This is Berk.

It's twelve days north of Hopeless and a few degrees south of Freezing-To-Death. It's situated solidly on the meridian of Misery.

The capital is, in a word, sturdy. Every single building is built of steel and stone, and has stood for generations. They all still look like new, too. In the countryside there's fishing and hunting in abundance, and we've got a beautiful view of the sunset.

The only problem is the crime rate. It's surprisingly high, given the exact size of our population; this is because none of the criminals are local. They're all from off-island - and after committing their crimes, they escape off-island just as quickly.

Really makes the locals unhappy; we're all descended from Vikings, the rogues of the northern seas. Our ancestors had been the ones to sail in, pillage and plunder, and then sail out, and now another group is doing the same thing to us.

Oh yeah, and these crooks are anthropomorphic dragons.

I'm not kidding. Scaly skin, scaly tails, claws and fangs, and even fire-breath. They generally gather according to their breed, and raid Berk like gangs.

My name's Hiccup, by the way. Son of the Chief. I work under Gobber as a...well, we do a lot of stuff. Mostly keeping the local police force (and everybody else) armed and dangerous, so I guess we're blacksmiths. It's a job that keeps me off the streets and out from under everybody's feet.

So we're clear, I don't hate this job; I'm building things that people are using. What I hate is that everyone considers me too small and weak to defend this place - which is my home too.

I mean I am small and weak, compared to the other kids my age. I don't really want to be a cop, because they have this rotation thing going: basically, three hours of street duty for every one hour of detective duty. My appearance, even in a uniform, won't prevent crime from happening, and I don't have the strength to fight dragons.

Just once though, I want to get out there and save some lives with my own hands. Being able to protect your home with lethal force, especially against dragons, is everything on Berk.

There are four really common breeds that are responsible for most of the crime around here. First there are the Deadly Nadders, which look kind of like parrots with nose-horns, big nostrils, and long spiny tails; they never wear sleeves because of the massive wing membranes on their arms, and they never wear hats or hoods because of their crested-porcupine hair. They rarely even wear shoes because of their bird-claw feet. They're quick and agile, and have the hottest fire of all the dragons. They're the only ones able to melt holes in buildings.

Then there are the Gronkles. Borderline-impenetrable scales, jaws powerful enough to take bites out of walls and pillars, and strong enough to fight ordinary humans one-on...the most I've ever seen has been six...and win without ever even spewing its lava-breath. It's the only common dragon that doesn't really have horns or spikes, but their jaws are so bulked-up and toothy that they don't need any extra horns. Oh yeah - their "wings" are basically just a couple of membranes stretched between long bones that move up and down. Between those twin membranes and those massive muscle-barrels they call torsos, they don't wear shirts. In fact, they don't even wear pants because of their heavy tails and beefed-up thighs; they usually make do with loincloths and boots.

Speaking of twin anything, the third gang is the Hideous Zipplebacks. They're long and lean, have short, hooked nose-horns and long, thin eyebrow-horns, and they always traveled in pairs (when anyone bothered to refer to half a pair by itself, they used "Zipplehead"). And the strangest part was that each pair had only two arms, two legs, and two wings between them - and each Zipplehead had its own tail, attached to where their second leg should have been, so a Zippleback had two tails. Exactly how those were mix-and-matched varied among the pairs; one pair might have the arms and legs be on the same sides, while another might match the arms and legs diagonally. What also varied was which of them spewed foul-smelling, combustible gas and which of them produced sparks off their teeth. Basically, the Hideous Zipplebacks were the least predictable dragons to fight - you knew they were going to make something explode, and that was about it.

Finally, there are the Monstrous Nightmares. Long, lean, and the biggest, one Nightmare was the size of a Hideous Zippleback pair combined. Size alone would make it difficult to find clothes - and they also have lots of spikes running down their backs and tails, and their arms have wing membranes that are almost as big as a Nadder's (relative to the Nightmare, so they might actually be as big as a Nadder's wings), so that's a lot of stuff that clothes would have to fit over. Then there's that nasty habit they have of setting themselves on fire. Basically, they've given up on shirts altogether and make do with pants; don't ask me how they don't just torch those. In fact, don't even ask me how they get the pants on without shredding them: the claws on their hands and feet are shockingly long (so yeah, no gloves or boots either). They also have long jaws - like some freaky mix of wolf and crocodile - and their foreheads have branching and twisting horns.

Gobber has two prosthetic limbs because of Monstrous Nightmares. One ripped his hand off, and less than a month later another one took his leg.

I've been reading the files on these guys over and over again, trying to find some weakness that I can exploit. So far, nothing.

The night was clear, the moon was a shining crescent, and there was no gang action in town. I was finally able to get some time off, and I wandered my way to Raven Point. It was kind of my special place - away from my cousin Scott, and his buddies Ruth and Tully. I'd climb trees, slide on the hills, go to the cove and swim in the lake...all kinds of stuff. As I got older and those boyish activities got less interesting, I would just go out there to think. Fisher used to come with me, and then...I don't want to say we drifted apart, but...well, we did sort of drift apart. We're still friends, but he got other friends who were more inclined to physical activities. Now there's no one I'd want to bring with me out here.

Well...

I looked through the trees at the sky full of stars and sighed, my thoughts drifting to the one person I would like to bring out here.

Astrid.

Strong and beautiful, with attitude in spades; if there was one girl I wanted to date in all of Berk, it was her. Of course, it was nothing but a pipe dream - she probably wouldn't come near me even if she were on fire and I had the only bucket of water in town. What did I have to offer her? How could I impress her?

I had nothing - well, not nothing, I wouldn't call my weapon-crafting skills or intellectual capabilities nothing - but I didn't know how to get her attention to show her anything. Emulating Scott would just get me punched in the face. Or laughed at.

If only my dad would give me some advice. But I knew exactly what he'd say if I ever asked. "Grow some bone and muscle, then you can start on the attracting-ladies business." He had already, many times over, expressed his disappointment in my stature; he'd never expect that a girl would be interested in a talking fishbone.

If only I could ask my mother. But she...well.

Suddenly a branch broke, so close to me that I nearly had a heart attack.

I have no conscious recollection of stepping behind a tree, but I found myself concealed as an old man walked stiffly past me into the woods with a suitcase.

Mildewed Mayhew?

He rarely left his farm, and he never went into the deep woods. What was he doing here?

Curiosity piqued, I started following him - staying very low and making liberal use of the cover.

Mayhew reached a clearing and stopped right in the middle of it. Then he just stood there, fidgeting.

After a moment's thought, I decided that I would have the best view of the situation from a tree. I prowled around the outside of the clearing, looking for a tree that I could get into without attracting the attention of Mayhew - or whoever he was meeting out here.

By the time the other guy showed up, it had been almost an hour and I had found myself an ideal position. The colors I had on today even matched the tree somewhat. They'd have to know I was up here before they'd see me.

He was big - and he wasn't all that quiet. Mayhew spun in the direction of the stomping footsteps.

"I've been waiting here for hours! What kind of society do you dragon-people have that you keep your elders waiting?"

What?

I gaped at the scene below. The approaching figure had such massive jaws that I could see every red bump on it - and every razor-sharp tooth sticking out of it. A Gronkle! As he came fully into the light I saw he was wearing a long trench coat and a hat; I guess he thought it disguised his dragon disposition? All he accomplished was looking like he was going to flash somebody.

"Grrn...not my eld'rrr."

That gravelly voice took my breath away. I hadn't known any of the dragons could speak!

Mayhew looked sharply at the coat, as though trying to see if something was in one of the pockets. "I did what you said...I came alone."

"Rrr, me know. Me checked."

"Give it to me!"

"Hurrr, hrr, hrr...pay up furrrssht."

What, Mayhew was up to something illegal? That...wasn't a very big surprise. What was a surprise was that the Gronkle gang was capable of something this sophisticated. I could have suspected Nadders or Zipplebacks to be capable of sophistication, but not Gronkles.

Mayhew brandished the suitcase. "Here!" At the Gronkle's impatient gesture he fumbled the case open and displayed the contents.

Rocks?

Why rocks?

They didn't even look like particularly valuable rocks from here.

The Gronkle took one of the rocks and broke it in half with his clawed hands. He sniffed, he licked, and then he rumbled; he sounded pleased.

Gronkles like certain kinds of rock, maybe? I made a mental note to look into Mayhew's activities; figure out where he got the rocks. Once I knew what those rocks were, I could make a more intelligent guess.

Then the Gronkle put the rocks back, slammed the suitcase, and took it from Mayhew.

"Right, now give me the hard drive! Cough it up!"

The Gronkle rumbled in response; at first I thought it was laughing, and then I realized it really was about to cough something up.

Mayhew realized that too, and took a careful step back.

Something clicked against the Gronkle's teeth, and then he plucked a black box out of his mouth. "Yourrr harrrrddrrrrrive." He tossed it in the air and tucked the suitcase under his coat.

Mayhew fumbled after the hard drive. He caught it in both hands - and then turned half-away from the dragon, holding the hard drive at arm's length by his fingertips. "Right, yes...this is the only one?"

"Of courrrrrrsse."

Mayhew evidently decided to take the dragon's word for it. He edged away, slowly and keeping one eye on the dragon until he got back into the trees. Then, by the sound, he started running as soon as he thought it was safe.

I would give big money to know what's on that hard drive...

There was a sound behind me. I turned to see what it was -

Pain exploded low in my shoulders, and I suddenly found myself hurtling forward out of the tree. I landed on my face in the clearing and felt something land heavily on my back with a spectacular crack, forcing all the wind out of my lungs. For a second, I thought I was going to die right then.

The weight left my back quickly enough. The pain stayed in my shoulders though, and my chest felt flattened. I couldn't really move right away, but I managed to turn my head a bit so that I could breathe a little.

"You werrra right. The old one was followed."

That's...not...the Gronkle...I opened one eye carefully. Brilliant amber scales and a long chin were suspended over my head.

Monstrous Nightmare?

And he didn't seem to be looking at the Gronkle, either.

A squawk of a laugh. "Of course I was right."

Only a Deadly Nadder could sound that much like a parrot. A really arrogant parrot.

What the hel was going on here?

The Gronkle growled. Loudly. "Me killa old man. He say he come alone."

"And there was no lie in his scent when he said it, my grumpy friend. He thought he did come alone." Then the - it was a Nadder, a green one - came into my field of vision and looked me in the eye. "We have here a nosy-nosy."

"I killa the nosy," the Nightmare snarled. "He broke my-a rrrrac-c-k-k."

"You did that to yourself, head-butting him out of the tree like that. But yes, he should die; he knows too much." A fierce squawk. "Flameless! Or do you wish to set the forest ablaze and alert everyone that your kind was here?"

The Nightmare settled from...whatever he was about to do...with a grumpy noise.

"Me crrrrush?" the Gronkle asked hopefully.

I was not liking this conversation one bit. Have to...get out...of here...

Except I could still barely move, and every move I did make was accompanied by chest and shoulder pain. Did I have broken ribs? And when that Nightmare's horns broke, did a couple of prongs snap off and get lodged under my scapulas?

The Nadder clicked his tongue. "By the time you made him properly dead, you would leave sign that your kind was here." A rustle. "I could as well...but I would leave my sign." A pause, a sniffing. "What do you think? Have we an untraceable weapon?"

I didn't hear any answer at first. But I had my suspicions. There was a Gronkle, a Nightmare, and a Nadder all standing practically right on top of me; all that was left was for a Zippleback to be here.

"Yessssss..."

A thumping sound followed the hiss, like something was waddling heavily out of the forest from behind my head. Then the sound changed, from one waddling creature to two slithering ones, and a couple of wings hauled me up to a backward-bending position (making my shoulders, and most of my torso, scream in agony).

Yup, Zippleback. Midnight-blue twins with eerie gold eyes.

They balanced on their one leg apiece and wrapped their tails around my arms, immobilizing me. Then they started playing with something outside my field of vision, moving in sync with each other so they didn't drop whatever they were playing with.

Why exactly are all four dragon gangs here?

"Lightning fassssst..."

"...and untrasssseable."

Their wings suddenly pressed against my head from both sides, one of the Zippleheads pinched my nose shut, and the other poured something nasty-tasting into my mouth.

What? Poison? The dragon gangs are sophisticated enough to make...my thought stuttered to a stop. I didn't want to swallow this stuff, but I didn't have any way to get rid of it: gravity was against me, and the Zippleback wasn't letting me move (and writhing to try and get away was painful). They were giving me a pretty clear choice of drink-or-drown here - and I was starting to get a little fuzzy-headed from lack of oxygen.

The dragon that had been holding the vial started to gently massage the side of my neck, and before I could consciously register what I was doing, I swallowed the poison. Satisfied, they dumped me back on my face.

"Right, we're done," the Nadder said impatiently. "Let's get out of here before someone comes looking for this brat."

A stampede of feet faded away and I was suddenly alone in the forest.

Okay, now what? I'd swallowed that stuff...but so far I felt fine. Just a little squashed from earlier...

Suddenly my body was filled with the most unbearable heat; it was like I swallowed Gobber's forge. My back hurt and burned beyond all reason around those horn pieces, and my throat seemed to swell.

I started shaking uncontrollably, and my breath came in ragged pants. Every inhale was like a cold burst in my lungs - and every exhale was hot enough that the grass immediately in my field of vision was starting to wilt.

Too...hot...going to...melt...

The forest started to morph in my eyes; trees loomed ominously close, suddenly twisted, and just as suddenly retreated.

This was the worst fever I'd ever had in my life - and if the Zippleback was serious, it would be my last.

Clearly though, they'd been lying about the "lightning-fast" part. Unless they meant it started working like lightning. But it wasn't killing me instantly; instead I was going to die slowly and horribly.

No...don't want...to die here...haven't...even...kissed...

Just breathing seemed to help - cool air in, hot air out - but it wasn't making much of a difference.

Water. There was water in the cove, and it was always cold. If I could only get there, maybe...

In a fit of desperation I tried to make my limbs move. My left arm jerked ahead, my right leg jerked up; I braced my toes and gripped the ground, and writhed for all I was worth.

Eight inches.

Just...keep...moving...

My world rapidly narrowed to two things: my overheating body, and the next patch of ground I was going to take.