Chapter 12
The sky hadn’t yet decided what color it would be. Everything was caught between shadow and the gentlest suggestion of morning, the world still cool and hushed, veiled in a thin layer of mist that clung low to the hills like breath on glass.
The camp was quiet. A few sleeping chirps from the younger dragons, a rustle of wings shifting against the canvas of the lean-to. Beyond them, the land rolled south in gentle, marshy swells, dark silhouettes of reeds and low brush blurred against the graying horizon.
Hiccup stood near the edge of camp, hands braced against his knees as he squinted into the distance. The breeze carried a hint of salt now. Faint, but there. He tilted his head, following the shape of the land. If the map had been right, the coast wasn’t far, half a morning’s walk, if that. He winced slightly as he shifted his weight, a small ache flaring in his shoulder and radiating up the side of his neck.
He rolled it back, once. Then again. Maybe he’d slept wrong.
Behind him, fabric rustled. Ellie’s footsteps padded across the packed earth.
“You’re up early,” she mumbled around a yawn, tugging on her bootlaces one-handed as she approached. Her eyes were puffy with sleep, her voice still raspy.
“So are you,” Hiccup replied, voice a little hoarser than usual. He cleared his throat. “Thought we’d take the hatchlings to the coast. Teach them how to track something that isn’t already dead.”
Ellie nodded and pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders. “You sure they’re up for it? You sure you’re up for it?”
Hiccup arched a brow at her.
Ellie shrugged. “You’ve been moving slower. And sweating more. Which is gross.”
He huffed through his nose and turned away to begin tightening the straps on a satchel. “Thanks for the concern. And the imagery.”
“I live to serve.”
They moved through camp with the familiarity of repetition, dousing the firepit, checking dragon gear, brushing soot from their tunics, restacking supplies that didn’t need to travel. Toothless stirred from where he’d been curled like a watchful boulder, tail flicking as the younger dragons yawned and unfurled their wings.
“Alright,” Hiccup muttered, patting the nearest one—Eclipse, still blinking groggily. “Let’s stretch those wings.”
The group set off south just as the first blush of orange warmed the edge of the horizon. The path was wide and mostly bare, the terrain rolling into stretches of broken stone and short grass that dipped lower the closer they got to the sea. The air began to thicken with dampness, the scent of salt and wet earth growing stronger.
Toothless walked at Hiccup’s side, head low, his eyes glancing at him more often than usual.
Ellie caught it too.
Hiccup wasn’t limping. Not exactly. But he paused more than normal, feigning interest in patches of moss or old fence posts, his hand brushing the map in his pouch with deliberate precision. When they passed a low incline, he slowed even further, reaching to adjust a nonexistent strap on his boot.
“You’re sure you’re okay?” Ellie asked again, voice quieter this time.
“Just didn’t sleep,” Hiccup replied without looking at her. His voice caught halfway through, and he cleared his throat quickly. “Probably the air. It’s heavier here.”
Ellie didn’t argue, but her eyes narrowed slightly.
By the time they crested the last slope, the sea unfolded before them, not a grand stretch of crashing waves, but a wide, pale marshland where water met land in slow, shallow pools. Driftwood littered the shore, and far out, seabirds wheeled and cried above quiet ripples.
The hatchlings picked up immediately, wings flicking, claws scraping as they bounded forward and scattered in different directions, noses to the wind. Glade lifted first, slow but steady, his long tail trailing behind him like a streamer as he followed a group of gulls across the reeds. The others gave chase in bursts, awkward, bounding sprints and low glides that ended in half-spins or soft splashes.
Toothless waited a beat before following, wings spread wide as he leapt upward, letting the sea air catch him and tilt him forward into a low glide.
Hiccup let out a long breath and sat down, lowering himself more carefully than he meant to. The rock was warm beneath his palms, already absorbing the sun’s faint heat. He braced one hand beside him, the other pressed against his side.
Ellie stayed standing for a moment, watching the dragons, the sea, the sky. Then her gaze drifted to him.
“You’re really not okay, are you?”
Hiccup didn’t look at her. “I’m just tired, Ells. Let them fly.”
Ellie didn’t press, but she didn’t look away either.
The sound of wings and water surrounded them, punctuated by the occasional screech of triumph when one of the hatchlings managed to catch a flopping fish mid-leap. It was chaos. Sloppy, wild chaos. But it was working.
And for now, Hiccup just leaned back on his elbows, letting the sun soak into his skin, breathing through the tightness in his chest.
Trying not to shiver.
The sun was low on the horizon now, stretching long golden shadows across the grassy hills and rust-colored cliffs. Toothless dozed nearby, tail flicking now and then as if chasing something in a dream.
The hatchlings scattered in the fields ahead, darting through tufts of tall grass and flaring their wings as they chased after fish in the shallow streams. Most of their efforts ended in splashes and wet feathers, but they were improving. Slowly.
Ellie ran among them, laughing breathlessly as the red dragon barreled after her. She zigzagged through the brush, her boots slipping a little in the loose dirt, but she didn’t seem to care. Her cloak flared behind her like a banner, hair sticking to her brow as she spun and ducked.
“Cricket!” she shouted, grinning. “Too slow!”
Hiccup blinked.
“Wait—what did you just call him?” he called out.
Ellie skidded to a halt as the red dragon lunged past, missing her by inches before tumbling into a mess of limbs and tail.
She turned back toward Hiccup, completely unbothered. “Cricket.”
He stared. “Cricket?”
“Yeah.” She shrugged and plopped down beside him on the grass, brushing dirt from her knees. “It suits him.”
“Suits him?” Hiccup repeated, incredulous. “Ellie, that’s not a name, that’s an…an insect.”
“Exactly,” she said, as if that explained everything. “He’s exactly like them. Kind of. When he jumps into stuff and–and always making noise. Like a cricket!”
Hiccup opened his mouth, closed it, then sighed, a laugh tugging at the edge of his voice. “You can’t just name a dragon ‘Cricket’ because you’re too lazy to think of something else.”
“I didn’t,” she protested. “I thought about it. A lot. I named the others too.”
He gave her a skeptical look. “Wait—you named all of them?”
“Yup,” she said proudly. “That one’s Fish.” She pointed at the blue dragon, who was hunched over a pile of very real fish, greedily scarfing them down. “That one’s Torchie.” She nodded toward the orange dragon, who was very carefully scorching the top of a rock. “And that one’s Bruise.” The purple dragon was curled in a shadowy patch under a ledge, eyes narrowed at a nearby crab like it had personally insulted him.
“You named a dragon Fish?” Hiccup asked, utterly baffled.
“He likes fish,” Ellie said, deadpan. “And he looks… fishy.”
“That’s not even a thing!”
Ellie cupped her hands around her mouth. “Fish!”
The blue dragon paused, looking up from his pile of fish. His eyes tracked her, blinking slowly.
“See?” she grinned. “He responds.”
“He thinks you’re offering more food.”
“Still counts.”
Hiccup laughed, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Torchie. Bruise. Fish. Cricket.” He looked at her, half in disbelief. “You’re just naming them based on vibes.”
“Vibes are important,” she said solemnly.
He shook his head, still smiling. “Okay, but seriously—Cricket? That’s the one you felt in your soul?”
Ellie shrugged, looking out across the hills where the red dragon had gone off chasing a gull. “I dunno. He just… fits it. He’s weird and loud and jumps into everything without thinking. Kind of like a bug. A cricket”
Hiccup glanced at the dragon, who was now attempting to climb a rock far too steep for his stubby claws. He grunted and promptly slid down, flailing in what could only be described as chaotic determination.
“Yeah,” Hiccup muttered. “Alright. Cricket it is.”
He glanced toward the others. “But we weren’t really going to keep calling them Torchie or Bruise, were we?”
Ellie didn’t even blink. “We are now.”
Hiccup groaned into his hands. “Gods help me.”
She sighed dramatically. “Fine, fine—we won’t actually call them Torchie or Bruise.” She paused, then perked up. “But Fish is still on the table.”
Hiccup dropped his hands just enough to squint at her. “You’re serious about that one?”
She grinned. “Dead serious. He responded, remember?”
From a little ways off, the blue dragon raised his head from a fresh pile of fish, blinking slowly in their direction.
Hiccup pointed. “That’s not responding. That’s food awareness.”
“Still counts,” she said smugly.
Hiccup woke to the sound of wings.
A soft, rhythmic flapping, quick bursts, then silence. Then again. Somewhere beyond the lean-to, one of the hatchlings was trying to lift off without waking the others. It wasn’t working.
He exhaled slowly, eyes still closed, arms folded beneath his head. His body felt heavier than usual, muscles aching in strange places. Not sore, exactly. Just… dulled.
He sat up slowly, pushing off the thin bedroll, the morning chill brushing his skin like a warning. The fire was low. Smoke curled through the camp, catching faint in his nose. Damp earth. Charred wood. Salt on the wind.
It had been a long day yesterday.
They’d taken the dragons to the coast, the sun high and bright over the private shallow marshes. Ellie had trained beside him on the rocks, following his instruction, repeating strikes and counters until sweat soaked through her tunic. Toothless had lazily circled above while the hatchlings chased crabs and skimmed low over the water. Glade had caught his first fish mid-air. Cricket had crashed into a tidepool trying to do the same.
They’d flown home late, the stars already high and glinting sharp across the dark sky when they crested the hills. Ellie had dozed for most of the return, her cheek pressed into Hiccup’s shoulder, one arm looped around the red dragon curled awkwardly against her chest. The hatchlings trailed behind them, wings stretched wide in slow, steady beats, just enough to keep aloft, but not for long. They had grown. Not dramatically, but noticeably. Broader in the chest, steadier in flight. A few were nearly the size of large hounds now, their muscles thickening faster than Hiccup expected.
Still, they hadn’t flown this much since the journey from Oldtown. That flight had left them winded, and since then, they’d only taken short glides, choosing to stay grounded near the safety of the camp. Seeing them in the air again, truly flying, had been a quiet relief. They were not yet strong enough to fly for such a long distance again. But it did give the added benefit of their gliding having improved, though their landings were still unpredictable.
Everything was.
Back in the present, Hiccup stretched slowly, a stiffness blooming in his lower back as he stood. He winced and rolled his shoulder. Probably the rock he’d slept on. Or the long flight. Or the sun. He tugged on his cloak and stepped outside the lean-to.
The camp was still. Smoke drifted from the firepit, curling into the pale morning sky. The dragons were scattered, curled into nests of brush and canvas. Toothless lifted his head briefly, blinking at Hiccup before resting it again with a quiet sigh.
The wind shifted, carrying a mix of salt and something more inland, spice, smoke, maybe the faintest smell of roasting meat from the markets of Myr.
He moved through the familiar motions. He checked the water skins, adjusted the lean-to, marked the sky and coastline with quick notations on his map. His fingers trembled slightly when he folded it. He ignored it.
He was just tired. That was all.
Behind him, the sound of sleepy footsteps.
Ellie emerged from her makeshift nest, dragging her cloak with one hand and yawning wide enough to crack her jaw. One of the dragons, the orange one, was still half-sprawled across her legs, unmoving.
“You’re up early,” she rasped.
Hiccup didn’t turn. “So are you.”
She grumbled something and kicked lightly at the red dragon still latched to her ankle.
“Cricket,” she muttered, “move.”
He didn’t. She groaned and sat beside the fire, eyeing Hiccup through sleep-heavy lids.
“You look worse than usual.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “Morning to you too.”
“Did you sleep?”
“A little.”
Ellie raised a brow. “You’re sweating.”
“It’s the air.”
“Mm,” she hummed, unconvinced.
He crouched to stir the fire, hands slow, the ache spreading into his shoulders now. He didn’t mention it.
They had things to do. Supplies to gather. Dragons to train. Another trip into Myr before the week was out.
He could rest later.
The morning continued to move slowly, stretched thin by haze and heat. The sun was already high, not yet punishing, but warm enough to hint at what the afternoon would bring. Hiccup shrugged on his lighter cloak, tugging the hood low even though the shadows still stretched long. His skin already itched with sweat. The kind of heat that clung too close. Not unbearable but heavy.
Ellie kicked out the last of the fire, brushing ash from her hands before slinging her satchel over one shoulder. “We’re heading back to the parchment stall, right?” she asked, adjusting her boots with a small grunt.
Hiccup nodded, shouldering his own pack. “Maps, if we’re lucky. And more trail salt. If we’re staying a few more days, I want to make sure we’ve charted everything we can while the dragons rest.”
Ellie didn’t question the stay. She knew the hatchlings still tired easily, their flight stronger but untested in long stretches. And though she hadn’t said it outright, she liked Myr or at least the distance they had from the chaos of Westeros. Even if the city whispered things behind their backs.
They took the east path in, skirts of cloak brushing against brittle grass and dust as they followed the sunlit road toward the gates. A few carts rumbled past, horses sweating through their harnesses, slaves pulling loads on foot behind them.
The city buzzed the same way it had the first time. Tense and humming with the illusion of peace. Hiccup moved quietly, eyes tracking streets, noting which paths led to empty corridors and which alleys had exits. He guided Ellie with a hand on her shoulder when needed, keeping her close. Just a traveling pair. That’s all.
Inside the market, the scent of citrus and burning oil thickened the air. Hiccup passed stalls filled with maps, scrolls, and hand-drawn charts. Some old and yellowed. Some obviously faked. He thumbed through a few carefully, eyes flicking between coastlines, rough borders, and mountain ranges.
Ellie bought a pouch of dried fruit from a thin woman with ink-stained fingers, then rejoined him at the next cart. “If we’re staying longer than usual,” she said casually, chewing a bit of mango. “We should stock up on oil and linen too.”
“Good thinking,” Hiccup muttered, though the words came slower than normal.
They walked the market like that, drifting between vendors, scanning for supplies, listening to half-conversations without meaning to. But the heat pressed harder. The air stuck to his lungs. Somewhere between a stall of bronze rings and a rug merchant, Hiccup rubbed at his temple and blinked against a sharp glare of light off copper.
He didn’t notice the rumbling cart until someone shouted.
“Watch it!”
Ellie’s hand clamped around his arm and yanked him sideways just in time. A large wooden wheel skidded where he’d been standing a moment earlier. Dust rose. The driver cursed, never slowing.
Hiccup staggered, catching himself on a crate with one palm.
Ellie stared at him, breathing hard. “What was that?” she hissed. “You didn’t even see it.”
He steadied himself, jaw tightening. “I— The sun, it’s nothing. Just… wasn’t looking.”
“You always look,” she snapped, not cruel but sharp with worry.
He met her eyes, forced a small smile. “Guess I’m just human after all.”
They didn’t speak again as they left the city.
By the time they returned to camp, the shadows had shifted. The lean-to stood still in the midday warmth, canvas edges fluttering lightly in the breeze.
Toothless padded toward them immediately.
He didn’t look at Ellie.
He went straight to Hiccup.
The dragon’s nose bumped gently against his chest, then his side, then up to his jaw—sniffing. Hiccup frowned, placing a hand on the scaled forehead.
“I’m fine, bud,” he muttered.
Toothless didn’t move. He just blinked, slow and unconvinced.
Ellie crossed her arms behind him.
She didn’t say anything.
But the concern in her eyes said enough.
The sun had climbed to its peak, casting long rays over the hills and bathing the camp in a dry, persistent heat. The air shimmered faintly over the dirt as Hiccup adjusted his stance, one hand loosely gripping the haft of a training axe as he circled Ellie.
“Keep your weight centered,” he said, voice steady despite the sweat clinging to his brow. “You want to strike hard but recover faster.”
Ellie mirrored his movements, brow furrowed in concentration as she studied his footwork. “Is this how your… lady warrior did it? The one you told me about. Astrid?”
Hiccup blinked, then smiled faintly. “Yeah. Pretty much.” He angled the axe again. “She could throw a man twice her size. All with one swing.”
Ellie huffed. “Sounds terrifying.”
“She was.” There was something fond in his voice. “But in a good way.”
She gave him a crooked grin, stepping forward to match his form, her fingers tightening around the leather-wrapped hilt of her own axe. “Well, if I end up throwing you, you better say it was because I’m terrifying and not because you let me.”
“We’ll see,” he teased.
They started again, slow repetitions at first, swinging, turning, shifting. Hiccup watched her movements closely, correcting a misaligned shoulder here, a low elbow there. His own swings were clean, but slower than usual, his body dragging just slightly behind his mind’s rhythm. He staggered on one of the pivots, a brief hitch in his balance.
Toothless, who had been lounging near the edge of the clearing, lifted his head sharply, eyes narrowing.
Ellie noticed too. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” Hiccup muttered, straightening. “Sun’s just getting to me.”
She didn’t argue, but her frown lingered.
They reset again, and this time he suggested a mock spar—light, no hits to the head, just enough to test reactions. Ellie lunged first, feinting left then swinging low. Hiccup blocked easily, then shifted, forcing her to turn on the balls of her feet.
“Nice!” he called out. “But don’t twist your knee—”
She elbowed him in the ribs mid-step, not hard, but enough to throw off his breath.
He gasped. And this time, he didn’t recover immediately.
The cough tore from him without warning, harsh and sudden. He bent forward slightly, bracing on the axe as he struggled to catch his breath. His chest burned.
Ellie dropped her weapon and rushed over, yanking the waterskin from the nearby pack and shoving it into his hand.
He drank slowly, coughing between swallows, his face drawn tight.
“You’ve caught something,” she said softly, crouching beside him.
“I’m fine,” he rasped.
Toothless gave a low, insistent growl from where he sat, tail flicking sharply.
Hiccup looked between them, saw the same narrowed suspicion in Ellie’s eyes as in the dragon’s. “Okay,” he admitted, “maybe it’s not just the heat.”
Ellie opened her mouth, then closed it, watching him closely.
He stood straight, shaking his head. “We’ll finish the drill, then I’ll rest.”
“You don’t need to prove anything,” she said.
“I know,” he said, though his smile was tight. “I just want to be sure you’re ready.”
They took their stances again, slower this time, the heat pressing down harder. Ellie moved more cautiously, her blows less aggressive. And when she swept forward in a wide arc, her heel kicking up dust—
Hiccup barely managed to step aside.
His foot caught on uneven ground.
And then he dropped.
There was no cry, no gasp, just the dull thud of his body hitting the packed earth. The axe slipped from his hand. His body curled slightly inward, one arm bent awkwardly beneath him, his breath shallow and uneven.
Ellie froze.
“…Hiccup?”
He didn’t move.
“Hiccup!”
She dropped to her knees beside him, hands already reaching to turn him gently. His skin was hot—too hot. His breath came in short, broken bursts, his face pale beneath the flush.
Toothless was already moving, wings half-flared as he closed the distance, a low, distressed sound rumbling from his chest.
“Hiccup, c’mon,” Ellie whispered, her voice cracking as she cupped his face. “You said it was just the sun. You liar. You lying idiot.”
His eyelids fluttered, but didn’t open.
Toothless nosed against his shoulder gently, and when there was no reaction, his tail lashed behind him.
Ellie looked up, her mind racing.
They had medicine back at camp, but not enough. Not if this was what she thought it was.
Her jaw tightened.
“Okay,” she muttered, grabbing Hiccup’s wrist and rising to her feet. “Okay, we’ll fix this.”
Toothless rumbled in agreement, already lowering himself beside them, ready to carry his rider.
Ellie swallowed, hard. Worry gnawing in her gut. She knew this wasn’t exhaustion or a heatstroke.
This was sickness, real sickness.
And suddenly, the shadows of Myr didn’t feel so far behind them after all.