over the little ravine, and many blue eyes snap around to follow it, bodies trembling with fascination and an instinctive chattering chorus of want want want jittering from pale throats.

The bird dives away and vanishes before any dragon can chase it, but Liar Lure bounds from stone to stone, flicking her tail as she scampers up and down the tiny path hidden in the cliff face, trying to imitate its sounds in chirrups and cries.

Edge watches Liar Lure call for the bird until the white dragon, a single stripe wavering down her hindleg, flies just beneath a dark stone. Then she must lower her eyes again, barely able to look at them.

That is not a stone.

That is Marvel and Magpie, standing guard over them all at the edge of the ravine.

Their Alphas led this flock here as if they had been here before, and perhaps they have. Edge knows now that they have been many places, more than her world could ever hold, and that they long always to go further. The two black dragons had landed here very softly and prowled around into all the corners flicker-quick, almost before anyone else could land behind them, patrolling for lurking dangers and finding none.

Safe here, Magpie had chirped, but still they watch, listening to the forest like mothers while their flock plays like hatchlings.

But even as she cringes, Edge purrs with pride and the joy of knowing she had been right. She had known! She had brought Marvel to the glowing caverns knowing he could lead them better, that he could make things different, that it was right for a true-black dragon to lead them again. He has – they have – done so much more than Edge could have ever imagined. She wished only for them to move a few stones, and perhaps let her climb up those stones beside them, and instead they broke open her sky.

Her world will be different forever.

As she watches, shyly, unsure of where she stands, Marvel rises to all his paws and dives into the little ravine with a gentle glide. Magpie slips from his shoulders as they land, and the pair of them curl up together. The little dragon nestles into Marvel's forepaws, and Marvel hides his face in his partner's belly, and they breathe into each other in silence.

Perhaps they sleep. Certainly others are sleeping, sunbeams licking warm across their scales, learning to wake a bit and follow the sun as it pours slowly across the ground.

When Edge had first seen Marvel, she had been struck still with wonder – everything about him had said power to her. Even if she had not lain trapped and bound and frightened, still she would have been overawed by a dragon with all the markings that, in her world, meant authority.

But she had not understood Magpie at all.

Eventually, she had come to think of him as a runt, like one of her flock-mates born too small and slightly wrong. Sometimes there are hatchlings who struggle from their shells mixed-up or wounded in the egg, so they do not match their mothers. But all hatchlings are cared for, and to Edge, Magpie had seemed like a runt grown – one loved deeply, but still needing care.

And as they flew beside her, letting her lead them home, she had puzzled over the mismatched pair of them until she could fit them into her world. Surely, she had decided, they must have hatched together – two eggs laid and hatched in a clutch are rarer than runts, but sometimes it happens, and then the mother who laid them gloats very proud. And it was good that Marvel loved his clutch-mate still, protecting him from dangers and carrying him on his back so Magpie could fly too. Edge had been charmed even more for that: if her bold maybe-Alpha was so gentle to a dragon born wrong, surely Marvel would look kindly on her, even though she was only the dragon On the Edge of Things.

And in the caves she'd believed to be the real world, there were no dangers, no Creatures. There were only the petty resentments of her flock-mates, and no one would argue with an Alpha like Marvel. No one would snarl at his clutch-mate, or push Magpie from a stone, with Marvel's protection over him.

Maybe no one would push her aside, either, if she had such an Alpha to favor her.

How could she have known what they truly were? She knew only her world, and there was no one there like them.

She watches them settle together, a single self, and wonders how she could have ever imagined there was room for her.

Edge lowers her head, wanting to whine as her ear-flaps go down, but as she sinks, she feels the pride of her flock-mates lift her up again. She has been hunting for their good regard all her life, and it is too precious to let fall from her jaws no matter how much the rotten fish in her belly flops to be free. She will not let them see her shame.

She has made a very great mistake in her desperation, but had she not flown beside them when they asked? She made a danger go away! Edge licks briefly at her chest and spits at the taste of blood, fresh and new on her washed-clean tongue.

But what has she done?

She brought Marvel and Magpie to her nest, and she tried to keep Marvel for her own, and she is sorry, she will crawl on her belly forever and fly against all the foes they set her to, if they will only forgive her for that. She had only not wanted him to leave her.

She has been judged unworthy by her flock-mates all her life. If even Marvel, who had seemed like all her dreams come to life, who was better than them, abandoned her, what hope was there? She had panicked, desperate and afraid.

And despite that failure, as wrong as it would have been had she succeeded, they are bound to the glowing caverns of her home more firmly than she could have ever trapped them.

She had felt what they were along with everyone else, when Magpie roared and Marvel answered like a perfect echo, and the two of them shook the world to its foundations. In that moment, all that they were had poured through their flock with a single voice. To Edge, they had tasted almost the same, as one part of a fish tastes not exactly like another part, but it is all the same fish.

And they had tasted like the sky.

Edge has never thought of her caves as small – those caves were the only world she had. But now she has been swept up in the thoughts of her wanderer Alphas, and seen them fly like they would never have to land again. She learned that there are so many kinds of world out there!

And yet that does not scare her. Not anymore.

Something brushes at the fringes of her awareness, as light as a shadow, and Edge snaps her head up alertly, baring her fangs and turning to snap at the air over her shoulders, where –

Nothing there.

Shaken from her brooding, Edge snaps at the empty air again, and again, pretending to chase a jumping bug that pesters. She swallows her whimpers and turns away from the black dragons drowsing tangled together, inseparable halves.

Uncertain, Flitabout Naps yips to her, pawing at Edge's tail when she returns from peering curiously into the forest. Edge has not seen this forest before; all forests are different. She knows this.

Here? here we now yes good here yes where? where? this yes sure uncertain-though. Flitabout Naps flickers questioning across her flanks and doubt down her spine.

At her side, Disregard rumbles worry, nosing at the ground where a new-hatched little dragon would be. Mine, he worries for his hatchling, left behind safe in her hatching-nest with her mother. He glances where? into the depths of this new world, anxiety crackling through his body that he cannot find her from here.

Edge tips her head to one side, thinking and remembering. There, she tells him, flicking her nose in the way she thinks home is, if he flew without the wind turning him aside. Before, she was lost – it is much better to fly on her own wings than to be carried, trapped and dreaming in the confines of a ship. Never again.

But what now? she wonders with Disregard, who sees her now. They have followed Marvel and Magpie out and into battle, and won a race longer than the whole world from end to end, but Edge wonders about tomorrow. Will they fly further out and never return to the caves? Will they vanish forever, like those few who disappeared without an echo, into the dark of the void or into the light of the sun? Will they go home, and encourage others to go out if they wish to?

And her flock-mates are wondering, too. The ravine that echoed with delighted shrieks now hums with inquisitive noises, soft but persistent. Where white dragons slept and played, now only black dragons curl up with their heads together, while their flock waits for them.

They are not sleeping, Edge realizes; she can still only look at them in glances. Magpie crouches in Marvel's forepaws, their heads resting against each other as if they whispered together, but she can hear nothing.

You? Barely Traces nudges her, and glances towards their Alphas. You go you say yes you please you? Us wondering all yes.

You, Loud She agrees, quiet for once, and Ripple Shades whistles soft agreement. You?

Edge looks askance at all of them, gathered around her – no, no they are not, they are gathered behind her, urging her towards Marvel and Magpie. Even those ranged out further, perched on the rocks and little ledges of the cliffs, are looking down at her.

Don't-understand, Edge signals back to them all. Me?

You fierce yes you them you them like-you them yes certain-sure, Walks Dark says with a stubborn grunt. You go you say!

They are all wondering, the flock signals in glances and gestures and chirps and colors, and she should go and ask.

No, Edge refuses, misery coiling in her chest like smoke. Her heart-fires ebb low at the thought. They may have favored her once, but after what she did to Marvel, how can they still?

But when they rose and roared and reached out to the flock, she had been included, she remembers, nosing through shreds for hope. She had shared her memories of the outside world with them, and they had accepted – the flock had seen her memories, too, in that moment.

Would they have done that, if they hated her?

And when they flew far and fast with the Creature screaming in its flying cage behind them, she flew alongside them and they let her. They fought beside her in the sky…

You fierce! Follows Along agrees, crowding her towards their Alphas. You go!

Edge trails her tail, flickering with sickly shades of reluctance, behind her, scratching a long line through the flurry of pawprints danced across the silty earth. But she goes.

Soft sounds hum between Marvel and Magpie as she approaches, complex melodies as layered as a slice of striped rock with crystals hidden in it and glowing colors sleeping deep within. She could never understand them all, but those sounds are not for her. Her Alphas talk to each other the way her nose talks to her belly.

And yet, some instinct scratches at her, some signal she has come to recognize as she flew beside them under the sky and padded in their pawsteps across the glowing caves, hungering over Marvel and wondering over Magpie, guiding them towards what she wanted only to find they were never hers to command.

There is something here she has not understood.

With her flock-mates scattered across the ravine, watching her from stones half-in the little lake and ledges across the sheer walls and the tangled labyrinth of tree roots, Edge whistles for attention, low and pleading.

Marvel and Magpie turn to her, and all Edge can do is stare, overwhelmed with longing. From here, they look so different. Marvel seems like everything her world's Alpha should be and more, and Magpie like a runt born misshapen, the dragon's fire inside heedless of the body that carries it. And yet their eyes are the same, the way they move together the coordination of a single self, and together they contain a power that changes worlds.

Edge crouches low, submission, and even as her belly scrapes the sand, she feels them laugh inside her thoughts.

Her head snaps up, her eyes going wide in hurt and outrage, and Marvel moves in a pounce as quick as water, as fast as falling.

He slides the curve of his skull beneath her jaw, and Edge freezes in an instant of horror, sure he means to tear out her throat in vengeance. But Marvel only raises his head, pushing hers up.

Claws tap between her forelegs, against her belly, and Edge rises on instinct, away from Magpie darting beside her, urging her up, up!

And as she rears, Marvel steps back again to leave her standing on her own. Magpie returns to his side, flicker-quick, with that ungainly grace of his.

And together, they bow before her.

Her! Marvel and Magpie declare to all the flock, as final as fangs through a fish's spine.

Power washes out over Edge as she reels, baffled and disbelieving, under the wondering eyes of those who dared to race in the sun and who followed her when she led them through the sky.

Edge's heart beats once.

She feels Marvel twine around her on one side; she can see him clearly, crouched before her, but he stands at her side. On her other side, she senses Magpie just the same, every line and shadow matching Marvel's: one dragon, one soul, both doubled and united. They breathe over her with slinking satisfaction, amusement that smiles with its teeth showing.

She wanted the power to change where she stood in her world. She wanted to stand by the Alpha's side, protected in his shadow.

Well, she can have it, then. They will not fight this battle for her, but they will give her the power to fight it herself.

If this world does not scare her – and she cries out indignation, knowing they had been listening – then she should lead her flock into it. They are strangers – they are always strangers, though they can be friendly ones – but she has always been part of the flock within the hidden caverns. Her caves could never be their only home, and an Alpha's loyalty cannot be divided.

No! she objects, for an instant feeling what they feel, sharing what they share, knowing what they know, and hearing their thoughts as clearly as her own. She cannot! She will never be accepted as they were – they are everything their Alphas should be –

And she senses Magpie laugh, feels him scenting through her thoughts of him, runt like a dismissive paw, even as she feels him tremble under the thudding pain of wielding a power that burns him.

– but she has no marks at all! She is small and blank-white and she is only the dragon always on the edge of things, and she –

Brave, Marvel – or Magpie – sends to her, pushing back her own memory of creeping out into the gullet of the waterfall, staring up into the light and realizing there was more. She chose to go and see, when everything she knew said there was no more world beyond the caves.

Fierce, Magpie – or Marvel – remembers for her, and Edge sees herself fighting against the Creature, the Starving Creature, in the forest, writhing loose from her bonds as Magpie clawed them away and blazing at her tormentor with her first free breath.

They give her back her own apologies when she learned she was wrong about Magpie, and her willingness to look past the strangeness and horror of the dead thing they carried with them, even to offer her own nest as a refuge. They give her the days she spent at their side, guiding them through her world, and snort at her confession that she was guarding them against other she-dragons who might try to steal them away.

They show her the moment she, of every dragon who had ventured out into the cave before the waterfall pit, stepped forward to defend her home, even as she feared to face the Alphas she had wronged.

And she cries over markings?

Marvel and Magpie show her herself as she looks now. She has made her own markings with her enemy's blood, splattered and dried across her face and her forehead, poured down her throat and chest, splashed up her legs and sprinkled down her sides.

Alphas, the black dragons of her nest's dreams promise, are made from what they do.

She asks them what now?

What now is up to her.

Edge's heart beats again.

Believe, say Marvel and Magpie to all the flock, and Edge feels that connection slam down as they choose to give up the Alpha's power. They do not know if it can be done, but they have decided it can be.

And so, they do it.

But she –

As her flock-mates – as her flock – wail for the Alphas who have left them and reach for the Alpha who remains, Edge can feel them all.

In an instant, as new caverns in her mind break open under the power poured out upon her, like a deluge that crumbles stone, she knows them. She could find them all with her eyes closed and her breath held and her ear-flaps down, even if they lurked faded and quiet.

And they are –

They are just like her!

Inside, they are all doubts and fears and scrambling, just as she is. Each one of them is pushing for their place in the world, wondering if they fit and hiding that they do not. Each of them cowers ashamed that they are not enough. Each of them paws at their flock-mates in the hopes that they are welcome. Each of them fears the cold that means the emptiness beyond the flock and shoulders that turn away. Each of them wants only to belong.

Me me me me me me me, cry the hearts of all the little flock.

Edge, who has always believed that she was lesser, for longing when all her flock-mates seemed to have, realizes that there has never been anything wrong with her. It hurts like a snapped bone. It burns like triumphant fire.

But she knows the taste of their thoughts, because they are hers.

Her flock has never welcomed her. But she flew above the world and saw the sun; she dared. She returned, but she returned transformed, to see what she had always known with new eyes.

She no longer needs them to welcome her into their world.

Acceptance, Edge breathes over their thoughts, and she welcomes them into hers.

Just the ones here, who know her. These dragons followed her between worlds and learned to trust her; they saw her fly and fight and take the lead. But she can feel them like hatchlings curled at her side, new and strange-familiar and alarming and important. She can feel their breaths against her scales and a weight that cannot keep her down, but that she must tread very carefully around – they are hers, but never to hurt!

But when they turn to her, pushed by the last command of their former Alphas…

…it does not feel wrong to have them there.

Alone in the center of things as Marvel and Magpie step back, Edge looks up to find the dragons she knows by the taste of their secret thoughts watching her, eyes wide. Their world has been turned upside down and shaken, and everything is new and different now.

Edge…knows how to do that.

The white dragon On the Edge of Things trembles under the weight of those lives and her world within the caves, but she digs her paws into the ground of the world above, and she stands tall.

What else can she do?

And she feels her flock wonder, as they had asked her, as she had asked, what now?

Now? Now there is a world without limits to see and another world to protect as a haven and her home. There is a flock to upend, and beliefs that have been strong stone underfoot to defy – but stone can be broken! – and probably fights to win.

Oh, Patch will be furious to see her stand as Alpha, and she will knock him back so hard if he tries anything! But only if he tries, Edge amends quickly, just in case Marvel and Magpie can still hear her. Somewhere in the back of her mind are their memories of living under the rule of a good Alpha, a proper Alpha who rules through love and wisdom, not spite and claws turned in to tear. They have given her a path to walk, if she chooses to follow it.

There are dragons still in the glowing caves who need to be reassured that going out does not mean vanishing forever, and this flock to get through the frightening darkness of the first night above ground. There is the larger flock waiting for their Alpha to return, even if she is not the Alpha they will be expecting.

And if she loses one of those fights, and she is overthrown?

Well, she has all the sky to explore, after all.

And maybe Marvel and Magpie – black dragons crouched together as they should be, leaning into each other, and watching her with confidence she wants to deserve, even if she also wants to cuff them for thinking that they are very funny – will meet her there.

What now? Edge's flock begs of her, a defiant and daring array of white scales and blue eyes, scattered across the ground and the cliff walls of a ravine where worlds change.

Edge sets her shoulders, and raises her head, and makes her choice.

They fly on, alone-together in the sky.

Toothless spreads his wings into the wind, luxuriating in the sensation of a sky he does not have to share. Ever since they flew outward from their icebound nest, Tt-(click)-th-phuh-ss have flown with others nearby. He carried the sorrowful shadow of the Lost One on his back, and then they flew with Shiver at their side, running from the Starving Man and to a safe place half-promised, barely imagined. And in that hidden nest, there were always other dragons, peering around crags and down from stone-teeth and out of the shadows of tall-branching mushrooms at the strangers padding invited and curious through their world.

When they flew again through the open sky, they did so with their flock, wings beating furiously at their sides and frantic thoughts buzzing within their skulls. The weight of those lives had pressed down on both halves of them, black dragon and dragon-feral flying as one.

Free from any of those things, with only his other half on his shoulders sighing into the familiar scents of the tumbling sky, Toothless flies very lightly indeed. He leans into a current in the air that froths like little waves, feeling tiny gusts burst against his chest. They hold him back not at all. His world is as it should be.

He has his Hiccup-beloved with him, the sun and the sky and the sea, the scent of home in his nose, and the knowing of it in the center of his skull.

As the wind ruffles around them, Hiccup settles more closely into the back of Toothless' neck, hiding warmth between their bodies like a toy to be guarded and shared. The cold breath of ice rolls over Hiccup's back and trails its claws down Toothless' spine, but they have both lived under its touch all their lives. Toothless purrs love-you at the touch of his beloved-self's breath against his scales, and rumbles joy at Hiccup's chirring cry of love-you! in return.

Together, they roam the world, and together, they come home again.

Toothless is not sorry to set his tail to the Island of Dragons and Strange Pfikingr, not with those ships lurking there. He and his Hiccup-love had left Shiver and her flock to rest in the grass of the ravine, all the many white dragons Like Them crowding around their new Alpha and touching their noses against her scales in wonder. The dragon-pair know Shiver well enough now to see her struggle not to jump at every tap, and had watched with slow blinks of pride as she settled beneath them.

And then Tt-(click)-th-phuh-ss had taken to the sky, soaring low and wary across the treetops and dancing as close as a shadow to the flanks of the cliffs over the human nest. There, they had watched from above to be sure as the familiar, hateful ships sidled away. They are not like dragons at all at all at all, those ships, but they had moved like a dragon retreating, taking cautious steps backwards and wary of a blow to speed them on their way.

Toothless had listened to the calling of the dragons who live among humans, ear-flaps twitching, and Hiccup had spotted dragons fleeing after those ships had coughed them back up out of their bellies, until the island whispered with dragons sounds once more. And with their hearts at ease again, they had slipped away.

Now the sky smells of ice and the shimmering sea below his wings is familiar, and the sprawled-out points of stone that jut out of the water are places Toothless' paws know. Those stones are to land on only in moments, to catch his breath from a very quick chase or hide from their flock-mates under an overhang of fragile ice. Many pretty hiding corners have been smashed to snowstorms by the diving paws of a pursuer, howling glee or rage to find the dragon-pair again and reclaim whatever plaything they have stolen.

He knows that one day soon they will be restless again, but for now, Toothless can hear the cries of their flock-mates far ahead. He swerves from the kicking wind, furling his wings into an easy glide, descending towards the skies where dragons play.

A drift of grey-white cloud rolls over them, and Hiccup squawks indignation, muttering complaints of wet this wet cold not-like wet-always you-know why this why you-you-you!

But as Toothless gurgles laughter back at him, chortling over the good joke and Hiccup's halfhearted slaps at his scales, brushing the droplets of cloud away, the black dragon dives through the last of the cloud.

And their home stands proud before them, glowing with the endlessly varying blues and greens and white of ice over the steady grey and black and white and brown of stone.

Sunlight glances through the bristling spikes of the king's ice, casting flashes of color out over the sea and into the sky. The shape of the ice is always changing, and so there are always new places for dragons to perch and bask and hide, or to plunge from in hunting stoops or wild dares. Few scars remain to see from the wounds human enemies tore into their home a summer ago. Even the wrecks of broken things and enormous traps have sunk beneath the sand or the waves.

Hiccup taps his claws smug against Toothless' shoulders as the black dragon soars over one such broken thing. His beloved-one pulled its teeth one by one, snarling at the snap it threatened even when humans had run away. It will never bite again.

Cries of recognition and welcome and not a few shrieks of amused warning greet them as Toothless beats his wings strongly, sweeping over the snowy sand of the shoreline and charging straight for the mountain stone. He rumbles ready? to Hiccup, and feels his other half wind his paws tighter into the flying-with binding them together, braced steady against Toothless' ribs.

And at the very last instant, Toothless throws himself backwards over his tail, scything down beneath them, and launches them upwards hard.

Past ice and stone and snowdrifts and the living colors of their jeering, laughing flock-mates, barely glimpsed as blurs and flickers, Tt-(click)-th-phuh-ss soar straight up, darting through the labyrinth of ice and bursting into the open sky.

Yowls of showoff! and whistles of disgust and shrieks of envy follow them, startled dragons scattering aside with yelps of alarm shading quickly into recognition, and Toothless spreads his wings out into an easy hover, purring laughter smug me smug good good good.

Now they are home.

But as the dragon-pair spiral over the peaks and home, as Hiccup shrieks boundless exhilaration back to sky and sea and ice and flock, Toothless sees only one pair of eyes watching them.

Their home is a bright and busy place of green meadows and endless waterfalls, mist like winter breaths twining among the spires and ledges, and the flashing movements of their flock-mates, tumbling and diving and racing and playing, flying all together and pouncing upon each other around the lake at the heart of the nest.

The dragon at the heart of their world turns his gaze up to them, deep and knowing, and Toothless' wings falter as that regard strikes him.

Uncertainty thrashes in the eyes of their king.

Everything else falls away, except eyes as vast as the ocean and his Hiccup-beloved's muted, strangled cry of distress, and Toothless races down the slope in a flurry of tumbling glides and ragged leaps. His tail scrapes against the vines reaching for the sky. In winter, ice will kill the vines as the king of the nest seals their home against the bitter storms and suffocating cold and endless dark, but vines never remember, and reach always. In the height of summer, they stretch eagerly for the sun.

Not that – not there – no, no – too high – must-not – not there –! The nest is made of places for dragons to perch and sprawl and rest and watch, but Toothless rejects them all, careening down and down and down until his paws strike a low outcropping with a thud, clumsy in his haste. Lichen and little plants that cling to the stone, stubborn under the paws of dragons, crush beneath his belly as Toothless throws himself into a fervid grovel of Majesty.

At his side, Hiccup crouches low, mewling apology and eagerness – Tt-(click)-th-phuh-ss do not know what they have done wrong! He wails anguish like a hatchling, and Toothless spreads one wing out to cover him, pulling his beloved-self close against his side.

Curiosity pulls at them, and the dragon-pair raise their eyes to their king together, letting him search through them for a moment that never ends. An Alpha powerful enough to strike them both to pieces with a single blow – but he would never, dragon and dragon-feral believe with perfect faith – paws through their memories very gently, breathing into their thoughts without killing ice.

They have been so very far, and they have seen wonderful things, and they did what they went to do! They did what they are for! What can they have done so wrong, to upset their king?

One of them or the other thinks it. Engulfed in the eyes of their Alpha, who has always known what they were, with all their adventures splayed out gutted for him, it does not matter.

Wonder, the king of their world breathes over them. He knows the scent of the traces of power that still linger over them, even after they set aside the flock they briefly led. They are only Tt-th-ss and (click)-phuh again. Tt-(click)-th-phuh-ss together and two-who-are-one always, but leaders of dragons no longer.

Why? he asks of them, baffled. Why did they return? Why crouch Majesty to him, when others would bow submission to them? Why did they put a flock that they had fought for, that they had earned, into the care of another?

Toothless writhes beneath his Alpha's confusion, clawing at the stone to explain. Beside him, the distance of a thought, Hiccup whines – a cornered dragon's sound, narrow and cringing.

For his Hiccup-self, under the eyes of his king, Toothless scratches up a memory and blazes fiercely through it.

He remembers wild, frantic flights in the deepest nights when the moon stares down derisively, pale and huge, almost-almost close enough to catch if they can just fly fast enough and high enough, when it seems only a leap and a flight away. He remembers soaring up and up and up, streaking past clouds with Hiccup panting hunger for flight and the promise of that glow, pressed tight and trembling to Toothless' shoulders, believing nothing can stop them but the moon bitten and bleeding and told in their jaws.

He remembers the wild glory of flight, when they fly higher than anyone else in their sky.

But he remembers, too, the grey clouds that close in – they are sneaky clouds, that cannot be seen from below, but they pounce when dragons fly too high. They float across the edges of his eyes, and they lick the breath from his jaws, and they freeze the tips of his wings, and they snatch the wind from beneath him. And through the silence that fills the thinning sky, Toothless can hear his Hiccup-love gasping, slumping in their flying-with even as he strains toward the moon with shaking claws –

That is what it is, for Tt-(click)-th-phuh-ss to lead as Alphas! It does not hurt Toothless so, to fly in such high skies, but Hiccup pants breathless there, and Toothless wants nothing his Hiccup-self cannot share! They could burn there together, kept and confined and suffering after the battle they are meant for was won, or they could stand aside and carry on their fight.

And the weight of their king's confusion lifts from their shoulders. In its place, a gentle touch of understanding licks down their spines like a nesting mother's idle caress when she grooms her sleeping hatchlings clean, and those who have run and played with them as well.

For a while, Toothless can only lie sprawled-out on the shelf of stone, trodden smooth by lifetimes of dragon paws, and nuzzle into Hiccup's fur when his other half collapses against his heaving chest.

Approval washes over them, the very softest rain that falls like mist.

A tide of affection follows it, slow but inexorable, as their Alpha receives them home with joy and relief. He understands that their horizons are wider, and that one day they may fly over those horizons and never return. He would not stop them, if they wanted to go, but – Toothless knows, as immediately as a touch against his scales, and knows that Hiccup knows it too – their Alpha would miss them, if they left his sight forever.

He has always been curious to see what they will do…

Little-beloved-ones, the king of the nest praises them for their adventures and their triumph, and a trap bigger than anything broken open, well done.

Their king has turned away, and Tt-(click)-th-phuh-ss are padding down to the shelter of their caves that do not glow, but will always be home, when Toothless stops with one paw in the air, caught by an echo of a thought.

His eyes go wide, and his ear-flaps snap back so hard they slap against his skull, and Toothless spins on the tail that wants to pin itself against his belly. He races back up the slope with scrabbling paws, Hiccup crying out bafflement after him.

On the ledge, he bows Majesty once more, pawing at the ground for attention.

You? Toothless cries out, rearing up and pushing towards the inquisitive gaze turned back upon him.

Tt-(click)-th-phuh-ss could not be Alphas to the flock of the underground nest for long. They must wander, but Alphas are bound to their range and their flock.

Tt-(click)-th-phuh-ss are trap-breakers, their mother's children running forever in her pawsteps. But not once in their war have they thought of the prisoner who watched over them, held within walls of ice and stone and care.

You? Toothless wonders now, anxious to know if their Alpha longs to be free.

He is answered only with love, heavier than stone, steadier than heartbeats, brighter than the sun, love to shake the world.

This is where their king wants to be; he is no captive. He chooses the flock that lives and plays and fights and flies beneath his protection, always.

And to see beyond the horizon?

He has the stories his wandering dragon-pair bring home to him.

Beneath such love, Toothless can only cower gratitude, and flee back to the love of his Hiccup-self, to hide his face in his other half's chest and whimper embarrassment for his presumption, knowing Hiccup will only purr over him and lead him home.

Toothless contemplates the white dragon on the stone.

She is not Shiver – Hiccup's drawing of her peeks around the flowing ledge above the hollow just for them, as if unsure of her welcome.

She is…she is complicated, the she-dragon Shiver. Just the memory of how he had felt for her is enough to make Toothless tremble. But to know that it was how she had made him feel? That makes him want to leap away and hide in a snowdrift, digging out his own bubble of air for his nose.

And yet…she had smelled good before, and Toothless had been drawn to her for more than her scent. But she is far away, and with her flock to fight for.

Perhaps Tt-(click)-th-phuh-ss can visit her, one day when it will not threaten a new Alpha to have former ones come calling. Perhaps they can all try again, now that they understand each other, and Shiver can stand beside them, rather than hiding in their shadow. It is always good to have other nests where they are welcomed, even if those nests are not home, and friends to welcome them there.

This white dragon is soft and small and awkward, her eyes too big for her face, itself too big for her body, her wings and tail long enough for another like her to share. She blinks out at their nest as Toothless blinked into hers, eyes wide with wonder and disbelief. The barest reflection of sunlight, glancing into the caves from the open air, licks against her.

Toothless puts his tongue out a little way, tempted to do the same. But he knows she is only chalk on the much drawn-upon stone of their nest.

Hiccup, who put her there many days ago, sleeps at his side, nestled easily against his heart. Toothless can feel him breathing, deep and even, but he knows his beloved-one is not there. Hiccup is wherever they go in dreams, away to an infinite sky streaked with all the colors of winter sky-fires dancing across snow. That sky is rich with the varying breezes of the place with the updrafts, and as warm as the protected shelter of their den beneath the ledge of stone. There, the dragon-pair can fly side by side at last, darting around each other and flowing through the sky on matching, powerful wings, graceful and free.

It does not bother Toothless to dream of Hiccup in a dragon's shape to match his; what Hiccup looks like has never mattered. He is always Hiccup; they are Tt-(click)-th-phuh-ss, two-who-are-one, and they have each other always.

Not all of their dreams are so beautiful. There are many shadows lurking to spring upon them in sleep – but now Hiccup can pounce on Toothless' nightmares and blaze them back to the dark, and Toothless can prowl through Hiccup's, defying their claws with his fangs. Not even sleep has the power to separate them anymore.

Despite all the wonders he has seen, Toothless is pleased to be home. There are no glowing mushrooms here, and the stones do not shine or sing when he touches them, but he does not need them to. He has the protection of the caverns and the welcome of his flock, and the clear and honest light of the sun, and the promise of the sky beyond, is enough.

Tt-(click)-th-phuh-ss have the freedom to roam, a purpose that will always need them, and a home to come back to always.

Of all those wonders, the Little One Like Them is the one Toothless is most sorry to have left behind. She was all tomorrows, all horizons! From the moment he saw her, Toothless had been seized with an overwhelming desire to watch over her as she grew. He wanted to see her find her wings and venture into corners she was not supposed to. He wanted to listen to her to make new sounds and learn to be understood.

She was simple – right without complications or demands – and she had so many complications hidden within, waiting to be found.

Toothless stares at the hatchling on the stone, drawn in chalk, and sighs. There are many hatchlings in their nest, and he and Hiccup are favorite playmates of them all, but there is something about a hatchling Like Them that seizes his soul.

And, flicking one ear-flap back, he wonders…

Toothless-beloved? Hiccup mumbles, stirring as his dragon-half's heartbeat leaps with excitement. Love-you you what you that wondering anxious sleepy-still what? The little dragon nudges against Toothless' foreleg, fur brushing the underside of his wing, as he raises his head with a muffled, inquisitive whistle.

No no no, Toothless assures him, sticking his nose beneath his wing to nuzzle Hiccup quiet.

Hiccup squawks indignation as ashes smear across his face, and stop-that! when Toothless licks them away.

Down you there stay yes wait-to-pounce down hide you yes must-do please? please? and Toothless promises with a tempting trill surprise, some gift or trick for them to share.

He scratches at the packed-down ashes of their nest, breathing in the mingled scents of long-burnt things, abandoned scraps of leather too chewed-on for Hiccup to make anything with, and sleeping dragons. Good happy very-much-so maybe-so I do you down!

You hush, Toothless purrs, feeling Hiccup settle down again with a rippling sound of amusement and patience and love.

Safe and home and at his side, Hiccup rarely sleeps with his claws on anymore. The fierce gauntlets are piled atop a half-shredded sheepskin as a warning to any other dragons who might steal it. It has been stolen once already, and it is done with being stolen, or so Hiccup had insisted in shrieks and scolding when River Thaw had snatched it from him to chew. Drifts of fur, stripped from the hide, waft around their nest like little pawfuls of wind. And gentle, bare paws tap an unseen here against Toothless' side, a reminder and a promise.

Yes yes yes this yes curious wondering hard! Toothless mutters to himself, tail-tip lashing. He stares at the hatchling chalked onto the stone, smooth and pale white, and pretends determinedly through what he wants to do. He imagines that he is following Hiccup, who draws as naturally as Toothless flies – they have both thoroughly envied the other, and tried so hard to share.

With an effort, Toothless tries to imitate what his best-beloved-one would do. He thinks about the future, and he imagines something that might be.

Toothless dips his nose into the scuffed-up ashes, breathing warmth into them to make them soft. And he presses his nose, with utmost gentleness, against the stone.

Dark ashes stain the little one's hindquarters grey-black – there!

Toothless traces grey-black down the length of her tail, and across one tailfin, and then the base-fin on the other side – like so!

In little taps and tiny nudges, he scatters shadows across her wings and her side, like a dappled forest where darkness dances with the sunlight.

He considers her face, and hesitates, a single fang bared annoyance. Finally, he adds a little stripe down the middle of her forehead, as if marking where her mother should lick her when she turns her face up.

Rumbling uncertain, Toothless considers the new-changed hatchling, all black and white. How would he know if she was right? Hiccup always seems to know.

Well, then, Hiccup will know, Toothless reasons, and houghs at himself for being very silly.

Not-so! Hiccup objects to this sound, and trails off into snickering maybe-so… Toothless snorts at him, but lifts his wing anyway.

Look!

The dragon-feral's long mane of fur is very much ruffled from sleep and Toothless licking him. Even dragons, who are not good at fur or care much for messes, would think he looked a mess, and those who love him would forgive him for it. Toothless, who loves him entirely, thinks freely that he looks a very great mess. But he has made a thing too interesting – maybe – for grooming just now.

Hiccup scrubs at his face with one paw and yawns, stretching idly not-important, just as if Toothless was not shifting eager worried confused not-sure you? you? that-there beside him.

Teasing, Hiccup blinks at him, affection deeper and truer than the sea, and looks.

Oh, he says only. It is a short, breathless sound, and all his signals go silent for a heartbeat.

Suddenly very anxious, Toothless nudges against his side, head very low. That? Toothless asks, whining. You see? maybe? you want yes us good yes maybe-so want yes that-there? maybe-so?

Hiccup reaches out to the baby half-them, one paw tracing her shape delicately. Afraid, his gesture says, but there is joy in his eyes. Wonder, he whispers, the sound thick with yearning.

Yes? Toothless asks hopefully, and Hiccup's signals say yes yes yes.

One day, if they want it, there could be black-and-white hatchlings, each a pattern their own, for them to watch over. They will teach their hatchlings to fly and play pouncing-games and climb and draw and do anything they want to do. They will stand between their little ones and all the dangers that hunt dragons, and show them how to fight those dangers, too. They will comfort them and praise them and scold them – any hatchlings of theirs will need scolding! – and show them how to dance reckless and defiant through the world.

Still unable to look away from the drawing they made together, Hiccup sinks back into Toothless' paws and wraps his forelegs around his dragon-half's neck. Pressed close together, the dragon-pair shudder laughter and longing, trembling and chirruping in their matching voices for how much they want it.

Toothless glances up, looking for the drawing of Shiver. She peeks into their nest like a dream out of a moonlit forest.

Maybe, one day when they can stand eye to eye, Tt-(click)-th-phuh-ss will ask if Shiver might want black-and-white hatchlings too.

He thinks she might. When he and Hiccup crouched Alpha to her, and told her she should lead, if she could rise to it, she had known that she would be proud to share their nest, if there was space for her. But in that moment between heartbeats, none of them had known what to do with that confession, and they had all set it aside together.

Toothless has not forgotten, though, and he knows Hiccup has not either. They no longer stand as Alphas, and no longer hear each other's thoughts inside their skulls. But they have never needed to, to understand each other. They are two-who-are-one.

But one day, perhaps, they will make space in their nest for Shiver, and for little dragons as much Like Them as can be.

Mostly upside down with one of his gauntlets in his teeth, Hiccup paws at the latch. His other claws are set firmly into the matted straw, warm with the summer sun. Close by, the calls of dragons say contentment and everyday irritation, here-I-am! answering where-are-you? and the yawning cries of easy flight through their own sky.

Even with the clang and clatter and jangling shouts of human voices calling out beneath those cries, there is nothing to make Hiccup jump and startle here. And Toothless, low and watchful at his heels, will catch him if he falls.

But he will not; the latch is easy, only a little awkward for a clever paw to work within, and upside-down or right-way-up makes no difference to a dragon raised in caves and high ledges and steep scrambles. Hiccup closes his eyes in concentration, envisioning the inside of the latch, and reaches –

The latch opens with a click, and Hiccup whistles spite at it for its defiance as the high door swings open.

There? Toothless asks, peering over his shoulder, paws braced to either side of him. His dragon-heart tips his head on one side skeptical, tail swishing over the roof of the nest, and rumbles reluctance.

No scared! Hiccup assures him, scrambling back up to the roof and rolling over, patting comfort against the soft scales of Toothless' belly.

Ducking his head between his forelegs, Toothless blows smoke at him, and Hiccup blows it back at him with a puff, and they wrinkle their noses at each other in love and play.

The pfikingr nest that stands alone, overlooking the sea, has a door to walk through, and the dragon-pair know how doors work. That door stands open, a rock to hold it back, but when Hiccup creeps into the pfikingr nest, he does so through the window carved out of its side, where no pfikingr could stand.

The little dragon perches on the ledge and looks in.

Inside, the roof slopes down steeply; Hiccup looks up at it, remembers the slope of the outside, and grunts pleasure to see them match. The opening breathes out a coil of trapped air like a sleep-held breath, but fresher air blows in from below through the gaping door.

In the space up here, Hiccup recognizes very little. He and Toothless have been inside a pfikingr dwelling before, but never when they thought its humans would come back. They had not stayed for long, and they had understood very little of that place, either, except food to steal and ashes to play among.

Toothless leans down from the roof to put one paw onto the ledge, growling determination, and leaps his hindquarters out while his forepaws scrabble for the ledge, twisting. You in! Toothless snorts, pushing Hiccup out of the way as he heaves himself awkwardly through the hole with a single beat of his wings and only a little kicking at the wall.

With barely a crash – Hiccup is good at falling – the little dragon lands on the floor of the pfikingr nest. He finds it all wood like a ship to raid, with a hollowness underneath – that makes sense, he understands, already sketching out the shape of this place. They are up, and the door is down, and there is a hole in the floor with climbing ledges pacing down from it, and below there is sunlight.

First of all, Hiccup scampers over to that hole, flattening himself to the ground on instinct and peeking through it. Motionless, he listens; Toothless stops still, wings folded tight to his back, ready to leap to his defense.

This is a cave, but not their cave. Only the opening at their tails, because pfikingr do not fly, gives them the courage to explore.

Fine safe maybe-so here now good no-threat us here look look us brave! Hiccup warbles after a moment, when nothing stirs but their heartbeats and the flutter of small-cousin wings outside.

Good! Toothless grunts, but all his spine-fins bristle as he looks around the cave that pfikingr have made. His nostrils flare, and Hiccup whines inside for all the scents he no longer smells through his dragon-self's senses, but only for a moment. He is not sorry to have set down the Alpha's power; like all tools, it only traps his paws when no longer needed. It is not a thing that can be kept in pockets, and Tt-(click)-th-phuh-ss have much still to do.

Toothless signals Alpha here, which they knew, but he hums puzzlement as he tracks a scent to the nest of soft things. Hiccup yawns sleep to it, pouncing atop it and whistling uncertain as it gives beneath him. He is accustomed to earth and sand, ashes and stone, and the occasional pile of leaves.

There is a scent here of Uh strrrrTT, Toothless decides, pawing out a scrap of cloth. Crates and chests fill the space, closed tight with soft things piled atop them. In corners, there are stacks of cut wood, still rough with bark, dried leaves caught among them, their scents a faint trace of the wild. Blades, their sharpness hidden by leather, lie or lean in a pile against the sleeping-nest. Holding-things promise mysteries to explore one by one. This is a place of forgotten things now, set aside and left to sleep.

As Hiccup looks around, trying to understand, he can guess that this might have been Uh strrrrTT's den once, to pad beside her pfikingr Alpha and watch.

But before that, he knows now, looking up at the hole in the wall – a hole he remembers seeing made, even if it is covered over now – this was his den.

It is a hard thing for Hiccup to accept. His earliest memories are of the icebound nest, playing and exploring among a world all of dragons, Toothless at his side, Cloudjumper a patient bulwark between them and anything, stone and cliffs, dim caves and dripping snowmelt, and the dazzling light of the meadows and spires.

He can barely imagine a time before Toothless, but only because Toothless remembers, very distantly in his dreams, a time before Hiccup. And Cloudjumper admitted to them, after the dragon-pair first came to this island, that the many-winged dragon had snatched Hiccup and their mother from a pfikingr nest.

This nest. This den. Long ago.

Hiccup had not wanted to believe. But he had felt the truth of that dream in his bones.

It still changes nothing, he decides as Toothless rears up to set his forepaws atop a sturdy holding-thing, sniffing at the wood with his tail waving interest, ear-flaps intent. Defiantly, Hiccup sprawls out flat on the floor, daring this place to strike at his underbelly, and purrs when no blow falls, no cage door slams. Toothless licks his face in passing, just a tap of love-you, and they are not afraid.

Hiccup flashes his tongue in a dragon's smile at the hole in the wall, as if Cloudjumper still crouched there, reaching out one wing-claw to a hatchling crying out for his own kin.

Always, always, always, a dragon.

A rumble of a human voice below startles them both into flailing leaps, and in an instant, Toothless is backing towards the way out with Hiccup crouched at his side, his dragon-self's tail curved around him, tail-fins spread. They snarl at the sound in unison, silently, fangs bared and spines bristling, and Hiccup crooks his claws ready, poised to defend or attack.

That? Toothless blinks, one ear-flap ticking forward at the sound. It is deep and powerful and confident, even as it snorts resignation, and it –

It is familiar.

Careful, Hiccup signals, crouching low. Every lesson of his wild upbringing tells him to run, run!

But he holds his ground, and Toothless, trusting him, stands with him. They have faced a sickbadwrongthing that was an eater of dragons, and a killer-of-all foaming at the mind, and the dizzying impossibility of a realm beneath the sea, and so many more dangers besides.

The pfikingr treading heavily up the climbing ledges, head low beneath the horns he wears so that all the dragon-pair can see of him at first is his red-grey fur…is only a man.

Hiccup still cannot understand the St-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-KK's words, but he understands the tone in his voice. It says worn-thin irritation, wry amusement, and determined endurance, like a dragon finding the very good sun-patch he prefers occupied by others.

The St-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-KK raises his head up through the hole in the ground, eyes wandering to the open window.

When he sees Tt-(click)-th-phuh-ss, as they know he will – they are not Shiver, to fade – Hiccup expects him to stare and startle, to cry out at dragons trespassing in his nest, even dragons he knows. Hiccup knows the shape of pfikingr stares: their mouths open, and they go trembling-still, and they make small alarm and fear sounds. Their faces change color, but not like Shiver; they go pale.

Instead, the St-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-KK blinks at them, and hmphs, just a breath and an amused grunt. Beneath his fur, his face smiles very small and twisted, even as his eyes soften sadness. But he looks at the half-cornered dragons without surprise, and his small signals do not say attack or retreat, or anything at all. He looks like he expected to find them there, and Hiccup hunches his shoulders annoyed. What bait has the St-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-KK set to expect them here, as if it were not remarkable at all?

Nodding his head yes yes yes as humans do, he looks past the frozen dragon-pair at nothing at all, and he smiles more, unfamiliar sounds rumbling fond in a churning rockfall of words.

Toothless draws Hiccup back with him as the St-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-KK clomps up a few more ledges, pushing aside many fallen cloths where small-cousins have made a nest. Tiny, shed scales spill from the cloths when the pfikingr picks them up and shakes them, folding them again with a mutter of Uh strrrrTT.

Strange, Toothless says with a glance, yearning towards the open air outside. The pfikingr Alpha has never ignored them before.

Us here yes him look us you see? here certain-sure, Hiccup signals back, murmuring puzzled as he considers his paws. They have not faded to match the ground, and Toothless is as dark as a deep forest midnight.

The St-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-KK can see them. Even now, as the dragon-pair watch him sit on the ground with his legs bent awkwardly, in that way that humans cannot leap from, he watches them back. But for the first time, the big pfikingr's body does not say want want catch grab take want! His signals say only contentment to see them there.

Once, he starts to reach out towards them, but then he pulls his paw back with a shake of his head, as if reminding himself of something. No, no, he says, but to himself, and his eyes drift past them with a soft smile.

With their shoulders pressed tight together, Hiccup feels Toothless relax slightly. Human paws outstretched to them have rarely meant good things, and they are both happier when they can see the St-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-KK will not try to touch them. Good good maybe-careful unsure safe-though? you say?

Trust, Hiccup asks of his dragon-heart in a single clear glance, and Toothless purrs back to him always.

And as the dragon-pair step cautiously out of their defensive coils, stretching out on the ground and staring around curiously, the pfikingr he who was their mother's mate talks to them for a long time.

His eyes often look at nothing at all, which Hiccup, to whom glances are speech, finds unnerving. But he smiles, even if there is sadness in it. He speaks to the dragons in his nest, but he asks nothing of them. He does not lean towards Hiccup as if longing to touch. He looks at Toothless directly, without fear.

Instead, his shoulders are relaxed, his body calm. His voice ambles, slow and easy and affectionate, speaking to them as if they could understand, but Hiccup can catch only a few words. Their names, as pfikingr say them. Drakkkn, one of the few sounds Hiccup has always recognized. Their mother's name, Aka. Little words, the sounds for here and yes and good and want, and big words, the sounds for mother and for love.

Hiccup scrapes together some of those words, and tries.

"Herrrrr?" he asks, grimacing at the shape of pfikingr sounds on his tongue. He paws at the air look-at-me, and gestures at the wooden cave.

Me, he signals, tapping against his chest because that is how Uh strrrrTT says me. And he whistles a question, signing small close to the ground.

I was here, when I was small?

The St-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-KK startles, blinking in shock, and shakes himself. Now his face goes pale, and his jaw tight. Surprise and disbelief and confusion and hurt roll through his signals like storm clouds churning, and a deep, surging sadness that twists out into a human smile like Hiccup wringing seawater from the softer layers of his scale-skins. It is not a smile with teeth showing – Hiccup will never like the way pfikingr smile – but the expression makes the dragon-feral want to whimper and hide.

Yes, he says, and nods a human yes as well. He hesitates, and looks at his paws, and puts them together.

He holds them against his heart as if cradling something precious, and very small.

Hiccup remembers the dream of that, remembers the sound of his heartbeat, the scratch of redder fur against new-soft paws, the smell of his being there. He remembers safety, and love like tides.

Dropping them again, the St-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-KK sighs, lowering his head. When he looks up again, his shoulders slumped, he reaches out a paw in some gesture.

And on impulse, Hiccup leaps, catching that paw in his own.

The St-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-KK's paw is much larger than his, and so wickedly sharp dragon claws curl around only part of it, but Hiccup's claws are part of him, and he knows how to be gentle. He can crouch balanced on his hindquarters, ready to leap away if he needs to, and still signal wait.

At his back, Toothless surges to his feet with a yelp of surprise, but Hiccup forces gentle into all his signals, trying to understand.

Tt-(click)-th-phuh-ss dream of hatchlings Like Them, some day when they are ready, to raise and protect and to care for. And they will fight all the world for their hatchlings, they will be fierce and powerful and clever, but –

Sometimes fierce and powerful and clever is not enough. They live in a world that tries to kill them every day, and every death their flock mourns could be theirs. The dragon-pair have grieved for playmates and friends and guardians, too many to remember, and each has been a wound.

To lose a hatchling – a hatchling of their own –

Hiccup cannot imagine how much that would hurt. Could it be worse than Tt-(click)-th-phuh-ss torn apart? The scream of a nesting mother whose hatchling will never wake again, or whose little one has been brought home bloody and cold in a flock-mate's claws, is a sound too terrible for dragons to flee. The flock can only cower and cry beneath it as she wails. Imagining a hatchling of theirs taken so, even before that hatchling is…it chokes screams into Hiccup's throat.

He cannot be the little one the St-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-KK lost; he is (click)-phuh, a dragon and half of a whole, and he is happy with who and what he is. He is as right as he can be. Together he and Toothless matter; they protect their own and they wander the world to protect others. They love, and they are loved.

Perhaps he never was that little one. But he can understand that the St-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-KK grieves for the little one who was not.

"Isssss," says Hiccup, as close as he can come.

Toothless does not need to growl mine! he mine you no no no I bite! but Hiccup can hear him bristling very fiercely, wings hissing across his scales as he tenses to leap.

The St-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-KK is staring at Hiccup's paw on his, his only movement his jaw opening in a silent gasp of surprise. There is the Thing That Humans Do! At last, something the man does makes sense.

As if the sight of those paws together hurts deeply, he looks away again, off at nothing at all. He asks a question of no one, with the sound here?

After a moment, he smiles, his eyes very bright.

"Here," he says to a still-wary Hiccup, and carefully closes his paw. It is not tight enough that Hiccup feels trapped, exactly, but he takes comfort in knowing that if he is wrong, if the St-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-KK does grab roughly, his claws are sharp and his other half is ready to fight for him.

Oh, Hiccup sees with a quavering whine of discomfort, there is ocean in the St-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-KK too!

With a gulp, their mother's mate lifts his other paw, asking a question. Hiccup watches it out of the side of his eyes uncertainly, but he does not move – much – as the man rests it very, very gently on his scaled shoulder.

When Hiccup does not snarl and snap at him, the St-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-KK strokes his hand carefully down the dragon-feral's side, brushing past the wing furled against his spine-fins. Just for a moment, until Hiccup cannot fight down the whine of let go! Not even for imagined hatchlings one day will he be grabbed by pfikingr, even if they were his mother's mate once!

The St-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-KK lets him go, and Hiccup sidles back to Toothless' side, shuddering enough.

As a gust of wind blows in through the opening, tumbling through the nest to race out of the door below, the man blinks many times, scrubbing his paws over his face and dragging them across his fur. Toothless, licking Hiccup all over to put his scent back right, snorts hey! over his little partner's back, just in case the man is imitating them.

But with a sigh and a trembling laugh over words neither dragon understands, he reaches out to tt-th-ss, too.

Eyes narrowed, Toothless considers the outstretched paw, rumbling strange not-like unsure maybe worry you-though silly you why? promise you you later-promise you say yes! me-though unsure you-do Hiccup-mine yes maybe –

Resentfully, but always willing to show that anything that Hiccup can do, Toothless can do too, the black dragon taps his nose snap-quick against the St-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-KK's paw, thump.

There! Toothless snorts, crouching you up to Hiccup, and paws let's-go! at the ground.

When he spreads his wings, the pfikingr cave is far too small to hold them, and the hole in the wall just right to let them go.

And on the sands of a familiar shoreline, a pfikingr she stands facing a dragon.

The long-fang dragon paces angrily, tossing her head and scything her tusks through the air. Her heavy paws slip beneath her, unable to grip the shifting ground, so that all her movements end in little lurches. With a bellow of pain, she sits down with a whump that sprays little traces of sand all over, scratching at the back of her neck and the underside of her jaw. When she kicks a healing wound, she yowls.

Watching from a new-fallen stone, built up into a barricade that cuts off the forest from the rocky shore, Hiccup flinches sympathy with her. He recognizes her as one of the Starving Man's hunters, but she is not so fearsome here, stumbling and crying. Her wings tremble as she spreads them, ready to flee.

Nothing keeps her here, but where else does she have to go? Hiccup remembers all too keenly being trapped on this stretch of shore, roaming among its shallows and climbing across its stones, feeling the break in Toothless' wing like his own wound. Unable to escape, they had held a wary truce between tolerating the pfikingr she who came to speak to Hiccup and vanishing to find a better place to hide. And there had been something bad in the air…

They had stayed, and healed, and hurt, and fled, and now another pair of dragons paces out the confines of the shore.

Easy, Uh strrrrTT says, her voice low. She does not crouch and make herself small, as she did when she spoke to (click)-phuh and, sometimes, tt-th-ss-beloved. Before these dragons, she stands with every signal declaring an Alpha's confidence, her shoulders firm beneath the spill of her long bright mane over a fur cloak. It looks very warm, but too heavy to fly with, and besides, Hiccup thinks she would notice if he tried to steal it.

Even if she is very busy trying to feed two baffled dragons who do not understand why she is here, or why they are.

This? Toothless asks, and Flies-in-Storms flutters her wings proud.

She strrrrTT mine good mine brave I fly that danger-there careful-warning! Look she! she there!

Neither of the long-fang dragons, snarling resentment, takes the fish from Uh strrrrTT's paw, but they do not charge her, flaming, either. Their tails stay arched high, but do not tense to strike. The hurting she-dragon turns away, ignoring the pfikingr she, and her flock-mate piles himself into a heap of unhappiness and folds his wings over his head.

With a sigh Hiccup recognizes very well as giving-up, Uh strrrrTT sets down the fish in her paws and scatters more from a holding-thing, strewing them across the sand. With a shrug, she turns away. Keeping to the drier ground close to the cliff faces and the stones there, and keeping a wary eye on the sulking long-fang dragons, she slogs back across the shore to her friend.

This is a pfikingr she Hiccup and Toothless do not know, although they have come to recognize many. Before they came here, as they wandered Buh-rrrrrrKK from the sky and the shadows, they watched pfikingr building a nest where once a great hoard of metal had been. The hoard is gone now, but perhaps if humans make a den for it, it will come back.

And they listened to the stories their dragon-cousins told them, gathering in sprawling flocks across rooftops and cliff ledges, bounding easily across the tangled maze of perches that humans have made between their dens. Toothless is not sure all of them were for dragons, but if dragons can climb them, surely dragons may, until they fall over.

Then dragons were nowhere nearby, ever, and have never even seen such perches. What are perches?

Humans are always fixing things, anyway. Today, they are fixing the roof of the biggest nest of all, which Telltale and Fish Breath Always are pleased about. That is their favorite place to sleep.

The dragons of Buh-rrrrrrKK told the wandering dragon-pair stories of leaving and coming back again, a hiding trick to let a predator run by with its jaws clean and its belly empty. And now they have come home again, they say. This is still a better home than any of them remember, and if they want to wander away and join their kin living far from human eyes, they can.

But small humans would cry for them, if they did, and the crying of human hatchlings is very loud, Hurry-and-Hustle had confided, heads bobbing. And big humans are always doing interesting things to watch, Sunset Stretch had laughed, and all the flock had whistled agreement, especially as a pair of very strange pfikingr had run past just then with their two-heads-cousin friend/s bounding behind them, and a shout of outrage trailing them all.

This has become their home. They are part of a flock all mixed together, with a pfikingr Alpha, but an Alpha who listens to dragons, who led them away and then led them back again when it was safe.

And there are hatchlings here now – and then there had been nothing for it but for Hiccup and Toothless to go and see, swept along in a chattering flock to spring very suddenly upon a ship upturned in a protected cove, only to scatter laughing when a pack of rock-skin cousins had burst out to defend their nest.

In the chaos, Hiccup had spotted Talking Fish in the white sand below the ship, crouched over something with his paws over his head. After the storytellers had scattered with the rock-skin cousins roaring insults after them, the dragon-pair had landed lightly and whistled a tentative greeting.

Talking Fish is a friendly human, only sometimes he is too friendly. He charges like a rock-skin cousin with his tongue lolling all smiles, forgetting that heavy paws can crush.

But he had called out joyful to see them, and eagerly showed Hiccup what he had been protecting – a rock-skin hatchling wriggling unafraid in his shadow, and a drawing of Shiver for his collection of many drawings.

Hiccup had not been able to resist fixing it, just a little to sharpen the edges of her tailfins, but he had not drawn her faded. Dragons need some tricks to keep, even from friendly humans.

But Tt-(click)-th-phuh-ss do not know this human at all. She is taller than Uh strrrrTT, her face another shape, and her fur is dark. She stands determined with one paw on her hip, watching Uh strrrrTT protectively, pale eyes intent, and her signals say stubborn very loud. But they say affection, too, and from this Hiccup can understand that Uh strrrrTT and the dark-furred she flock together.

Yes! Flies-in-Storms says when he asks, a whistle and a glance uncertain. She yes strrrrTT good together-good protect happy happy together-they yes like very-much-so she good! she up she fly me me me I do!

Blue-dappled dragon and dragon-pair are perched all together on the new tumble of stone, Toothless with his belly against a smooth plane, wings half-folded, and Hiccup on his shoulders. The stretch of shore below the cliffs is…not somewhere they wish to return. It was a nest-for-now, and one they had been glad to leave.

A little way below, the two pfikingr talk together. The New She pats Uh strrrrTT in reassurance, and Uh strrrrTT laughs, setting her paw on her friend's shoulder. They stand close together, easy together.

No, no, says Uh strrrrTT, small signals saying undaunted. Perhaps she knows now, Hiccup speculates, sprawling along his beloved-self's spine, that just because dragons do not talk back to her, it does not mean they are not listening.

They are so busy talking to each other that neither of them looks up until Uh strrrrTT says Hiccup and then Toothless, just a few sounds in a torrent of many, many more. Humans talk so much and see so little.

Amused at an ambush he did not even have to plan, Hiccup sits up on Toothless' shoulders and whistles here! very brightly.

Uh strrrrTT startles, her head snapping up to stare at them, and in an instant, all her signals ring out clearly.

A glance had been enough, when Tt-(click)-th-phuh-ss had brought the Starving Man to her. However their names came into the hungry mouth of their enemy, Uh strrrrTT had not betrayed them.

It has taken a long time for the dragon-pair to trust her, but they are learning, one test at a time.

Here at the shore, she is surprised to see them, but she is truly and sincerely happy. There is no malice in her eyes, no shrinking-away in her body. She hums delighted through all of her, even if chagrin echoes counterpoint, and Hiccup purrs satisfaction at this. It is a good joke to be here when she spoke of them, when she did not know.

C'mere you, Uh strrrrTT gestures, but not to them.

Instead, she reaches out a paw for her friend, beckoning her closer, but the New She is staring up at them, an oh in her mouth. Hiccup does not recognize her words, but he can understand her signals and her voice very clearly. She says, breathlessly, that Tt-(click)-th-phuh-ss are wonderful, and she turns on Uh strrrrTT scolding as playmates scold each other, chirping with delight to see a new thing, and joy to be with her friend.

Uh strrrrTT fends her off with paws and sounds and squashed-up faces, grouching and laughing.

Toothless flicks his ear-flaps back surprise, to see her play so freely. The pfikingr she who pestered them, summers ago, snarling at her fear with every heartbeat and tugging on her fur when they did not do what she wanted – had she had anyone to play with? The dragon-pair had not even known if pfikingr could play.

Good she good yes told-you-so good, Flies-In-Storms chirps, thumping her spiked blue tail certain-sure against the stone. Toothless smiles a dragon's smile up at her. The flock here has no dragon Alpha to lead them, but Tt-(click)-th-phuh-ss are always amazed at how brave Flies-In-Storms is, and how willing to try.

The New She catches her friend's paw anyway, and now she leads Uh strrrrTT closer to the stone where the dragon-pair rest. The humans do not climb up, and Hiccup and Toothless do not climb down, but they can talk to each other, as much as they ever can.

Uh strrrrTT waves her paws look, her face pleased.

Hiccup, she says in the wrong way humans say it, and Toothless – but she stops with a snort, and gestures at them. You, she signs. You do.

Hiccup bares his fangs at her; he has far better games to play now than her game of sounds. They have so far left to go…

(click)-phuh, he answers anyway, and tt-th-ss for his dragon-heart, who purrs beloved to him with adoring eyes.

The dark-furred she makes a little noise of delight, shaking her head amazement.

Her? Hiccup asks, chirruping. Flies-In-Storms likes the New She, and Uh strrrrTT who leapt upon their enemy with blows and snarls likes the New She, and so Tt-(click)-th-phuh-ss will consider her, at least.

Grinning, Uh strrrrTT reaches into a pocket, turns to her friend, and presents her with a slightly squashed plant. The tall sprig holds many little purple blossoms, and Hiccup recognizes it: he has seen fields and fields of it before, creeping back after fires burn across the tundra and surviving even under the snow. The flowers smell like distance and the wind and rolling hills.

The dark-furred she takes it with a yelp, half amused and more disbelieving, scolding Uh strrrrTT without enthusiasm and rolling her eyes. With the air of one much put-upon, she holds it in both paws before her chest and sighs.

Huh-thrrrr, the golden-furred Alpha says, pointing to the plant and then to her friend.

Hiccup whuffs at the sound without enthusiasm, annoyed. There are too many pfikingr words that sound like uh-thrrrr, and they cannot all be the same. He understands perfectly the finest shades of meaning in dragon sounds, but human voices will always slip from beneath his claws with only scraps of fur caught between them.

Instead, he gestures at plant and pfikingr she and makes the sound that the plant makes: shwwshhwwshhww.

Uh strrrrTT blinks, surprised, and rolls one paw: say that again?

Shwwshhwwshhww! Hiccup repeats firmly.

The pfikingr she Shwwshhwwshhww finds this very, very funny, and Uh strrrrTT throws her paws into the air with a grunt of drakkknns!

Neither of them can say it, although they do try, and Hiccup grunts so there! to Toothless, who yawns affectionate mockery at him. Sounds are easy when they are proper sounds, that sound like what they mean!

Shwwshhwwshhww! says Flies-In-Storms, and shrieks with pride.

Somewhere out there, there is a little white dragon defying all her world has ever told her. Somewhere else, there is a dragon who only remembers cages, standing up to make a world without them.

Somewhere, there is a dragon nest protected by ice, sheltering those it raised and the lost ones and strays who have come to call it home. Somewhere else, there are endless fields of heather, smelling like the sky.

Somewhere, there are dragons at home in a human village, and Vikings who might yet learn to fly. Somewhere else, there is a man who saw his world end, watching the impossible happen every day.

Somewhere, there are two women willing to change everything, if that is what they must do to protect their own and make a better world.

Somewhere else, there is a man who was always a dragon, and a black dragon who was always his heart, two-who-are-one and never to be parted.

Somewhere there are traps to break. Somewhere there are stories to tell. Somewhere, there is a future to find, and if Tt-(click)-th-phuh-ss cannot find it, they will just have to make their own.

Nothing has stopped or separated them before, and nothing ever will.

And elsewhere, beyond the lands and seas and skies they know?

Hiccup and Toothless have work to do, and they have a whole world not yet seen to explore.

So into the boundless sky they go, chasing the horizon and the turning midnight stars.

–end–

Afterword:

I don't even know what to say.

Over five years ago, just after the second HTTYD movie came out and I was absolutely, rapturously in love with this fantastic universe I'd finally found, I started talking to a fellow fanauthor called Raberba girl. As we discussed what the future of Berk could and/or should look like, she said that rather than being chief, because Astrid was clearly better-suited, Hiccup would be happier as a crazy feral dragon boy. She meant "free-range researcher". I saw, like I was remembering him, the utterly feral, thinks-he's-a-dragon, might-not-be-wrong wild boy I've been writing ever since.

I've tried to pace as close to canon as I can, using the pieces Dreamworks gave me and extrapolating from them, but staying within the bounds of the world we saw on screen and the gravity of the plot, pulling events back into similar orbits even after you hit them with a comet or two. Some things that happen have to happen under certain conditions, but the world can change around them in what I hope have been interesting ways.

And then The Hidden World came along.

And I said, "No."

No. No. No.

Freefall is my No.

If you're interested in how this story came to be, and some of the background information behind it, as well as the soundtrack I've been assembling all along with suggestions from some of your fellow readers (story soundtracks are my procrastination, but it's a good playlist!), please check out the bonus content at deviant art dotcomslash le-letha/journal/HTTYD-Freefall-Extras-809704550. You do not need a deviantART account to view this content, and I guarantee all the links are not only safe to click, but safe for work.

It's been a long road from me playing with a weird little oneshot no one would read – the characters weren't even speaking in sentences, after all! – to here.

Thank you for coming all this way with me. I love you all.

Fair flight.

Le'letha