I climbed to the highest point of the tree possible, until the thin branches could just barely carry my weight. There, I perched and stared intensely straight ahead. I could just see the village and the docks below, thankfully. So much anxiety was already roaring through me, I probably would have lost my mind if I had to hide without being able to see anything.
Ripjaw suddenly appeared in the tree next to me. He glanced over, and the two of us made eye contact. We stared, but we didn't speak.
It felt like hours that we sat there, and my limbs began to get stiff and achy. I didn't move an inch though. The cold talons of fear clenching my stomach tightened with every passing minute.
Then, finally, a silhouette appeared through the sheer wall of snow. I clenched my fist around the tree branch and released a long pent up sigh. From where I sat, I could see half a dozen ships stop at the dock, and Stoick approached, chest pushed out, chin raised, hands on his hips, with Gobber at his side.
A figure stepped off the ship. I leaned back and narrowed my eyes at the bulky shape of my father, with his grey beard a tangled mess and his clothes ratty and old. Stoick met him before he could even make it off the dock.
I clenched my teeth in the suspense, watching the vikings converse. As they spoke, Skarde began to seem more and more agitated, running his fingers over his scalp, pulling at his beard... then, finally, he turned back to his ship.
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding and allowed my eyes to fall shut.
There was a roar.
My eyes shot back open to see Skarde perched on the front of his ship. His vikings were pouring over the edges, into the water, onto the docks... Stoick and Gobber disappeared beneath the wave as the Gorum Tribe overflowed onto the island.
Screaming began to erupt from below, and then the action moved behind the treeline where I couldn't see.
"We have to get down there!" I exclaimed. I shot to my feet a bit too quickly and wiped out. I tumbled off the branch with a scream, crashing through sticks and leaves until Ripjaw swooped down and grabbed me. We landed safely.
As soon as my feet hit the dirt, I was running, but something wound like a whip around my ankle and yanked me backwards. I found myself dangling upside down by Ripjaw's tail, inches from his nose.
"Stop it Ripjaw!" I growled, thrashing in his grip. "We have to go now!"
"Runa," Ripjaw said, voice low and serious. "You do realize Skarde is down there? And if he finds you, you know what he will do to you, right?"
My desperate struggle ceased. I met his eyes and forced my voice not to shake, "I know exactly what he'll do."
Ripjaw's eyes widened, and realization dawned over his face.
I took a deep breath. In the most stern voice I could manage, I said, "Let... me... go."
Ripjaw's tail tightened. "No."
I thrust my foot around and cracked Ripjaw on the injured side of his jaw. He yelped. His tail released, and I dropped to the ground.
I bit my tongue. I didn't want it to come to this, but I suspected it would. I was prepared.
He lashed at me, but I rolled to the side and yanked a pair of bolas from my bag. First I chucked one at his wings, then his legs. In seconds, he was at my feet, ensnared in rope and weighed down by heavy stones.
I staggered to my feet, panting. Seeing him lying there helplessly twisted my heart with guilt, but I suffocated the feeling. I leaned down and planted a kiss on the top of his head. "They'll take care of you here on Berk," I murmured, fighting the temor in my voice. "Stoick will make sure of it..." Slowly, I began to back away. Every step was agony. "Thank you for everything, Ripjaw."
I escaped into the trees. I forced myself not to turn back, even when Ripjaw started screaming, "Runa! Runa!" His gut wrenching wails rose to the sky.
I careened through thorns and underbrush but didn't slow for a moment. Branches whipped my face. Roots tripped up my feet.
Finally, homes came into view. I raced right into the center of the village to be greeted by a massive battle. The Hooligans fought bravely, but the Gorum Tribe was huge... and they were mad. For a split second, I had to wonder just how long these creatures of humans, spitting and howling and screeching, had been alone in the wilderness. They were vicious.
Without giving myself a chance to rethink, I dove in. I scrambled back and forth and screamed desperately, "Stop! Look! It's me, Runa!"
Nobody could hear me over the wicked battle. I eventually grabbed the arm of one of the Gorum vikings, but he took one look at the puny little girl pulling at him and knocked me sprawling into the dirt.
I let out a frustrated snarl.
A familiar cry drew my attention. I whipped around. There was Stoick, and on top of him, holding a sword to his neck, wearing my cloak, was my father. Skarde's muscular hand clenched around the hilt of his weapon. He prepared a final blow.
I lurched to my feet and hurtled forward, seizing Skarde's arm. He faltered in shock, then smashed his fist into my head.
I collapsed from the force of the punch. Stars burst in front of my eyes.
Skarde turned back to Stoick with his teeth clenched and sword raised. I leaped to my feet so quickly my head spun, and I nearly fell face first into the dirt. I shoved myself between the two of them. "Stop!"
Skarde hesitated this time.
I sucked in a strangled breath and forced my back to straighten. "It's me, Runa."
Skarde's beady grey eyes scanned my entire body, then searched my face. His sword crashed to the ground.
Suddenly, he became a quivering, sobbing mess at my feet. The fighting around us ceased as he took both my petite hands in his huge, rough palms and cried, "Runa, my dear, I've finally found you!"
I just stood there in silence, thunderstruck. "Wha-"
He grabbed me around the waist and hoisted me over his head. I dangled there as he held me up. Not in the way a father holds up his daughter, but the way a hunter holds up his catch.
"Here she is!" he exclaimed. "I've found her!"
All around, the Gorums cheered. All eyes were on me now. I found Astrid, Hiccup, and Toothless in the mix, but I couldn't look at them.
Skarde lowered me back to eyelevel and gave me a kiss on the head. Bile rose in my throat.
"Finally," he tenderly murmured. "Now you can finally free us from this wretched curse." He spat the words out like poison on his tongue.
My body suddenly felt numb and cold.
Skarde dropped me back to the ground and hauled me away by my wrist. The Gorums began to make their way to the ships.
"If you knew what was good for you, you'd let the girl go."
Skarde and I turned to find Stoick lumbering towards us. My father gritted his crooked teeth and unsheathed his sword. I wedged myself between the two vikings chiefs and raised my hands.
"No, Stoick," I pleaded. "Let him take me. I can't let you risk your lives for me."
Stoick eyed me, but before he could respond, a voice cried out, "Runa!"
My heart sunk. I wrenched my gaze around Skarde to see Snotlout desperately barging through vikings to get to me.
Skarde must have seen the expression on my face, because he yelled, "Grab the boy!"
"No!" I screamed.
Instantly, Snotlout was tackled by a group of Gorum vikings. He put up a good fight by the sound of it, but I couldn't watch. I had to look away. Eventually, they brought him to his knees. They pressed a knife to his throat, and he finally fell still.
"Let him go!" I screamed to Skarde, voice breaking. "Don't hurt him, and I'll go with you!"
"Oh, I won't hurt the boy," my father crooned, brushing my hair back from my face. He scanned me with a hungry longing that made my skin crawl. Then, his gaze flicked up to Stoick. "I won't hurt the boy if you give me back what belongs to me."
I fixed Stoick with pleading eyes. I mouthed the word, "Please..." because no sound would come out of my tight throat.
For what felt like the longest moment of my life, Stoick pondered. He stared at me, and for once, I could read his emotions. Frustration, desperation... sorrow.
He let his eyes fall shut and took a step back.
Skarde huffed, then snatched me right off the ground. He and the rest of the Gorums retreated for the ship, whooping and hollering.
"No!" Snotlout shouted. His voice sounded familiarly high and hoarse. "Runa, no!"
I didn't want to look at him, but I couldn't help myself.
He was thrashing in the grip of the Gorum vikings. Our eyes connected. I knew then I would never forget the expression on his face... like I could see his heart breaking. It suddenly occurred to me that this would be the last time I ever looked into those eyes.
I was heaved onto the ship and tied to a mast. I didn't fight. I barely felt them binding my wrists behind me.
They only released Snotlout after I became the new hostage, and then we departed into the ocean. I could hear voices calling my name in strained desperation, and I wished they would stop. They were only making it worse.
Things went by in a blur, and suddenly, Berk was nothing but a distant blotch on the horizon.