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By the fourth or fifth time a loud, startling cry rang out through the trees, Hiccup was actually not startled at all. Perhaps a bit miffed, or even a little irritated, but not startled in the slightest. After all, he reasoned, something was only startling when it was unexpected, but the shrill shrieks had accompanied him from the very moment he had stepped into the tree line. They were the background music to his shuffling footsteps, keeping him moving long after he had wanted to stop and rest. At this point, it would be much more unsettling for whatever wild beasts were stalking him to fall completely silent.
Which, of course, is what they decided to do.
In the sudden stillness, Hiccup froze. The only sound that reached his ears was his own breathing. Not even a breeze dared to rustle the underbrush and break the silence. Green eyes peered into the blue-dark created by the thick canopy of the trees overhead, as Hiccup strained to see what could have created the sudden, oppressive quiet.
A shriek, shrill and sharp, rent the air near Hiccup’s ear. The sounds of the forest came crashing back down. Animals scurried and called to their own, while a rough wind pressed its displeasure down on the forest’s inhabitants. Hiccup struggled to stay upright, ears still ringing from the chilling distress call that echoed in his mind. Something- he didn’t know what, but something was out there. A something that was in trouble.
Everyone knew the rules of the forest. The trees were dangerous, whispering to those who dared step foot in their domain to lead them to their death. The rules were in place to protect the Walkers; violating even a single rule risked receiving the wrath of the En Myk Trinn.
The rules were simple, yet strict: partake not of any living thing in the forest; speak no lies within the shadow of the trees; stray not from the original destination; and, most importantly, offer no help to any distressed creature, for the forest was full of tricks and traps to lure outsiders to their untimely deaths.
With the soulful imprint of the cry still bouncing in his mind, Hiccup violated the most important rule of the forest.
Crashing through the underbrush, Hiccup followed the direction that the cry had emanated from. It didn’t take long for him to burst into a small clearing, and he spent a quick moment to survey the situation.
A lithe, sleek figure was crouched low over the thick forest floor, stirring up leaves with agitated strokes of a powerful tail. Its shape was roughly feline, similar to the domesticated cats sometimes kept as pets back at his village. This creature, however, was much bigger than even the fattest tabby that lounged in the village square every day, begging for food. If standing to its full height, its shoulders would come clear to Hiccup’s waist- though to most of the other villagers, it would have only reached mid-thigh. It was still formidable, and far larger than any feline had the right to be. Its fur was sleek, dappled with various browns and golds that would effectively hide it in the shade created by the canopy high above. Even from the side, Hiccup could see the wickedly curved fangs jutting from the creature’s jaws. Massive paws, bigger than both of Hiccup’s hands put together, ended in dark, thick claws, each longer and wider than the human’s fingers.
Something was trapped under those claws, caged in and trembling with fear.
Hiccup never had learned when to leave well enough alone.
Not stopping to give himself time to change his mind, Hiccup hefted a wide branch that had fallen to the ground and charged. Mustering up all of his strength, he brought the wood down on the creature’s head. So focused on its prey, it hadn’t even noticed him approaching.
A wild growl sounded in the clearing as the creature staggered, shaking its head and looking around dizzily. Hiccup dropped the branch and scooped the creature’s prey up, tucking it under his vest. He ran, faster than his legs had ever carried him before, away from the predator.
Either he had hit the beast harder than he had imagined, or it deemed the chase not worth the effort, because when Hiccup finally fell to his knees, trembling from the adrenaline-fueled flight, nothing was following. The rustle of the forest’s inhabitants were back, no longer hiding in fear.
Bringing the small thing he had rescued out of his vest, Hiccup’s eyes widened. He had only heard stories of such a being, had only seen images of it crudely but lovingly stitched into the tapestries that hung on the wall of the village Elder’s hut, declaring their people’s history for all to see. Hiccup had grown up on the stories, told by the shaking, dry voice of the Elder. He never imagined that he would see one in his lifetime.
“Dragon,” he breathed.
It was much smaller than the stories had led him to believe; he had no trouble carrying it tucked under one arm. Its smooth scales were blue-black in the dim light of the forest, and green eyes peered at Hiccup with wary curiosity. It was still trembling, looking up at its rescuer with an unease that told Hiccup it still expected to be hurt or eaten. Gently, so as not to scare the beast, he offered a hand to it. After a tense pause, the dragon butted its head against his head, sniffing his fingers.
Hiccup smiled, and at the sight of teeth the dragon recoiled. Quickly, Hiccup brought his lips down over his teeth, smiling softly without baring them. The dragon relaxed in his hands once again. Clearly exhausted from the ordeal it had been through, the dragon crawled up Hiccup’s arm and curled up in his vest, promptly falling asleep. It nuzzled into the warmth of Hiccup’s stomach, sighing contentedly. Hiccup smiled, careful not to let his teeth show in case the dragon glanced at him again.
He was no longer alone in the forest.
The snap of a twig nearby reminded Hiccup that he was never really alone in the forest, and stirred him into climbing to his feet. He had lost the faint pathway during his sprint through the trees, but he could tell the rough position of the sun if he looked hard enough at the canopy, so he set off in the direction the path was leading. Villagers would be waiting for him all along the other side of the forest, so he wasn’t too worried about losing the path.
The dragon slept on while Hiccup walked, comfortable in the warmth provided by his vest. The poor thing must have been incredibly frightened. Hiccup stroked its back, making it arch and hum sleepily. He had to wonder where the dragon’s parents were, and how it ended up alone.
“Maybe you don’t have parents?” he mused aloud, the sound of his voice comforting himself just as much as it did the dragon. “It happens. I lost my mother.” Kidnapped, and by rogue dragons, no less. The village had a tentative understanding with the dragons of the forest; the dragons kept to the trees, and the villagers steered clear of their territory, and no one got hurt. In the seventh year of his father’s reign as chief, though, a pack of roaming dragons descended on the village. In the end, they took his wife, Hiccup’s mother, and left. Hiccup had only been a baby when it happened.
The thump of loud footsteps approaching snapped Hiccup out of his musings. He whirled, tense, trying to find the source of the noise. The dragon, sensing the sudden change in his mood, woke with a cheep, wrestling its way out of Hiccup’s vest and perching on his shoulder. He could feel it take a deep breath, sniffing the air.
The dragon’s cry of warning came too late, and something large bowled Hiccup over. He fell to the ground, sliding in the dirt as something large and furry pinned him down. The dragon slid a few feet away, stumbling to its feet in a daze. Hiccup struggled, trying to reach it, but the thing on top of him spoke in a rough, thickly accented voice.
“Don’t ya know better than to steal a dragon, mate?”
A dagger flashed through the air, slicing through Hiccup’s shirt to pin him to the ground by his sleeve. He tugged at it uselessly, trying to dislodge the blade, as the thing rolled off of him. It rose to its full height on slightly crooked legs, glaring down at Hiccup, who stared in disbelief. He knew that there were strange, otherworldly creatures in the forest, but nothing had hinted at this.
A giant rabbit loomed over him.
Some incredulity must have shown on his face, for the rabbit’s ears went back, baring his teeth menacingly.
“Before you go getting any ideas, just know I ain’t a rabbit,” he spat. Hiccup bit his lip.
“What are you, then? If not a rabbit, I mean,” he asked, trying to get the… the not-rabbit, distracted enough that he could get to the dragon. He had to protect the dragon.
“What am-? Do you know anything about these trees? I’m a Pooka, ya drongo.” The Pooka started pacing angrily. “You lot twist my britches, living so close to such a sacred place without knowing a single thing about it. You come in here, stomping around…”
Slowly, Hiccup slipped his arm out of his sleeve, shuffling down and wiggling out of his shirt while the Pooka was ranting. He crawled towards the dragon, who had regained its senses and gave Hiccup a crooked attempt at a smile. Hiccup reached out, almost close enough to touch the smooth scales, when another dagger stabbed down in the dirt mere inches from his hand. The Pooka pounced, landing in front of Hiccup, who scrabbled backwards.
“You think I’m stupid, mate?” The Pooka asked, eyes narrowing. He grabbed the dagger in one hand-like paw, brandishing it before him.
The dragon jumped in front of Hiccup, baring tiny teeth at the Pooka with a warning growl. The Pooka paused, ears flicking back and forth as the dragon reared, extending its wings out and looking as big as it possibly could. One furry hand crept forward, but Hiccup scooped the dragon up in his arms and curled around it defensively, squeezing his eyes closed. The Pooka snorted, the sound of a dagger slicing through the air following, and Hiccup braced himself.
“Cottontail, enough.”
Hiccup fell back, opening his eyes at the sharp command. The Pooka rolled his eyes, snorting unhappily. A figure seemed to melt straight out of the trees, strolling over to the scene on bare feet. He seemed human, as far as Hiccup could tell. He was tall and lean, almost wispy in a way that made it seem like one strong gust could pick him up and toss him through the air. His skin was pale, matching his shock of pure white hair and clear blue eyes. His cheekbones were high, making him look haughty and untouchable, but the grin on his face and the mischievous twinkle in his eye said differently. He was holding a weathered shepherd’s crook in his hand, moving it with an ease that spoke of years of practice. Hiccup had a nervously giddy thought about herding sheep through the forest; it would make as much sense as everything else so far.
“Jack,” the Pooka mumbled. The white-haired boy looked at him sharply.
“You’re going too far,” he said. The Pooka’s ears shot straight up.
“He stole a bloody dragon, and you say I went too far?”
The white-haired boy, Jack, thumped the staff against the ground. The air seemed to drop a few degrees, and the Pooka looked away. Jack hooked the crook over his shoulders and walked over to Hiccup. The dragon, which had been silent through the exchange, hissed once more in warning. Jack crouched down, somehow folding his long limbs up into a tight ball and making himself look small.
“I won’t hurt you or your Viktig, little one,” Jack murmured, extending a hand for the dragon to sniff. It sneezed, looking up at the strange boy with watery eyes, but quieted down. Hiccup sneezed as well, something tickling his nose strangely, and icy blue eyes turned to him. “Where did you find him?”
“Him?” Hiccup asked thickly, wiping at his nose. “Oh, the dragon’s a boy?” He didn’t know how to tell, having never seen a dragon. “This, uh, big cat thing was attacking him. I know the Walkers aren’t supposed to help, but he was so little and his screams were so scared… I had to help.”
“A likely story,” the Pooka muttered. Hiccup startled, having forgot about him.
“It’s true,” he snapped. “I think it wanted to eat him, and he’s just a baby, so I couldn’t let that happen,” he continued hotly, anger making his chest tight. He had broken the rules for this dragon, and after everything that had happened he refused to let the Pooka talk down to him. He struggled to his feet, stomping towards the Pooka with shaking legs. He backed away, side-stepping Hiccup and circling around him. Hiccup could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand straight up, and he turned, circling around to keep the Pooka in his line of sight. “I’m not the one who went around attacking innocent people.” He spat, before he stalked right up to the Pooka’s furry chest, refusing to back down, and in a fit of bravery poked him. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”
The Pooka’s eyes went from indifference to anger as Hiccup started, but changed to something indescribable when Hiccup jammed a finger at his chest. He realized what he had done and could only plead silently that the En Myk Trinn did not come down on him with terrible wrath.
The Pooka licked his lips, looking down at Hiccup. He made to grab the human, but Jack cut in.
“Cottontail.”
The Pooka’s ears twitched. “Jack,” he shot back challengingly.
“Aster.” Jack’s voice hardened, and the Pooka finally broke eye contact with Hiccup. “He didn’t know.”
Hiccup gasped, suddenly released from a spell in the Pooka’s eyes he hadn’t even noticed he was under. He stumbled backwards a little. Jack caught his arm, helping steady him.
“Never challenge a Pooka in their own territory,” he explained, mouth quirked in amusement. Hiccup crossed his arms, hugging the dragon close to his chest.
“Why?” he asked hoarsely. Jack’s eyes flickered over Hiccup briefly.
“How many winters have you seen?”
“Me? 14.” Hiccup pursed his lips. “What does that have to do with anything?”
Jack grinned crookedly, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter. Don’t challenge a Pooka in their territory; it’s an invitation for things you aren’t experienced in.”
Hiccup flushed, glancing back at the Pooka, who smirked. “Just because of a challenge? It wasn’t even that big of a deal…”
“Not many can face down a Pooka and hold their own,” Jack explained as he stripped his outer tunic off, leaving him in tattered breeches and a long-sleeved shirt. “It’s magic. The magic of will. Your will is strong.” He handed the tunic to Hiccup, who slipped it on gratefully. His own was still pinned to the ground, slashed by the sharp blade of the Pooka’s dagger.
“My father says I’m a pigheaded, stubborn runt.”
“That’ll do it. Pooka are drawn to that magic, that force of will.” Jack picked his staff back up and pointed it at the Pooka. “We need to move.”
The Pooka nodded and retrieved his dagger and the tattered remains of Hiccup’s tunic, tucking them away. He made a chattering noise, and Hiccup’s eyes widened as he began to shrink. Feet of muscle and fur retracted until a small bunny was left. Jack chuckled at Hiccup’s expression.
“Pooka are shapeshifters.” He scooped the bunny up and tucked it on his shoulder.
“Yeah yeah, stop trying to impress the lad with your knowledge, you bloody showpony,” the Pooka grumbled, nipping at Jack’s ear.
“Jealous?” Jack asked, flicking the Pooka’s nose in return. “Let’s go.”
“Where are you going?” Hiccup asked, confused. Jack turned to him and offered a hand.
“We’ll take you to the edge of the forest. You are going back to the villagers, aren’t you? We don’t want you getting lost again.”
Hiccup eyed the hand warily. “This isn’t a trick to lead me to my untimely death, is it?” Jack’s eyes sparkled with mirth.
“No. I give my word, we’ll just escort you out of the forest.”
Hesitantly, Hiccup took Jack’s hand in his. His skin was cool to the touch, and dry. It made Hiccup’s heart beat unpleasantly fast in his chest. Jack smiled, like he could feel Hiccup’s heart speed up, making the boy look away. Jack didn’t say anything, merely began leading the way through the trees.
Hiccup didn’t let go of his hand.
They walked in a warm sort of silence, less disconcerting than the silence when Hiccup had been alone. Jack never stopped to study the sky, to try and find the right direction, but he seemed to know where he was going. The Pooka on his shoulder settled down, appearing to go to sleep, but Hiccup could see the long ears twisting and turning, surveying the forest.
It was strange, but Hiccup felt completely safe with them. The dragon apparently agreed, settling down on Hiccup’s shoulder and falling asleep once again.
By the time Jack stopped walking, the sun was beginning to set, leaving the forest bathed in golden twilight. He let go of Hiccup’s hand and turned, kneeling in front of him. “Just beyond those trees there, your villagers are waiting for you. Walk straight out, and you will be safe,” he promised. Hiccp clenched his fist, missing the cool touch of the strange hand.
“Why did you help me?” he asked thickly, voice slurring a little with his exhaustion. He hadn’t slept in two days. Jack smiled, brushing some of Hiccup’s wild hair back out of his face.
“You helped one of my own. I had to repay the kindness.” Before Hiccup could process what he said, Jack looked at the dragon. “And you? You wish to go with your Viktig.” The dragon did not make a sound, but Jack nodded like he had spoken. “Very well. I grant your passage from the forest.” He looked back at Hiccup, who blinked sleepily. “He wants to go with you. Care for him properly.”
Hiccup nodded obediently. “I will.”
Jack smiled, ruffling his hair. “I know you will. He will thrive under your care.”
A faint yell could be heard in the distance.
“They’re looking for you,” Jack mused. He patted the dragon’s head before leaning back. “You must go now.”
Hiccup grabbed his sleeve before he could stand. “Will I ever see you again?” He wanted to be able to thank his savior properly one day. Jack smiled softly.
“If you wish. Besides, that’s my favorite tunic.”
“Oh.” Hiccup looked down. “I will return it, then. I promise.”
“I accept your promise.” Jack leaned close and pressed his lips to Hiccup’s softly. “When you are ready, merely speak my name, my true name. I will come.”
Hiccup nodded, mouth tingling with strange energy, forgetting to even ask what Jack meant by his ‘true’ name. Jack stood, and motioned for Hiccup to go. He began walking through the trees, glancing back every so often. Every time, Jack was there, watching him go.
The light of the villagers’ torches became visible as Hiccup got closer to the tree line. They were waiting for him, crowding around immediately when he broke through into the open air. Hands patted him proudly, for he had made it through his Lang Tur. He was a true member of society now.
They began the long trek around the forest, back towards the village. The men and women escorted him quickly. When they got home, there would be a grand feast to celebrate his passage into citizenship. There would be food, and good drinks, and wonderful music. After that, Hiccup could sleep.
He glanced back at the trees only once. If he squinted, he could still see Jack watching him go.
The village was prospering. The death of the chief had been distressing, but his son was ready to lead. Hiccup had grown into a fine man. Though still smaller than most of the population, he was quick, brave, and intelligent. The villagers looked up to their new chief, and took his advice to heart. Despite his stature, it was widely agreed that Hiccup made a striking figure, standing tall and proud, next to the dragon who had grown just as well as he had. Together, they could do anything.
After the ceremony to memorialize his father and usher in his time of chiefdom was well under way, Hiccup caught his dragon’s eye and signaled towards the door. Together, man and dragon walked out into the night. A pressed bundle was tucked under Hiccup’s arm.
The trees were no longer the feared figures they had once been to a small boy’s mind. Hiccup felt no trepidation as he stepped into the forest, the sounds of the celebration immediately giving way to the sounds of life beneath the canopy of the trees.
Hiccup stopped, pressing a hand to the rough bark of a tree and marveling at the feel of it. It had been five years since he had last entered the forest. It shouldn’t have felt like coming home, but it did.
Hiccup plucked the bundle from under his arm, untying it to reveal a pristine tunic of blue, trimmed with silver thread that shone in the sparse moonlight. Rubbing the cloth between his fingers, Hiccup whispered.
“En Myk Trinn…”
He knew his call had been answered when a cool hand slipped in his.
“Hello, Jack.”