Hiccup and Toothless have an uncanny balance, perfect communication. They've been in sync almost since they met. Toothless still isn't sure when Hiccup went from the boy to his boy, just like Hiccup can never decide exactly when he stopped thinking of Toothless as a dragon and when he started to think of him as his dragon. Still harder to pinpoint is when they became Hiccup and Toothless, best friends, a team. When they became willing to die for each other.

Neither of them can comprehend the difficulty the others have with communicating with their dragons and the dragons with their riders. Toothless and Hiccup don't even try; they trust, they know, they move and almost think as one.

Astrid is too much of a control freak. She can't commit fully to Stormfly's instincts. Snoutlout is too intimidated by Hookfang to remind him he's human and injury-prone. The twins are too easily distracted, and the Zippleback they ride tends to take advantage. Fishlegs is so statistic minded; he sometimes forgets how to just ride.

Toothless can't help but be proud of their bond.

Until a "flaming squirrel" enters their lives.

The minute he smells it, he knows what it is. They come from south, farther south than the Viking boats sail. Toothless has not seen one for years. It will bring trouble. He knows Hiccup, he knows exactly what Hiccup will do; he will coax the little demon out, bring it home, befriend it and invite trouble to Berk. Toothless backs up. He does not know how powerful the offspring are. A fully grown one is not a joke, and he remembers that quite well. He snarls at it so it knows he's not afraid of it.

Hiccup misunderstands. "You're not helping." He fishes it out and cuddles it, almost. Toothless growls again. "C'mon, play nice," Hiccup chides.

Of course, Hiccup is elected to bring it home.

Toothless has hope when Stoick protests it. But then the little beast takes his nightly job—lighting the fire—and Stoick's sold.

The beast steals his dinner, his bed, and Hiccup still dismisses Toothless. He's never felt so disconnected from his human. Hiccup always has been able to read him. Hiccup has always understood.

It seems the creature wants to steal his human too.

He refuses to participate in the dragon's testing. Hiccup should understand; a dragon from the south likes eels; the northern dragons abhor them. Hiccup should realize something's off, now. But he doesn't. The little dragon's still amazing to him. He hates Hiccup playing with the thing; he hates Hiccup conceding that his concern is jealousy.

He misses his human.

The little demon bites him; Hiccup blames him for the fire; the mother has come for her baby and he has no way to tell Hiccup. This keeps getting worse.

You'd think roaring and rearing and trying to show him the burn in the woods would be enough, but it's not.

Hiccup is being more thickskulled than any Viking could ever be.

He leaves him in the cove.

He leaves him behind.

He picks the other one, the big guy Toothless used to be.

He leaves him in the cove, roaring.

The night is like the days when he would have to wait for Hiccup to come back to visit, when they were still new. Except he always knew he would return then.

He sees the mother and knows she will search to the ends of the earth for her baby, and that will lead her straight to Hiccup. He has to protect him. He got out of this cove once, he can again! But he can't. He tries and tries and he simply can't.

He has to wait; he has to hope Hiccup will be okay. He has to hope Hiccup will come back for him.

"TOOTHLESS!"

His boy; his boy's in trouble again. He's starting to think Hiccup is permanently in trouble. He bounds to the edge of the cove, scrabbling up the side. Hiccup's jumping towards him; the wind's scent tells him the mother has returned, and blasted little Scorch is following Hiccup, which is making his mother chase after his boy like a sheep. Toothless backs up and jumps to meet Hiccup. He lands unharmed on his dragon's back; exactly where he ought to be. That's right, you little worm, he tells Scorch. Mine.

"Thanks, bud," Hiccup says. "I'm so sorry. I should have listened to you."

Toothless' devotion to Hiccup flares. That's alright. You're here now. And you've learned better, right?

When Hiccup tells him evasive maneuvers, it's like nothing has changed for them. They're still a team.

Hiccup says it best, as Scorch flies off with his mother and siblings: "Everyone's back where they belong."

"I should have known you were just trying to protect me," Hiccup says, stroking his jowls. Ahhhh. "That's what you do."

That's his job. It's what he will do until he returns to the earth. He will be there for Hiccup. Hiccup is everything good about his world—sunshine on your scales while you doze, fresh fish, flying high enough to touch the clouds— personified. Still, Hiccup needs a little punishment. He happily retches a fish into Hiccup's lap. And he's going to make him eat it. Ah, yes. Order is restored.