Hiccup paused in the threshold of his home, cheeks kissed by a late morning sun, and inhaled the spiced air of crisp leaves and salted fish, skies colored by mottled wings of reds and yellows and greens. Greetings rose up the steep slope to meet him—hearty bellows and warm roars. He grinned.
Five years ago, he’d never think it possible; that he could step outside and feel pride in his home and culture. He never thought he would care so deeply and passionately about Berk, enough to marvel at her day after day.
“Ah, Hiccup! There you are!” His father stepped up the grassy walk to meet him.
“Morning dad,” Hiccup greeted. He hopped off the stoop and stretched his long legs in a downhill amble. A pack of Terrors screeched overhead as they flew by.
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