Mauled

5: Break

5: Break

"I can't believe he made us do this!" Fishlegs complained, stroking Meatlug and feeding the Gronckle some black granite-one of her favourite snacks. "We've been building new defences and drilling for the last week. Poor Meatlug's wings are dropping off. In fact, she so tired she's been sleep-flying again."

"Yeah, we had to clear up the lava and repair the holes in the floor when she burns through it as she drools," Ruff grumbled, lathering fish oil into her braids. Everyone was carefully sitting at the far side of the Clubhouse from her.

"And he really has some sort of grudge against Hookie and me," Snotlout complained.

"Well, you do keep getting set on fire and flying out of formation," Heather pointed out. Hiccup had chased her down when she had finally returned to the Edge and had quietly apologised, explaining what he meant and his sorrow at upsetting her. Grudgingly, she had forgiven him, though she couldn't understand why he keep insisting she partnered him in all exercises. In fact, she was feeling very embarrassed by it since she knew it was upsetting Astrid more and more, though the blonde would-be Shield Maiden was doing her best to hide it.

"I'm a free spirit and utterly awesome!" Snotlout protested.

"At incinerating yourself!" Ruff sniggered.

"Hey! I heard that!" Snotlout protested.

"So did the Chicken!" Tuff added. "And you are even worse at the drills than my sister!"

"Hey!"

"Guys," Fishlegs sighed. "Same dragon, remember?"

"I really don't think he does," Heather muttered to him.

"And there's another drill tomorrow," Snotlout moaned. "And I'm the enemy!"

"Type casting," Tuff sniggered.

"You take that back, mutton-head!"

"Hey! No one calls my mutton-headed brother a mutton-head except me!" Ruff snapped, rising to stand by her twin. In seconds, the three were a pile of fists flying and insults bouncing off the walls.

"Are they always like this?" Heather asked incredulously. Somehow, she had imagined they could at least be slightly adult some of the time. Fishlegs shook his head.

"Pretty much," he said heavily. "Have you seen Astrid? She can usually get them under control..."

"She's out training with her axe," Heather sighed.

"And he still hasn't spoken to her?" Fishlegs asked her worriedly.

"Only to assign her duties or criticise her," the raven-haired girl told him sadly, sipping her apple tea. "And she really doesn't understand why he's treating her like this."

"None of us do," Fishlegs replied in a concerned voice. "Or why he has changed so completely to us all."

oOo

Astrid had been training with her axe for a couple of hours after their latest not very successful drill, taking her frustrations out on whatever unfortunate trees got in her way. No matter how harshly Hiccup criticised her-and she was prepared to admit that she could always improve her skills, though she knew her standards hadn't slipped one bit-she was poised, strong and accurate, every blow and cut precise and deadly. She knew something was horribly wrong, that he was being unfair-but he wouldn't talk to her. He wouldn't say anything, taking food from the Clubhouse and eating in his hut, isolating himself away from the group and planning, always planning.

Finally, sweaty and exhausted, she headed back to the arena, deciding to do a little throwing practice before she bathed and went back to her hut. But as she arrived at the arena, someone else was already there; a familiar, tall lanky shape, sheathed in the bulky, aggressive black armour and wielding a sword was more balance and skill that she had seen previously. As she watched, he executed swift and accurate blows on the target, then pulled back, reset his position and executed again. Finally, as he dropped to a knee, he slashed and cut the target in half. Astrid stared, then rested her axe by her side and folded her arms. As he clambered to his feet, he turned-to see Astrid watching. He started, his emerald eyes widening-and then he drew back.