The Sunspire when the trees are crowned with leaves

Although Spine had been greeted by someone altogether too solid after her ascent to Arrow Lake, she couldn't shake the image of those green eyes and that dark shape from her mind—it clearly had not been her companion at the lake's shore. Still, as otherworldly as that black silhouette had seemed, the female couldn't be sure that it was actually what she hoped (with all her heart) it was. And so, after she and Jormag had parted ways, Spine decided she would track the mysterious being.

Which, it turned out, was far more difficult than it had seemed originally. Whoever—whatever—it was, seemed to have been stitched out of darkness itself, and it had left no scent nor tracks to speak of. "But I saw it," she muttered stubbornly, "I know I did."

Her grandfather had told her all about the fey; the nymphs and sprites, the spirits of the wild that were not quite of this earth. She had been desperate to find one, see one with her own eyes, ever since she had first heard of them as a young pup. When her grandfather had passed away, she had decided to make it her mission to have the adventures he told her of. Now that she was tantalizingly close to proving that his tales were all true, Spine found herself doubting the authenticity of her encounter.

Only when she found it again, saw it up close and personal, spoke to it, would she allow herself to declare the mission successful, her journey complete.

"Now," Spine began, her voice once more filled with determination and curiosity, "I wonder if fairies like to climb mountains." She was at the base of one, now, but it would prove far too difficult to navigate upwards in the darkness—as it was, she couldn't make out how far it reached into the sky. Spine sighed, rolling back to sit on her haunches, "I suppose I'll have to wait until morning to find out."

From a distance, vividly green eyes tracked the wolf's movements. As Toothless watched—unblinkingly, for the most part—it purred under its breath. It liked the wolf with the stripe along its back. Toothless wanted to grab the wolf by its scruff and hold it tightly, then run its claws over that soft black stripe... even as it imagined this scenario, it pawed the air like a kitten. Eventually, the tiny foot resumed its place on the rock and the sylph grew very—watchfully—still once more. Only its eyes moved.

When the wolf sat on its haunches at the base of the mount rather than ascending as predicted, Toothless made a sound of frustration deep in its throat. It flitted down the mountainside, leaping, cat-like, from rock to rock down the steep decline. Every so often, it dove behind a rock and hid, peeking out shyly and making sure it hadn't been spotted. The wolf's eyes combed the shadows searchingly—searching for Toothless itself, little did either of them know—but the experienced critter moved stealthily. It was used to flying under the radar and did so quite expertly, somehow striking the balance between wariness and confidence.

Trees grew here in the foothills. Toothless darted behind one, pressing close to the rough bark of the trunk. Slowly, it poked its head out and peered at the wolf, its chartreuse gaze one of admiration. It purred unthinkingly, its eyes flying wide a second later and its belly pressing flat to stone as it tried to become nothing more than another flat black shadow.

As her golden-brown eyes stared upwards toward the shadowy peak, Spine could have sworn she saw shadows moving in the corners of her vision—but every time she adjusted to get a closer look, nothing was there. After a few minutes of this, the female sighed once again and rose to scout out a more comfortable patch of grass to sleep on. Finding one, the striped wolf circled a few times before settling into a curled position—her chin resting upon her forepaws, and her tail-tip curled over her nose as she attempted to succumb to sleep.

Occasionally, her eyes would open once more to search the mountain's face—but as always, the shadows and faint noises she sensed appeared only to be figments of her imagination.

That is, until she heard an odd purring sound from behind a nearby tree. Spine's head lifted immediately, her ears and eyes alert... but she had still been too slow to catch the creature's wide and glowing eyes. Still, as real as it had seemed, the female did not move to investigate. Instead, she queried the night air with suspicion, "Is someone out there?"

When the striped she-wolf called out to the night, Toothless's little heart beat rapidly in its chest. It pressed itself all the harder into the ground, squeezing its eyes shut in the childish hope that doing so made it somehow less visible. It tucked all of its legs underneath its small, sleek body, making itself as small as possible, and bit its lower lip before growing deathly still. It stayed this way for upward of five minutes.

Slowly comforted by the continued quiet—and made curious by it as well—Toothless cracked open one eye, then the other, and lifted its head to peer toward the spot where the wolf lay. It was still there, peering dubiously into the dark. Its heart leaped into its throat and it ducked its head again, only to hesitate and then lift it once more. Its curiosity overrode its fear. Also, it didn't look like it had been spotted, judging by the wolf's behavior.

Feeling bolder by the second, Toothless slowly, silently climbed back onto its feet, still using the tree as a shield. It then began to slink behind a neighboring rock, hoping to make its way closer to the wolf without raising anymore suspicions. Toothless didn't quite know what it planned to do, if anything, once it came closer. It did not think it would show itself, though. It would take more than a few passing encounters with the striped wolf for it to muster up enough confidence for that.

As it crept like a little black lizard from tree to rock to another rock, Toothless felt very sneaky indeed. It was certain it would not make another sound to alert the wolf of its presence. It would be as dark and quiet as the night. In fact, it would be the night. It would be the Night Fury—silent but deadly; felt, perhaps, but never seen; a creature of legend and lore...

Then a large and hairy spider scurried out of a crack and scrambled over Toothless's left forepaw. When it looked down and saw the arachnid's eight legs skating over its toes, it let out an earsplitting shriek that seemed to shake the stars.

Tense as Spine was, attempting to see into the night and find things that were not there, the shriek that erupted moments later rattled down into her bones. Although she had been curious, pure instinct took over at the noise—and Spine ran as far from the source as her legs could carry her, heart thundering in her chest.