Dawn came slowly to the island.
Grey light crept across the sea, turning the waves silver as the sun began to rise beyond the horizon. The wind had calmed during the night, leaving the ocean unusually quiet.
Inside the cliffside cave, the dragon stirred.
Her ears had been awake long before the rest of her body.
They had tracked every shift in the camp below during the night—the quiet footsteps of the guards, the crackle of the dying fire, the occasional murmur of voices drifting up the cliffs.
But now the sounds had changed.
Movement.
Many footsteps.
Wood scraping against sand.
The dragon lifted her head.
They're leaving.
She rose quietly and padded toward the cave entrance, keeping her body low as she approached the opening.
Below, the Vikings were already at work.
The campfire had been stamped out, leaving only dark ash on the sand. Bundles of gathered wood had been stacked near the ship, along with sacks filled with berries and other supplies from the island forest.
A few of the men pushed the ship slowly back toward the water while others loaded the last of the cargo.
Their movements were quick and efficient.
They had done this many times before.
The dragon watched silently from the shadows.
Her tail rested along the stone floor behind her as her enormous ears turned, collecting every sound.
No one looked up.
No one even glanced toward the cliffs.
To them, the island was empty.
Just another stop along the endless northern sea.
One of the Vikings gave a loud shout, and several others heaved together against the hull.
The ship slid forward with a grinding sound.
A wave rushed beneath it.
Then another.
Slowly, the vessel lifted free of the sand.
The men climbed aboard one by one.
A moment later the sail unfurled.
The wind caught it immediately.
The dragon watched as the ship began to drift away from the island.
Wood creaked.
Water splashed against the hull.
Within minutes the vessel was already moving steadily toward open sea.
Toward Berk.
Toward the world beyond her island.
The dragon remained perfectly still until the ship had become little more than a distant shape against the water.
Only then did she step out of the cave.
Morning sunlight spilled across her dark fur as she stretched her wings fully for the first time since the Vikings had arrived.
The turquoise membranes caught the light and shimmered faintly as she flexed the long wing fingers.
Her muscles felt stiff from staying hidden for so long.
She shook herself once and stepped toward the edge of the cliff.
Far below, the empty beach looked exactly as it had before the Vikings arrived.
The only signs they had ever been there were faint footprints in the sand and the dark circle where their fire had burned.
Soon the tide would erase even those.
The island would belong to her alone again.
The dragon stepped onto the rocky edge of the cliff and spread her wings.
Wind rushed beneath the membranes instantly.
She leaned forward.
Then leapt.
Her body dropped for only a moment before the air caught her wings and lifted her into a smooth glide.
The ocean stretched endlessly beneath her as she soared along the cliff line.
Freedom.
Silence.
Her ears rotated slowly as she released a soft echolocation pulse.
Fish moved in the shallows below.
Rabbits rustled in the grasslands above the cliffs.
Everything had returned to normal.
She banked gently toward the cove where the wrecked ship rested beneath the water.
The broken mast still rose from the sea like a crooked spear.
The dragon circled once above it.
Then she continued along the coastline, scanning the water for breakfast.
Life on the island would continue as it always had.
Hunting.
Flying.
Growing stronger.
But now she knew something important.
Her island wasn't forgotten.
It was simply unnoticed.
A quiet place on the edges of the world.
Close enough to Berk for ships to pass by.
But far enough that no one had reason to look too closely.
And that was exactly how she liked it.