A/N: WARNING: THIS STORY CONTAINS HEATSTRID! I will say nothing more about it other than this - it is what it is. Anyway, I would like to thank you all for clicking on this story. A few heads up about this story is that yes, there will be quite some OC's in it, but most of them are dragons so there's really nothing to worry about there. Some of the OC's that appear here will also appear in other stories of mine, but there's no connection between them in this story and them in any of my other fics (unless mentioned). The main P.O.V. will be alternated quite frequently between Astrid and my main OC. With that being said, this story is Astrid centric (and OC centric) but that doesn't mean that I won't include the other characters. I'm already thinking of a sequel to this story, but I'll talk more about that towards the end of this fic. I've made up my own names for each dragon breed (to be used for the dragons' P.O.V.) and here is the list:

Night Fury - Nightcrawler

Gronckle - Rock Eater

Monstrous Nightmare - Fire Scaler

Terrible Terror - Scavenger

Deadly Nadder - Preener

Hideous Zippleback - Twin Spitter

Changewings - Illusion

Smothering Smokebreath - Smoke Billower

Rumblehorn - Stone Hide

Red Death - the Mother/Her/the Queen

Skrill - Lightning Splitter

Typhoomerang - Scorch Marker

Stormcutter - Cloud Cutter

Razorwhip - Sharpslicer

Thunderdrum - Tidal Blaster

Death Song - Kin Eater

Boneknapper - Bonestripper

Snow Wraith - Frostbite

I'll update the list more as I continue the story, but for now, that's all I've got regarding dragon breed names. Also, I made it so that Night Furies age more rapidly on the outside than most other dragons, so they could be a teenager but could look like a full grown adult. Their aging system goes like this:

Birth - 2 Weeks: Hatchling/Adolescent

2 Weeks - 6 Months: Teenager

6 Months - 5 Years: Young Adult

5 Years - 15 Years: Full Grown Adult (Prime)

15 Years - 30 Years: Elder

30 Years - 60 Years: Ancient

60 Years - Until death: Legendary


Of tradition, and of history. Of instinct, and of fear. Of devotion, and of friendship. When two species, come near. And when scales of ebony night, brush against flesh of smooth white - when slits of amethyst ire, lock with eyes of blazing sapphire. Truths will be revealed, and secrets will be kept. As four drown in fire, but only two surface. Notch your arrows, and let them fly. Our strong Valkyrie...is this goodbye?


HTTYD: Blind Trust & Twisted Love

Book One: The Things We Lost In The Fire

Chapter One: Downed Dragons

Created By

ClexaWarrior2018

I wish I were anywhere but here.

The cold air nips at my scales, making me shiver as I start pumping my flame inside of me. Smoke billows out of my nostrils and the corners of my maw as I try to desperately warm myself up. The other dragons around me do the same, their chests heaving and glowing with the dull tint of their fire, but even while surrounded by the frigid night air, they stay focused on our raiding point. It's a rather large viking village, peppered with small wooden nests and other human possessions.

What do its occupants call it again? Oh yeah: Berk.

The dragons of my division hang back in the shadows, their wing strokes quiet as they linger just above the surface of the ocean, keeping out of sight of the vikings ahead of us. I let my claws graze the ocean surface as I fly forward, sea salt spraying up lightly and splattering across my underbelly as the water ripples below me. A sharp intake of breath brings the scent of the sea to the roof of my mouth and I taste it, my blood rushing at the smell of fresh cod.

I huff though, blowing the smell away. I don't have time to fantasize about food.

Instead, I throw a shrill warble over my shoulder. ::We're nearing the island, be ready:: Silence immediately overcomes my division of dragons, only to be filled by the still beating of our wings. The island comes closer into view and I hum. ::Just like last time. Toughlump, lead your pack to the west. Firestar, take yours to the east. My pack - we fly above:: I swoop upwards, watching as Toughlump and Firestar take their small group of dragons away.

Toughlump is a Rock Eater: her thick hide a dark brown that blends in just right with the darkness of the night. Her small wings buzz with each beat, and the rest of the dragons following her use the noise as a cover for their own wing strokes. I avert my gaze to Firestar, a smaller female Fire Scaler. She has blood red scales tinted with speckles of black, bright orange cresting around her eyes, the front of her muzzle, and under her wings.

I can feel the presence of my part of the division behind me and I sail forward, taking cover higher in the dark sky as my dragons follow. I watch the others below me with a flickering gaze, making sure that they're in position. My ear flaps flicker ever so slightly as I pick up the swooshing of the Nightcrawler flying above me, keeping his distance even though I can feel his gaze looking over all the dragons just as intently as mine.

He's the last dragon of my division - mysterious and distanced. No one's ever really seen him before, he keeps to himself and sticks to the shadows, talking to no one. He's like a soldier: following the Mother's orders without complaint and watching over the other dragons like their his own hatchlings, but he's never interacted with any of them. All anyone's ever seen of him are his eyes, sharp green shards of glass that glow in the dark night.

I feel my scales prickle uneasily as I watch him fly around in the night sky, only keeping up with his quick movements by the blacking out of stars every time he passes in front of them. No one else can identify what breed of dragon he is, but I know, I can see it in his eyes. He's a Nightcrawler - like me. It's a rare breed as it is, and we're most likely the last of our kind. Nightcrawlers never flock, and only stay with another of their kind when they're hatchlings.

I wonder if that's why he keeps away from me.

A low hum in my mind makes my ear flaps perk up, my attention momentarily drawn away from the Nightcrawler. ::My pack is ready:: It's Toughlump, her voice low and gentle, like a wise elder. Soon after, Firestar confirms that her pack is also ready, and I snort in confirmation as I too connect my thought link with them, humming lowly as my tail swishes slowly behind me. ::My pack is ready. We attack on my signal::

I quickly connect my thought link with my whole division, which is actually quite hard. Some dragons aren't as mentally strong as others, and when they try to use their links for a long period of time or attempt to spread them too far, they fall into a fit of delusions and sickness. That's why some dragons don't communicate using their links. But since I've been leading a division since I was practically a hatchling, I've had to learn how to stretch my links both far and wide.

Now it's as easy as instinct.

As my thought link connects to the minds of all the dragons in my division, I can start to hear ghostly whispers in the back of my head: their thoughts. As my link is fully accepted by the others the whispers explode into the racing thoughts of my dragons, their words jumbled and twisted and loud. Individually, they can only hear my thoughts, but I can hear all of theirs. My head starts to throb as a dull pain enters my skull, and I wince in protest.

::Be quiet:: I snap at them. ::I need room in my head to think too:: The loud ruckus filling my mind suddenly runs quiet, and a faint buzz in the back of my head is all I need to know that they're still connected to my link and haven't separated. I give myself a good shake, snorting as hot smoke buffs out from my nostrils. ::Alright then. Firestar, lead your dragons in first: distract the vikings. Toughlump, your pack goes for the food. I'll lead my group to attack from above::

::Got it:: Toughlump replies, Firestar quick on her paws with a curt, ::They won't know what hit them:: I snort at her words. ::They never do:: My expression remains impassive even though my tone is humorous, and my ear flaps swivel to the side as I catch the quiet snickers coming from my division at my quip. I don't know why, but I suddenly look up, letting a low growl rumble from deep within my chest as my eyes lock onto the flying silhouette of the Nightcrawler.

::Nightcrawler, I need you to take out those catapults immediately, no waiting this time. I want this raid to be quick, in and out:: There's only silence, but after what seems like eons I hear a low growl of confirmation from above me. My pack looks up wildly, their ears pricked. Mine shoot up to point at the skies too - that's the first time any of us have ever heard him talk. I stare dumbly at the dark sky, but soon shake it off. We have a Viking Nest to raid.

With my eyes roving over the wooden nests perched on the island, I take a deep breath and throw my head back, unleashing a thunderous roar as the dragons around me go into a blur of motion. Wings beating furiously, hearts pumping, breaths loud and ragged - it all rushes at me, filling my senses as my ear flaps swirl and swivel wildly. My eyes catch sight of Firestar and I watch as she leads her pack on the attack of the Viking Nest.

Her dragons spew out fire from their maws and flame the land, buying time for Toughlump and her pack to snatch up sheep and fish. Vikings come pouring out of the largest wooden nest resting at the high point of their land, their beefy pink paws holding weapons as their removable horns cover their heads. My ear flaps fall flat against my skull as they try to mimic our roars with battle cries of their own.

Many of them start swinging around their sharp blades, and I lift my snout to sniff the air. My eyes shrink into slits. It's unnatural how the vikings don't release a fear scent when they see us, only the hatchlings, and sometimes not even them. A loud roar interrupts my thoughts and I whip my head to the side, my eyes catching sight of a Rock Eater from Firestar's pack attacking a younger adult viking as a distraction.

A group of Preeners swiftly make off with prey in the grip of their claws not to far away and I croon, happy to see my dragons working together so perfectly. You know, if the Mother weren't around, and we were all part of our own Nest, we could be pretty dangerous. All of us are already expert hunters and fighters, and some of the females could be Nursery Queens while others could act as Healers - No. I growl lightly at myself, rebuking the thought.

I need to stop lying to myself like that. We'll never free ourselves from Her hold, our hope is just something for Her to crush. All previous thoughts soon vanish from my mind as a shrieking whistle slices through the air, echoed by an eerie whoosh as the Nightcrawler goes into a deadly dive, a purplish blue plasma blast shooting from his maw. My ear flaps go erect as my nose twitches, my eyes following the trail of the plasma blast as it hits its target with deadly precision.

The wooden structure of the catapult immediately crumbles, splintering into small pieces as the vikings who were on it jump off with loud roars of anger and urgency, some landing in the dark ocean water below and bellowing at the ice cold feeling of it as they swim to their shores. I snort, fog gathering in front of me as I let out a single warble of laughter. If we weren't actually fighting for our lives, this whole thing might be a little amusing.

I divert my attention to the Nightcrawler, the sound of his wings slicing through the air growing fainter as he swoops away from the now destroyed catapult and back to the safety of the dark skies. Not a second later, he turns sharply and makes his way towards the second structure. It's empty, with no vikings manning it and no rocks set in its grip to shoot at us. My tail thrashes in finality: this raid will be over soon.

I look away from the Nightcrawler, leaving him to his work as I shoot off higher into the sky. Cold air rushes at me, invisible claws raking across my scales as I purr in delight, closing my eyes. I only open them once more as I spin in midair and do a dive, unfurling my wings only slightly so that I balance myself out. Opening my maw wide I quickly scan the Viking Nest, trying to find a suitable target. My eyes land on a nearby catapult, still standing.

Usually it's the Nightcrawler who takes the catapults out, but I did say I wanted this raid to be quick, so I might as well help him pick up the pace. I can feel heat growing in the back of my throat, purple tinted smoke slowly billowing out from the corners of my mouth and my flaring nostrils. A high pitched whistle starts up, and my ear flaps twitch as I hear the same sound come from the Nightcrawler not to far away.

The vikings scream a warning, ducking as they throw their large paws over their head and close their eyes. I snap my wings open, catching air as the plasma blast leaves my mouth in a hot explosion of purple fire. Twisting my body around I swoop back up into the night sky, my tongue lolling out of the side of my mouth as I press my wings back against my flank, snapping them open when I'm a few feet above the ocean.

Tilting my body slightly the tip of my wing slices through the dark water below me, the reflection of the moon rippling and becoming blurred. I look around, my eyes trying to locate the Nightcrawler. A snapping sound makes my ear flaps go erect, and I whip my head to the side. I just barely catching sight of a web of vines as it shoots out from nowhere, entangling the Nightcrawler as he lets out a surprised shriek.

I let out one of my own, my eyes wide as my wings flap numbly by my sides, and before I know it, I'm surrounded by water. My roars are muffled by the cold liquid, small bubbles escaping my mouth and surrounding me like an annoying flock of Scavengers. Dragons can breathe under water, but not for very long. I force myself to calm down, and soon, I'm following the trail of bubbles up to the surface.

As I break through the surface I try flapping my wings, pushing off with a strong wing stroke as I burst into the sky. Droplets roll and tumble off my black scales, the cold air freezing the water on my claws and the tips of my wings. I shake it off, pumping my fire inside of me as I heat myself up. Finally, I stop flying, hovering in place with a bewildered and dumbfounded expression on my muzzle. My eyes find the place in the sky where he was downed.

Never - ever, had a viking even come close to shooting him down.

A flash of movement catches my eye. On the edge of the island stands a viking hatchling, his small pink paws thrown up in the air. My ear flaps rotate so that I can can hear his happy chirps, a dumb grin on his flat muzzle and his green eyes glowing. The sight makes me snarl, my top lip pulling back as my sharp fangs glint dangerously in the moonlight. I catch sight of an odd device in front of him.

I have...no idea what it is, but it's the only weapon pointed anywhere near where the Nightcrawler was - so the hatchling has to be the one who shot him down! I growl loudly, heat once again building up at the back of my throat. Smoke billows out of my nostrils, seeping out from the cracks in between my fangs as anger boils inside my blood. I swear that I see red, my nostrils flaring. I hate him, I hate that he hurt one of my dragons, I want to flame his face off!

But I know I can't.

Reluctantly, I clench my throat and let my plasma blast die out, quickly barking at the dragon nearest to me, which just so happens to be Firescale, a Fire Scaler. ::Take care of him:: I snort, glaring at the hatchling. He follows my gaze and nods at me, swooping down towards the island as he creeps up on the young viking. I watch him as he comes up behind the hatchling, crushing his device as my ears flaps twitch at the sound of Firescale's snarl.

I would love to stay and watch, but I have a Nightcrawler to find.

Turning away I shoot up into the sky, my wings slicing through the air as a low whistling sound echoes me. The ocean below me suddenly gives way to land, and I have to quickly flap my large wings so that I raise myself higher and don't crash into the treetops. My eyes search the ground, the shrubs and foliage below me blurring into a sea of green as rabbits and squirrels dart across the land like fish. I snort in disdain, unsatisfied by what I see.

:Lots of good prey, but no dragon: I think to myself, angling my wings so that I can quickly twist around to start checking the other areas of the forest. I send my ear flaps rotating, swiveling from side to side wildly as I try to pick up on any hint that he's close by. Tilting my wings I do a downwards swoop, trying to get closer to the ground so I can see everything better, but soon the tight knit position of the trees leave me with two choices: fly or land.

I quickly tuck my wings in at my sides, landing softly. I thrust my muzzle in the air, opening my maw as I taste the scents around me. My eyes widen as I sense an unfamiliar aroma, cold and musky, with a hint of ash and debri. I start running, leaping over bushes and fallen trees as I near a sudden slope. It's a small one, but a tree right next to it is snapped in half, as if something fell on it. The ground in front of me is upturned and messy, loose branches and soil strewn everywhere.

I sniff again, and this time the scent is stronger, almost overwhelming. Slowly, I walk forward, one paw in front of the other. I crouch down low, tightening up my leg muscles as I leap over into a small clearing, gracefully landing on a large boulder without a sound. I almost gasp. He's black - pitch black - like a dark shadow cut out from a smooth slab of ebony stone with his scales glinting in the rising sunlight.

His eyes suddenly snap open.

They're like shards of clean cut ice piercing through my very soul, making my scales tingle uncomfortably. I can see his muscles ripple with every rise and fall of his broad chest, his thick wings tethered to his sides by the vines the hatchling shot at him, though I know that they'd be massive if unfurled. I drag my gaze up and down his body, taking in everything. This is the first time I've had the chance to truly look at him.

His ear flaps are round and large, while my own are sharp - like spikes - and smaller. Mine also have choppy strips of dark purple covering them, with the tip of the knob like flaps sprinkling the rigid outline of my jaw tinted the same color. The spines littering his back are small and sharp, while my spines are crazy long and razor tipped. I've even been told that when I breathe my flame they actually pulse a blazing violet. Weird.

I tilt my head, noticing how the list of differences just seems to go on and on.

Reaching from just under my ear flaps, over my eyes, and to the tip of my snout are two lilac streaks. Coating my underbelly from my chest to the tip of my tail is a striking sea of amaranthine, splotches of violet also dotting the top half of my legs and tail. The bottom half of my wings look as if they've been dipped in mauve blood, while gruesome splatters of violaceous hover just inches above the marking.

He, on the other paw, has no markings. I squint my already sharp eyesight, catching the barely visible flash of a fiery azure glinting from off his scales, but that's all I can see. I glance at his unsheathed claws, tilting my head downwards to catch sight of my own. I let them pop out of their sheathes, watching as the ebony black tips easily sink into the solid rock underneath me. My eyes dart to his tailfins, and I can feel my blood run cold at the sight.

His left tailfin is completely gone.

There are a few stubby bumps outlining where the tear is. Dried blood is already clotting over to seal off the wound, red staining the black scales of his tail and splattered across the ground in crimson speckles. I take in a sharp breath, and for the first time I notice the sour scent of blood that hangs in the air, and it makes my lungs sting. My eyes rove back up his body, my sharp vision suddenly just catching sight of the red that stains some parts the vines entangling his limbs.

Some of his ebony scales have cracked and ripped from where the vines are chafing against him too hard. And then it's just as if everything comes rushing at me. Suddenly I can see scars, old and fresh that litter his body, one across the side of his neck, another curling around his hind leg, and a faint one hidden beneath a ridge under one of his wings. My stomach turns and I can feel my sharp claws dig into the rock below me.

I guess I should've expected that he would have wounds, old and new. I mean I do, from all the battles I've fought and the scuffles I've had to engage in to stay alive, but to see him like that - while held to the ground like one of the viking's common cattle. It's almost like a last showing, the fate of a dragon in all it's majesty before it's slaughtered. A low growl slips from my throat at the thought. The Nightcrawler looks at me, eyes wide, but emotionless.

He's not scared, not hopeful, just blank - blank and dark, like the night skies he always flew in. But he won't be able to fly anymore, I know that. His left tailfin is completely gone, and it'll be decades before he can grow one back, so then what? He won't be able to return to the Mother, so I guess that's good. But no downed dragon ever lasts long. He won't survive without the ability to fly, especially not while so close to a Viking Nest with no means of escape.

I meet his eyes again, vibrant green clashing with pulsing purple. He snorts at me, nostrils flaring, and for the first time ever since he first joined my division, I see a sliver of fear worm its way into those piercing, forest green orbs. Taking a deep breath, I slowly jump off my rock and extend my thought link towards him. At first, he doesn't notice, and the fact that I'd only ever talked to him through growling adds to the confused look that flickers across his muzzle.

After a second though, his eyes go wide.

I don't exactly know what to expect of his response, but roaring in fury and snapping his razor sharp teeth at me isn't it. Startled and driven by instinct I roar back, my eyes sharpening at the edges as I slash one of his ear flaps. He roars in pain, growling at me as blood drips from his ear. I snarl in his direction, my top lip pulling back grotesquely. I watch as a single trail of scarlet blood drips down his wound, winding around his muzzle until it dribbles down his jaw.

We stare at each other for a long while, our claws unsheathed as I spread my wings out in intimidation. Finally, I snort, the cold night air around me morphing into warm morning air that fogs in front of my muzzle. I try to connect my thought link to his again, but I can feel him resisting, and a low growl slips from the cracks in between his sharp fangs. I'm about to result to grunting and churring, but then the snapping of a twig makes both of our ear flaps shoot up.

I look over my shoulder, eyes narrowing as I start sniffing the air. My claws dig deep into the soil as a familiar scent suddenly strikes my tongue and fills my nostrils: viking. Without thinking, I dive behind a nearby bush, quickly hiding myself as I blend in with the foliage. My ear flaps prick as I hear the viking start to speak in its odd tongue. " Oh wow, I-I...I did it! Oh I did it! This fixes everything! " I hiss lowly at the viking's familiar chirps. Oh I know exactly who this is.

It's the hatchling who shot the Nightcrawler down.

Tilting my muzzle upwards, I draw in a long breath of air, catching many different scents in the roof of my maw. Immediately, the aroma of woodland prey and sky animals fill my senses, the smell of sea salt and fish faint but there. I huff silently, blowing the smells away. The fresh fragrance of something different takes me by surprise: fear scent. It's a sharp tang with a thick, sour undertone to it, and more surprisingly, it's rolling off the flesh of the hatchling in waves.

I curl my tongue around it, thrusting it into my nostrils to get a better sniff of it. My eyes turn to slits as I blow the smell away, staring at the small hatchling. The others of his kind smell of blood and death and no fear, but not him. Why not him? I narrow my eyes in frustration, my claws digging deep into the earth as I paw at the ground impatiently. What is he? Not viking, he doesn't smell nor look like them.

But I've seen him outside his den during the raids, his mother never hides him, and I've watched as his sire is forced to come to his many an aid when he's in trouble. But he always causes so much destruction, with his long limbs and noisy movements. That's always made me cautious, for surely he can not truly be that clumsy? My thoughts are halted as the hatchling positions his weapon at the Nightcrawler's heart.

He flexes his stubby claws and puffs out his cheeks in...an attempt at intimidation? He shakes his head, his shaggy head of odd fur flying everywhere in thick, auburn wisps. Is he trying to make himself seem bigger? I let out a low warble of interest, the flaps that sit flat against my neck flaring out and pressing against the backside of my jaw - trying to copy him. The movement makes the bushes surrounding me rustle, forcing me to go completely still, desperate to stay hidden.

Bringing the small blade above his head, the viking hatchling takes in a deep breath, his chest puffing out as he squeezes his eyes shut. I press myself flat against the ground, inching forward with my hind leg muscles bunched up, ready to pounce. If he wants that Nightcrawler, he's going to have to go through me first. I let out a low growl as he brings the knife up even higher, getting ready to pierce through the Nightcrawler's dark scales and stab flesh.

I get ready to leap, teeth bared and wings slowly expanding, when the hatchling suddenly...stops.

He's in a still position, his face twisted up with conflicting emotions. My snarl falters as he lets his paws rest on his head, then slowly fall to his sides, the tip of his weapon no longer facing the Nightcrawler. My ear flaps shoot upwards as he speaks once more, his green eyes dulling as he turns away. " I did this. " I let my wings fall as they hit the ground with a quiet thunk, my eyes widening in disbelief. :What are you doing, hatchling:

I follow his movements with my eyes when he suddenly stops, his paws clenching at his sides. My veins grow cold again. Will he turn back? Is he actually going to try to kill the Nightcrawler? I inch forward as the thought enters my mind, ready for anything as the tip of my ebony paw pokes out from under the thick bushes I'm hiding behind. The hatchling looks back at the bound dragon, his expression hidden from my gaze as his back of odd animal furs faces me.

He takes in a deep breath, sighing loudly. In a flash of movement he's kneeled down before the Nightcrawler, weapon skimming over the black scales. My eyes widen and I almost screeched in surprise. How did he move so fast? I get ready to attack before my step falters, and once again the hatchling takes me by surprise. Instead of stabbing at the Nightcrawler, he cuts at the vines that bind him down, sawing through each one with quick movements.

The Nightcrawler's eyes snap open, his dark iris slitted as his body tenses. What kind of viking would free him - the Nightcrawler - to play in this hunt little longer? I don't think any of us understand what's happening, but as soon as the last vine falls, the Nightcrawler pounces. A strangled cry slips past the hatchling's maw, the back of his head cracking viciously against the dirt ground beneath him. It's then that I jump out of my hiding place.

Letting out a high pitched growl, I raise my wings in a defensive position, lowering my head as my ear flaps twitch and swivel. The Nightcrawler whips his head in my direction, the growl seeping from the cracks in between his fangs seizing as his ear flaps flare out in a surprised fashion. But not even a split second later he snaps his teeth together, glaring at me as he flicks his tail in my direction, as if trying to whisk me away.

I dig my claws into the ground as a few speckles of blood shower the ground before my paws at his jerking movement, the scent of blood and death once again making its way into my nostrils. He goes back to looking at the hatchling, whose eyes are wide with fear, his gaze flickering between us both as he paws pathetically at the paw holding him down. The hatchling is small and frail, and for a second, I worry that if the Nightcrawler increases his pressure he will break.

I don't voice my thoughts though, instead I just growl at the battered dragon, trying to get his attention. ::You need fire on your wounds, or they'll never heal properly. Just leave the hatchling, and let me help you:: He snarls at me, his eyes as thin as my needle sharp claws as his tongue escapes his maw in a show of anger. My tail lashes in frustration and irritation as I bare my fangs at him. How can this dragon be so stubborn?

I'm about to growl at him again when a flash of silver catches my attention, and out of the corner of my eye I watch as the hatchling stealthily reaches for his fallen weapon. The blade glints against the falling moonlight as he points the tip at the Nightcrawler's side. I screech in alarm, my eyes widening. The Nightcrawler looks down at the young viking, catching sight of the small blade. He snarls and tries to jump away, but with his wounds, he isn't fast enough.

In a flash I'm at the Nightcrawler's side, leaping up on my hind legs as I shove him away, sending him softly tumbling and rolling into a thick patch of grass. I feel the weapon connect with my body, cracking open my scales and splitting through muscles and nerves as it digs deep into my tender flesh. I roar in pain, leaping away. The sudden movement makes the hatchling's wrist twist into an odd position. He cries out in pain, and then the sound of a bone snapping fills the air.

Pain blinds me, and my once sharp eyesight blurs as my thoughts grow fuzzy. In the back of my mind I'm aware of blood spilling down my side, dripping down my scales in small scarlet rivulets, but at the moment I don't have enough sense to immediately twist my head around and flame my wound to stop the bleeding. My ear flaps cringe as an angry snarl leaves the Nightcrawler's maw, though whether it's directed at me or the hatchling, I don't know.

All I know is that I need to find a quiet, secluded place, so that I can flame my wounds and rest. Wild instinct takes me over, and with fleeting movements I'm suddenly running. Each step sends a flare of liquid pain shooting through my bones and I turn my head, reaching back as I try to pull the blade out from where it's lodged in my flank. I can't reach it, but I keep trying. Suddenly, I'm crashing into a tree, letting out a shriek of surprise as I then slip on a rock.

Pain laces across the muscles in my left fore ankle, and my ear flaps prick as the bones in my ankle scrape against one another and then pop. I try to shake it off, but as soon as I put pressure on my ankle I'm jerking backwards, my whole leg throbbing as I suddenly slip over a ledge right behind me. The world around me spins, the green and brown of the land mixing together with the blue and white of the sky, and soon I'm crashing hard onto the ground.

I land directly on my right wing, and a feeling like fire makes the scales on my body quiver as the scales around my left fore ankle puff out in immediate swelling. I let out a defeated warble, weariness overtaking me. As black ebbs at the corners of my vision, I think I hear a faint shriek from the Nightcrawler, and a loud crash that soon follows. But I'm too weak to think much of it, and soon, all I see is darkness.

At first, everything is black. After a second though, I can feel my mind slipping into the rest link. Almost immediately, images of my division fill my head, and in the back of my mind I realize that I never did disconnect my thought link with them. I must be seeing through their eyes, and as a nagging buzz at the back of mind grows louder and louder, I realize that I can also still hear their thoughts. Which is weird, since this has never been known to happen before, but I ignore that fact.

Suddenly, colors flash before my - their - eyes, and my heart starts pumping wildly in my chest on its own, as if it knows I should be afraid even though I'm not. I can hear my dragon's fright before I hear Her hum through their ears, can smell their fear scent from their nostrils before I smell the lava and smoke tumbling off Her thick hide as the Queen raises Her head from the lava pit. I don't know If I'm snarling on the outside, but I am on the inside.

I can feel their fear, all of their fear, and combined it's like a weight that threatens to crush me. But I arch my back as my irises shrink into slitted slivers, a snarl slipping from my ajar maw. They can't challenge Her, but I will - I need to - and I find myself baring my fangs in their defence. Her words are a thunderous roar that makes the whole volcano shudder - I can feel it through my dragons as the rocks they stand on shake under their paws.

But oddly enough, I can't understand the Mother. My ear flaps flick, Her silent humming almost making my scales peel right off of my body. Each of Her large eyes all swivel in different directions, slobber dripping down from her colossal fangs as she opens her maw in anger, her pupils now slits. With a savage roar she snaps at a ledge homing a group of Rock Eaters, and before I can see their fate my eyes snap open.

My head jerks upwards, the world around me spinning as a rush of adrenaline zips through my veins. I shoot up onto all fours, wincing as my sprained ankle throbs along with my sore wing. I ignore the pain though, and instead shut my eyes, trying to get my breathing under control. The images from my dream have already started to fade away, and instead of trying to remember the horrid images, I direct my focus elsewhere.

Bending my neck downwards, I sniff my wound. The area where the blade had pierced is already scabbing over, some of my cracked scales starting to grow back as my blood clotting has helped stopped the bleeding. I narrow my eyes, curious as to how my wound has healed so well. I never licked it, since my saliva has healing properties, and I don't remember ever flaming it to seal off the slice either. As for the blade itself…

I look around, trying to spot the small weapon. It's nowhere in sight - I do notice a small trail of blood though. I taste the air, capturing the aroma lingering on the red droplets. The sweet flavor of my own scent makes me jerk my tongue back. I remember falling, but the blood is splattered across the ground like a trail, and I haven't moved an inch from when I'd blacked out. My head aches as I try to figure out how the trail of crimson came to be, and eventually I just give up.

Blinking, I turn my head in circles, taking in the area around me. I'm in a cove of some sort, with high stone walls and trees growing out of the sides. I probably won't be able to fly out until I heal a bit more, but as long as I have water I'll be fine, since dragons can survive without food for weeks on end. My eyes stop traveling as they land on a black figure - completely still and predatory - with his back arched and his white fangs bared.

Sharp green slivers clash with my own purple slits, and I immediately twist around so that I'm fully facing him and my side isn't exposed. I can't tell if he's going to attack, he just...stands there - completely still. But I'm not willing to take any chances. I unsheathe my claws to their full length, letting my razor sharp spines quiver in warning as a low snarl slips past the cracks in between my flashing fangs. He just continues watching me, his gaze never leaving mine.

Finally, I just decide to break the tense atmosphere, and ruffle my wings as I slowly raise myself out of my battle crouch. His acid like irises follow my every movement, never blinking, but surprisingly he starts to follow my lead. He stands straight up, his claws still visible and a crease making the bridge of his snout wrinkle in a silent growl, but he's less tense. Suddenly, he turns around and starts walking away, his tail lashing out behind him, showing me his missing tailfin.

It looks better, and the wound has closed, but the lack of the actual fin is evident. Immediately, I understand what happened. Of course he tried flying away from the young viking, but instead crashed in here. My eyes narrow at the thought of the hatchling. ::What happened to the viking:: I warble, almost taking a step forward. But the Nightcrawler freezes, one of his paws stilled in midair. I can see his spines bristle, and the scales behind his neck slowly raise like hackles.

I get ready for him to attack, my body low to the ground in a flash. But he doesn't move. His irritation is clear, but after a moment he continues to stalk forward, away from me. I huff, my nostrils flaring as I tilt my head in confusion. What is wrong with this dragon? It's like his mood is everywhere! He's as bad as a Preener! :No offense: I say to myself, thinking about all the Preeners in my division.

A bolt of guilt strikes me at the thought of my dragons, small snippets of my dream rushing back at me. :Are they ok? How did the raid go? Has She noticed that me and the Nightcrawler are gone? What am I thinking? Of course She noticed that we're gone! How did She react though? Did She kill anyone: The last thought makes my stomach turn, my throat clenching as something like a hopeless wail escapes me.

The Nightcrawler looks at me, his eyes wide in obvious surprise. But I don't care, I'm too busy worrying over my dragons back at the Nest. :What if...what if they think I abandoned them? - that I ran and fled and left them all to suffer: I miss how the Nightcrawler tilts his head in questioning, his ear flaps pointing towards the sky as his nose twitches, taking in the fear scent that drifts out from under the pores hidden beneath my ebony scales.

I look up at the sky, my eyes roaming over the vast sea of blue and tufts of white. I can't let my dragons think that I left them behind - I can't. But I also can't leave the Nightcrawler. He's my dragon too. I turn my head and look his way, only to see that he's already watching me with his piercing gaze. But he's not looking at me, he's looking at my tailfins. I can't tell If I really see longing in his eyes, but I practically feel his sorrow that fills the air. I won't abandon him.

Either we get out of here together, or we don't get out at all.

His green eyes snap upwards to lock with mine, and for a second I think I see confusion in them, but soon they're back to being cold and hard. ::No dragon left behind:: It's just four simple words, but it's four simple words that I tell my division every single time before we leave our Nest to go raid. It's practically law. His eyes widen the smallest bit, but no emotion shows. And for the first time when I talk to him, he doesn't growl at me. He just stands there, watching me.

I tilt my head, my eyes flickering to rest on the sight of his tailfin. There's a light sheen of saliva on it, but it won't ever fully heal unless he flames it so that the wound can start closing off. ::If you don't flame your wound soon, your tailfin will never grow back:: He does snarl at me this time, his face contorting into anger and hostility so fast that it gives me whiplash. He turns around and stalks away, frustration in each of his steps, and for the life of me I can't figure out why.

But suddenly he whips out his wings - his large wings - and shoots off into the sky. It's surprises me at how high he gets, but soon he starts to falter, and with a screech he falls back down to earth, crashing hard on the ground. I snort, an odd but familiar scent catching in my nostrils as I do so. My eyes turn to slits as the smell of the same hatchling who had shot down the Nightcrawler grows stronger, and ignoring the aching in my side I dart behind a bush.

I let out a small yelp as pain shoots through my left fore ankle, forgetting that I'd sprained it when I'd fell into the cove. The Nightcrawler doesn't notice though, and continues trying to take off. I watch as he shoots up, grasping at the stone walls with his sharp claws as he tries to find a grip, but eventually he falls back down. He tries to propel himself off of a fallen log, and with each failing attempt I find myself pitying him.

My wounds will heal fully, and so will his, but at the end of the day I'll be the only one out of the two of us who can still fly. The thought leaves my mind as the finless dragon shoots a frustrated plasma blast at the ground, the grass burning and soil charring as a smothering ash coats the spot where his blast hit. He paws at the ground in irritation, shaking his head as his ear flaps slap hard against the sides of his neck.

He takes off again, flying gracefully into the sky for a few seconds before he crashes hard on the ground. I wince as he lands shoulder first, his wings hanging limp at his sides in defeat. He doesn't move, but lets out a loud groan, whether filled with pain or sadness I can't tell. I catch a flash of movement in the water in front of him, and I guess he does too, because he slowly gets up. Lunging at the water, he snaps around for any fish.

He pulls back with his maw empty.

I can feel his disappointment, and the hungry rumble of his stomach makes my ear flaps twitch. My own stomach constricts into knots, completely empty. I'm no stranger to feeling the pangs of starvation though, so I shake the thought away, ignoring the hunger gnawing at my very bones. I almost move to help him with his hunt when a sudden clink reaches my ear flaps. Me and the Nightcrawler both look up at the same time - at the same thing.

The hatchling rests on a rock on the ledge of the cove wall, one of his paws held out, and the other holding a small brown object. One of his limbs is wrapped: the paw that I had probably injured while pulling away from his stabbing weapon. I growl lowly at the thought. His green eyes widen slightly as he sucks in a sharp breath, his chest going still as the tangy aroma of sweat rolls off of his flesh freely. His fear scent is also present, and I huff, still unused to smelling such a thing.

I wait for the Nightcrawler's growl, but he doesn't make a sound. Instead, the hatchling tilts his head in questioning, and the black dragon does the same. Everything is still, and nothing seems to move. But suddenly the hatchling scrambles away, throwing one last look over his shoulder at the Nightcrawler before squeezing through a small crack in the wall and disappearing. I watch the ebony dragon with a steady gaze, wondering what he's thinking.

Maybe I could try to connect my thought link to his again?

Nah, he would probably just try to kill me - again.

The Nightcrawler finally moves, shaking his body as if he's wet, and unfurling his wings as he takes off. Walking out of the bush I was hiding behind I make my way to the lake, my ear flaps shooting upwards as I hear him crash behind me, and then swirling as the wind brushes against them harshly. I crouch down low to the ground, stalking closer to the water, my eyes trailing a fish that's swimming too close to the edge.

Baring my teeth, I lunge for it.

There's a large splash as water covers my face, speckling my wings and back. The taste of fresh blood and rich meat runs overs my tongue and dribbles down my throat, the sound of soft bones crunching under my fangs making me let out a small purr. I turn around, fish in my mouth, and look for the Nightcrawler. His eyes are already on me, and with a grunt I fling the food at him. It lands a couple feet in front of his paws.

His ear flaps flick as he stares at it, his nose twitching before he looks back up at me. ::Eat:: I growl out, nodding at the fish before turning my back and walking away. I can feel his eyes on me, but after a few long seconds there's a low growl, and then the chomping of him eating the fish and swallowing it whole. I smile smugly, but it soon disappears from my muzzle as I feel weariness nip at my bones and very blood.

My wings rest heavily at my sides, almost dragging across the ground as I pad over to a small patch of lush grass. I can feel my flame inside me growing, and soon enough purple fire is blazing out from my maw, creating a nice firebed for me to sleep on. I slowly turn in a circle until the ground is burnt properly, and then flop down with a tired grunt. :I haven't felt this exhausted in a long time: I think to myself, my mind already slipping into the rest link as I slowly drift off.

This time there's no whispers that fill my head, and the buzz that usually nags at the corners of my mind is gone. I didn't disconnect my thought link with any of my dragons, but they probably separated from it some time during the day. I sigh, a pang of guilt striking me. They know I would never just up and leave them, but they're only dragons - the thought will still have crossed their minds one way or another. With that thought in head, I fall into a fitful rest.

I don't know how much time passes - maybe hours, maybe days - but it feels like forever.

And my dreams...well, they're anything but peaceful.

:::The Nest.

A volcano, lava bubbling up to the surface every few years, but it never spills over the top. One side is barren and black, with scorch marks lining each scraggly rock and small streams of lava running down its side like bloodstains. Thick white snow covers the opposing side, ice and sleet hidden under the small splatter of trees and vegetation that grows there from the mix of heat and cold circling around the land, the frost cooling the volcano's glowing embers in a protest of time.

It has wildlife, just not very much, but its bushes and berries seem most inviting, and small rodents skitter amongst its shrubs and foliage. That's probably one of the reasons most dragons don't try to fly away when they see it. That, and they're too far gone in Her dark melody to ever think about turning back. Any attempts of escape are thwarted by Her, a dark fog in your mind or a shallow whisper in your ear, always dragging you back to the island.

Our Queen is the Red Death, nicknamed the Mother: She is like a dragon never known, a powerful, massive beast, armored in spines and a hide so thick that even the lava pit She dwells in can't kill Her. And the song She plays in our heads never ceases - it violates our thoughts and forces us to act out against our will - always making sure we're under Her complete control. No longer are we independant and free willed, just tools for Her using.

The majority of the dragons living on the island are the more common ones: Rock Eaters, Preeners, Twin Spitters, Scavengers, Fire Scalers, Illusions, and even a small group of Smoke Billowers. Under Her control is one Lightning Splitter, and it is said that She used to have a horde of Stone Hides before they tried flying away - they were never seen again. I've never even seen a Scorch Marker or a Cloud Cutter, only ever heard stories, but some say they're real.

But I can't keep track of all the dragons that come into the Nest. It's too hard because there are too many, and the only way She keeps order is by grouping us all into separate divisions, where a random leader is selected and sends us out to raid the Viking Nests every night, taking what food we can manage to steal and feeding it to Her when we get back. She doesn't tell us how to feed ourselves, so we hunt and fish, only barely managing to get by everyday.

The life we live is cruel and unfair, but for those who seek escape are called back by Her whispers and never seen again. Others have even killed themselves, to save themselves and their hatchlings from the horror of it all. Those who have survived so far only have done so by the unity of the Nest, and by the bond we have created with one another over the years. Every lightfall, when the sun starts sinking down into the ocean and the moon rises, we sing.

There is no roaring or squawking, no screeching, and no barks of anger - only humming.

I remember once where a group of Rock Eaters sang loudly of fish and elk, the rest of the dragons adding in their favorite foods and animals they loved to hunt. It made us hungry afterwards, but it was worth it. I don't know what the vikings sing about, but mostly we sing of faraway paradises and lands, filled with lush forests where all dragons are free to live content and happy and alone - without the Red Death, or any Queen for that matter.

But it is just what it is: a time of singing for false hope, and eventually when all the dragons fall asleep one by one, each one lulled to rest by the humming of the others, there is no one left to sing, and the illusion ends. Just like how it has ended now. My ear flaps flick, the tips shooting up towards the sky as I listen to the eerie silence as it starts creeping out from the shadows. The last dragon has just fallen asleep and the air is still, void of any humming.

I look down from the perch of my ledge, my sharp vision watching as hundred of scaly chests rise and fall. I let out my own breath, fog gathering in front of my muzzle as it tints red with the lava's hue. Heat nips at my scales but cold air stabs at my lungs, making me let out a loud snort as I scrape my claws against the scraggly rock I rest on. My ear flaps swirl wildly as I pick up the sound of a dragon snoring.

My eyes catch the twitch of a paw as a Rock Eater rolls over, grunting as its tongue lolls out of the side of its mouth. I tilt my head in curiousity, ear flaps ruffling against the still air. Lightfall has long since passed, and moonhigh is at its peak. Dark shadows play against the stone walls of the volcano, illuminated by the ominous glow of the lava pit where the Red Death dwells. I can hear Her snores, each breath like an earthquake that shakes the island.

The Mother's dreams are like whispers in the back of my head. Her hold on me never lets up - always there - as if I need a reminder that my will is no longer mine. I can feel the scales on the back of my neck raise like hackles at the thought, a guttural hiss slipping past my fangs as I snarl into the silent night. A lone Scavenger rouses, blinking slowly as he lets out an annoyed grunt, obviously angry at being awoken so suddenly.

I immediately still, my ear flaps shooting up to point towards the sky as I wait until he falls back to rest. When he does I relax, ruffling my wings at my sides in exhaustion. Suddenly, a few pebbles fall out of place, skittering past my paw. I huff, turning my head to peek through the opening at the top of the Nets. My eyes scan over the stars littering the sky, as if a great dragon had once tried to flame the heavens and the hot sparks of his fire was the only thing that remained.

I let out a coo of wonderment: the sky is always more alive at moonhigh.

I blink, something about everything happening around me seeming so oddly...familiar. I mull over everything that's happened so far, searching my memory for anything like this that's happened before. Most nights spent in the Nest are the same, but this feels more like deja vu. Suddenly, I'm hit with a realization. Everything that's happening right now is exactly what happened before I left to raid Berk! I don't know why I'm remembering this though, and my body - I can't move it.

It's like I'm being forced to relive the few moments before I led my division away in a dream.

I look away from the stars, standing up as I stretch my legs and dig my claws into the hard rock under my paws, my maw opening in a large yawn as I stretch my tongue out to lick the top of my snout. I'm jostled from my spot as a roaring hum shoots out from the lava pit, waking the dragons from their rest as a group of pebbles scamper down the other ledges. My ear flaps fall flat against the back of my head as my eyes shrink into slits.

I glare at the massive pit that She sleeps in, trying to see past the thick volcanic smog, but to no avail. All the other dragons start to stand up, stretching their legs and wings as some are already shooting off into their divisions. I ruffle my wings too, stretching them out as the tips just barely graze the stone walls boarding my ledge. I shoot myself upwards with a powerful wing stroke, twirling in midair as I savor the feeling of air rushing past my scales.

It's raiding time.

Tucking my wings at my sides, I do a quick dive, closing my eyes as the ground rushes at me. Snapping my wings open at the last second I catch air, gliding down to my division smoothly as I land gently on my paws, my ear flaps flickering as I listen to the other dragons sorting themselves out in their own groups. I open my eyes once more as a hush falls over the Nest. I look back over my shoulder, my ear flaps erect as I scan the horde of dragons standing behind me.

We're ready.

I'm missing two in my division, I'd lost them in the last raid. I let my ear flaps flicker in anger, but hold back a growl so that the others don't hear. I can't think about that now, I have a job to do. I couldn't save those other two, but If I focus, I can make sure that this raid goes without any deaths. I snort in confirmation, the sound making all eyes turn towards me. ::Another raid, another night:: I say, humming lowly. ::Let's get this over with::

It's all the dragons in my division need to get hyped up, and before I know it ears are flicking and swirling wildly in anticipation and impatience. I ruffle my wings, leaning my head back as I look back up at the opening on the head of volcano, what we dragon's call Freedom, even though we can never leave, not with Her constantly inside our heads. I'm snapped out of my thoughts as She starts whispering words into my mind, a warning: we'd better leave soon.

::No dragon left behind:: I remind my division before I let out a screeching roar, catching the attention of the other dragons. Whipping out my wings I thrust myself up into the air, shaking away the dark buzz in my mind as I try to focus on my division. The other dragons follow my lead, the leaders of the other divisions doing the same. I let out another roar, shooting up towards the top of the volcano as I pass through Freedom in a blaze of speed and wind.

Immediately, cold wind hits me, making me shiver in my scales as my ear flaps quiver in excitement. This is the only time we get to be away from Her, even if only for a short amount of it. As the rest of my dragons file out behind me, the other divisions follow. The division after mine flies out of Freedom, led by Flashfleck, the single Lightning Splitter that makes up part of the rarer dragon section of the Nest.

As soon as he shoots out of Freedom, clouds gather in the sky, lightning shooting down from them and thunder clapping loudly as the lightning wraps around his body, an extra armor coating his tough scales as he gives out a loud roar. My ear flaps fall flat against the back of my head and I roar back, snorting as I glare at him. He stares slits at me but turns towards his division, shooting off in the opposite direction as me as his dragons follow.

This Nest needs leaders, not showoffs.

Next flying out of Freedom is Embersky, a young Preener. Her scales are a bright green, like the shade the sky turns every lightfall. Behind her neck and paws sprout out a purplish color, and her eyes glow a cyan blue. She's a kind dragon, younger than me, and cares about her division unlike any other dragon before her. I give her a nod as our eyes lock. She nods back, flying up to me as we quickly share a nose, which is basically just when two dragons press their snouts together.

I watch her as she lets out a loud squawk, flying away as she leads her dragons to their assigned Viking Nest. Following her is Gloryfire, a massive Fire Scaler who, with his wingspan, can barely fit through Freedom. His body is covered in mostly black, orange and red seeping out from under his wings and paws. He grunts at me in good luck, and I press my snout against his hide as he flies by.

His dragons follow him and I watch as the last division pours out of Freedom. Their leader is Skydancer, another Preener. Her scales are colored the darkest purple I've ever seen, pink and light blue peeking out from under her chin and covering the front half of her muzzle, green sprouting out from her underbelly and the tips of her wings. She cocks her head to the side and squawks at her division, turning around as she guides them off into the distance.

One by one, they all eventually disappear from view.

After a second I look away, turning to face my own division as I let out a roar, and shoot off into the distance. I can hear the beating of my dragons' wings as they follow me, the inhales and exhales of them making my ears swirl in different directions, a shallow roar making my ear flaps crinkle against my skull. I shake my head, taking in a deep breath of fresh night air. My gaze flickers down to the clear ocean water below me.

I speed past the water, but the reflection stays the same. A few ripples make the image of me and my dragons disoriented, but I can still make out each and every one of them clearly. For a split second I look up, trying to spot the Nightcrawler but only hearing the shrill whistle of his wings. I look away, shaking my head as my ear flaps slap the sides of my neck. Suddenly, a small Scavenger - Bluebreeze - appears at my side.

Huh, I don't remember this ever happening.

The small dragon tilts her head, staring at me intensely. ::Why did you leave us:: She asks, her voice quiet and her bright green eyes sad. Guilt crashes down on me, like nothing I've ever felt before. I tap into my thought link, wanting to respond - to tell her that I haven't abandon anyone - but I can't seem to speak. I'm completely frozen except for the flapping of my wings, but even then I'm not even sure I'm actually flying.

Everything around me starts fading: the ocean, the moon, the stars, and all that's left are me and my division. I suddenly turn my head to look over my shoulder, staring at the eyes of all the dragons behind me. They all start asking the same question. ::Where are you:: ::Why did you leave us:: ::Are you coming back:: ::Why would you abandon us after saying that you never would:: ::Were you lying to us this whole time:: ::Will we ever see you again::

The questions keep coming, the voices turning loud and angry. The words start jumbling together, and suddenly my head starts to feel fuzzy. Their eyes are slitted now, full of hate and scorn, and I almost feel like wailing in my despair. My head starts throbbing painfully, and soon their words aren't even words anymore: just snarls and growls. Everything jumbles up to the point of where I start pawing at my own muzzle, trying to get their thoughts out.

But suddenly, everything quiets down so that one voice can break through the ruckus to reach me.

::Why didn't you take us with you::

:I wish I could've: It's my own thought, one that they can't hear, but I secretly hope that they're able to. The questions stop, and one by one, every dragon of my division starts to disappear. They fade completely, vanishing from my sight, but somehow I can still feel their gazes burning holes into my back. Once they're all gone, I let my head hang. Without my consent my wings keep flapping, and I'm just flying.

Thwack.

The sound reaches my ear flaps quickly, and my head shoots up, my whole body alert. I almost jerk back in surprise as the Viking Nest I'd been sent to raid stands before me, fire lightning up its small wooden dens as the vikings run around waving their blades in the air. Smog and smoke blinds me momentarily, but I can still make out the net of vines that flies through the air, wrapping around the Nightcrawler as he plummets down down down down - until he hits ground.

A screech slips from my maw, my heart racing even though everything happening before me is nothing new. Thwack. The odd device the hatchling had used to shoot down the Nightcrawler sounds again and I'm confused. :I thought Firescale took care of - : I'm not even able to finish my own thought before another web of vines crashes into me, pinning my wings against my hide and chafing against my scales as my shriek of surprise is ripped from my throat.

I start falling, everything racing past me in a blur. The world spins around me so fast, and I almost snap my eyes shut as I start to feel dizzy. My stomach rolls and twists as I try to jerk out of the binds, but I can't move even an inch. The forest comes into view quickly, lit up by the light of moonhigh, and I can see my crash site clearly. Wind rushes past me and I try to curl into a ball as much as I can as the treetops come into view.

I let out one last shriek as my body hits the ground:::

My eyes snap open, adrenaline still rushing through my veins from the dream. I shoot up on all fours, whipping my head around as my tongue flicks out into the air, trying to catch any lingering scents of my division. What I taste though, isn't of anything that would come from any of my dragons or the raid we made last night. My nose twitches as I continue to sniff the air, my tongue curling around the salty aroma: fish - but not just any fish, it's cod.

My mouth waters at the thought of the juicy fish, and my tongue shoots out to lick my chops hungrily. I thrust my muzzle into the air, sniffing the enticing fragrance once more, tasting it as my eyes narrow. There's a husky scent hidden just underneath the aroma of the sea creature, and I snort as I try to figure out what it is. A sudden flash of movement catches my eye, and as I whip my head to the side, purple irises clash with green ones.

Except, it's not the Nightcrawler I'm staring at.

It's the hatchling.