I buried my face into Ripjaw's scales, trying to avoid looking down into the churning ocean below. My brain felt oddly numb. I couldn't feel grief or disappointment... just shock.
It probably was about midday, though the sun remained hidden behind a layer of dark clouds. By now, all of Berk would know me truly.
I barely even noticed the snow storm settling over us, swollen, puffy flakes descending from the now overcast sky, until Ripjaw's voice rumbled in his throat, "We better land somewhere... The storm is getting worse."
I didn't respond.
The snowflakes grew fatter and rounder and fell harder. Ripjaw finally found the edge of an island to rest on, and he placed me gently in the grass. We sat in silence, watching snow drift lazily through the air. Once in a while, he would send me a glance and open his mouth like he was about to speak, but then he would sigh and turn away.
Eventually, he swallowed hard and said, "We should probably find shelter before the storm gets worse."
But I was no longer listening to him. Something in the distance had caught my eye. Something big. I squinted through the thick mist.
"Ripjaw..." I spoke, voice high with fear. "What is that?"
Ripjaw approached me and followed my eyes.
There, in the distance, was a huge ship. As it grew nearer, that one ship turned into two, then three, then suddenly, an entire armada was crawling through the white curtain of snow.
"It's the Gorum Tribe," Ripjaw replied.
I pursed my lips. They were heading towards Berk.
"No..." I moaned. "No... this is all my fault. We have to go warn them!" My eyes met Ripjaw's, and I could see the hesitance in his expression.
Before he had a chance to respond, I interrupted, my voice solemn and confident, "My mother would want us to."
Ripjaw gazed back into my eyes. Then, he nodded. "She would."
. . .
Ripjaw hit the ground with a thump and dropped me. I sprang to my feet and urgently commanded, "Go find Hiccup and the others. I'll look for Stoick." The dragon nodded and was gone in a flash.
I hurried to the village, dashing down the path and right to the center. "Where's Stoick?" I called out. "Can someone find Stoick? I need to talk to him now!"
But the vikings emerging from their homes never responded. They just stared and murmured to each other.
"Please!" I begged, "This is important!"
"You!"
I spun around, and my heart leaped into my throat at the sound of the familiar, scratchy voice. A grip closed over the collar of my shirt and yanked me off the ground. I found myself inches from Spitelout's face as he raked his eyes over me in disgust.
"You have some nerve coming back here," he growled.
"Listen to me," I gasped. "You're in danger. My father Skarde is on his way, and he has the entire Gorum Tribe with him-"
I yelped as Spitelout tossed me harshly to the ground.
"You see what I told you?" Spitelout raised his head to address the crowd growing around us. "The Cursed family only brings doom. And now, this rat has led chaos here!"
Whispering rippled throughout the village. I caught a glimpse of a woman protectively tucking her child behind her. My stomach twisted.
"Why did you come back?" Spitelout roared, towering above me. His foot collided with my stomach, knocking the wind right out of me.
"I... had to warn you," I wheezed. "If Skarde doesn't find me here, he will destroy Berk looking for me." Spitelout kicked me again, and I rolled onto my stomach, gasping for air.
"Then I say we hand the curse over!" Spitelout bellowed, and a few vikings in the crowd around him cheered. "Skarde wants you, he'll get you!"
He raised his fist above his head for another blow. I threw my hands over my face.
Someone stepped between us.
Spitelout's knuckles collided with skin. The body fell with a thump beside me, and I found myself locking eyes with Snotlout. We stared at each other for a moment.
"Snotlout?" Spitelout cried as I reached for my friend. "What do you think you're doing?"
Snotlout's eyes narrowed. He heaved himself to his feet and wiped blood from his nose. He firmly planted himself between me and his father
"Don't touch her again."
"Snotlout, get out of the way!" Spitelout demanded. "This doesn't have anything to do with you."
The man moved his hand to shove him, but Snotlout gripped his wrist. Spitelout's face contorted with rage as he shouted, "Snotlout, move!"
I pushed myself up and reached for him, but fell forward as pain seized my ribs.
Snotlout didn't budge. He lifted his chin and squared his shoulders. "I won't let you hurt her."
"Spitelout!"
At the sound of the booming voice, the crowd parted. Stoick came into view.
"What is going on here?" Stoick trailed off at the sight. "Runa?"
I leapt to my feet and scrambled to him, then collapsed to my knees. "Stoick... My father is coming."
Stoick stared down his vast chest at me, his eyebrows creased and his face unreadable. Fear began to wring my heart.
"She has brought destruction, Stoick. Her father is Skarde of the Gorums, and he is coming to destroy us all!" Spitelout interrupted. "I say we hand her over."
From behind me, I could hear Snotlout let out a cry of outrage, but he was quickly drowned out by cheering. Stoick and I connected eyes. I lowered my head and averted my gaze to the ground.
"Do you know who we are, Spitelout?" Stoick finally spoke in a low voice.
"What?"
"Who are we?" Stoick repeated, finally tearing his eyes from me.
"Well... We're Vikings, of course. We're the Hooligan Tribe."
"Exactly. We're Hooligans." Stoick replied. "Are we afraid of this... Gorum Tribe?"
My eyes blinked open. I lifted my face from the dirt, panting. A clamor was rising from the vikings surrounding me. A clamor of outrage.
"We are not cowards. And we are not going to sacrifice one of our own to appease a band of crazed madmen."
Shouting erupted from the crowd.
Stoick bent down and extended a palm for me.
I stared at it for a moment, thunderstruck, then lifted my trembling hand to accept. He pulled me to my feet. I launched myself into his stomach, throwing my arms around him.
He staggered a bit, stunned, then began to rub my shoulder.
As soon as I stepped back, another set of arms clasped me. I found Snotlout embracing me, and I squeezed him back.
Over his shoulder, I caught a glimpse of Spitelout, his eyes narrowed and face seething with silent resentment. There was a single split second where we connected eyes, and I felt a shiver crawl up my spine. Then, Hiccup and the rest of the dragon riders blocked him from my view.
When Snotlout noticed the others, he released me, cleared his throat, and awkwardly composed himself.
Astrid set a hand on my shoulder and gently smiled, "It's good to see you, Runa."
Meatlug suddenly appeared by my side and drug her tongue over my face. I giggled, wiping drool and tears from my cheeks. I scratched the dragon under her chin.
"Why didn't you tell me you were Cursed?" Fishlegs exclaimed. "I've been reading so much about your family. It's so fascinating!" Suddenly, his jaw fell open, and he clasped his hands over his mouth. "Can you teach me dragonese!?"
I chuckled. "Sure... why not?"
"I hate to break up the reunion," Stoick's voice interrupted, "but Runa, we have to find you a place to hide."
I winced. "Are you sure you want to do this?" I murmured. "All for just me?"
Stoick nodded seriously. "Here on Berk, you'll find we won't abandon a single member of our tribe."
I felt my heart swell. I blinked hard and met my chief's eyes. I nodded.