httydfan26

[httydfan26]

chapter 7 legends never die

I stood in front of a dragon, one unlike Toothless. She was breathtaking, her scales a brilliant, shimmering blue that seemed to glow, and her eyes reflected my very soul. It felt like she had carried a piece of me within her since the moment I was born. I couldn’t look away, as if some invisible thread tied us together. The wind brushed against my face as I slowly stepped closer, but just as quickly as she had appeared—she was gone. I spun around, searching, but instead, I found Hiccup standing beside me. He was smiling, his gaze filled with something I had never truly seen before—love. The way he looked at me… like I was the only person in his entire world who mattered. And somehow, I felt the same. I had always been drawn to him, always felt something I couldn’t explain. Like my father’s stories had been quietly pointing me toward this man all along—like he had known this was who I would spend my life with.

I tossed and turned through the night, haunted by the same recurring dreams—a blue dragon, strikingly different from Toothless. This one had horns curling along its head, sharp and powerful. No matter how many times I had the dream, it always left me unsettled, clinging to the edges of my mind like a half-remembered memory. I slowly pushed myself up, sitting at the edge of my bed, trying to make sense of it all. Why these dreams? Why now? With a sigh, I got up and grabbed some water and Advil for the pounding headache that had settled behind my eyes. I put a pot of coffee on and took a long, hot shower, trying to clear the fog. But the dragon’s image still lingered, stubborn and vivid.

Afterwards, I sat down with my coffee and a quick breakfast before heading out. Driving to work, I let the comfort of the mountains ease me. I could never grow tired of them. Even with Canada’s freezing winters and unpredictable weather, I loved everything about this place. The sky often lit up with the northern lights in winter, and those moments always felt like magic brushing just within reach.

But somewhere, in the quiet corners of my mind, I couldn’t shake the thoughts of Hiccup. I had been longing to know him more, to understand him, but lately… it was more than that. I kept thinking of him in ways I couldn’t explain, like my heart had already decided something my head hadn’t caught up to yet.

I stepped into work, scanning over the search plans for the day. My eyes drifted across the maps—valleys, mountains, winding trails, rivers stretching like silver threads across the land. I focused on where each led, plotting our course. When my team and I landed in a wide, open field sprinkled with wildflowers, I paused to take in the beauty surrounding us. Towering mountains, their peaks dusted in white, rose ahead of us. Dense forests hugged the valley’s edges, the trees alive and thriving. Sunlight poured over the mountain tops, painting the whole scene in gold. “Astrid.” A voice—soft, female—echoed inside my head. It wasn’t around me, it wasn’t anywhere near. It was inside. The sound sent a shiver down my spine, freezing me in place. I could barely move. It felt like something was pulling me, like my body wasn’t mine anymore. I struggled to keep my feet planted.

“Astrid, are you okay?” Dagur asked, walking up to me with a concerned look. I forced a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine.” I managed to turn away from the pull and rejoin the group, every step a fight against the invisible force dragging me in the opposite direction.

But then I heard it again. “Astrid.”

This time, the pull was unbearable, like gravity had shifted and I was being drawn toward it. I couldn’t resist it anymore. Without another word, I slipped away, weaving through the tall bushes while the others were distracted. I ran, ducking under low branches, pushing past thick undergrowth. No matter how much I tried to stop, my legs just kept moving, like they knew where they needed to go before I did. I stumbled over fallen trees, pushing deeper into the woods.

I had been walking for what felt like hours. My legs ached with every step, mud dried and cracked on my boots, and the sinking sun painted the sky in soft pinks and oranges. But I couldn’t stop. The voice in my head only grew stronger, pulling me forward like an invisible thread I couldn’t break.

The thick bushes finally started to thin, revealing a wide, open field with a breathtaking view of the mountains towering in the distance. As I pushed through the last of the brambles, my breath caught in my throat. She was there. The same dragon from my dreams—the brilliant blue scales, the curved horns on her head, the glowing yellow eyes. She took a slow step toward me, and I instinctively stepped back. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a black flash landing some distance away. Toothless. And riding him—Hiccup. He dismounted, pulling off his helmet, his gaze flicking between me, the blue dragon, and his own. I could tell he was saying something to Toothless, silently, in that unspoken way riders communicated. Then he looked back at me.

The blue dragon stepped closer, like she wanted something. I glanced at Hiccup. He gently patted Toothless’s snout, his gestures slow and deliberate—like he was showing me what to do. He didn’t need to say anything. I understood. I swallowed hard, forcing myself to steady my breathing, and walked toward her. Closing my eyes, I stretched out my hand, my fingers trembling.

Warm, rough scales brushed against my palm. I could feel her hot breath, and then—A spark. A tingling sensation shot up my arm and spread across my back, growing into a searing burn. I stumbled, gasping as pain flared across my skin. When I opened my eyes, Hiccup was already running toward me. “Astrid, sit down,” he urged, catching me before I collapsed.

“What’s happening to me?” I asked, panic rising in my chest. His expression flickered—confusion, surprise, something else I couldn’t name. “You…you bonded to a dragon,” he said quietly, as if still processing it himself.

“I what? Why? Why me?” I clutched at my chest, my heartbeat thundering. The blood in my veins felt…strange, like it was moving too quickly, like something powerful was racing through me. I didn’t know if it was adrenaline or something else entirely. “Dragons choose for their own reasons,” Hiccup said, steadying me. “Come on, can you walk? I need to get you to my place.”

I tried to stand, but my legs wouldn’t hold me. I swayed, and Hiccup slipped his arm around me, supporting my weight as we walked to Toothless. “Why do I feel like this?”

“The magic in your body is changing you. It’s starting now.” He helped me up onto Toothless and climbed up behind me, his arms wrapping around my waist to keep me steady. “The tattoo on your back—it’s going to hurt for a while.”

Before I could ask what tattoo he meant, my body began to sink into exhaustion. It felt like something was wrapping around me—not threatening, just…all-encompassing. Warm. Safe. My eyelids grew too heavy to fight, and I drifted into the darkness, unable to say another word.

[httydfan26]

legends don't die chapter 6

It had been a week since I last saw Hiccup. He promised he’d meet me here. Leaning against a tree, I scanned the quiet forest. He should be here any minute now. Then I heard it—rustling in the bushes. 

“Hey, milady,” Hiccup said, stepping into view with that signature smirk. “How was your week?” His hair was a wild mess, windswept and charmingly unbothered. The morning sun lit his eyes with a gold-tinged glow, and the way he stood, tall, confident, and clad in worn leather armour, made him look like a Renaissance fair had lost one of its star performers.

“Work’s been hectic. Lots of questions about how I managed to survive the storm,” I said as I walked toward him.

“And you didn’t tell them you were saved by a dashing dragon rider?”

I snorted. “Oh sure, like they would’ve believed that.”

“So I’m unbelievable now? After everything?” he said, voice dripping with exaggerated sass. I shook my head with a laugh. “Let’s get going before someone notices the strange man dressed like he’s from the Middle Ages.” I gave him a subtle signal to follow, and he did—with far too much swagger. “I am from the Middle Ages, born and raised,” he said proudly. “Big and muscular, too.”

“Oh, very big and muscular,” I said with a giggle slipping out before I could stop it. As we walked side by side, he glanced over. “Where exactly are we going?”

“To my place. It’s a definite upgrade from your cave.”

We passed a pair of runners who gave Hiccup a double-take, clearly confused by his full Viking getup. “I don’t think they appreciate my Vikingness,” he muttered, gesturing down at himself. “You’re in leather armor,” I said, poking the solid chest plate. “No one wears that anymore.”

“Fashion is cyclical,” he declared. “I’m just ahead of the curve.”

We stepped into my house, and the soft click of Hiccup’s prosthetic leg echoed against the hardwood floor. He took a slow look around, his gaze curious but quiet, until his eyes landed on a framed photo sitting beside the TV. It was a picture of my family—me as a kid between my dad and mom. A small smile tugged at Hiccup’s lips as he studied it. “How close were you and your father?” he asked, his voice softer now. “From what you’ve told me, it sounded like you two were pretty tight.”

I nodded, my chest tightening a little. “He taught me everything I know. Told me stories—so many stories—especially about you and Toothless. I always thought he made them up… until I met you.” There was a pause, and something about his face made me brave enough to ask, “What about your father?”

As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted them. The stories said that Hiccup’s father never wanted him, that their relationship had always been strained. And now I’d brought it up. Hiccup glanced between me and the family photo, then turned fully to face me. “My father... never really cared for me,” he said quietly. “I think he blamed me for my mother’s death. Even after I killed the Red Death, he never really saw me the way I needed him to.” Sadness flickered across his face for a brief moment before he masked it with a practiced smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I said, trying to find the right words. “Everyone deserves a father who loves them.”

“It’s fine,” he said gently. “I had Toothless. He’s more than just a dragon—he’s my best friend. Honestly, he understood me better than anyone in my village ever did. Still does.”

“You mean even after a thousand years with him?” I asked, teasing just enough to lighten the moment. Hiccup chuckled. “He can be annoying sometimes, sure. But... he’s always been there.”

I smiled back at him, grateful for the shift in energy. “Do you want something to drink? Water? Iced tea?”

“Iced tea sounds great,” he replied, that real smile returning at last.

I handed Hiccup a glass of iced tea and sat down beside him on the couch. “Have you ever had iced tea before?” I asked, watching as he eyed the drink curiously. “A couple of times,” he said, lifting the glass. “With your father, actually.”

I blinked. “Really? What did you two do together?”

He took a small sip, seeming to savor the taste before pausing to think. “Well… we got drunk a few times.”

“You and my father got drunk?” I asked, half-laughing, half-shocked. Hiccup chuckled, shaking his head as if reliving the memory. “Yeah. It was great.”

I leaned in, hungry for more pieces of a friendship I never knew existed. “What else did you guys do?”

He grinned, his eyes lighting up. “There was this one time we decided to go skydiving. With Toothless.”

My jaw dropped. “My father went skydiving?”

“With a little... push,” Hiccup said, laughing. “But yeah, he did it.”

I could barely imagine it—my dad free-falling through the sky. “Do you still do it? Skydiving, I mean?”

“All the time,” Hiccup said, his tone softening. “It’s the closest thing to real freedom. The wind, the sky, the weightlessness… It’s like flying without limits.”

“I’ve flown in a helicopter,” I offered. “But I guess that’s not the same.”

He gave a small, knowing smile. “It’s different. More freeing.”

“When did you and my father stop hanging out?” I asked softly. Hiccup leaned back a little, his eyes distant. “After he married your mother. Then you came along, and life just… shifted. We still talked—maybe once a month for a few hours. But when he got sick… I didn’t get to see him before he died.” There was something heavy in his voice. Regret. Grief. Something that never quite healed. “That must’ve been lonely,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. He gave me a small smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “It was. Still is, sometimes. But I have Toothless. He’s more than enough.”

I hesitated before asking, “My father used to tell me about the bond between dragons and their riders—how powerful it is. Do you… have a tattoo of your dragon?”

“I do,” he said, lifting the sleeve of his leather tunic to reveal a swirling, inky black design on his upper arm. The shape was unmistakably Toothless, and the lines pulsed faintly like they carried energy. “It connects us. Our power.”

“How are you immortal?” I asked, curiosity burning through the haze of everything else. “How does that even work?”

“I’m not human,” he said calmly. “I was. But I’m not anymore. I’m what’s called a Dravanti.” He touched the tip of his ear, slightly pointed, and then I finally started to see it. His slightly glowing green eyes, the slight shimmer to his skin.

“What… what is a Dravanti?” I asked, staring at him a little too long.

“A creature of magic,” he replied. “When I bonded with Toothless, I was still human. But humans weren’t meant to carry this kind of power. So the magic started changing me, slowly, into something that could. Something that could survive it.” His words made my head spin. I could hardly breathe under the weight of the truth unravelling in front of me. “How long did it take?”

“A year,” he said. “It starts with strength—your body becomes stronger, faster. Then you start understanding magic in ways you never imagined. I grew taller, too,” he added with a half-grin. “Toothless helped me through all of it.” His vibrant green eyes gleamed with a power that felt ancient and untouchable, yet somehow warm. I wasn’t sure if I was scared or amazed. Maybe both. “Are there more riders?” I asked, studying his frame, still trying to spot what made him different. He nodded, shifting uncomfortably. “Yes, most of them are in the Hidden World.”

I hesitated before asking the question that had been on my mind. “Why aren’t you with them?” Hiccup avoided my gaze, his eyes flickering away. “I have the strongest bond of any rider who’s ever bonded with a dragon. It scares the others. I ended up leaving because so many people feared me.” There was a quiet sadness beneath his words, and I felt a pang of sympathy for him. I didn’t fully understand his power, but for some reason, I could sense why others might be afraid. “Was there anyone who didn’t fear you?” I asked gently. His expression softened. “My best friend, Dorian. I convinced him not to come—he belonged there. But he does visit once in a while. He always makes fun of me for living in a cave. It’s nice to see him.”

I frowned, trying to understand. “Why would they be scared of you, even with your power? You don’t seem like someone who would misuse it.”

Hiccup sighed, the weight of years in his voice. “They don’t understand the full extent of my power, so they fear it. Or they don’t care enough to learn.”

I couldn’t imagine what it must feel like—being rejected by your own village, and then by the riders you thought would accept you. After hours of talking, the night grew late. He needed to see Toothless, and I had work early the next morning. So, reluctantly, we parted ways.

[httydfan26]

legends never die chapter 5

The wind outside howled louder now, the snow pounding against the rock. It sounded worse than before. I swallowed hard, thinking about the others—my friends—assuming I was dead. “They probably think I didn’t make it,” I murmured. Trying to shift my thoughts, I asked, “How about dragons? Are there still any left?”

Hiccup looked up from his sketchpad, a grin spreading across his face—the kind of cheesy, crooked smile that didn’t belong on someone supposedly over a thousand years old. “Yeah,” he said, gesturing toward the other side of the cave. “There’s one right in front of you.”

I rolled my eyes and gave his shoulder a playful shove.

“Hey!” he laughed, rubbing the spot. “That actually hurts, you know.”

I smiled, and he continued, “I saw a Nadder about a year ago. It was waiting… probably for the rider it had chosen to be ready.”

“Do you think that kind of thing still happens?” I asked, quieter now.

“Yes,” he said without hesitation. “Dragons are drawn to people. And people are drawn to the magic that combines them.”

I tilted my head. “How do people get drawn to their dragons?”

He paused, his green eyes catching the flicker of firelight. “Dreams,” he said at last. “Sometimes dreams of a dragon. Sometimes of another rider. I used to dream about Toothless long before we met. Others I knew dreamed of other riders, or even strange places—anything that could bring them closer to that connection.”

As soon as he said it, my whole body froze. Dreams. I’d been having dreams about Hiccup for years. I had just never understood why. “Do these dreams ever tell you that you're a Dragon Rider in them?” I asked quietly. Hiccup looked at me, eyes widening with surprise. “Yes,” he said. “Mine did.” He gently set his sketchpad down beside him, as if inviting me to continue. His gaze stayed fixed on my face, watching carefully. “It’s probably nothing,” I muttered, unsure of myself. “But I’ve had dreams… dreams of my father telling me I’m the next Rider. And you… You’ve been in one of them.” 

At the mention of this, Hiccup glanced at Toothless, who stirred from his sleep the moment Hiccup’s eyes met his. For a few moments, a silent conversation passed between them—one I wasn’t a part of. I knew enough about Riders and their dragons to recognize that they were speaking to each other through their minds.

Hiccup looked back at me, blinking as if surprised. “Is there anything else about the dreams?” he asked softly. I nodded. “In one of them, you were wearing black armour—the same kind you're wearing now. You had the same prosthetic leg. Same eyes. Toothless was there, too. Before I woke up, you told me I was the next Dragon Rider.”

Hiccup leaned back slightly, thoughtful. “Most dragons don’t bond with people anymore,” he said. “But it makes sense if she’s been hanging around here.”

“She?” I echoed.

Toothless stepped closer to me, his large head low as he sniffed at my coat. Then, without hesitation, he settled beside Hiccup and rested his head in his lap. Hiccup scratched behind his ears, and the Night Fury began to purr like a massive cat.

“When will she bond with me?” I asked, eyes still on the dragon.

“If it’s true,” Hiccup said, “she’ll come to you when she’s ready. You can’t rush it. A dragon chooses in their own time.”

I smiled a little at the thought. A dragon choosing me.

The wind outside howled again, the snowstorm refusing to let up.

“How long do you think the storm will last?” I asked, glancing toward the cave mouth. “My team probably thinks I’m dead.”

Hiccup followed my gaze, sighing. “Not sure. Hopefully not much longer.”

“Thank you,” I said after a beat. “For saving me. How did you even find me?”

“I was heading home,” he replied. “Toothless saw you first. We recognized you—you were with a few of the people we’ve seen searching these mountains. I guess he put the pieces together before I did.” Toothless gave a little huff and purred even louder, curling closer to the fire. I leaned back against the cave wall, sore but alive, heart still racing with a thousand unspoken questions.

We sat in comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds being the soft crackle of the fire and the occasional whistle of the storm outside. Hiccup sat cross-legged, focused on his sketchpad, his pencil moving with practiced ease. Every line he drew was deliberate, detailed. The dragon on the page seemed almost alive. “It’s beautiful,” I said softly. “How long have you been drawing?”

He glanced up, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Thanks. My whole life, technically, which is a long time.”

“Can I see the others?”

Without hesitation, he handed me the sketchpad. I flipped through it, page by page. Some were of jagged mountain ranges cloaked in mist, others of dragons. A few pages were filled with drawings of Toothless in various positions. Then I paused on one sketch. It showed a small island village nestled against cliffs.

“That’s the village I grew up in,” Hiccup said, glancing at the drawing over my shoulder. “Until I was fifteen.”

“It looks amazing,” I murmured, running my fingers lightly over the edges of the page. He gave a quiet laugh and shook his head. “It was… interesting. Almost as cold as it is here.”

I turned a few more pages, letting the weight of his memories settle in. “Do you miss it?” I asked gently. “It must be hard, living out here for so many years.” Who would want to live in a cave, after all? He hesitated, then shrugged. “Home? Not really. People, though... yeah, I miss them. I mean, I love Toothless, but he’s not exactly great at conversation.” There was something in his voice—an ache, subtle but lonely. “You know,” I said, closing the sketchpad, “after I leave… we can still be friends.”

He looked up, surprised. Then his lips curved into a crooked grin. “You sure? Most people get tired of my sarcasm real quick. You might get sick of it.”

I rolled my eyes playfully. “I think I’ll survive.”

The snow had finally stopped, leaving behind a winter wonderland that stretched as far as the eye could see. Everything was blanketed in white. Hiccup and I stood just outside the cave, the cold air crisp against our faces. “Do you think the others are coming?” I asked, my breath curling in the air like smoke. Hiccup glanced at Toothless, who had his head tilted toward the distant treeline, ears twitching. “Toothless says he hears something,” Hiccup replied, his voice quiet and soft. And then I heard it too. The faint whir of rotor blades cutting through the silence. A helicopter. “They’re here,” I whispered, a mix of relief and sadness tightening in my chest. I turned to Hiccup and pulled him into a hug. “Thank you,” I said softly, then, without really thinking, pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. He froze, blinking fast. “O-of c-course,” he stammered, cheeks flushing redder than the tips of his frostbitten ears. “We’ll meet again soon, right? Next week?” I asked, keeping my voice low. “I’ll be there,” he promised, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. I gave him a playful punch on the arm. “If you don’t show up, I will hunt you down.” He laughed, rubbing his arm dramatically. “Good to know.”

As the helicopter touched down, snow whipped around in gusts, stirred by the blades. I stepped forward, the cold forgotten in the rush of relief flooding my chest. Heather was the first to reach me, pulling me into a tight hug. “I told them you had to be alive,” she whispered fiercely. “You’re too strong to go down that easy.”

I hugged her back just as tightly. “I found a cave. There was some wood inside, so I started a fire. Got lucky.”

The rest of the team approached, each of them looking equally stunned and relieved. Their faces lit up as they saw me—alive.

“You’re amazing, Astrid,” Heather said, her voice full of pride. I managed a tired smile, then climbed into the helicopter. The warmth inside hit me like a wave, and I collapsed into one of the seats, finally letting my eyes close. My thoughts drifted as the rotors hummed above me. I still couldn’t believe it. My father had really met Hiccup. The stories he told me weren’t just fairytales. They were memories. Why did he never tell me the full truth?

Becoming a dragon rider… it sounded like a dream. But living in a cave for centuries? That part didn’t seem quite so fun. Still, the dreams had to mean something. And somehow, spending more time with Hiccup didn’t sound like such a terrible idea. And if I somehow lived forever like him, maybe he wouldn’t be the worst company in the world.

[httydfan26]

Legends never die chapter 4

The mountains are known for being impenetrable. As my team and I made our way back from the crash site, a biting snowstorm bore down on us with no mercy. The aircraft had gone down four hours earlier, and despite our efforts, we had found nothing. When we first set out, the weather was calm. But two hours in, everything shifted. The wind howled through the peaks, and the snow began to fall thick and fast. Now, heading back, the cold was relentless. Each gust of wind slapped against my face like shards of ice. The snow stung my skin, blinding and brutal.

I stopped for a moment, just to catch my breath. My chest burned with the cold, and every inhale felt like ice in my lungs. When I looked up, my heart dropped. Everyone was gone. “Guys?” I called out, scanning the swirling white haze. No response. I tried again, louder. “HEY? CAN ANYONE HEAR ME?” I shouted until my throat burned, but the storm swallowed my voice whole. The snow wasn’t even at its worst yet. How the hell did I lose them?

Panic surged through me as I picked up my pace. I walked faster, stumbling through the drifts. My breaths came in ragged gasps. The cold was seeping into my bones, and exhaustion was settling in like a heavy weight on my shoulders. I wanted to sit down. To rest. Just for a second. But I knew what that meant. “If I fall asleep, I’ll die,” I muttered to myself, teeth chattering. My lips felt numb. My fingers barely responded to my will. I clenched my jaw and kept moving. Step after step, even as every part of my body screamed to stop. “I will not die today,” I whispered, forcing one foot in front of the other.

The storm intensified. The wind howled like a living thing, and the snow pelted my face like tiny nettles. Each step became heavier than the last. My legs ached. My hands were stiff and red. But I kept going, fueled by the desperate hope that the others had made it out. If they were safe, I’d be okay with dying out here. At least someone would make it home. But I wasn’t ready to give up yet. Not while I still had the strength to stand.

It feels like I’ve been out here for hours, maybe longer. Time has lost all meaning in the endless white. My legs barely respond, trembling beneath me with every forced step. My body is shutting down, heavy and sluggish like it's no longer mine to control. A cold dread settles over me, deeper than the snow beneath my boots. I’m going to die out here. A lump rises in my throat. I want to cry, but even that takes energy I no longer have. My lips are numb, and my voice has long given out. Not even a whisper escapes me. The wind screams around me, tearing through the trees, drowning out all sound except its own merciless howl. Snow whirls like ghosts in the air, thick and blinding, erasing the world around me.

Then, through the haze of white and exhaustion, something shifts above me. A shadow cuts across the sky, swift and enormous, silhouetted against the dim, grey light filtering through the clouds. I blink slowly, unsure if it’s real. Then I hear it: a low, rhythmic sound that doesn’t belong to the storm. The beat of wings.

My heart stutters. Impossible.

But before I can process what I’m seeing, or even be sure I saw anything at all, my knees buckle. The last thing I feel is the icy kiss of snow as I collapse into it. Everything fades to black.

The wind is still howling outside, but not at me. I hear the gentle crackling of fire, the comforting hiss and pop of flames licking at dry wood. Beneath me is something warm and soft, like fur. A blanket, maybe. My body feels heavy, but not frozen anymore.

Slowly, I open my eyes. A faint orange glow dances across the walls of what I now realize is a cave. Shadows flicker and stretch, cast by the small campfire in the center. Across from me, sitting with his back slightly turned, is a man. And beside him... a creature. Black as midnight, with slitted green eyes and leathery wings curled around its body.

My breath catches in my throat. This can’t be real. This is the man those kids whispered about. The one from my father's stories. The same man I saw in my dreams. It feels like my mind is short-circuiting, frozen between awe and disbelief. I must be dead. I have to be. There’s no way this is real.

I can’t move—just stare. Then, as if sensing me, the man turns. His eyes meet mine. The same bright green as in my dream. “You’re awake,” he says gently, a flicker of relief in his voice. “I was scared you were going to die on me.”

That voice. It's him. Exactly as I remember from the dream. He walks over to the fire, and it’s only now that I notice the pot hanging above the flames. He stirs it casually, then lifts a wooden bowl and ladles steaming soup into it.

I watch, stunned, as he approaches. His gait is uneven—he limps. That same missing leg from the stories. My father's stories. The stories I had stopped believing in. And that creature beside the fire... it’s not just any dragon. It’s the dragon.

The man stops a few feet from me and kneels, carefully offering the bowl of soup. His expression is calm, kind. But I can barely breathe. This is Hiccup. The man my father talked about.

“Hiccup… you’re real.” The words slip from my mouth before I can stop them, spoken aloud like a fragile truth I’ve carried for years. He freezes at the sound of his name, surprise flashing across his face, just for a moment, before his expression settles again. “How do you know my name?” he asks, his voice cautious but not unkind. “Before you answer, eat. You’ve been through hell. That storm was brutal.” He crouches beside me and hands me the bowl. The warmth of it seeps into my chilled fingers, and the scent—rich, earthy, and somehow comforting—makes my stomach twist with sudden hunger. I take a careful sip, and the heat spreads through my chest like a small fire being lit inside me. 

Hiccup settles beside me in silence, his eyes drifting to the sleeping dragon curled near the fire. Toothless. His glossy black scales catch the firelight, casting soft reflections onto the cave walls. He looks just like the stories.

“Toothless is beautiful,” I murmur. Hiccup turns slightly to glance at me, curiosity flickering in his expression. “How do you know my name?” he asks again, slower this time, his voice echoing gently against the stone. “And his?” The firelight dances in his green eyes, making them gleam. I offer a small, hesitant smile. “My father told me stories. About a man who disappeared with a dragon—Toothless. I never believed they were real. You were just some legend he talked about when I was little, and someone I saw in my dreams.” I must sound insane. Hiccup stares at me for a moment, and then he starts to laugh. Not mocking, but surprised. “You’re a Hofferson,” he says between chuckles. “I was friends with your father. That’s why you looked so familiar.”

I blink. The name stuns me more than it should. My heartbeat spikes, and I start to panic. “No. No, this can’t be real. I must be hallucinating. I’m dying in the snow. This… this can’t be happening.”

He watches me quietly, letting my words hang in the cave air before replying with a dry smirk. “To most people, I don’t exist,” he says, a hint of sarcasm threading through his tone. “So you could say I’m not real.”

“How did you meet my father?” I ask, trying to ignore the lingering sarcasm in his voice. Doesn’t he realize how strange this all is? How impossible?

Hiccup shifts beside me, letting out a quiet sigh. “I do leave the cave, you know,” he begins, his voice softer now. “I met him in town. Tried to blend in—act normal. Still got weird looks, probably because of… well, the leg. I think it was about forty years ago,” he says casually, like he’s talking about last week.

I freeze. Forty years ago? But he looks like he’s in his twenties. Maybe twenty-five at most. My fingers fidget in my lap as I process that. How is that even possible?

“I was in the market,” he goes on, unaware of the shock on my face. “Just trying to buy some pots. I had saved up some coins I found from… well, old wrecks. Your father approached me. Said he liked hiking—camping out overnight in the mountains. He helped me choose a few things, gave some good advice. We got along quicker than I expected.”

He pauses, staring into the fire. The shadows shift over his face, making him look older. Wiser. “I started meeting up with him once a week,” he continues. “We talked about life, nature, gear, weird mountain weather. I never told him about Toothless. Never even used my real name. I made up stories—lied about where I lived, who I was. I was a little reckless back then, I guess. Didn’t think he’d follow me.” His lips curve into something bittersweet. “But he got curious. Said he wanted to make sure I was okay. One day, he tracked me… and found Toothless and me out here.”

It all makes sense now. How my father knew the stories—the details no one else could’ve possibly known. He didn’t make them up. He lived them. I stare at the fire as it crackles between us, casting dancing shadows on the cave walls. We both sit in that silence, the fire popping and hissing softly. 

“I’m surprised your father talked about me at all,” Hiccup said, finally breaking the silence. “Just a lonely man and his dragon, living in a cave for decades.” His voice was quiet, almost bitter beneath the humor.

“How old are you, anyway?” I asked, tilting my head. “The stories he told made you sound… ancient.” He let out an awkward laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “You really don’t want to know. I may look twenty, but I’m nowhere near that young.”

I narrowed my eyes. “If you won’t tell me, I’ll just start guessing.” He rolled his eyes, but there was a spark of amusement behind them. “Good luck with that.” I took a moment to think. “A hundred?”

He snorted. “Nope. Not even close.”

He was clearly trying not to laugh again. Nothing’s that funny, I thought. Then again, maybe everything is when you’ve been living in a cave for who-knows-how-long. “Three hundred?” I tried again.

“Nope. Older.”

The storm outside howled against the stone, but the cave was surprisingly warm. Somehow, the cold never seemed to reach this place. I huffed in frustration. “How about you just tell me?”

“I thought we were having bonding time,” he said with the biggest, most ridiculous grin I’d seen from him yet. “Guessing my age seems like the perfect way to bond.”

“This is what you call bonding time?” I gave him a skeptical look.

“Absolutely,” he said, chuckling. “You already seem to know half my life story anyway.”

He reached over to take my empty bowl. “Do you want more?” he asked, nodding toward the pot simmering over the fire. “No, thank you,” I replied, rising to place the bowl carefully in a corner. I turned back to him, crossing my arms. “I’m not letting this go. How old are you?”

Hiccup gave a long, exaggerated sigh. “I really enjoy watching you guess.”

I smirked. “Fine. Are you… a thousand?”

While I spoke, he rifled through his worn leather bag and pulled out a sketchpad and a pencil. He tossed a few more pieces of wood onto the fire before settling beside me again. “You’re close enough,” he said at last, opening the drawing pad in his lap. “I’m 1,394.”

I blinked at him, stunned. My gaze lingered on his face. That same youthful appearance. No gray in his hair. No wrinkles. He didn’t look a day over twenty-five. “You’ve stayed here all that time?” I asked quietly. “All those hundreds of years?”

His eyes stayed on the sketchpad. “No. Just since I last saw your father. Before that… well, there aren’t many places for someone like me anymore.” There was a shadow in his expression, a distant look in his eyes that made my chest ache a little. “Aren’t there other riders?” I asked gently.

He paused, his pencil hovering above the page. “I haven’t seen any since the dragons left for the Hidden World.” He glanced down again, focusing on the half-finished drawing in his lap. It was of a dragon.

[httydfan26]

Legends never die chapter 3

It’s been two months since my last dream, two months since the man and the dragon appeared in my mind. The strange visions had faded away, leaving me to wonder if I’d imagined it all. Dragons aren’t real. I had to keep reminding myself of that. I’d been overthinking everything, trying to find logic in something that was nothing more than a bizarre daydream.

This weekend, Heather and I had the rare chance to relax. We both worked non-stop, and when we managed to get a break, it was always good to have some downtime together. We’d grown up side by side, both joining the search-and-rescue team at the same time. Over the years, Heather had become my best friend.

“So, what movie do you want to watch?” Heather’s voice broke through my thoughts as she emerged from the kitchen, a huge bowl of buttery popcorn in her hands. I smiled and shrugged, not really in the mood for anything in particular. “How about Avatar?”

“Sounds good to me,” she said with a grin, settling beside me on the couch and immediately reaching for the remote. She flicked through the channels for a while before the opening credits started. I tried to focus on the movie, but of course, Heather had other things on her mind. “Have you been seeing anyone lately?” Her question caught me off guard, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. “No, work’s been busy, you know that,” I responded quickly, trying to keep my voice steady. “We’ve got the same job, after all.” 

She gave me an incredulous look, a little smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “We both know that’s not true.” 

I raised an eyebrow at her. “What do you mean?” 

Heather rolled her eyes. “Come on, Astrid. You’re 20 years old and haven’t had a serious relationship. You’re not fooling anyone.”

I shifted uncomfortably. This conversation always felt like a strange interrogation. “I don’t need a boyfriend. I’ve got enough on my plate as it is,” I said, forcing a smile. She didn’t buy it. “You’re 20 and you’ve only had one boyfriend.”

“I don’t need one yet. Or ever,” I shot back, my tone a little sharper than I intended. Heather just shrugged and returned her focus to the movie. “Okay, whatever. You’re 20, I’m just saying, don’t wait too long.”

We fell into silence as the movie played, the hum of the TV filling the space between us. The soft sound of the popcorn crunching in my mouth was the only other noise until the credits rolled.

“You know,” Heather said casually as she clicked off the TV, “if you ever want to go on a date, I could hook you up with one of my boyfriends.”

I froze for a second, surprised by her offer. “No thanks,” I replied, trying to keep my voice light and playful. “I’m good, really.”

She just grinned, nudging me again. “Okay, but if you ever change your mind, I’m here to help.”

I sighed, feeling a mix of amusement and exasperation. “Thanks, I guess.”

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of laughter and drinking as we talked about everything. Except my love life, of course. I didn’t need to talk about it. I didn’t need a boyfriend.

I spent the night at Heather’s place. It was already 10:00 AM by the time I woke up, sunlight spilling in through the curtains and warming my face. I blinked against the brightness. I must’ve passed out sometime after the movie ended. I hadn’t gotten drunk. Hadn’t drunk enough for that. Just a few sips, really.

“You slept in,” Heather’s voice rang from across the room. She was curled up on the other end of the couch, phone in hand, lazily scrolling. I stretched and yawned. “We went to bed at four. I was exhausted.”

“I’ve been up for a while,” she said with a smirk. “So you slept in.”

I rolled my eyes and reached for one of the couch pillows. With a grin, I hurled it straight at her. The pillow hit her squarely in the head, and the surprised look on her face sent me into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. “I’m going to get you back for that!” she shouted, tossing the pillow back in my direction. Between gasps of laughter, I managed to say, “You should’ve seen your face!” 

Eventually, the chaos died down and we both sat catching our breath. Heather stood and grabbed her jacket. “Let’s go get coffee.”

I blinked at her. “Can’t we just make some here?”

“We could,” she replied, already heading toward the door, “but let’s go to On The Mountainside instead. It’s only five minutes away.”

I sighed, pushing myself off the couch. “Fine, fine. Let me get ready.” I ran a brush through my hair, changed into something decent, and threw on a light jacket before we stepped outside. But the second we were in the sun, I regretted it. The heat was already unbearable, and I ended up taking the jacket off and tying it around my waist. 

The café was quaint and quiet, tucked into the edge of a slope overlooking the valley below. It had a rustic wooden charm, like something from a postcard. We each ordered our coffee and found a table by the window.

 “See? This is nice,” Heather said, sipping her drink with a contented smile. I nodded, taking in the peaceful atmosphere, the soft hum of quiet conversation, and the gentle whir of the ceiling fans. “Yeah, it is. I really need to get out more.” It was the truth. Aside from work and the occasional night at Heather’s, I hardly left the house anymore.

The evening after spending time with Heather, I laced up my running shoes, slipped on my headphones, and headed out for a jog along the closed trails near my place. The air was cool and quiet, the kind of quiet only the mountains could offer. These trails were beautiful, lined with towering pines, the scent of moss and earth thick in the air. I’ve always been surrounded by nature. Growing up here in British Columbia, Canada, nestled in the heart of the mountains, the wilderness became part of who I am. My parents were both outdoorsy. Some of my earliest memories are of sleeping under the stars or cooking over a fire. I think that’s where I inherited my love for the mountains.

When I was younger, I wanted to be a pilot. The idea of flying, soaring above the peaks I grew up beneath, sounded like the ultimate freedom. And while I could still be, I like what I do now. Search and rescue may not get me into the sky, but it gives me a purpose. It feels right.

Still, I miss my dad. He passed away when I was fifteen, taken by cancer far too soon. I miss his stories, the way he always made sense of the world, or just having someone to talk to. My mom is still around, but things haven’t been the same between us since he died. We barely talk anymore. I check in on her every couple of months, but it always feels… strained. Like we’re both ghosts to each other now, wandering through the same grief from opposite directions. I know I should try harder, reach out more, but I’ve never been great with people. I’ve always been the kind of person who would rather punch someone than talk to them. I have friends, sure, but most of them are from work. We hang out after shifts sometimes, but it’s not deep.

As for relationships… I’ve stopped expecting much. I’ve been on dates, more than a few, but none of them have ever felt right. The connections were shallow, like trying to force two puzzle pieces that just weren’t meant to fit. Half the time, it felt more like a chore than something to enjoy. I don’t want to date someone just to have someone. I want to like them. Truly. And not just in the way that comes with chemistry or convenience. I’ve only had one real boyfriend. I liked him at first, but over time, it stopped feeling right. Something was missing. Something real. And I’d rather be alone than settle for something that feels empty.

The wind rustled gently through the trees lining the trail, their fresh spring leaves fluttering like tiny green flags. Everything around me felt alive. The forest was humming with quiet energy, the mountains in the distance standing tall with their snow-capped peaks glowing softly under the fading evening light. It was a reminder of how beautiful this world is, how often we take it for granted. Clean air, quiet trails, the stillness of untouched nature. This place deserves better than litter and neglect. It deserves care. Reverence.

The trail I ran followed a loop, one I knew well. It usually took me about an hour to finish, enough to clear my head and stretch my legs. By the time I reached the end and started jogging back home, the sky had darkened, and the stars were beginning to peek through the deep blue.

Back at home, I headed straight for the shower, washing off the sweat and dirt, the peacefulness of the run still lingering in my chest. There was something satisfying about tiring yourself out in nature. It made sleep come easier. I turned in early. Work started again in the morning

[httydfan26]

Legends don't die chapter 2 Dreams tell story

“Dad!” Astrid’s little feet pitter-pattered across the wooden floor as she ran, arms outstretched, and threw herself into her father’s embrace. His laughter filled the room as he scooped her up effortlessly.

“How’s my little dragon rider?” he asked, his voice warm and full of affection.

Astrid wrapped her tiny arms around him, her giggles echoing in the quiet room. He spun her around, and the two of them shared a moment of pure joy before he lowered her onto his lap.

“Tell me a story, Dad,” she said, eyes wide with excitement. Her voice, full of enthusiasm, always carried the eagerness to hear her father’s tales. They never failed to capture her imagination, especially when they were about dragon riders.

Her father smiled and shook his head. “Aren’t you sick of hearing the same stories every night?” he teased, but the twinkle in his eyes told her he was only half-serious.

“No,” she responded dramatically, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “Tell me another one!”

Her father laughed, a sound so bright it felt like sunlight. He leaned back slightly and began his familiar tale. “Alright, here we go,” he said, and Astrid snuggled in closer, her head resting against his chest. “There was once a time when dragon riders ruled the world, using their dragons to help people, protect them, and bring peace. Dragons, you see, are drawn to people with kind hearts and sharp minds. But there was one boy—Hiccup—who was so small when he was born that no one thought he would survive.”

Astrid’s eyes grew wide, captivated as always by the story. Her father paused for effect, taking a sip of water before continuing. “But Hiccup proved them all wrong. He became the strongest person, not because of his size, but because of his heart. When he bonded with a Night Fury named Toothless, it was the start of something extraordinary. He became the most powerful dragon rider to ever live, and perhaps… he’s still alive today.”

Her father smiled softly, as though caught up in the magic of his own tale. “Dragons have great power,” he continued, “and when a rider bonds with one, they gain great power too. They live forever, their spirits intertwined. Dragons mark their riders to show the bond, and that mark is a symbol of their strength.”

He leaned forward slightly, his eyes locking with hers as he spoke in a quieter voice. “Hiccup and Toothless shared a bond like no other. They were like brothers, their connection so deep that it made them unstoppable. They saved their village from an evil dragon, even when the villagers didn’t appreciate what Hiccup had done. He lost his leg fighting for them, but even then, they rejected him. So, he left… and found other friends, other riders who had bonded with dragons just like him.”

Astrid could feel the weight of the words, the story wrapping her in its warmth and wonder. Her father’s voice softened, almost like a secret being shared only between the two of them. “And you, Astrid, you’re the next rider,” he said, his smile so full of pride.

But just as he finished, the world around her went black.

-- 

I bolted upright in bed, heart pounding. Another memory. My breath came in quick, shallow bursts as the same question echoed through my mind like a drumbeat: Why do I keep seeing this? My father had never said anything about me being a dragon rider. 

I rubbed my face, groaning. “Damn those kids,” I muttered under my breath, frustration simmering beneath the surface. “If they had just told me what actually happened…” My voice trailed off. Maybe then I wouldn’t be stuck here, overthinking everything, wondering if I was losing my mind.

Throwing the blankets off, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and made my way to the bathroom. The tile was cold beneath my feet, a jolt to my senses. I turned the sink faucet to the coldest setting and splashed icy water over my face. It stung in a strangely satisfying way, sharp and refreshing, like the crisp mountain wind slapping against your cheeks when you step outside after a snowstorm. The chill grounded me. I looked up at the mirror. My reflection stared back at me with tired eyes. It was six in the morning. The sky outside the window was still dim, painted in shades of pale blue and silver.

With a sigh, I left the bathroom and collapsed back onto my bed, grabbing my phone in hopes of distracting myself. TikTok. Instagram. YouTube. The usual suspects. I scrolled through endless videos and posts, but they all blurred together. The same tired content over and over. Nothing grabbed me. Nothing felt real. It was all just noise.

I tossed my phone across the bed with a sigh and stared up at the ceiling. Useless. Lying here was doing nothing but feeding the thoughts I was trying to escape. My mind wouldn’t stop racing, replaying the memory over and over again, like a scratched record. Finally, I sat up, dragging myself out of bed. “Might as well do something,” I mumbled. I made my way to the kitchen and started making breakfast.

Why do people insist on getting themselves lost in the mountains? It baffles me—how careless some can be. No map, no sense of direction, no backup plan. And don’t even get me started on the parents. Letting their kids wander off alone in dense wilderness like it’s a backyard playground. It’s infuriating. Sometimes I wonder if people realize how quickly nature can turn against them out here.

Another day slips by. More reports of people missing. Some we find—cold, shaken, but alive. Others… we don’t. And it sits heavy in my chest. The weight of not knowing. The faces I memorize from printed photos, the names I hear over the radio, echo in my head long after the search is over. It’s so damn depressing.

I close my eyes and let myself sink into the pillow, hoping sleep will come quickly tonight. 

 I stood high in the mountains, the air crisp and thin, the silence wrapped around me like a thick blanket. Above, the brightest moon I had ever seen hung in the sky, casting a silver glow over the rugged peaks. Everything shimmered under its light—the snow-dusted cliffs, the trees swaying gently in the night breeze, and the clearing where I stood, frozen in awe. Before me was a dragon, majestic and breathtaking. Its scales were the colour of midnight, so dark they seemed to drink in the moonlight, yet shimmered subtly with every slight movement. Its eyes, an intense, almost luminescent green, locked with mine. They didn’t hold evil or malice, only a surprising gentleness that reached straight into my soul. It was beautiful. The dragon’s head was crowned with fin-like flaps that looked like horns, but they moved softly, twitching and tilting with its emotions. Its wings, folded neatly against its back, were massive.

Beside it stood a man. Tall, lean, and cloaked in mystery, he wore armor that shimmered like overlapping scales, black as the dragon beside him. A mask covered his face, and his eyes peered out through narrow slits—eyes so vividly green they seemed almost unreal, the exact shade as the dragon’s. He walked with a slight limp, and I noticed his left leg was missing, replaced by a strange prosthetic that didn’t resemble anything I’d ever seen before. 

“Who… who are you?” I asked, my voice trembling, barely more than a whisper.

He took a slow step forward, and I instinctively stepped back. But then he paused, as if sensing my fear, and lifted his hand to the helmet covering his head. Slowly, he began to remove it. The mask came away first, and just as his hair, dark and tousled, was revealed, everything faded. Blackness swallowed the vision, and the only thing I could hear was a voice, soft but certain:

“You are the next Dragon Rider.”

I woke with a jolt, heart pounding. Another strange dream. My thoughts swirled in confusion as I stared at the ceiling, the lingering images still vivid in my mind. None of this made sense. I had never seen that man before in my life, and yet I dream about him.

It’s been four months since we found Alessa. Four long, quiet months. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened during our search missions since then. That is, until yesterday. An 18-year-old boy went missing during a solo hike. He’d been gone for two days, no contact with friends or family. We assumed the worst. People don’t usually survive that long in the cold without gear or help. But somehow, he walked out of the forest alive. And he was holding the same scale. Jet black. Smooth. Slightly iridescent. Just like Alessa’s. That alone should have made headlines, but it got stranger. He wouldn’t say much—barely anything at all. Just like Alessa. The only thing he did say echoed her exact words, almost word-for-word. It’s like they were protecting someone… or something.

It doesn’t add up. Someone—or something—is helping these lost people survive. Saving them from the cold, from wild animals, from death itself. But who? And more importantly, why? If this mysterious figure really is connected to a dragon, it would make sense that they’re hiding. The mountains are the perfect place—remote, wild, hard to reach. If I were trying to keep a dragon hidden from the world, this is exactly where I’d be.

Maybe the silence from the survivors is intentional. Maybe they’re trying to protect him… or maybe they’re afraid. Either way, I need answers.

[httydfan26]

legends don't die

There are legends carved into the cliffs of the North. Tales whispered through the howling wind, of dragon riders with inked skin and ancient bonds forged in fire and flight. Of immortality earned not by blood, but by love—so fierce, it defies death. 

She’s heard the stories all her life, told in the soft voice of her father beside the fire: of dragons and their riders, of immortality born through love and loyalty. She never believed them. Not until now.

Now in her twenties and working as a seasoned search and rescue specialist, Astrid has seen many strange things in the harsh, snow-laced peaks. But nothing like this. Survivors speak of a man who flies with a dragon—silent and swift. A shadow in the sky. A myth made flesh.

Haunted by the loss of her father and driven by a pull she can’t explain, Astrid follows the trail of the legend. But what she finds isn’t just a man or a dragon. It's a truth buried by time, a bond that once changed the world—and might do so again. Because some stories aren’t just stories.

And some legends never die.

chapter 1 finding the lost

There was always a story my father used to tell me when I was a child—a story about dragons and their riders, and the unbreakable bond that tied them together. He spoke of how, once a dragon and rider were bound, they gained incredible power, their lives intertwined so completely that they became immortal as long as they remained together. The stronger their bond, the greater their strength. But it was a fragile immortality; if one died, the other would soon follow, their connection so deep that even distance could cause the magic in their veins to ache and burn until they were forced apart. Each rider bore a tattoo somewhere on their body, a symbol of the dragon they were bound to—a mark of pride, of loyalty, of destiny. He would always end the story with the same tale: the legend of a young boy and his Night Fury, the rarest and most feared of dragons. It was a legend I never truly believed, just another one of my father’s many bedtime tales. Yet now, years later, after his death, it’s those stories I find myself clinging to—the memories of his voice, his laughter, and the unconditional love he gave me. Now here I am, well into my twenties, working as a search and rescue specialist in the mountains, chasing down the lost and the desperate. 

Sitting at my desk, I studied the spread of maps laid out before me—topographical charts of the Rocky Mountains in British Columbia, Canada. My eyes traced the rugged terrain, searching for any clue that might help us find a missing ten-year-old girl named Alessa. She had vanished sometime during the night, after a heated argument with her parents on a family camping trip. In a moment of anger or hurt—or maybe both-she had run off into the wilderness alone. Why would a child do something so reckless? It was beyond me. But I didn’t have time to dwell on it. It was already 7 a.m., and we were scheduled to leave within the hour. 

I quickly gathered my gear—radio, survival pack, first aid kit, ropes, flares—double-checking everything before calling out to my team. "Ready to go, team? Helicopter will be here any minute," I said, pushing away from the desk. Waiting for me, as always, were my teammates: Ruffnut and her twin brother Tuffnut, along with Heather and Dagur. We'd been together since my first day on the job—an odd but tight-knit group who had long since become my second family. They stood ready, gear slung over their shoulders, faces set with determination. 

The helicopter ride to the search zone was relatively short, though the engine’s roar did little to quiet the knot of worry tightening in my chest. When we touched down, we were only a short distance from the family's campsite. The world around us was a sea of towering, jagged peaks and endless, vivid green fields. The mountains loomed high, their rocky faces cutting into the sky like the teeth of some ancient beast. It was beautiful—wildly, heartbreakingly beautiful—but deadly for anyone who didn't know their way. Out here, it didn't take long to get turned around, and panic only made it worse. One wrong step, one wrong choice, and even a seasoned hiker could disappear without a trace.

It had been hours, and still, no sign of her. "How far behind do you think we are?" Tuffnut asked, his voice tight with frustration. We'd been combing this stretch of forest for what felt like forever. The only clue we’d found was a scattered trail of footprints, half-faded in the underbrush. She had to be close. At ten years old, Alessa couldn’t have gone far… but with how cold it had gotten last night, a new kind of fear had begun to settle in my chest. What if she hadn’t made it?

“Just a little longer,” I said, more to myself than the others. “She has to be here.” We kept calling her name, voices echoing through the dense trees. Then something caught my eye—a strip of fabric snagged on a low-hanging branch, torn and fluttering slightly in the breeze. It looked like part of a shirt. My heart jumped. I pushed deeper into the brush, moving quickly but carefully. That’s when I saw her.

Alessa stood beneath the trees, barefoot and covered in dirt. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold, and twigs tangled in her hair—but she didn’t look scared. Just... tired. And calm. She was smiling. “Hey,” I said gently, crouching to her level. “My name’s Astrid. I’m here to take you home. Are you hurt?” She blinked up at me, then slowly glanced around the forest before returning her gaze to mine. With a quiet shake of her head, she reached into her small backpack and pulled out a blanket, wrapping it tightly around her shoulders. That’s when I noticed something strange—clutched in her hand was a dark, gleaming object. “What’s that you’ve got there?” I asked, gently reaching for it as I wrapped the blanket more securely around her.

She held it a little closer at first, hesitant. “I got it from a friend I just met,” she said softly, her smile returning.

“A friend?” I frowned. “There’s nobody out here. We’re in the middle of nowhere—no one could’ve gotten to you.”

“He was here,” she said, matter-of-factly. “He kept me warm all night. He had this big animal he called Toothless. He gave me this as a gift.”

She extended her hand, slowly offering me the object. It was smooth and black, almost glassy with a slight shimmer. A scale—large, much too large to belong to any animal native to Canada. I turned it over in my hand, feeling a strange warmth radiating from it. I knelt beside her, puzzled but careful not to alarm her. “It’s very pretty,” I said, handing it back. She smiled again, then tucked it carefully into her blanket.

“Ready to go home?” I asked. Alessa hesitated. Her eyes flicked over her shoulder toward the forest again, as if she were waiting for something. Or someone. Then she nodded, slowly. We walked back through the trees, my team silently falling beside us. I stayed close to Alessa, watching her eyes constantly scan the trees, like she wasn’t quite ready to leave.

When we reached the helicopter, she stopped just short of stepping in. She turned back to the woods and lifted her hand in a small wave. I followed her gaze, expecting to see nothing. But then, for the briefest of moments, I saw it. A shadow moved through the trees, sleek and impossibly fast, vanishing before I could focus on it. My breath caught. There was someone out there. Something.

Alessa was safe at home, curled up on her couch with a mug of hot chocolate and her worried parents hovering nearby. Meanwhile, I was packing up my gear and getting ready to leave base. As I slung my backpack over my shoulder, I turned to Heather. “She said someone helped her. A man with a big animal. And she was holding a scale—black, smooth, definitely from something big.”

Heather glanced up from organizing a map. “Yeah, I heard her. But come on, Astrid. Who would be out there in the middle of nowhere? Maybe she was hallucinating… dreaming.”

“Maybe.” I tried to sound convinced, but the image of that shimmering scale still burned in my mind. So did the fleeting shadow I’d seen in the trees. “It just doesn’t add up.”

Heather shrugged. “You’ve barely slept. You said it yourself—weird things start making sense when your brain's running on fumes.”

“Yeah… maybe.” But even as I said it, doubt gnawed at me.

The drive home was quiet, but my thoughts were anything but. I couldn’t stop thinking about Alessa. About the strange calm in her eyes. About the way she smiled when she spoke of the man and his dragon. It didn’t sound like a dream. It sounded like a memory. And I couldn’t shake what I saw in those woods. A figure. A presence. Real or imagined, I wasn’t sure anymore.

Back home, I dropped my keys on the counter and collapsed onto the couch, exhaustion pulling at my limbs. I needed sleep. I wanted to sleep. But the moment I closed my eyes, the dreams came. Dreams of my father. He was sitting beside me, just like he used to when I was a child, his voice deep and warm as he wove stories of dragons and their riders. Of ancient bonds and powerful creatures. Of a young rider chosen not by destiny, but by heart. "You’ll be next," he said in the dream, eyes shining. “The bond is in your blood.”

I jolted upright, breath catching in my throat. He’d never said that to me. Not once in real life. Just stories. Just legends. Nothing more... right? I ran a hand through my hair, heart pounding. Maybe I was just missing him. It had only been two years since he passed—cancer. Quiet, cruel. But his stories had never left me. Maybe they were all I had left. Unable to sit still, I got up, padded barefoot into the kitchen, and started the coffee machine. The hum and click of it were a comfort in the early morning stillness. I reheated some leftovers from the night before, trying to ground myself in the mundane. Work started in an hour. There were more people to help. More mountains to search.

I pulled into my usual spot just off the gravel lot, the early morning air crisp and cool against the windshield. The mountains stood like silent sentinels in the distance, their peaks brushed with mist. As I stepped out of the truck, I spotted a familiar figure.

“Mark,” I called, walking toward him.

He turned at the sound of my voice, flashing a tired but friendly smile. “Astrid. Hey! How’ve you been?”

“Busy,” I said with a shrug, falling into step beside him. “But nothing I can’t handle. You?”

“Same here. Non-stop lately, but I’m not complaining.” Mark was taller than me, with shaggy blond hair that curled slightly at the ends and sharp blue eyes that always seemed to be studying the terrain—or the people in it.

I hesitated a moment before asking, “Hey, this might sound weird, but… have any of the people you’ve rescued mentioned someone—anyone—giving them a black scale?”

Mark blinked. “Huh. Actually… yeah. A few, now that you mention it. Most of them said they found it or that someone gave it to them. One guy claimed he was saved by some man and his dragon.”

I stopped walking. “They said dragon?”

He gave a low chuckle. “Yeah, but honestly, they were probably delusional. You know how it is—exhaustion, dehydration, fear… it messes with your head. I figured they mistook a bear for something else or were just dreaming things up to cope.”

My heart thudded. That couldn’t be a coincidence. Alessa had said the same thing. A man. A big creature. A black scale.

“Are you okay, Astrid?” Mark had stopped too, glancing back at me with concern.

“Yeah,” I said quickly, forcing a smile. “Just… thinking. Thanks for the chat.” I gave him a short wave and turned back toward my vehicle, but my mind was racing. More than one person had said it. And they all had the same scale. That couldn’t be chance.

What if my father’s stories weren’t just bedtime tales?

I shook the thought away. Maybe they were hallucinating. Maybe they saw a moose and imagined wings. Maybe I was just tired and letting memories of my dad twist reality.

Or maybe… I’m finally starting to believe him.