Following his father's death Hiccup is determined to do Stoick proud and fill his shoes in Berk. And he does... by slowly chipping away at himself. Sensitive Toothless knows his boy is getting lost but that's not the only troubling thing happening...
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We flew a steady eight thousand meters above sea level.
The going was rough with what little oxygen we had and our dragons worn out from battle. About fifty miles later, without sighting a single Nightfury since our escape we finally felt safe enough to look for a place to land.
A lone sea stack protruded from the vast and open waters.
Stormfly gently set Hiccup down before landing. I was off her back and at his side the instant she touched ground.
Shattermaster dropped Toothless. He squealed and made a beeline for his boy.
Hiccup was limp as a sack of potatoes, his face ashen. His clothes although windblown were still damp and very cold from his and Toothless' dip in the water earlier.
Toothless slobbered all over his face whimpering. He patted and slapped and chewed, searching for some sign of life but got none.
With dread I took Hiccup's cold hand and searched for a pulse.
Fishlegs looked on, wringing his big hands. He couldn't bear to ask the question.
"Is he alive?" Snotlout said gruffly, face a heated red.
"He's alive," I sighed "He's alive. Just unconscious."
That was all the Jorgenson needed to know. He stormed off to the farthest point on the sea stack.
I tried to rub some warmth into Hiccup's hands. "Can someone get some blankets?"
Heather pulled one out and Fishlegs hurried with it to my side. We searched Hiccup over for injury but found none, not a nose bleed, a broken bone, a head wound or a single scratch. And yet he remained unresponsive.
"I don't understand, he's not hurt, so why is he unconscious?"
Toothless seemed to be searching for the answer. As he snooped around Hiccups vest, his nose caught wind of something he didn't like. Lips curled back in an evil snarl, the dragon very slowly, out an inner pocket pulled out-
A pouch of tea.
Stiffly, carefully, like it was something explosive he took it a 'safe' distance away.
And then he mauled it.
Seriously. He attacked a pouch of tea. Eye's full of hate he shredded that thing to tiny pieces with his claws, squealing, snarling and hissing all the while. He had stomped most of it into the ground and set it ablaze before Dagur was able to pull him away.
The Berserker plucked a handful of the herbs out of the dirt. Toothless looked at him in disbelief.
"Don't worry, Mr. T, we all know what you're trying to tell us. I'll be careful."
He picked through the blend. A teensy little flake of what appeared to be dried ginger root caught his eye. He put it on his tongue and swashed it around before spitting it back out. His face grew somber.
