Cold Heart

Flight

My mind raced with indecision. It filled with possibilities and hopes and anger. It swirled, a mess of red and green, calm and fire, fighting each other for supreme power. I didn't know how I ended up like this. I was afraid, so afraid, not long ago. I was a trembling child, hiding under the influences of those who were stronger in body. My mind was my forte. And then I was not even stronger in mind, for I was broken. I was scared. 

In the beginning I was green, a faded calm, filled with sparks of orange. My mind did not know red. It did not know blue. Green was calm. Green was acceptance. Eventually, as the beatings continued, as my life got worse and worse, the green slowly morphed into blue. A blue of drowning. The waters drowned the plants that were my life. It stayed that way for a long time, and the orange sparks appeared less and less, as they died beneath the water when they appeared. My heart started freezing, losing strength, losing life. 

And then one day it all changed. The day I decided I was going to leave. The day I decided I was going to shape my future, the spirals of ice blue slowed. For below them, a fire sprung to life. It grew, quickly, for the last of the green that was the Hiccup they knew fed the flame. And red, though rivaled by blue, was much stronger. It burned away the ice and all the sudden I was no longer drowning. I was living. I was breathing. The plants were burnt to crisp, but I was at least breathing. 

And though that red was horrible, it gave me something that the blue couldn't. It gave me power. Then, as I did more and more things to keep the red satisfied, to keep it from devouring me, the background of my mind turned from a normal white to a black. The red drowned out all light but itself. Then, I was black and red. Orange, too, was outplayed by the cunning and ruthlessness of the red. Red was the only color that could pierce the blackness of my mind. So I was red.

Toothless was red too, but his mind left room for other spurts of color. He was the sun; He was the saving grace, the light in my life. And though the sun had helped the Hiccup me was green flourish, it could not distinguish the fire that raged inside my mind. Toothless was not blue. He shouldn't be. But only blue could douse out red. So, Toothless was a comfort. He couldn't be anything else.

It was thoughts like these that plagued my mind on the ride to a random island I had recently found. It was perfect for "flight training" or whatever they wanted to call this expedition. It was once inhabited by whispering deaths. They had long since died or abandoned it, but now it was simply a very, very good obstacle course. I knew the tunnels. I had lived in them for a while. I would send the riders into one of them at the tip of the island. From there they could find many ways out, but all of those ways would require some fancy maneuvering. 

I was not a hands on teacher. They would have to figure it out for themselves.

We landed at midday by the tunnel I had earlier been referring to. I didn't dismount, instead I turned to them all to speak.

"You all will fly down into that network of whispering death tunnels. There are many ways out, but none of them are easy to find. If you want to live, get out of there eventually. Dismount if your dragon is out of control." My voice was stern, passionless, emotionless. 

They all looked at me with shocked gazes. Astrid piped up, "The point was for you to teac-"

I interrupted her. "I'm giving you the ability to teach yourself."

After a moment of hesitation, her eyes flicked away from my glare. A few seconds passed before she shot one last glance at me and decided to go in. She let out a small cluck and Stormfly lifted into the air before diving downwards. She and Heather descended into the tunnels. 

The rest of the gang turned to look at me. They all looked nervous, but Tuffnut shouted something about death and glory, Ruffnut joined in, and the zippleback dove downward as well. Snotlout, after a moment's hesitation, left after them. What was left was a very, very nervous looking Fishlegs. He kept sending me glances, whimpering, but I gave no sympathy.