Cursed One- How to Train Your Dragon Fanfiction

Chapter Twelve- A Face From the Past

I curled up at the edge of the cave, staring into the misty distance. I couldn't help but recall the last time I'd been in the cave like this, and I felt too exhausted to fight the flashbacks anymore.

Everyone was very quiet the rest of the day, too afraid to come near me, so I remained with Ripjaw, rubbing his head placed on my lap comfortingly.

The group decided to spend the night there, as it was too late to head back to Berk now, and everyone settled down to sleep.

Hiccup approached me at one point. He attempted to start a conversation, telling me we planned on heading back to Berk in the morning to make sure we had gone to the right place, but I didn't speak. I only nodded my head until he gave up. He suggested I get some sleep, and then joined the rest of the group around the small fire they started under the cave ceiling.

Everyone began to drift off to sleep, but, as much as I fought, I found it impossible to even close my eyes. Whenever there was too much silence— too much darkness— an onslaught of memories would invade. I stared at the mouth of the cave, floundering, for what felt like hours.

Finally unable to keep still with the anxiety feasting on my raw heart, I hauled myself to my feet and stumbled outside. The warmth of the fire left me the moment I stepped into the open, replaced by the bitter fist of winter. I sorely missed my cloak.

My feet just took me, not towards the village, but into the woods. There were birds fluttering in the shrouded mist, insects chirping, and waves lapping on the distant shore. Music.

I began dancing.

It didn't take long for my rhythm to be interrupted by something tumbling out of a bush. I gasped and jumped back, reaching for my knife.

A Smokebreath was staring up at me with comprehensive blue eyes.

Relieved, I released my knife and bent down to the dragon's level. After a quick glance around to make sure I was alone, I spoke to it in a low voice, "Hey, do you know where my cloak is?"

The Smokebreath nodded vigorously, then plunged back into the bushes. I hurried after it.

I struggled to keep up with the dark shape scurrying through the forest in front of me as we raced farther and farther away from the cave. I pushed aside my fear and continued after my little guide until finally, I could see a light in the distance.

"What is that?" I whispered to myself.

The Smokebreath led me closer, until I could make out the shape of a fire. I slowed, growing timid, and slunk nearer.

Where the Smokebreath stopped, we were hidden behind a clump of bushes, watching from between the leaves and vines a clearing full of vikings around a fire, sharpening weapons and speaking in low, brooding tones.

"I knew it!" a voice was shouting as I approached.

I backed away, stunned by the sound of the familiar voice.

"What now? Some fake clue that we're on the right track?" a man around the fire snarled frustratedly.

"He's lost his mind," someone complained.

"We're cursing ourselves if you ask me," the lower voice of another viking added, then he turned away to spit.

A tall, burly man with a grizzled face, a bushy grey beard, and bloodshot eyes stepped out from behind a tree, carrying in his hands something that made my mouth fall open. My cloak.

I pushed forward a bit, trying to get a better view of the man's face, but he was erratic, rapidly moving and shaking as he held the cloak close to his face like a prized jewel.

"It's her cloak! I know it is."

"That could've come from anywhere," someone growled, standing from his place by the fire. He reached out to take the cloak, but the burly man ripped it away, hugging it close to his chest.

He cackled, ignoring the doubts. "She's here. Or on an island nearby. What islands are surrounding us here?"

There was a moment when all the vikings around the fire shared unsure glances, and then someone pulled out a map. He flipped open the haggard, flimsy paper and began to scan it.

"The Arne Isles, Ulf, Berk, and the Najal Tribe."

I bit my lip and felt a chill run down my spine.

"We must search them all," the bulky man replied, his eyes travelling up towards the sky. "We'll start tomorrow. We sail for the Arne Isles in the morning."

The vikings around him remained silent, until someone spoke up, "How can you be so sure that's her cloak? How can we trust you?"

The burly man wheeled around in less than a second, and I winced as he slapped the cynic across the face with a stinging crack.

"I know it's her's," he ranted, almost desperately. "I recognise this cloak. It was once her mother's."

Suddenly, it felt as if the ground was quaking under my feet. I felt my body tilting, and I slipped loudly on the leaves. All my surroundings blurred, except his face. He was now staring directly at me. How had I not recognised him immediately, even under his wrinkles and the ratty beard? How had his voice not brought back all the memories? Had I forgotten? Had I chosen to forget?

Suddenly, the entire camp was looking in my direction.

The closest viking turned and began reaching for the thin line of bushes separating me from murderers.

Suddenly, the Smokebreath exploded through the leaves and into the center of the campsite. It let out a roar, and the entire clearing filled with black smoke. The vikings staggered about, coughing and choking. I leapt to my feet and fled in a random direction.

I raced as fast as my legs could carry me, panting and staggering over underbrush. For a while, I flailed blindly, the only thought in my head an urgent scream to get as far away as possible.

The Smokebreath appeared at my side and gave me a chirp, then nodded to point me in the right direction. We dashed through the forest, diving between trees and bushes.

I cast my gaze over my shoulder. No one was following me.

Suddenly, something caught my foot. My legs were wiped out from under me, and the ground rushed at my face.

. . .

"Runa!"

I fought my eyes open. Sunlight was pouring through the trees above me. I rolled over, groaning. My whole body ached, and my head felt like it was about to split open.

"Runa!"

Suddenly, I recognised the voice. I shot upright but bent over to clasp my temples as my head spun. When I lifted my face, I saw Fishlegs rushing towards me with a few other blurry silhouettes behind him.

I blinked blearily and brushed the leaves from my hair.

"Runa, what are you doing?" Astrid asked hurriedly, almost sounding frustrated. "You had us worried sick!"

"I'm sorry," I moaned.

"What are you doing here?" Fishlegs jumped in.

"I... I don't know," I replied, racking my foggy brain for some coherent excuse.

Ripjaw was fixing me with a suspicious glare, but I made sure to avoid his eyes.

Hiccup pushed through the crowd and knelt before me, eyebrows creased with sympathy. "I think it's time we head back home."

The group around him muttered in agreement, and I nodded vigorously.

We started back in the direction of the cave, but I hesitated when I heard a familiar chirp behind me. The blue eyed Smokebreath crawled out of the bushes, grinning at me.

After casting a glance around, I bent down to its level and planted a kiss on its forehead. "Thank you," I whispered.

The Smokebreath's grin grew, then it bounced back into the underbrush and disappeared.