A part of him was missing. Toothless knew it before his mouth cooled and the taste of smoke had left his tongue. The sudden crush of loss tore him from the alpha’s pull with crippling brutality. Shadows dance before his eyes; a frantic hazy memory of desperation. Echoes of Hiccup’s screams and pleads rang in the silence.
The following clarity killed him. His boy, twisted and static, with no rush of blood or beating heart. The scent of death thick and wafting.
Toothless screamed before comprehension fully took him. He accepted Stoick’s anguished hail of punches and ignored Valka’s shaking fingers and fell deaf to Astrid’s weak, insincere coaxing. He moaned and nudged whatever part of Hiccup he could get at and grew sick at the scent and evidence of his own flame.
Read More →