Symphony of Shadows

40. Edge

A/N: Keep this visualizer in mind...

After a refreshing night of sleep, Astrid was ready to find a way off the cursed island. Her limbs no longer ached and she felt rejuvenated. She crept past the Deadly Nadder that had become her sleep companion as it snored softly. It was mid-morning, and she could see the Night Fury just outside of Hiccup's tent. However, upon closer observation, she saw that the dragon wasn't alone but accompanied by Hiccup, who lay fast asleep. She found herself lingering on his freckled skin as the morning light illuminated each spot. For a moment she forgot who he really was and longed for the simplicity of that meadow they'd shared. His hair was slightly ruffled from sleep, and he wasn't wearing his dreadful suit. He looked human—normal, even. To one side, a leather bag she recognized—the one usually strapped to the dragon—lay on the ground. She shouldn't be snooping through his belongings, but what if there was a weapon she could use to help her escape? She missed her collection of knives and daggers—she could scale the cliff much more easily with a sharp object than with her bare hands. As quietly as she could be, she opened the bag and searched for anything of use. Her hand found little else—other than some kind of doll. What the...?

She carefully pulled out what appeared to be a Deadly Nadder plush—likely from last night. Her mind raced with the worst kinds of scenarios of why Hiccup would have a child's toy in his bag from a village raid. Astrid hoped the man she knew wasn't capable of hurting a child, but she didn't know him as well as she thought. Enough was enough. She couldn't just stay like a good little hostage while Hiccup figured out what he'd do with her. She'd rather die trying to escape than live in complacency. Astrid was Berk's Vordr after all; she wasn't going down without a fight. Setting the Nadder toy down, she slowly made her way to the closest cliff, which was within sight of the sleeping dragon rider and two dragons. If any of them stirred, she'd be able to hear it, and Odin help her with what she would do next. She steeled herself for the impossible task. Then she peered over the edge—and immediately regretted it. It was much higher than the cliff she had scaled at Berk, and she couldn't see many footholds, which was an even worse sign. Deep breaths, deep breaths. She could do it. Her family needed her back. Ruffnut needed her back. Hel, Berk needed her back.

Ever so carefully, she sat on the cliff's edge, testing its durability. She didn't want to go crashing down in a landslide, after all. The ground felt mostly firm, but a few pebbles skittered loose and fell down into the chaotic sea below. Her calm threatened to vanish, but she was slightly comforted by the presence of a few jutting stones along the way down, where she might be able to rest. The cliff curled inward slightly—its shape narrowing like a stone funnel—offering the barest hope that she wouldn't be climbing straight down a wall of death. She could do it. She would do it. Sending a silent prayer to Odin—or any gods above that would listen—she lowered one foot beneath the edge, searching for a foothold. Her stomach dropped when she felt nothing but unbroken, smooth rock. Had she miscalculated? The pit in her stomach dulled only slightly when her foot hit a jutting piece of rock—barely more than a sliver. Phew. Testing her weight on it, the stone held. Then she repeated the process with her other foot, ensuring she gripped tightly to the ground above. One foot after the other, she lowered herself farther—past the point of no return. Her fingers already ached from the pressure she was exerting onto the few handholds she could find. Every move had to be precise. One mistake, and she'd be falling to a very painful death.

It was arduous, slow-moving work—making sure that each of her limbs had enough support before climbing any farther. Astrid didn't dare to look down as she knew that was when fear would get the best of her. The distance between her and the top of the cliff was growing, but she tried to keep her eyes on the rock in front of her. And then—

A quiet squawk.

Shit. Her head snapped up and met two yellow eyes—peering at her from above. The bewildered Deadly Nadder inspected her absolutely helish predicament. Just what Astrid needed, an audience.