Arrival
Alastrim leaned over the edge of the great Viking ship, closing his eyes and resting his chin on the deck while his arms hung limply overboard. The other seamen (as well as some VIPs) looked on to the rather pathetic display with a mixture of pity, amusement and satisfaction in some cases. Earlier on in the day described as either typical or eventful depending on the person asked, Alan has been the very picture of barely restrained energy, excitement, and confidence nearing arrogance. Now, though… Well, the sea, wet weather, and waves had taken its toll on the young lad who was mostly unaccustomed to drawn out voyages. He could hardly wait to get to the island where all the dragons would be more apt to toast him than douse him.
After a while of tossing waves and lurching, an inharmonious jumble of Viking shouts sounded from around various nooks in the ship. Alan looked up hopefully, just as someone clapped him heartily on the back. From his vantage point, the island looked amazing. Foreboding, dangerous, and menacing in his hyped-up mind, but amazing all the same. There was no doubt that Stokers lived upon that island, as even on the beach there were patches so badly scorched that no vegetation grew. On the wind, ash and the scent of smoke drifted, and in the dying sunlight the glow of embers lit up the undergrowth. In the back of his mind, Alan knew that having such a strong breeze on an island prone to blazes was probably a recipe for some sort of catastrophe, but he couldn’t bring himself to will it away. It’d probably make the flight on the way back that much quicker.
Suddenly, the boat jerked and the dragon rider in training gave a start as he looked around, more accustomed to lurching than the sudden movement the ship had just experienced. Oh. Land. A weight in Alan’s chest eased before dropping straight into his stomach. This was his time, his responsibility, and his dragon at stake. Looking at the dragon island one more time, Alan pushed his nerves away with the rational going something along the lines of, ‘If I can pass shield training with the Bouldermiester, I can survive a few days out here.’ There was nothing he could do to reassure himself about riding a Nightmare- His success at coming back with a dragon depended entirely on finding a worthy companion. If he couldn’t do that, then there was hardly any point in sticking around. As the expert Vikings lowered a type of gangplank from the ship to the sand, Alan made his way over to the captain gave the obligatory ‘thank you’ before heading down the gangplank and stepping into the surf reluctantly, though he knew that it’d be unreasonable to expect them to go any closer to the dry sand. He stared down at the sloshing waves distastefully and went back on his previous decision. There was no way he was sailing on the way back home.
There had been rumors flying around on the air currents that said more Vikings were coming their way, but few of the island’s inhabitants expressed any sort of concern at all. After all, this was a location full of none but the most fiery of creatures or the less interesting Terrible Terror sort. Very few Vikings set the goal of capturing one of those little ones. As it was, the Monstrous Nightmare known only by description of his pointy spines (His acquaintances said they looked like a bunch of ‘Ribs’, leading to an unwelcome moniker) was in the group confident in his abilities to evade capture, and, at the moment, was very, very, very bored, looking for something (anything) interesting to do. Frightening gangly children or springy teens seemed like an overly reasonable way to spend his time. Too reasonable, perhaps, but he rationalized that nothing could be worse than his current state of inactivity, save perhaps the travesty of adding hunger to the mix of boredom as well.
He lifted himself up with his forelegs, shaking some dry leaves off of his wings and huffing a cloud of smoke from his nose at the same time. The Nightmare sniffed the air, but there was too much soot currently floating around to get a clear direction to fly in. Instead, he’d have to rely on sight and guesswork. His next destination would be the coast on the far side of the island where visitors most often showed up. Energized by the thought of entertainment (and food- the coast meant fish, obviously) the dragon took a few quick steps before using his powerful wings to lift into the air.
Though it went against his very nature, he knew that he’d have to be quiet, at least initially when finding the small sack of bones. Otherwise, he shuddered to think about it, he might be chosen as the best, which he obviously was, and a good candidate for a dragon companion, which he absolutely was not. To avoid such a boring and restrictive fate, he’d suppress his instinct to set himself on fire and go for a more subtle approach… If that was even possible for him.
Alan sloshed his way out of the surf, lugging his measly supplies behind him as he concentrated on getting somewhere more pleasant than the murky part of a half-scorched, darkened beach, with wet and sticky sand getting all over the place… His complaints concerning any place with salt-water were endless and would continue until he cleared the beach or dried off. It would probably require both.
Whatever his mood, his next move was clear. Before he went searching for dragons or exploring the island he would need a campsite. Preferably it’d be somewhere dry but not prone to catching fire, concealed but not impossible to find, and near a source of his basic necessities that wouldn’t anger the dragons if used by a human. Everyone was always telling Alan that his standards were far too high, but if he didn’t find a campsite within half-an-hour of walking or so, he’d just find somewhere that wouldn’t spontaneously burst into flames and set up shop right there and then. It’d be good enough, though not ideal, for a short camping trip.
The recent dragon-training graduate approached the edge of the beach and fought his way through the initial tangle of half-dead trees. Luckily for him, natural and unnatural paths formed presumably by Terrors and other Vikings presented themselves once a few moments into the forest. It was as good a sign as any that there would be useful commodities along the way, so Alastrim picked one and followed it. He ended up traveling through a small variety of landscapes. There was a recently collapsed wall that was too precarious looking to sleep under. A small clearing looked passable until Terrors set the whole patch of dry grass on fire. Several tall trees seemed to be good potential treehouses until Alan remembered that it needed to be sheltered and easy to get out of in case of fire. Although he made an excellent climber, he wasn’t willing to match his chances against a burning tree. He even found a pond that looked clear and deep enough to take water from, but was unpleasantly surprised to discover that the water was as hot as any fire he’d ever encountered.
Approximately the half-hour later that he’d promised himself, no perfect campsite had been seen, nor any that was better than the location that he currently found himself in. There was a living tree with some low hanging branches near the edge of a clearing with a dirt floor, the grass recently burned away. Alastrim couldn’t see any outright signs of habitation, at least none by any dragon larger than he, so competition shouldn’t be a problem. There was no dripping water, nor any risk of spontaneous combustion. If his ears could be trusted, there was a source of running water not too far away as well. The only downside was it’s openness. Alan had just stumbled into the place. It wasn’t difficult to find, was accessible from all sides, and unhidden from the sky. It wasn’t quite an even trade-off, safety for comfort, but dragons were not typically deadly unless threatened. Alan nodded slowly to himself. Not ideal, but it would have to do.
He wasted no time with idleness and hung his stuff on a branch low enough to where it would not hurt him if he fell from it. That was where he’d be sleeping. Now all he needed was a small fire and to find the source of running water that he’d heard. All the other necessary supplies were already readily available. Alan allowed himself a small bit of satisfaction. Things were going well.
The Monstrous Nightmare circled around the beach where obvious traces of a rider’s arrival could be seen. There were footprints leading into the forest and there were some trees torn apart where the kid had apparently entered. Obviously he hadn’t taken many precautions to conceal his presence. Considering the dragons in this particular area of the island, the ones that he knew at least, that would probably be a mistake… But not a deadly one. His acquaintances could be just as annoying as he was, but maybe he could get to the boy first.
But… The dragon really was very hungry. Quickly he dove toward the water and caught a fish in his mouth, swallowing it on the fly. It should be enough to hold him over until later. He flew over the forest in lazy arcs, looking around for his target more precisely now that he was in closer range. However, all he could really recognize was a sizeable group of dragons of his own kind hanging around in one spot, looking pretty suspicious. He was curious, so he went to go see what was going on.
Alan made his way through the thick tangle of undergrowth that insisted on ensnaring his feet and slowing his progress. The air was cooler over here, maybe because it was nearer to water or maybe because the sun was even further from the horizon than before. If the almost-full moon was not out, he would be unable to see a thing at all. As it was, it cast a white glow onto the top of everything but left hazy darkness in the shadows, making it very difficult to walk.
The sound of the river was getting nearer and clearer. It was further than Alan had anticipated, but still close enough to reach in a hurry especially if he already knew the way. The tangling plants gave way to soft grass which a little ways in the distance gave way to rocks and pebbles. Alan looked around. Enough wood was near to last him the entire five days (if necessary) and he’d be able to gather it on the way back from the river, getting everything in a single trip.
Good, Alan thought mildly, it’s a good spot. He started down the grassy slope and heard more than a little rustling. Much more, he realized, than could be caused by just him and a little grass. Instinctively, he whirled around and lowered his center of gravity, glaring suspiciously at the dense woods he had just exited. For a moment, it seemed like he had been imagining things, like it was just the wind and his own nature causing the sound. However, any doubt was dispelled the moment he caught sight of smoke drifting past the edge of the tree without a visible source of flame. Alan placed his water bag on the ground and slowly approached the edge of the forest when a dragon emerged quickly. No, actually, two Monstrous Nightmares came slithering into the clear area and approached down the slope. And Alan had left his weapons in the bag.
Alan shook his head slightly, clearing the imaginary hair and very real anticipation (or anxiety) from his face before raising his hands, palms facing outward in a gesture of nonaggression that were ready to curl into fists at any time. He had been taught well enough to not strike first, no matter how badly it went against his first instinct, but he wouldn’t bet that they were here to make friends with a Viking. Especially when it was two-on-one. Besides, he couldn’t “place a gentle hand on their snout” if there were two of them.
The Monstrous Nightmare who had been searching for the curious gathering set himself down in a group of three of his own kind, lightly perching on a branch that gave heavily under his weight. Every single one of them was familiar to him; they were all young Nightmares that lived near here. They had situated themselves in a tall bunch of trees and seemed to be watching something. None of his acquaintances acknowledged him at first and, to him at least, the silence was awkward. Finally, he got tired of waiting and inquired curiously, “What’s up?”
A quiet wave of low growls and murmurs went though the group of eavesdroppers who had apparently been waiting for someone to ask. A series of excited ‘whispers’ bombarded the newcomer. Eventually ‘Violet’, the one referred to by the bright underside of her wings, shushed the other two and explained concisely, “The first one to make the Viking-ling run like a newborn Terror or scream like a baby Thunderdrum gets two extra fish from every participant for seven days. You in, Ribs?”
The Monstrous Nightmare bristled at the crude-sounding nickname (couldn’t they call him something cool like Spines or Needler?), but confirmed his interest with an enthusiastic nod and a, “When have I ever not?” The other dragons sounded pleased and returned their wide-eyed attention to the distant riverbank where the action was beginning to pick up. Two Nightmares, it looked like Stripes and Curly from here (also named for obvious reasons), approached a small-ish Viking and roared loudly enough to be heard from their considerable distance. Which was too far, in his opinion. He gave his fellow watchers a little warning before taking off and gliding as quietly as possible (not very, considering his large wings, strain put on the branches, and personality) to a closer perch.
Apparently, the ‘surprise hunt’ tactic hadn’t worked on the kid. He was standing his ground and showing few signs of fear, though it didn’t look like he was breathing very much, which only proved to frustrate the dragons on the ground. They moved in more closely darting forward and back fluidly to test their target’s reactions. The human didn’t do much besides look between either of them. Finally, Curly got tired of waiting and snapped his teeth at the Viking, aiming to wound, and it would have, had the kid not slid back at the last second to evade. Then, he stomped his booted foot right down on the attacking dragon’s nose. To a dragon like a Nightmare, the blow was nothing more than an annoyance, but it still caused its victim to reel back in surprise and pain. With a growl, Curly called on Stripes for an offensive.
Stripes jumped forward and swiped a clawed forearm at the human who ducked under it, getting a small hit on a wing fold. Curly caught him by the scruff of the coat and flung him away when the kid tried to turn around and whack him. He landed on his back and rolled sideways to evade a smashing tail. He got up and ducked another hit, jumping over a striped, snapping jaw and landing on it. The boy held on tightly, clamping the mouth shut, surely and solidly.
The distant Monstrous Nightmare watched on and stifled his laughter. That was one of the more annoying things that could be done to one of their kind. What fun it was to watch!
Alastrim held on for dear life, though he’d never admit the amount of trouble he was having keeping hold of the dragon. By now he was convinced that he’d encountered a few of the aggressive type as proven (he thought) by the group assault and first strike against an unarmed opponent (him).
The Nightmare that he didn’t have a hold on seemed to be freaking out just as much as the one he was currently ‘riding’. He looked up and down and circled them nervously seeming to look for an opening to help. Muffled noises that might be growls or roars emanated from the clamped jaw of the dragon who had resorted to flailing his head and other limbs wildly to free his mouth. It only made it worse, really. Alan definitely didn’t want to let go when he was sure to go flying as a direct result. If he was more talkative as a whole, he’d surely be screaming his head off.
Eventually, something seemed to be communicated between the two. They both calmed and Alan glared as best he could at both of them. The one held by the Viking took a deep breath and quickly shot steam out of his nostrils. Alan loosened his grip immediately because it was hot and it burned. Its companion, that possessed unusually curly patterns on its wings, flicked him off with his tail, much as someone would flick a bug that they really didn’t want to touch. Disoriented, Alan landed face down on the grass and caught a tail in his stomach as soon as he tried to stand up. He skidded down the hill and landed in the cold, cold water of the swirling river.
For a moment he was blinded by the shocking sensation of his head suddenly submerging, but Alan had a decent doggy paddle and was able to anchor himself, face above water, on the edge. He spat some water back into the river and glared as the two dragons retreated, their pride pretty well wounded.
By the time Alan pulled himself out of the water the two Nightmares were gone and he was just about ready to bang his head against the wall. How could he let such an opportunity just go by? He was supposed to be ‘befriending’ a Monstrous Nightmare, not getting into brawls with them. Although, Alan realized, they hadn’t used any fire. None had been used at all. He could use it now that he was dripping wet and cold, but it was unusual. It would require some further thought that Alan was too grumpy to spare. Now that he was near the water, he hurried and got his water and firewood before heading back to his chosen campsite to get some rest.
Just as he was arriving, something occurred to Alan that made him stop in his tracks. He’d just managed to insult the pride of two Nightmares. Perfect.
The Monstrous Nightmare returned to the tall bunch of trees with the other dragons coming back from bullying the Viking kid. All of them landed and one of the trees tilted sideways when the other three dragons swarmed to the same perch, teasing relentlessly but good-naturedly about the scene they had just witnessed. Of course, the two friends attempted to defend themselves but it was mostly lost in the friendly exchange of jabs. The straight-spined Monstrous Nightmare added his own voice to the cacophony, “The shrimp got you good. Did-“
“Shaddup. We got there before any of you did. Especially you, Ribs-“ Stripes said aggressively. ‘Ribs’ twisted his face into something akin to a pout.
“-Yeah,” Curly cut in, coming to the defense of his friend, “We’ll get him tomorrow. Be ready with the fish.”
A sharp voice interrupted the smack-talk. Violet said, “You, too. Careful, someone else might get there first.” The rest of the group looked over curiously. Violet looked surprised and expanded, “What? You two weren’t really being serious there-“ He glanced around challengingly “-Were you?”
The cacophony restarted with all the dragons involved claiming that no, they were not being serious there and all could do better than those two right there. “I mean really,” ‘Ribs’ said, “There wasn’t even any fire involved.” A jumbled cry of assent went up along with several emphasizing fireballs and the dragons dispersed to their separate hideouts. ‘Ribs’ lit himself up and flew back across the sky to where his older relatives were waiting at home.
Alan settled into his campsite for the night after drying off in the light of a small fire, the bark and thoughts weighing heavily upon his back. He thought it might have seen fire in the distance, like the little bursts of flame he had seen earlier from the ship, but dismissed it as little more than Terrors playing around. Anyway, he doubted that any ‘predators’ or such would look in his particular clearing in his particular tree on his particular low-hanging branch, so he’d sleep as soundly as he usually did when fire-breathing creatures roamed about. But as a precaution, because Alan did not consider himself particularly naïve or stupid, he’d sleep with one eye open, so to speak, and keep his gauntlets firmly planted on his hands; for safety and the small comfort they provided on an unfamiliar island. There’s a shooting star, he thought as he drifted into unconsciousness. Whatever. I don’t need any wishes.
First Day
Alan woke up blearily before the sun had even fully risen, not quite ready to face the day, but more than coherent enough to get a head start on the day’s activities. He was relieved that his wake up call came in the form of a sun rather than a dragon and got to work, grabbing a bite to eat and packing a small amount of supplies for a day on the go. Figuring that it’d be best to travel light and return later, he brought only the bare minimum he would need for the day. If anything happened to him, he could always return and pick up the rest of his supplies, which he had hidden carefully.
He set off toward the river, assuming that it might be a good place to start. Last night there had been no shortage of dragons in the few minutes he had spent there, and all dragons needed water and fish. If he followed it upstream he was sure to find something interesting at least.
It was easiest to take the same path as before, and surely enough he found himself in the same sloping area as before as well. He paused and listened, but there were no obvious sounds of pursuit. That was great. Now he could relax. Monstrous Nightmares did not habitually wait to ambush Vikings looking for water. Good to know.
Alan wandered (but it was a determined wander, he would claim) upstream well into the afternoon, paying little attention to the nice surroundings, only taking notice of landscapes when they were singed enough to warrant avoidance. There were quite a few patches along the river where a something or other had killed the grass. Soon, Alan found two possible causes. One (speculation): The hot springs that he had noticed were becoming more frequent and occasionally spilled over. Two (more likely):A fairly sized pack of Terrible Terrors was in competition within itself for a single fish and they were fighting fiercely, though not too apparently violently, for the prize. Yes, fire was involved.
The Viking looked on mildly and curiously but soon moved on. However, the Terrors were more perceptive than he had thought and swarmed as soon as he reached their smelling range. Hel no. They were not getting his food. He didn’t even have that much. Alan raised his pack far above his head, attempting to wade through the sea of little flying reptiles and to restrain his urge to kick them out of the way. It wasn’t really working; there was little way to dissuade a hungry Terror from grabbing food and their persistence did little for his temper. They were biting and hissing and being very unpleasant in general. Then, they all suddenly dispersed downstream, flying a little ways before looking back nervously and vanishing through the undergrowth with their food.
Alan stood still for a moment, listening and feeling for the cause. There was no need to work hard to achieve his goal. The crackling and popping sounds of inflamed gas could be heard from a decent distance and all he had to do in order to see the source was turn around and look into the sky. A Nightmare- because no other dragons set themselves on fire- was diving right in toward him, showing few signs of stopping.
He… Really hoped that this was not one of the dragons from last night.
Early, early in the day, before his other Monstrous Nightmare acquaintances had the good sense to be up, the straight-spined one rose to get a head start on the day and competition. Usually, if it were not so early (in a teen’s mind, evening was an appropriate time to wake up- presently, it was afternoon) and against the point of waking at such a time, he’d circle this side of the island and see who was up and about, greeting as he went. On this particular morning he wasted no such pleasantries, more determined to see the location of their target than any acquaintances. If he found the kid and managed to scare him appropriately, he would just herd him over to his friend’s places as proof. If he woke the sleep-loving-lazies (and scared them just as much), it’d just be an added bonus upon the greatness of his day.
And look there! Right by the riverbank, just like last time. It couldn’t be easier to find him all tangled up in a mess of Terrors. Unfortunately, he was intercepted in the air by Violet and her posse, made up of the dragons Split and Solo.
“Hey,” She started, “We were getting worried that you’d never get up.” She smiled as his eyes narrowed in irritation. “All three of us are getting concerned about the other two and would like to offer an alliance. If you agree, if any one of us wins, we’ll all split the spoils. What do you say?”
‘Bad deal’ and ‘bad idea’ summed up his opinion of the offer, and he said as much. “No way. I’m going to win anyway and I’m not going to split the prize with any of you dousers.” Dousers in water, that is.
Violet shrugged gracefully and nonchalantly, as if his answer had absolutely no impact on any aspect of her life whatsoever. “Alright, well, I’m going to warn you of the other two.” She was referring to Curly and Stripes, not anyone in the near vicinity. “We think that they’re planning something. You know how that gets.” Yes he did. Those two couldn’t plan a meal if they had a year to do it. Spontaneity was their best friend. Out loud he responded, “Whatever. It won’t make a difference.”
They split ways after that, Violet for some reason not going toward the human that they all knew was there. It was unusual, but with Violet he never knew. He, on the other hand, did head toward the river, almost reflexively catching himself on fire as he dove down. He was almost there, prepared to chase the kid as soon as he turned to run, when someone else (it looked like Curly) came straight out of the forest and swiped the kid from right underneath him. It was too late for him to pull up and give chase, so he instead landed harshly on the ground, denting and singing the soil.
He looked up, only to see two distant figures taking off high into the air toward the center of the island.
The Monstrous Nightmare huffed in annoyance. Those two were a bunch of sore losers, but if they thought that they could keep anyone else (especially him) from winning the contest by hiding the boy, they didn’t know him well enough. But- Oh, look. The boy dropped his bag. He’d better take it if he didn’t want the Terrors to eat it instead.
Well, apparently the dragon from before was not one of the dragons from last night and apparently the dragons from last night really wanted to kidnap him because they were double-teaming him to do so. It was a good move to take off quickly because as much as he wanted to, he could not fly.
Alan scowled up at the one holding him, both cursing and thanking the strong grip it kept on his shoulders. On the ground he could see the trees thinning and the landscape becoming more rocky. He was being held backwards and could not quite see where he was being taken, but he could assume that it was into the mountains where many dragons preferred to make their homes. His guess was confirmed by the slope he soon saw on the ground. The rock was a pale grey ranging to grayish blue to darkest black and it was littered with dead- possibly petrified or simply charred- trees and clogged with steaming ponds. Alan tried to twist around for a better view, but the dragon carrying him put on a sudden burst of speed and did a few loop-de-loos for good measure. If it was an attempt to disorient him, it worked. When eventually Alan was unceremoniously set down on a cliff’s ledge, he didn’t really have any idea what side of the mountain he was on or where he had just come from. The island didn’t have any distinguishing features to be seen from his vantage point, so there was no way to judge based on that. It was also noon, so the sun was not going to help until it got a little later. He drew his lips into a thin, angry line and gazed at the two dragons who were deep in deliberation about something or other: probably him.
As if feeling his gaze, they both glanced at him then returned their attention to their conversation. Why had they even come after him in the first place? It had been an unprovoked attack both this time and the last. Maybe he had been trespassing, but they hadn’t seemed to care that he had remained on ‘their land’ after they left. Maybe he had looked like a threat, but Alan would not have been able make himself less threatening (or so he thought) without lying down and playing dead. He was getting really tired of being chased down; he was supposed to be doing the searching if he remembered correctly. So why in Odin’s name was he having such horrendous luck? It would be more trouble than Alan initially anticipated if Nightmares reacted unpleasantly to visitors simply due to the fact that they disliked the idea of being ridden, which was the only reasonable conclusion that was occurring to him.
He began to appraise his ledge. There were rocks from pebbles to grapefruit size littering the flat surface. The drop below to the next ledge was probably enough to give him a broken leg or at least an unusable ankle. And his pack was nowhere in sight. Alan rolled his eyes in exasperation. The only way it could get any worse was for it to start raining.
Alan decided that his best chance to get down from here was to do it soon and while the dragons were paying little attention to him. First, he placed one boot on the wall followed closely by his left hand. Alan’s hold was steady, so he started down carefully. At about a fifth down to the next ledge he heard wings flapping once again. By now, Alan had begun to associate that sound with unfortunate events, at least during his time on this island. Just as expected, mere seconds later Alan was removed from the wall, no questions asked by the dragon that did so.
“Let me go,” He shouted, struggling viciously against the harsh grip. “You overgrown Salamander! Release me!” He snarled and shouted and struggled until he was dropped in a different location, the fall knocking the breath out of him. In the few seconds that he had to remain silent, he scrambled to right himself and grabbed a rock and chunked it at the two dragons. It missed, totally and completely. “Hey!” He yelled, but was ignored. As the Nightmares flew further away to somewhere or other his complaints fell on deaf ears and his stones fell without hitting their targets.
Eventually they vanished from sight and Alan slumped against the wall in frustration. There they went and here he was. Now he had to get somewhere else at least before he could find a dragon- a decent, non-annoying one unlike the two that had kidnapped him- and get off of the island. Alright, he’d just start climbing down again and try not to break anything in the process. But he’d take a little break first.
“Hey Ribs!” Curly called to the somewhat peeved Nightmare that he and Stripes had interrupted earlier. “Ribs, Ribs,” They closed in on their acquaintance and circled around him, “Hey, you’re not upset, are you?”
“We didn’t mean to if you are,” Stripes offered.
“It’s just that we need some time to set up our next try. Isn’t that alright?”
“Yeah, once we’re done we’ll let you have the next try. Right?”
“Right.”
‘Ribs’ scowled at the nickname and at the pair’s excuses and at their sad attempts to smooth things over. He wasn’t that gullible, nor was he incredibly accommodating. The Nightmare scowled and whacked Curly’s nose with his tail sharply, “You could have at least waited a minute or two or asked. Or,” He accused, “Were you afraid I’d win without you getting a second chance? You two already had your shot!”
Curly sat on his haunches and rubbed at his smarting nose with his claw, looking suitably chided. Stripes hunched over and slunk over to his friend, looking irked but unremorseful. “Just let it go,” Stripes demanded, “It’s not a big deal. We’re going to bring him back soon. Way before the search party will arrive.”
“The little snot will be back in no time. You won’t even know that he’s gone,” Curly added nasally.
They regrouped and backed off from the still fuming Nightmare, but not without a final jab, “And don’t look for him either. That would be cheating.” The two of them looked at each other like they were done and ready to leave, but ‘Ribs’ wasn’t having any of it. He leapt toward the pair, baring his teeth and snarling smoke.
“Cheating? I’m not a cheater! Kidnapping’s cheating. Not fair you-“
“Cool off, Ribs. We didn’t accuse you-“ Curly attempted to smooth things over.
“No, let’s go,” Stripes sniffed, “He’s not even going to listen. Let him cool off later. Meet at the spotted rock.” With that, they shot up into the air, followed closely by the angry one. He kept up closely, actually gaining on the two until they reached a few yards above the trees and split up in opposite directions.
The Monstrous Nightmare in pursuit hesitated at the decision presented to him and took a second too long. The two flew off into the distance, too far to follow easily. A roar escaped his maw as the energy and anger seeped out of his being. He landed on a tree to think. It was difficult for him to tend a grudge without prolonged contact, especially when they had just run off like cowards. His rage had mellowed out to mild resentment and as far as he was concerned their denial confirmed their guilt.
The Nightmare’s first instinct was to go wait for the two of them at their designated meet up spot, but he considered that cowardly and didn’t really see what purpose that would serve. His second instinct was to track down the kid to see what exactly they were planning with him and to make sure that they hadn’t killed him by mistake. He wouldn’t help the kid- as it was so ‘aptly’ put earlier it would be cheating- but it would be better for him than sitting around.
Actually, the plan was a very good one and easy to execute due to the fact that half the mountain could hear the slightly more than occasional bout of shouting in human language. Well, that was probably an exaggeration, but it was very loud and entertaining if one was looking- or listening- for it.
The Nightmare landed on a sturdy ledge, just above where he found the kid hanging onto a sheer cliff for dear life. As soon as he landed, the kid looked up, extremely startled, and slid a good few feet on the wall in his surprise. This prompted another round of shouting that wasn’t directed at anything particular except gravity and his unenviable position, though it somehow seemed to help him regain his grip in the rock. The dragon was relieved. Having to save the Viking-child would do little for his reputation.
Grip ascertained, the boy felt slightly more comfortable, or at least comfortable enough to hold a one-sided conversation it seemed. However, the dragon did notice that as he was speaking, the kid made no attempt at further progress down the wall. The glare was suspicious and full or recognition, but perhaps the Viking realized his vulnerable position. When he spoke, he had managed to hide much of the hostility from his tone, but had little luck with gentle diction.
“Are you with the ones that brought me up here?” He demanded to know in as calm a voice as he could muster.
The Nightmare didn’t answer. He just started laughing uncontrollably. Fire may or may not have been involved.
Alan cursed something or other to Thor this time as he scrambled down the rock face to avoid the spray of fire from the Nightmare’s laughter. He managed to avoid the worst of the fire, but could not prevent the knuckles on one fist from getting singed nicely. That would make things difficult. The only good thing that had happened from the laughter was that it had confirmed the dragon’s status of not being with his kidnappers. Otherwise, it was greatly unappreciated.
“Watch it!” He shouted as soon as he was out of the way. “Are you trying to knock me down?”
Slowly, the laughter and chuckles died down to nothing and the dragon had the decency to look sheepish. But then he looked at Alan again. Perhaps he found something in his expression that was hilarious- he absolutely was not pouting or screwing his face into anything resembling a scowl- but the guffaws started up again. Thankfully, this time it was limited to smoke and small sparks.
“Stop mocking me,” Alan demanded as soon as he realized that the laughter was at him and not with him. “This is no problem- I’ll finish this in no time at all.” He was referring to his situation of being stuck on the mountain.
The dragon gave him a very incredulous look, clearly disbelieving the boast. Of course, this could only lead one thing: proof in favor of one side or the other. “I’ll be back to the river by-“ Alan thought for a moment for a reasonable assumption “-Tomorrow before nightfall. If not I’ll…” Again, he hesitated. What was an appropriate wager? He knew that he could make it in that time, even if he had to circle the island to get there. Yes, he was that confident. “Actually, you decide. Figure out some way to tell me later,” Alan said, then allowed a challenging smirk to come over his face. He wouldn’t really need to know anyway, because he had no intention of losing. “Deal?”
The dragon paused and just watched him. It might have been unnerving, but for some reason it wasn’t so Alan just took the opportunity to climb all the way down to his next resting place. It was more of an indent than a ledge, but he was at no risk of falling as he slept, as was necessary due to darkness and growing weariness. For one, the indent was slanted in toward the mountain and he could wedge himself in with ease. Otherwise, it wasn’t an obvious ledge, which meant that hopefully dragons wouldn’t think to look there. He wouldn’t be very comfortable, but that was alright for now.
When the Nightmare did decide to climb down and give Alan a response, he could hear every careful step he took. Finally, their faces were level and the dragon gave a nod and a growl. Deal. That was good. Alan held out his hand for a handshake, not really expecting one but curious to see how the other would react. To his surprise, a bright scarlet tail wrapped around his arm up to his elbow and shook him a little. It was doubtless that the dragon thought he was being gentler than he actually was, but Alan was stunned enough that he had gotten a handshake and his arm wasn’t broken. If the dragon had perfect manners, he would probably have gone into shock right there and then.
“Ah,” Alan began once he freed his arm, “Is there any way I can identify you when I see you next?” He didn’t want to mistake this dragon for another. “What’s your name?”
The dragon pointed with his tail to the spines on his back. A guessing game was the only way to go, he supposed. They were very sharp, straight, strong, and arranged in neat rows. “Spike?” No. “Spines?” No. “Pointy?” Big no. “Spear?” No. “Needles?” A reluctant no. Once more, the dragon pointed at the spines on his back, but then pointed to Alan’s side, poking him right in the ribcage. “Bones?” No, but he was getting closer. “Ribcage?” A little closer. “Ribs?” Alan asked incredulously and got a sad nod in response. “That’s a terrible name,” He said without remorse, “You need a nickname or something,” But he didn’t offer to think of one. He’d ask later if he came up with one. Luckily the Nightmare agreed as he was still nodding sadly.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Ribs, I’m Alastrim. It’s a terrible name. People call me Alan,” The Viking said with a grimace matching the other’s at the names repeated out loud. It had gotten really late in the time he’d been up here and now the moon took a higher position in the sky than the sun and Alan figured that he should get some rest lest he break his neck.
Ribs understood the disguised dismissal and took his cue to leave, lighting himself on fire as soon as he pushed himself off of the wall. Alan continued to watch for a moment or so before frowning and leaning back into the crevice he would temporarily call home.
He turned his thoughts to the day that had just ended in order to distract himself from the discomfort and the hunger that had begun to gnaw at the edge of his awareness. He had encountered countless Terrors, two obnoxious Nightmares, and one slightly less annoying Nightmare that still retained the faults of being uncoordinated, showy, nosy, and uncommunicative among others… Though Alan could concede that the last point might be based in the fact that he was trying to speak with a dragon. At least Ribs was decisive, good humored, and not thoroughly idiotic like some others he could mention. Alan thought that maybe, possibly he wouldn’t mind spending more time with that particular dragon if it came down to it and he managed to pick out another name. However, judging by the strange way all the Nightmares had seemed to act, they probably wanted to dissuade people from training with them. That would make his life more difficult.
Alan turned over and squashed his thoughts. Though he had been trying to distract himself, there was no way he’d get to sleep while doing so much thinking. Before long, he began to doze.
Many hours later, Ribs returned and woke Alan through the sheer brightness of his wings. Did he ever lay off of the flames? The Viking wondered blearily, as he was unable to form thoughts much more complicated than that. He felt something drop onto his legs but didn’t bother to check it. There was no motion and it wasn’t too warm, so it probably couldn’t hurt him. After the Nightmare left, Alan turned to face him, still lying down. Huh, he’s really bright. Sirius is really bright this time of year. Not a bad name for a star… Or a dragon. That was the last information his addled brain could connect before he drifted back to sleep.
Second Day
Alan was rudely awoken by a growling stomach, for a second day in a row much earlier than he would usually be conscious. His frown stretched unpleasantly across his face and he glared at whatever was unfortunate enough to enter his gaze. It didn’t really matter though; it would give him more time to get back to the river. He’d have to keep that thought in mind if he didn’t want to spend the whole day stewing over how there were absolutely no clouds in the sky to block the sun. He sat up, startled, when he felt something on his leg and realized that it was his pack from yesterday. So ‘Ribs’ really had come back. Alan was grateful, he supposed. Now he wouldn’t starve.
He ate quickly and with just as much speed was making his way down the rock face. In the bright early morning light all the handholds were easy to see, but there was some moisture that made it a slippery endeavor. There were a few close calls with his feet slipping straight off into nothing, but he was always secure enough to recover. Eventually the inclines relented in their difficultly and the climb turned into more of a hike. Alan would be lying if he said he missed the difficulty. It had been a very long day so far and the sun had made its way to near the top of the sky, but that was alright because he knew which direction it had risen from.
He just needed to head in a north-ish direction, as he was less concerned about where on the river he reached than actually reaching the river.
‘Ribs’ was woken unpleasantly by Curly and Stripes. They kicked him. It was lightly, but still very unpleasant and unnecessary. He spat fire at them in retaliation and got up in as ready a position as he was coherent enough to take. Their eyes met, and the two friends did not look happy with him. “What do you want?” Ribs whispered with little patience, ushering them away from dragons that were still sleeping.
“What do we want?” One of them asked incredulously.
“We want to know-“ The other started.
“What you did with our little Viking?” Stripes finished.
Ribs blinked at Curly. He blinked at Stripes. “I didn’t do anything with him. I laughed at him but that’s about it,” The Nightmare responded honestly to their question. In his mind, there was no assistance he had given that had not been absolutely necessary and he hadn’t moved the kid at all, whatsoever.
“Don’t lie to us,” Curly said as he looked upset with him.
“We looked all over the cliff where we left him and he was gone! But we saw you coming back from there last night, so we know that you did something with him,” Stripes continued with his reasoning.
The center of their attention growled out his answer, “Stop accusing me of things I didn’t do. I didn’t touch him, I didn’t help him fall off of the cliff, I didn’t kidnap him. I made sure you idiots didn’t kill him, I laughed at him, I made sure he wasn’t robbed. That’s it. Find him like the rest of us.” With that, ignoring the protests of Curly and Stripes, the Nightmare lit himself up and flew away, the smoke curling off of his wings a physical representation of his mood. Who were they to accuse him of this? They should know him better by now.
But now that they mentioned it, he wondered how Alan was doing. Unfortunately, going to find him would require not gathering a following which would require not broadcasting his position like a flare. Reluctantly, he let the fire fade as he returned to the place where he had last seen the Viking. He wasn’t there any longer. That was expected. He’d just glide for a while until he saw a sign or something like that. But… Something about the geography was a little disconcerting. Ribs wasn’t sure that Alan knew which pools would burn him and which holes would spurt water to boil him alive. He’d better hurry at least a little.
The land here was unnerving, Alan decided after a little while of walking through it, very unnerving. It was definitely among the places he’d seen before. He’d been flown over it just the previous day, so he recognized the grayish landscape complete with scattered, dead trees. There were ponds throughout, which thankfully he recognized as hot. Steam rose from them and clogged the air, warming the atmosphere making it uncomfortable with humidity. He would need to be careful to avoid them.
As the land was still slightly sloped, Alan’s travel was easy and he was making good time. He came across Terrors playing in the water, basking fire dragons, and more than a few sleeping Nightmares, all of which he gave wide berths. It was a half-hour before he heard the distinctive sound of flapping wings nearing his location. He looked up at the sky and prepared for the most unpleasant scenario, but was pleasantly surprised when the dragon turned out to be the decent one from yesterday. He took a hand out of a pocket and waved casually, but continued walking.
Alan greeted him as he pulled up beside him and matched his pace, receiving a similar sound in return. He wasn’t really sure what to do or say, well, besides the basics of not being as grumpy as usual, so he just continued on in a companionable silence. Really. Strangely, it was not very awkward at all. Still, for some reason Alan felt like he was wasting time with silence when normally he considered conversation to be a waste of breath.
And so he chatted about nothing in particular, though not in a particularly chatty way. Their communication was based on the degree of affirmative or negative tone in the Nightmares voice and, surprisingly, Alan found that he could follow pretty well. They started out covering the superiority of saltwater fish to freshwater and diverged from there. No real direction existed in their communication, but it worked and was comfortable for both of them. Sometimes they even strayed into time-consuming games of guessing that were uncomplicated at best. They were, Alan admitted, much better than walking in dead silence alone. Actually, if his instincts were to be trusted, the Nightmare was enjoying himself even more than Alan was. The worse Alan did in his guessing, the more energy he seemed to gain, slinking around more quickly and attempting to stifle smug laughter at his clueless stabs in the dark. Even when the Viking did manage to come out on top with a lucky guess of ‘Egg’ or ‘Sheep’, he would just get a thoughtful look on his face and come up with something even more impossible next time.
It kept things interesting.
Talking without a common language was one of the clumsier- but interesting- tasks Ribs had attempted in a while. It didn’t compare to some things (like keeping a fire going during a rainstorm or watching hatchlings) but it was still rewarding to beat Alan over and over again.
“Is it alive?”
No.
“Is it on the ground?”
No.
“Is it in the air?”
He thought for a moment. No…
“What?- Space. Is it in space?”
Yes.
“Do you see it at night?”
Yes.
“It’s the moon,” Alan said confidently.
The Nightmare jumped around to Alan’s other side, pleased that he had made a rash guess, and shook his head no. That meant he won and besides, the human’s frown made him look funny.
“Then it’s stars.”
Yes, because what else would it be?
Alan got a weird look on his face, like he had swallowed a bug or something really, really sour. He was still frowning (he rarely ever stopped) but now he scrunched up his nose and brow as well. His mouth opened and closed, like a fish or like he was thinking of saying something.
The Nightmare watched curiously as Alan took a quick breath and spoke, “How does Sirius sound?” Neither of them thought that that made any sense and Alan sought to explain. “For a nickname— or a name if you really hate that other one. It’s part of a constellation over there,” Alan said quickly and pointed in its general direction.
The Nightmare- Ribs? Sirius?- considered it. He liked how the name sounded: Respectable, proud, and, well, serious. Without a doubt it was better than the name Ribs that sounded harsh and was not an accurate descriptor of his spines at all. He would always reject the notion that they looked in any way skeletal. Sirius on the other hand was in a constellation, which meant it was a star, right. He didn’t mind stars at all.
Sirius nodded decisively. He might not be able to convince anyone else to call him as such, but it would be nice to have another name. It seemed to please Alan, who allowed his mouth to quirk up in a relieved smile. He didn’t seem to know what to say afterwards and he shifted uncomfortably and didn’t say anything for a minute. “Good,” He finally said, “I hear the river.” Sirius supposed that Alan had won the bet because it was only late-afternoon, but he couldn’t bring himself to begrudge the human his success. It wasn’t like the test depended at all on Sirius’s own skills.
He followed closely behind as Alan pushed his way through the forested area surrounding the river. The human didn’t seem to have too much concern for the branches he pushed away or the roots he tripped on, so it didn’t take long to reach the goal. Sirius watched as Alan checked the status of his water (gone), scowled, and knelt down to resupply. It was about time for Sirius to get going.
Sirius placed his tail gently in the water, then flicked it quickly upwards. The cool water he flung splashed the unsuspecting Alan who turned around, spluttering in a half-complete effort to form words. Sirius merely laughed and flew away, leaving the human to deal with his parting gift on his own.
Alan moved quickly and determinedly back to his tree once he and Sirius split ways. He took the same way back, using the river and other landmarks to find his way. The tree remained the way he had left it, though it sported a few more scorch marks than before near the area where he had hidden his supplies. The Terrors had apparently tried to get to it, but Alan had hidden it well enough to withstand the inquisitive creatures.
He sat back as the sun lowered past the horizon and settled in to sleep, munching on a small bit of lamb jerky. It would be impossible to get to sleep until the sunset had passed. The situation was somewhat funny. Without meaning to, he’d gotten his mind set on Sirius as the dragon he wanted to return home with. Strangely, his enthusiasm didn’t grate as others’ did and was even infectious enough to get him playing along. He hadn’t played guessing games (willingly, at least) since he was a toddler. The only problem was convincing him to come back to Berk with him. Alan wasn’t sure how he was going to do that, especially as the Nightmares were proud. They- as a species, at least- would probably refuse on principle alone. But Alan supposed it was probably unfair to assume about Sirius. The best way to find out would be to ask, but Alan knew his tact and eloquence were severely lacking. But now he was thinking too much, which wouldn’t do him any good later. He’d find a way when the time came.
Sirius was cornered by his friends after he split ways with Alan, though they didn’t cut off all of his escape routes. All at once they began to bombard him with questions about where he had been today- which they already knew or they wouldn’t care otherwise- and about what he had done with the human. He tried to respond honestly, but it was very difficult answering all of the questions when they just kept coming and repeating over and over. There was no way he could talk quickly enough to keep up!
Finally- well, it didn’t actually take that long- he snapped, having grown irritated and hurt- not that he would be admitting that- and snarled, “He was climbing down the mountain and I made sure he didn’t die. That’s it!”
“Aww, were you a good Ribby?-“ One of his friends began to say with the implications clear in their tone.
That was completely uncalled for, and Sirius made his dissatisfaction known. He and the offender got into a quick but furious scuffle, only stopping when both combatants’ wings were pinned by those trying to break up the fight or get in on it themselves- with Nightmares, it was always difficult to tell. They stayed there for a moment until Sirius got tired of sitting around and shook everyone off.
He needed to go home. The Viking kid was supposed to be fun, not confusing.
Third Day
Alan woke up at about a regular time and decided to climb a tree. There wasn’t any particular reason he wanted to climb a tree besides the fact that he wanted the lay of the land (finally), but he ended up enjoying it anyway. He might have looked around hopefully for a particular set of rib-like spines, but squashed the thought before it reached the surface.
The sky was slightly overcast with high humidity, but it was not foggy and so Alan could see a good distance in every direction. Dragon activity was prevalent over many areas, but especially the Petrified Forest that he had traversed the previous day. Alan frowned. He’d like to avoid going back there if possible, but if that place was popular today, then…
Alan nearly jumped out of his skin, fell out of the tree, and cashed painfully into the ground when flapping wings were not enough to prepare him for the roar that emanated from somewhere behind him and almost deafened him with its volume. Luckily for him, he nearly did all of those things, but instead was steadied by a tail when he lost his balance.
He turned around and recognized Sirius, feeling somewhat relieved to see him despite the rude greeting, It was possible that the Nightmare was just saying hello, but there were subtler ways to go about that. Alan wheezed out a greeting and tapped on the tail holding him. It wasn’t the most comfortable place in the world.
Sirius seemed to realize what he meant, and set him down on a branch about halfway to the ground. Apparently, the dragon didn’t want him in the air. That was fine; he’d done what he’d been trying to accomplish.
Alan climbed the rest of the way to the ground as Sirius sat contentedly in one of the lower, stronger branches. “What was that for?” He asked bluntly, hoping to get some answers about the Nightmares’ strange behavior on the island. “Is ambushing visitors a tradition here?”
Sirius had to think about it for a moment, which Alan took to mean that he was on the right track somehow. It was still incorrect, though.
The Viking opened his mouth to take another stab at it when Sirius looked at the sky for a long moment, then looked apologetically back at Alan, then looked back at the sky again. Seconds later, he was gone, having flown away with the most minimal of warnings.
Alan couldn’t deny that he was curious about the reason for the sudden departure and considered hanging around for a few moments. He decided against it. Sirius had found him three times at least without any assistance. In all likeliness, it wasn’t a fluke and he could do it again. With that in mind, he walked off toward the river. It was a good landmark.
Sirius flew quickly toward his destination. He had heard someone calling his nickname loudly in a tone that would be unkind to ignore. After a minute or two he spotted the source. Violet had been calling him. He couldn’t say he was happy to have to talk to her, but as long as she was civil she’d be bearable.
“Hey Ribs,” She greeted cordially, “Split said he saw you jump the human earlier today. Is that true?” Of course it was, he nodded, she wouldn’t be asking if she didn’t know for sure. “Ok. Well, we convinced everyone to take turns so Stripes and Curly don’t get carried away. Solo is up next, so your next time will be in a while.” Sirius had doubts about whether or not that second turn would ever happen. It was the third day already, but only three dragons had approached Alan. Still, rules were not Sirius’s main concern as long as nobody was cheating. He agreed without too much worry.
What was more worrying was the smoke rising from the area he had just left. It seemed to be growing thicker the more he watched it. Without hesitation, he turned to Violet, gave her a quick excuse about watching the show, and left to go see what was going on. And to make sure that no one clumsily killed a dragon rider on accident.
Alan walked calmly, fairly certain if not positive that he was being followed. Nightmares wouldn’t know subtlety if… if anything, actually. They’d probably set the concept on fire as soon as they realized what it was. The only thing he wondered was what it was up to. It was probably more harassment. Actually, the only thing he really wondered was why all the harassment. He tired quickly of being shadowed and glared at the Nightmare, getting a near exact guess from the loud sounds alone.
This seemed to be the cue the dragon was looking for, as immediately afterwards the Nightmare leapt out toward him, famous flames and all. The flames made things a bit more difficult. Alan didn’t want any more burns on his knuckles. He couldn’t punch, but it was possible he could kick if he could move quickly enough.
He tried darting in to do just that, but was stopped when he had to dodge a flaming claw. As he jumped back, he very gracefully stumbled backwards over the uneven ground. The Monstrous Nightmare slithered forward in pursuit and spat a fireball that Alan had to roll to avoid.
This was what had seemed so unusual about all of his previous encounters with Nightmares. None of them used the degree of fire he’d expected. This one did. With the dawning of some slight horror, he realized why. Everywhere the Nightmare touched was catching on fire and spreading and spreading. When the first blast of smoke obscured his vision, Alan decided that beating an aggressive Monstrous Nightmare was not worth dying in a forest fire. Unfortunately, he was already in the forest fire and when he decided to make a break for the beach, the Nightmare instantly pursued, spreading the blaze even further.
If things kept going the way they were, a large chunk of the forest would burn down. Alan didn’t really care about what happened to the forest at this point. He just wanted to avoid a fiery demise. However, the flames jumped faster than he could run. Even when the Nightmare’s pursuit ceased, the problem of being trapped in an increasingly grim situation remained.
The Viking spent his energy on both escaping and finding the best route to do so. The task was becoming more difficult with every moment that passed. Often, he found it necessary to take a quick detour before getting back on track.
It wasn’t good enough. Alan covered his mouth and nose, scowling at the amount of smoke being produced. That and the dryness burned his eyes, nose, and throat. Fire was hot and unpredictable. He might be grateful to Odin, just a little, that none of his clothes had caught on fire yet. There was no time to stop and put them out.
Just as Alan thought he had a clear shot at safety- he could actually see the ocean- his luck ran out and he found himself cursing Odin instead. A burning tree collapsed in his path as he was about to cross under it. At the very last moment Alan jumped back, but he was hit with a spray of sparks. He put the fire out, but when he looked back up the path was blocked in all directions. But he was so close to getting out of there!
He was only able to advance a little further before he was taken down by a blast of heated air, smoke, and coughing. Alan had to close his eyes against the forces assailing them, but he felt something press insistently against his shoulder. Any attempts to push it away went ignored, so Alan was forced to acknowledge it.
Oh, Alan realized, it’s Sirius. He was looking both concerned and annoyed as he tried to get Alan to understand something. When Sirius noticed that the human had recognized him, he butted him with one of his horns in the chest. He lost his balance and grabbed onto the spine for support, which was when Sirius raised his head, taking Alan with him.
And just like that, they were off and out of the danger zone. Well, that involving fire. Alan was basically dangling a potentially lethal distance above the ground hanging on with less than optimal strength.
“I’m going to fall,” Alan told Sirius seriously, “Can I-“ He stopped when Sirius jerked his head to one side, shifting Alan into a more secure position where he could hang onto the dragon’s neck as well. It wasn’t quite like riding a dragon- he still wasn’t sitting or anything- but he was flying.
Sirius took a low path over the forest canopy so that they were hidden by the rising smoke, but remained high enough so neither of them suffocated. He would never live this down if someone saw him. Consorting with the enemy- giving him a ride- wouldn’t go over too well. It wasn’t that he was ashamed to have helped; it was more of the speed and manner with which he had.
Lost in thought over a slight dilemma and confident in his path, he wasn’t really paying attention to where he was going. When he felt a tug on the horn from the left accompanied by a phrase involving somebody named Thor, he instinctively followed the hint and curved his path slightly to the left. A column of water appeared just to his right. Alan coughed up an apology and some soot, but Sirius was thankful for the warning. He hadn’t thought that it might be useful to have two sets of eyes in flight instead of just one.
They landed on the sandy beach and Sirius let Alan get off on his own. The human didn’t look like he was in the best of states, all ashy and sooty and otherwise blackened by flames. However, when he began walking around and shaking some of the excess off of him, he seemed fine, save a bad mood and some hoarseness.
Sirius watched as Alan awkwardly attempted to shake the excess debris away and fail for the most part. The Nightmare was taken aback when the human suddenly turn
