Found again (HTTYD FF)

☆Epilogue☆

The darkened room was illuminated only by a lantern placed on a small table next to the door. It sat amongst piles of dirty bandages and empty containers, the bottoms of which were still caked with the remains of ointments and crushed herbs. In one of the bowls remained a half-finished thin soup, which had long since gone from steaming hot to almost cold.

There was a bed with a soft mattress a few steps away and another table next to it, full of washed bandages and newly mixed stinking ointments. The last piece of furniture in the small room was a chair on which sat a man in a dark tunic and trousers, wearing heavy boots, not a beard or hair on his head. He was intently mixing another healing ointment and listening thoughtfully to the other pair of lungs in the room. He listened to their rhythm.

For weeks the breaths in and out had been weak and irregular, dangerously close to being the last. But as time passed and the healing ointments took effect, the patient's breathing grew stronger and took on a regular, slow rhythm.

The healer added a final crushed herb to the ointment. Its leaves quickly disappeared into the green mush. But he stirred and stirred for a few more minutes until he was satisfied and placed the jar among all the others on the already full table.

He stood up, leaned over the man lying on the bed, and got to work. He carefully removed bandage after bandage, revealing the scarred skin covering most of his body. It was almost healed. Just a few more weeks and with the help of the healing ointments his work would be done.

The damaged skin would never be the same again. The man on the bed would have to be careful, for it would tear easily. It will need to be lubricated with medications as often as possible. He'll have to protect himself from the weak northern sun and the bitter cold. He will have to be careful.

The ointments helped soothe the man's sore throat, made breathing easier, and allowed him to swallow the lukewarm soup in small gulps. From his place in the bed, he watched the healer work with one eye, gradually removing the bandages so he could reapply the skin and wrap it in clean bandages. It was the second time he had watched him like this since he had fully awakened and begun to sense again.

This time, however, his throat allowed him to speak. Each swallow did not punish him with agony, and the smoke he had inhaled so much of did not irritate his lungs.

"How much?" He rasped softly, coughed.

The healer immediately reached for the bowl of honey-scented liquid and pressed it to the man's mouth. The man swallowed gratefully until the cool substance soothed his sore throat. He felt much better.

"How much?" He repeated. It were the first words out of his mouth in weeks.

"Almost all, sir," the healer replied distantly. "We have almost no-one left."

The man nodded weakly and closed his eyes. He let the healer work without further interruption. He had used up all his energy anyway, and was soon sinking into the realm of sleep.

When the man awoke again, both tables in the room were empty - except for a lone lantern so dim that its light didn't even reach his bed. It was acceptable. Any harsher light would have cut into his eye. He watched the flame inside the lantern for a moment. It was small, subdued by the glass walls. It was exactly as it should be. Left to the mercy of people. Controlled. It was no wild fire fueled by dragon rage, over which no one had control and could not be completely extinguished until the scaly beast was slain. It wasn't a fire whose heat could set entire ships ablaze and burn villages to the ground.

The man was lucky.

So damned lucky he was still alive, because the flames were never aimed directly at him - though they rolled up to him and did irreversible damage.

He was a fool. Such a fool! He finally got his hands on the creature and felt victory on his tongue. Oh, how wonderful it felt! He relished it so much that he rushed forward with his men without scouting the enemy territory beforehand. He abandoned his caution for a moment to fully enjoy the feeling... and how much it cost him.

Months of precious time.

So much time he spent strapped to this bed, completely defenseless, barely able to move. He should blame himself. It was his fault. Even the creature tried to warn him. The creature he'd hunted for so many years and hurt so much had tried to warn him about that thing. And he didn't listen to it.

"She will kill you all."

Blinded by wealth, he made the first and fatal mistake of his life.

He was determined not to repeat it.

On days when he was able to muster enough energy to stay awake for at least a few hours, he thought. He planned.

Because whether it was its fault or not, the creature had put him in this position. If it hadn't been so stubbornly determined not to get caught, he could have had it long ago - far away from the nest, and it would never have occurred to him to use the creature to replace all the losses he'd suffered because of it.

If he twisted the truth long enough in the right direction, if he made the truth into a false illusion that he forced himself to believe, it wasn't his fault. It was the creature. The creature was behind it all. It was neither dragon nor man. But in the end, it was worse than both.

He spent his days thinking. He found himself thinking over and over again of all the things he could do with the creature. The look in its eyes when he had it within reach and finally touched it. Just a scared animal backed into a corner. That was all it was.

The lower the creature sank in his mind, the less inhibitions the man had (not that he had any before) in his goal to get rid of the creature. It did not deserve to live. It didn't belong to this world. It needed to be found and sent to the other world - then maybe they could start talking about how much to sell which part of his body for.

But it wasn't time yet.

He needed to recover.

And he needed to figure out a few details of his plan.

It would take a little more time.

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For some reason this is my favorite chapter. But that is probably because of how much I've progressed in my writing. Please take at least a moment to look at the next chapter, there's important information in there - (but much less than I originally thought htere would be, oops).