Chapter Text
The wood overhead creaked and groaned as the ship sighed against the waves. Morel’s stomach quivered uncomfortably like a jellyfish on a platter, they had never enjoyed small vessels belowdecks. For a viking, they had terrible seasickness. Unfortunately the luxury of looking out to the pale horizon was denied them, being a stowaway and all.
Johann was an honest merchant from what Morel could tell. Years of trading with the Berserkers and other viking tribes had gained him a reputation. Both as a fair tradesmen, but as a blatherer, and a helpful hand at acquiring rarer objects of interest.
Morel had often traded with him various dragon parts, mostly stuff that could presumably have been acquired without harm to the dragon. Since once Morel was old enough to actually trade with Johann, the man had grown a bit soft of heart when it came to dragon dealings. It confused them at the time, but now knowing that Johann also traded with Berk- a known dragon sanctuary, his refusal to carry more obvious dragon remains became apparent.
The boat lurched and then suddenly was calm. Morel snapped back to the present and tried to control their breathing. They must have passed the breakers and were now headed to dock. The air was stuffy and humid and sweat beaded up and down Morel’s arms and back uncomfortably. They had built a small nook to hide in out of supply crates and barrels in the bowels of Johann’s ship, and now sat there, still as stone, to listen for the telltale footsteps of Johann exiting his quarters and making ready to stop.
Sure enough the sharp tack tack tack of his boots roamed overhead and muffled directions could be heard. Stowing away had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now, having gone 3 days without food and twice as long without a proper wash, feeling cramped and sore and drained from the seasickness, Morel was rather regretting their original decision. But with no coin, and nothing to trade, and the mess they had left behind on Berserker island, this was their only choice.
Finally the boat stilled. Morel felt tears prick their eyes as another bout of nausea rose up and they fought to choke it down. They needed to get off this ship now .
Loud thumps landed overhead, making Morel jump. More voices, these ones higher-pitched. Morel strained to hear what was being said, but the overlapping footsteps and noises from docking completely drowned out any conversation. Eventually the busy noise died down, and all was still. The time of day was impossible to discern from down below. After everything had been quiet for a while, Morel decided to risk having a peak up top. If only to gauge how long until night fell and they could leave undetected.
There was a small hole cut in the deck of the ship, which allowed a meager sliver of light down into the cargo hold. Morel crept over to it and looked up. It was bright.
I really don’t know what I expected. A peephole is not enough to tell me what time of day it is. Blast it! I’m going to have to either go up or wait it out.
They gauged their options. Go up and risk being caught, forever losing Johann’s trust, or wait and try not to pass out from dehydration, starvation, and general exhaustion?
As they sat, a white noise began drumming on the planks above.
Rain!
Quickly Morel hunted for a goblet, mug, or drinking horn, something to catch the water that was now trickling down through the peephole.
They found a beaten-up drinking horn and held it aloft. Clear cold water filled it and Morel drank their fill. They rinsed their hair too and simply stood there with the water trickling down their face. After some deep breaths, relishing in the feeling of being alive, they carefully placed an empty barrel beneath the hole to prevent flooding, and went back to their corner to rest and wait for dusk.
***
The sound of silence woke them, all was dark and still in the hold. The rain had stopped. They waited, no movement. Johann must have either disembarked or gone to sleep. Carefully Morel packed up what little belongings they had and made their way to the stairs. Once above deck they thanked Thor for the extra cloud-cover. No stars or moon would give them away tonight. And with the practice of a routine dragon-scavenger, they slipped off the ship quietly and entered the woods.
***
The woods were chilly from the sudden downpour, and a fog was lifting off the ground. Morel wove between the trees, eyes peeled for dragons, game, or viking settlement.
After a while they spotted some trails left by smaller dragons, broken branches and scratching posts on trees. The rain must have washed any ground tracks away. Morel’s head spun. What were they doing looking for dragons now ? They needed rest, food, and water. Not a fire-breathing lizard to decide they would make a good snack.
With that in mind Morel swerved and began making their way towards the base of the hills.
There must be caves on this island. Someplace for me to lay down without getting suddenly drenched.
The fog was getting worse. Thick eddies swirled about Morel’s feet, and shrubbery took on sinister silhouettes in the gloom. Morel shivered. Between the fog and their exhaustion, everything was starting to lose focus.
Somehow they managed to stumble upon a small cave entrance, little more than an outcropping in the side of the rock face, and collapse inside. There they propped up their bag as a pillow, and fell into a deep, unquiet sleep.
***
Some miles off a night terror flew with haste to its leader. It had important news to share. Someone new was on the island, someone who smelled of dragon bones.