A/N: All right here we go! Revamped "How to Train Your Human"! I read through it and didn't like how I wrote some of the parts. Also, I wanted to update some of the terminology with what I now know about the dragons of this amazing world. Not much has changed, although I am combining some of the sections that were really short. I'll be doing this before actually updating with new material. Enjoy!
I remember the day the humans came. We had been visiting the island for decades before them, snatching up wild boars, elk, and other detectible prey from its thickly forested shores. The Alpha was quite pleased with everything we brought to him, and that alone saved our lives. Three times each lunar cycle, we brought our hard-earned kill to the mountain in order to survive.
I was a hatchling when hunters stopped returning from the island. The Alpha sent out scouts and discovered that strange creatures who called themselves humans had settled there, claiming the land. The disastrous humans had killed our clanmates. Only one scout returned, claiming that the humans had captured all of our potential prey and were not sharing. This devastated the others greatly, especially the Alpha.
So that was how I grew up. The battle between them and us is gradually becoming a war. Eight long years passed and my kind are slowly diminishing in numbers. It's rare when dragons die naturally, but my closer friends suffered this fate two years ago. Two bonded dragons always die at the same time, usually together.
When this happened, my clan put a strange task upon me. You see, I'm a different kind of dragon. I was born from death, something that rarely occurred even for us dragons. It resulted in a kind of respect from the others, but I still prefer to go it alone. I never spend time in the mountain, while some dragons never leave. The Alpha lost his grip on me a while ago but he hasn't given up. This, of course, presents another problem. The others can't seem to shake his hold on them, but it doesn't seem like they want to anyway.
I'm different, I guess. I refuse to conform to their ways. If it endangers my existence, I'm not going to risk everything just to feed my lazy Alpha. And the best part is, he can't do anything about it. I'm too fast and dark for him to catch. When he tries to chomp at me, I easily steer clear. Not all Alphas are like him. Every now and then we get a wanderer from other nests, and they seem disconcerted with how our Alpha treats us. Eating other dragons? But it doesn't seem to faze the others. Maybe they're just trapped.
So my clanmates made a deal with me. If I help them with their raids, I don't have to contribute to the mass hysteria that is feeding the Alpha. They said that my swiftness and dark coloring camouflages me in the night. And with my intense and extremely powerful blasts, I'm the perfect weapon.
That's my task. I help them with their raids on human settlements and I don't have to help them with the Alpha's feeding. Of course the Alpha isn't happy about it, but what can he do?
I'm flying through the darkness, my clanmates behind me. Generations have passed, and I'm barely a young adult. There aren't any other dragons like me that I've found, so the others tend to treat me like an outsider. I guess my isolation from the group doesn't help.
So we're heading to yet another raid on the humans. As islands come in sight, I dip my nose upward and swoop above the others. It's a small herd of a couple different species. I've heard the humans refer to us with different names, but I can never catch them. They sound nonsensical anyway.
The first dragon attacks the wooden shelter of the human clan's Alpha. Every dragon speaks of the Human-Alpha to their offspring, about how many dragons he's killed and how we must seek revenge. He killed my clanmates, and some of the only dragons I ever thought of as friends. Killing him is the only reason I perform my destructive task with such determination and valor.
The humans are sent running. I watch as their puny two legs drag them all around their settlement, seemingly running in circles. A few grab wooden, hollowed-out logs filled with water, tossing them uselessly at the fires my clanmates created. I circle the scene like a hungry vulture, ears awaiting the signal from the head of the patrol.
And it comes. The compelling coo of my fellow patrol leader touches my ears and I swoop downward in pursuit of the Human-Alpha. My yellow eyes are slit in concentration. Finding my target, I quicken my pace. Now for the one key factor of my powerful attack. Whenever I try to go unnoticed, there's one thing that always gives me away.
I inhale, gathering flammable gas from the pouches in my mouth. The brimstone I chewed up before I left tastes like smoke. The high-pitched whistling before my blast fills the air, but I'm too light-headed from the gas to see the humans' reactions. Even so, I know what they're thinking. They're thinking about how much danger their lives are in.
The fire shoots from my mouth like a powerful hiccup. I zoom away in fear that the fiery blast will give away my position. Two mere seconds, and I still can't seem to get away fast enough.
Now that my presence is known, I have a whole clan of humans trying to capture me. It doesn't worry me though. No human in all the years I've participated in the raids has ever seen me, let alone captured me. My black color shields me from their dull eyesight. That's why we only attack at night.
Mind you, if the humans only shared, things would probably be different. They aren't dumb prey like cows and sheep. They behave, in part, like dragons. They have mind processes and have emotions. But the war they have started results in self-defense, and now no dragon will rest until the Human-Alpha is dead.
I continue aiming massive shots at the shelters and humans, destroying their settlement. Maybe if they get fed up, they'll leave, I think. As my clanmates begin escaping with prey, I begin to draw back. I have it all planned out: when I get the signal from the patrol leader, I release one final shot and head back with my clanmates. I'll go on living my life, raiding the humans and not worrying about our useless monarchy. That is, of course, if all goes well. And it always does.
So I get the signal and draw back, preparing for my last shot. I swoop down over the cliff on the south side of the island and release the fire on a large wooden structure. All goes well as I zoom up, past the now-flaming structure, and head away.
Then something happens that not only surprises me, but has never ever, ever happened before: some human got lucky.
Out of nowhere, something sharp and painful knocks me in the side. I let out a shriek of pain as a strange, grass-like strand wraps around my limbs, wings, and tail. Oh, my tail! It's the sharpest pain I've ever felt. It feels like a dragon has come up behind me and scorched it by peeling off every single fireproof scale. But the strange contraption tells me that it's not a dragon, it's a human. Some lucky, annoying human. The shock and pain send me to the ground, unable to fly. I can't steer whatsoever, but thankfully land on ground and not in water. Yet, as I tumble to the forested island, I suddenly wish it had been water and not land. I crash-land into a patch of trees, down a gentle slope not so gently, and tumble around a large boulder. My head pounds and throbs from the pain while my tail is still stinging. When I open my eyes, everything around me is doubled and the ground sways beneath me. Stupid humans, I think before passing out.
I have no idea how much time passed when I wake up. It can't have been too long, since the sun is barely rising. The ropes are still tangled around me, and no matter how much I struggle, I can't break free. The stinging in my tail is reduced to a light throbbing while my head still aches. I give up struggling, eyes drifting closed in resign. What else can I do? I could wait for a human to come by and find me, but that would not end well. I could wait until another dragon comes and have it chew the ropes, but that day may never come.
So I lay there. I drift in and out of a restless sleep, pain eventually subsiding. The sun slowly rises, along with my impatience.
Then I feel something on my side. I twitch instinctively, a soft groan escaping my throat. The creature moves, most likely in fear. At this point, any creature should know that they're safe in my presence.
Except humans.
So when I open my eyes to see a scrawny human, male from his scent, I feel immediate resentment. He seems incredibly frightened, but I don't care. He has a sharp-looking stone in his hand, one that from experience, I know could easily kill a helpless dragon.
The funny thing is, after years and years of being around humans, I've learned to understand their strange form of communication. I can't speak it, of course, but I can understand a few words.
And this one's going on about cutting out my heart and giving it to his father. Dragons don't really have fathers the way humans do. Usually, when a dragon hatches, the "father" is just the dragon that takes care of them. Although we mate for life, the bond between friends is much stronger than the bond between mates. I don't have a father. Like I said, I was born of death and chaos. It's been a long time since a dragon has come into existence purely through elemental power.
The pitiful human shivers in fear. He holds the stone above his head and I relax, eyes closing once more. The truth is, I'm only trying to put on this show for him. There's always that chance that he actually does have it in him. And in this one case, I'm completely helpless. In all honesty, I'm taking a huge risk in not trying to scare him off.
Suddenly, I hear him say, "I did this."
I expect him to walk away. I expect him to run along home to his so-called father. But what he does next surprises me.
My eyes shoot open as I feel the stone press against my scales. I hear the unmistakable sound of human-vines snapping. Before he can break through the second vine, I realize what his intentions are, and already have a plan. The second I'm free…
The final vine is cut. I leap to my feet and pounce at the boy, pinning him against the large boulder beside us. In the split second when I have him pinned, and he's staring at me with dilated, frightened eyes, my mind races. I should kill him. He's the first human to see me, let alone capture me.
…And even so, he didn't kill me. He had a perfect chance and still didn't kill me. I feel like I owe him that.
My eyes narrow. I can't just let him go. It would be against all dragon instincts. But then I feel like he was going against human instincts by letting me go.
I lift my wide head, mouth opening. The boy flinches in fear, puny paws gripping my huge ones weakly. In the next moment, I'm roaring at him at the top of my lungs. Not saying anything in particular, just screaming. He deserves to be at least deaf, no?
With that, I dash away. My job is done, finally. I can return home and tell my clanmates what happened.
Full of relief, and anger at the humans, I leap into the air as the forest floor drops off into a deep gorge, filled with a small pond in the center. Then the worst thing ever happens.
It's known by every dragon in the world: if you can't fly, you're dead. If something happens that disables your ability to fly, good luck surviving. Most dragons depend on flight, and those who can but lose their ability to fly usually crawl away to die.
So when I crash land head-first into the wall of the cove, it's not just the hard hit that dazes me. I tumble to the ground and shake off the crash, letting out a brief cry of pain. Once I regain my composure, I'm in the air. But again, I spiral to the ground, defeated.
Oh no. What's happening? What did he do? I examine my wings, heart pounding in panic. Everything seems fine. He didn't nick a wing while cutting those vines. So what's wrong?
Suddenly, it comes to me. That burning, excruciating sensation in my tail from the night before.
Eyes widening, I flip my head around and look at my tail. To my absolute horror, I realize what the stinging was from.
One half of my tailwing is missing. Just completely gone. In its place is a brownish-red scab, along the length of the wing. That dirty human's contraption ripped my tail off!
That's when the regret hits me. I should've destroyed that useless human. He pretty much killed me. I let out an incredibly frustrated cry, expressing my hatred for all humans.
And then the desperate struggles commence. I scratch and scramble at rocky gorge walls, wings whipping at the air. But every time, I fall back to the ground. I refuse to accept my terrible fate. Why would I? It's entirely possible to fly without a tailwing. It's just a tad difficult to steer.
I don't give up. I try all through the day, claws becoming dull and weak from scratching at the rock. I lose a scale now and then from slamming into the walls and ground, littering the cove with black spots. Hunger strikes at my stomach and I try desperately to catch fish from the pond. But there are so few, and I grow weaker and weaker. My circumstance gradually dawns on me, and I fall to the ground, exhausted.
What am I going to do? If I don't find a way out of this ditch, I'll die here.
But I'm too tired. I give up for the day, muscles aching from all the strenuous climbing and flapping. I curl into a ball, watching as the sun sets. Resignedly, I shut my eyes, hoping I'll wake up to all this being a dream.
