Disclaimer: HTTYD is the property of Dreamworks and Cressidia Cowell

'Memo to self: next time the HEP department ask for volunteers, run for the hills' I was sitting in an uncomfortable chair whilst assorted technicians scurried around, wiring and assembling the fragments of whatever machine that gave the gaggle of particle physicists such a hungry look. On closer inspection, most of the people here that weren't putting this thing together or sitting here, getting a progressively number backside, were quite some distance away. If there weren't all sorts of yummy chemicals being fed into my bloodstream I would probably quite worried about that.

A quiet whine began to rise out of the machines, only broken by the clatter as the technicians retreated, and the faint sounds of a professor talking to a small crowd of supplicants.

Now if I hadn't dropped physics as soon as I possibly could maybe I could have made something out of the mess of jargon and exited babble, but I did, so all that I knew is that from degree of smugness in his tone, he'd just proved someone hilariously wrong. Fair enough, I have been known to crow on occasion as well. I may have giggled a bit as the whining increased in pitch and static filled the air. Yes it was undignified. This was also paying my rent for the next few months so dignity could go hang.

To be honest I didn't see what all the fuss was about, I was expecting something painful, or at the very least humiliating, given the amount of waivers I had to sign. All that had happened was someone attached me to this lovely drip feed and I was whirred at for 40 minutes, honestly I can't see why people don't volunteer for these things more often.

I would have looked over to where the group of physicists lurked, but there seemed to be a light shining in my eyes, and I clamped them shut against the glare. My stomach just managed to register a sinking feeling before everything went black.

- What are you doing here? Whaa… Oh Dear, you really don't belong here. Now where did you come from? Ah, There really are quite a lot of you aren't there? Oh well, this one should do. Goodbye little thing. Nononononoononono…

Snow. Yup, definitely snow. Bloody marvellous. He sat up and opened his eyes.

"Arrghh. Shit!"

He slammed his eyes shut, and began to blindly rummage through his clothes. Freezing wind and contact lenses really did not go together. He contorted his body in the snow, sending freezing slush down the back of his neck but sheltering his head from the wind. He transferred the contacts from his red streaming eyes to their case as fast as he could with his shaking hands.

He blinked away the tears and fumbled on a pair of his backup glasses, the prescription was out of date by at least a year, but right now he had more important things on his mind, like not freezing to death for one thing. He stumbled through the shin deep snow, taking shelter behind one of the trees. It took 40 minutes in this sort of temperature for hypothermia to set in, and that was with being dry and being sheltered from the wind. Soaked jeans and a thin jumper weren't really going to cut it here. Looking around, all he saw was more trees and more snow.

Given that he was certainly going to die, He was surprised that he wasn't crying, to have your life cut short at 19 when there was every possibility that he would have lived for another century would trigger anyone's self-pity. But that was the thing about the cold, any surge of emotion was sapped away with his strength, and now he just leaned back and waited for the inevitable.

He thought he heard faint roaring sound through the trees, and huddled tighter. There were worse ways to go than cold, after all. The roaring grew louder, and he saw a great shadow sweep across the sky.
He saw flashes of scale and wing, and a voice, a human voice spoke.

"Vem är detta förlorare, krokfang"

What little bloody-minded defiance of basic biology fled, and he collapsed onto his side. He dimly recalled being dragged, but the blackness that had lurked at the edge of his vision chose that moment to flood in. The last thing he felt before his overactive brain surrendered was of heat. Then nothing.