Chapter 1: Introduction/Stealing Breakfast

If you had told me two weeks ago that I would be risking my life to save a dragon, I would have called you crazy. But here I am, hanging from a fiery ledge, only seconds away from death. Hmm ... maybe I should start from the beginning.

My name is Ingrid Halstein. I come from a very small mountain village called Derby. It was there, I lived happily with my family until ... well, I'll get into that a little later. For now, let's fast forward a bit to exactly two weeks ago, just before all this started.

It was early dawn, when I awoke to the sweet smell of meat cooking in a village nearby. I'd been camping out in these woods for nearly a month now and couldn't remember the last time I'd eaten. I held my aching stomach as it rumbled. As my hunting traps had come up empty, and dragons regularly roamed the area, food seemed pretty scarce. It was here that I would have to turn to my second option. I put on my cloak and, taking another whiff of the delicious morning air, I slowly and carefully made my way down the hill. As I neared the clearing, I stopped and hid behind a tree. Pulling the hunting knife from my belt, I peeked for any signs of activity, other human bodies or, Oden forbid, dragons! I waited another moment before concluding that the coast was clear. I pulled the hood of my cloak up over my head then swiftly and quietly moved from the tree into the village. This wouldn't be the first time I've had to steal food or supplies and, though I'm not proud of it, I've gotten pretty good at it. Let's just say, I've been on my own for a while. As I moved deeper into the village, I couldn't help but notice its uniqueness. Honestly, I've never seen anything like it. There was almost a peaceful warmth to it. It almost reminded me of my home village, well ... almost.

I jolted at the sound of a snapping twig, and dove behind the nearest building. My eyes widened at the sight of a Deadly Nadder as it passed. Just then, the dragon stopped, and began sniffing in my direction. I ducked my head back and tried to remain out of sight. The dragon turned the corner, moving closer inward. I held my knife outward, trying to remain in its blind spot for as long as I could. A loud whistle was heard in the distance, causing the beast to whip its head around and turn in the other direction. It disappeared in an excited rush. I heaved a relieved sigh. I was a bit confused however by the behavior. The Nader had responded to that whistle, as if it were a dog being called by its master. This place was getting weirder by the second. Once more, I peeked around the corner and surveyed the area for any other activity, then continued to track my breakfast. By this point, I decided to quicken my pace. The faster I got my food, the faster I could leave this weird village.

Finally, my eyes met with a beautiful sight; meat cooking on a front yard spit! I licked my lips, and inched closer, holding my hands out ready to grab and run. I paused as I began to hear voices from inside the house. The front door creaked open. Without hesitation, I nabbed the sizzling hunk of poultry, and ran as fast as I could to the nearest hiding place. As I slipped into another building, I could hear a gruff male voice shout angrily on behalf of his missing food. I can't say I didn't feel guilty, but when it comes to survival, empathy just isn't something you can afford. I laid low in my hiding place, long enough to finish off the entire bird. That hit the spot, I thought to myself while masking a small burp. I sat there against the wall, allowing my now full stomach to settle. I could stay there for a little while at least, as long as whoever lived there didn't catch me. So far, the place seemed pretty vacant. It wasn't even that big. Small cracks in the ceiling let in rays of sunlight, shining over the room's contents. The more I saw, I began to realize that this wasn't someone's home ... it was a shop - belonging to the village blacksmith I would have guessed, based on the weaponry and various tools hanging from the walls and ceiling. Smiling to myself, I decided that maybe now was a good time to stock up on a few supplies before heading on my way.

I snatched up a few more supplies, stuffing them in my cloak before retreating toward the back entrance. I stopped dead in my tracks when I heard a loud rattle, followed by a slow creek. Turning my head, I could see the front door opening. I backed away into a darker corner of the room, trying my best to blend in and keeping as still as humanly possible. The large Viking that entered, who I could only assume was the blacksmith himself, carried with him an armful of burnt and broken shields, which he carelessly tossed into another corner. Then, slapping the dust from his hands, he walked back out, slamming the door behind him. He didn't even seem to notice I was there ... boy, this was turning out to be my lucky day.

I hastily leaped out the back door, hoping I wouldn't meet with any more close calls. I was still feeling pretty full and, on top of that, I had stolen more provisions than I could carry. I could feel myself slowing down. No! I couldn't! I had to get out of there fast. Come on Ingrid, you've done this several times before, I urged myself... Yes! I could almost see my camp site ... I was home free!

"Hey you!"

Or not? I felt a harsh tug at the hood of my cloak, holding me in place. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the sneer on his dark bearded face. Spitelout, they called him. I struggled in his grip, but he only grasped tighter, dragging me back to the village. More villagers who were obviously attracted by the scene followed behind us. I hid my face in embarrassment. I'd never been caught before. I suppose there's a first time for everything. Suddenly we stopped, and I was suddenly thrown to the ground, my cloak torn off in the process. All the objects that were stuffed inside had been scattered. Wiping myself off, I sat up. I found myself in the middle of a very large crowd of Vikings young and old. I even saw a group that looked about my age, a couple of them snickering at my situation. I gritted my teeth angrily at them. Just then, I noticed an area of the crowd parting, as if making a path for someone. Sure enough, I was right - and at this point, very frightened. The man that they called their leader, or the chief of their tribe, stood over me, scratching his long red beard.

"What's the meaning of this?" His voice thundered.

"Stoick," Spitelout began, "I caught this thief stealing supplies from Gobber's shop!"

The Viking chief bent down closer, his eyes locked with mine briefly, squinting, as if to see right into my head and find the answers he wanted, why I was here and what other plans I might've had... not that I had any. I flinched a little, waiting uneasily to see what he would say next.

"What do ye suggest we do with her?" asked the other Viking. He sounded a little too eager to hear the decision of my fate.

Stoick rose back to his full height. There was a sudden hush over the crowd, as he turned to his second in command. "Lock her away, until I can decide on a suitable punishment." And with that, he turned his back and disappeared into the crowd.

"No! Wait!" I begged as I was dragged away.