wandering hearts | hiccup haddock iii

iii

The world was a blur as she darted between villagers, leaping over wooden wheelbarrows, and ducking under planks being carried down to the docks as the last attack had been rather nasty. A trail of complaints were left in her dust, along with startled sheep and chickens. The coop she'd accidentally stumbled through left her hair riddled with white feathers, but she didn't mind. It was a rather nice decoration now that she thought about it.

"Watch where yer goin'!" a woman shrieked after her, shaking an angry fist in the air. The little girl merely looked back over her shoulder, an excited glimmer in her eyes as she ran with the summer wind, feet bare and hair wild.

Her poor mother was still back where she'd left her at home, rolling her eyes at the fact she'd let the child skip out of a bath again. She couldn't do much with her old back and weak legs. Her girl was sprightly as well as slippery, but she would wish for nothing less. Although she was in desperate need of a good cleaning, Gothi had smiled after her, happy to see her adventurous spirit return back to the world, alarming the village in the process.

As the child gave chase to the unknown, she reveled in the warm sun beaming down on her. There was the idea to head down to the beach and cool off in the salty waves, but she'd been doing that so much recently. Her young hands had been wrinkled most afternoons because of it.

Slowing to a jog, she looked around the edge of the village where the huts gave way to grassy hills and cliffs. Wildflowers dotted the landscape, all vibrant and bright from the nice weather. She'd pick some later to give to her mother as an apology. The bath would come whether she refused it or not, but at least she'd be on Gothi's good side.

Beyond the greenery a great rocky cliff loomed and attached to its side was the long bridge leading to the training grounds. She had visited the Kill Ring before alongside her mother, had seen dragons be forced into cramped cages only to be brought out to fight. She preferred to lounge in the grass away from the metal dome instead of watching the violence, blocking out the sounds of roars and shifting fire that would echo over the cheers during contest gatherings and the great coming of age.

Gothi had told the girl one day she, too, would be down there to prove herself in front of the entire village.

Now that she was older and had seen her fair share of dragon raids, she couldn't say she was excited to pass through those gates.

Thankfully, that day would not arrive for some time, so she enjoyed her time on the grassy cliff at the end of the bridge, air silent with the arena empty. But not for long.

A voice shouted nearby, sounding strained with concern. She was quick to look up from her spot, flowers forgotten.

"Would you just—I have to go!"

"You're always at the blacksmith. What? Scared Gobber will miss you?" A rude tone laughed, followed by others.

Seeking out their conversation, the little girl hid at the edge of the bridge and looked out at the small figures making their way onto it on the other end.

"Snotlout give me my journal," the first speaker demanded, a scrawny boy with messy hair that chased after the pack of kids. She recognized him as the chief's son as he was always being talked about in the village. He was constantly up to no good, or so they said. A clumsy runt, people had chided, who didn't follow in his father's respectable footsteps.

"Come and get it, then," Snotlout, a brat the girl knew all too well, snickered. He taunted Hiccup with the object as it hung from two fingers.