The Sea Less Sailed

Chapter 1: …Well this sucks

Garrett frowned.

The dark, foreboding clouds in the distance didn't do much to lighten the mood, and the frequent lightning strikes sure didn't help, either.

Yet another boom from the storm swept over the deck of his ship, if you call a pathetic amalgamation of planks and cloth a ship, startling a snow-white dragon desperately trying to nap.

Garrett looked over to his dragon, chuckling, "You're not gonna get much sleep now, girl," the dragon half-opened her left eye, staring back at her human. "That storm'll be on us before midday. We might evade it, but…"

The dragon curled even tighter into a ball, draping herself in her under-sized wings and burying her head underneath, abandoning the world around her.

Garrett rolled his eyes and turned back to the threat looming before them, "Yeah, thanks for the support, Saska."

She growled.

Garrett's brown eyes locked on the storm-front, the rolling chaos mirroring the torrent in his mind. They, being him and Saska, were well and truly screwed, and not just because of the raging storm. That Briton village was none too pleased to find out their entire collection of wealth was sitting below his deck.

He groaned, closing his eyes and resting his head in his hands on remembering what would've made them rich. If it weren't for Saska getting caught in their impressively thrown fishing net, they'd be long gone and onto better lives.

But no.

He had to throw it all away in what he considered the best and the worst plan that's ever worked. He'd grabbed the sack of gold, about the size of his arm weighing about as much, and ran at the men pinning his dear Saska down, swinging his bludgeon like a madman (screaming like one, too). After shattering the ribs of one man and nearly caving another's skull in, Garrett was able to ward off the men and free Saska. He didn't have time to turn around and run. By the time the final rope binding her was cut, Saska grabbed Garrett's torso in her jaws and sprinted to the ship. The resulting bouncing from within her maw caused Garrett's grip on the loot sack to loosen and fall from his grasp.

He had yelled at her to turn around, but she wasn't having it. No stupid human shiny stuff was going to get her human hurt. No amount of pounding on her snout and angry words would sway her, either.

And now they were out at sea. Running - er, well, sailing – away from superior Briton ships. Into a storm.

Great!

Garrett ran his hands through his short, auburn hair, its locks crazy and unpredictable, much like the storm. And the Briton's, too.

He stood up, his medium frame nothing to boast about, and strode over to the hatch leading below deck.

Climbing inside, he moved to a chest at the far end of the room and opened it. From inside, he pulled out a dull, rusting in some spots, steel sword, barely longer than his arm and sheathed in a dull, leather sheath. He pulled the sword from the scabbard, revealing the disappointing blade as it faintly reflected the dim light penetrating the many holes in the deck above him. Garrett sighed. As far as weaponry went, this was the best he had.

That was excluding Saska, of course, but he wasn't going to treat her as a living weapon.

He reached into the chest again and pulled out a bundle of leather straps, to which he attached the scabbard. He threw the loop over his shoulder, a strap secured around his waist and another from over his right shoulder to his left hip, across his chest. The sword hung on his back, the pommel jutting out over his right shoulder, where his right hand could easily reach and draw it.

He wasn't particularly good with swords, and he was painfully aware of it. His skills were so poor that he never bothered to take it with him anywhere. It usually only served to weigh him down. But, better to have a piece of junk than nothing at all. Or so he at least liked to think.

Garrett gripped the pommel of the sword and drew it from the scabbard, fumbling a bit and nearly dropping it. Slightly bent over and gripping it in both hands, he spun around to his left, swinging the sword in a large arc. He grunted heroically as he lifted the sword over his head, ready to swing down on is victim.

"I have you now, scum!"

He swung down at his make-believe opponent, feeling all too good with himself. As his blade struck the wood beneath him, he heard a bark, followed by wailing, from above him.

As he gazed up, he incredulously realized that, somehow, his skill with a blade had been so inept that it had slipped through the cracks in the deck above and nicked the underside of Saska's tail.

Garrett looked up with the fear of a thousand men. Still bent over and gripping the sword, he weakly choked out, "Sorry, girl."

Garrett jumped and slipped onto his side as an ear-splitting roar pierced through the planks from above. Several seconds passed before the dragon relented, leaving a dazed and terrified Garrett laying on the deck. It took even longer for the ringing in his ears to subside.

Propping himself on his elbow and digging into his right ear with his finger, Garrett clumsily lifted himself to his feet. Never mind about glory and swordsmanship, just let them outrun the Britons so he never had to go topside again.

Now shakily on his feet, Garrett looked over to his mirror, which, incidentally, happened to be the most valuable thing on the ship.

Through the mirror, he saw an average-sized man with a meager physique and laughable facial hair. His time spent working his ship had toned his muscles to a fair degree, but nothing near bragging about. His white, sleeveless shirt was stained with dirt and sweat, and his brown, faded trousers were torn at the cusp of his leggings. Don't get him started on his old, leather boots.

The image he saw didn't exactly instill confidence. Hell, it didn't instill much of anything at all, really.

Garrett sighed, running his hand over the weak stubble on his chin that refused to grow any further. Most 24 year-old men were sporting full blown forests on their faces by now. But no, not for Garrett.

Everything about him screamed average.

Well, except for the dragon. Angry dragon. His angry dragon.

Garrett steeled himself, mentally and physically, and strode back to the deck hatch. As a precaution, he partially drew his sword from his scabbard and left it there. Just in case.

He climbed up the ladder and cracked open the hatch, peering around the deck for any angry blurs of white scales. He opened the hatch further, emerging more from the hole. After sweeping the entire deck and not finding a single sign of death itself, Garrett stepped out onto the deck and sighed in relief and incredible discomfort.

Before he could register another thought, Garrett's face was slammed into the deck, a strong force pinning him down on the small of his back. He squinted his eyes and yelled, both in fear and pain. Above him, a deep, steady growl sent chills through his spine.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he repeated over and over again. He was absolutely paralyzed with fear. The paw holding him down wasn't even necessary anymore.

Saska flipped him over onto his back, where fierce, azure eyes pierced through his soul. Garrett brought his hands up to his chest as Saska began to bare her fangs, her snout mere inches from Garrett's face. Behind her, Saska's tail was lashing furiously, banging into the mast and starboard railing with enough force to make the ship groan more than it usually does.

Suddenly, Saska reared up on her front paws, opening her maw and sucking in air. Garrett threw his hands in front of his face, screaming in fear, "HAVE MERCY, O'GREAT AND WONDEROUS GOD!"

Saska flew her head down and roared, full force, directly into Garrett's face, as if a tear in the heavens had split open and dumped every though of malice upon him, specifically.

After what must've been an eternity, Saska relented, pulling herself off of Garrett, stepping back, and sitting on her haunches, content, but irritated. She brandished her tail in plain view of Garrett, making obvious the damage he had done.

Garrett, once again, propped himself on his elbow, running his hand over his head and ears. He looked at the scratch, for it was truly just a scratch, and scoffed at her, "Saska, you big baby, it's just a little cut." He lifted himself up and sat, cross-legged on the deck, looking at her.

She growled venomously.

Garrett recoiled back, throwing his hands up in surrender, "Hoo-kay, never mind. Sorry. Really, I am."

Saska's growling ceased, and her expression changed to that of what appeared to be curiosity and friendliness. Garrett ceased his attempts to rid his ears of ringing and took a moment to appreciate his dragoness.

Despite her size, she still managed to instill fear (at least, in him). Her body was about as long as a Clydesdale horse, her tail essentially doubling that length. Her body was covered in pure, white scales, converging at her spine to reveal an elevated ridge with spines jutting out every so often. At her flanks were 2 appropriately sized wings, the leathery membrane appearing almost transparent in its white coloring. If only they, and Saska in general, were a bit bigger, he'd be able to ride her.

But no.

They're big enough for her, but not for the two of them.

She gets all of the fun, whereas all he got was this damn boat.

Garrett grunted as he pulled himself to his feet. His forehead still hurt and the ringing hadn't stopped, but, hell, he'd been through worse.

Saska came around to Garrett's rear, sniffing at the scabbard strapped to his back and making interested cooing noises.

Garrett shifted around to face her, patting her neck, "Yeah, girl. Been a while since I've pulled this out, hasn't it?"

He lifted his arm and was unsheathing the blade when Saska quickly stepped away from him, head low and growling. Garrett quickly sheathed the sword, alarmed, "Alright, girl, cool it. I'll make sure to be far away from you, should I need it." Garrett looked down and tugged at the strap hugging his chest, "Fat chance it'll do any good, though."

Saska moved over to Garrett, sniffing the strap he was fiddling with before pushing her head into his chest, as if to reassure him.

Garrett smiled, rubbing her smooth, dry scales lovingly. He didn't have much, and, sure he wasn't all that remarkable, but hey, at least he had Saska.

She made life worth living. She made everything worth it. Even the angry Briton's chasing them down.

Speaking of which…

Garrett looked up from his little attention magnet and gazed out to stern. Sure enough, 3 ships in the distance were bearing down on him, not but a few hours away. Dread wormed its way into Garrett's blood. He knew they'd be in pursuit, but not with 3 ships. There must be at least six dozen men on them. How the hell was he supposed to fend them all off? He couldn't outrun them, not in this heap of junk, and Saska only had 4 shots, shots which, even at full power, wouldn't make a dent in the iron-reinforced wood of the Briton ships.

Garrett didn't consider his sword a factor, so he ignored it all together.

Saska jumped in Garrett's hands as another crack of lightning passed over them. He ran his hands over her head, trying to calm her. She laid down on her belly, head slipping away from his arms as she curled into a ball again, hoping to escape from the offending noise. Garrett glared daggers into his oblivious companion's neck. And she claimed to be the brave one!

Garrett made his way to the barely-standing mast at the center of the ship. Rotting in several places and secured to the deck with more wax and poorly-hammered nails than Garrett was comfortable with, he grabbed the rigging of his sails and began adjusting them, prying every ounce of speed he could out of the wind. With luck, they'd be able to catch a swell, evade the storm, and outpace the Briton ships.

More than once, he had to rebind the ropes to the netting as their knots came undone. He'd rebind them, only for them to come unbound again once he pulled at them. He stood on the deck, limply holding a piece of rope and frowned as the entire rigging came undone, the sail crumpling down onto the deck in a heap, covering an alarmed Saska.

He'd been at sea for 5 months and still didn't know how to tie proper knots. That sailor back at Pissed Briton Town had been so kind to knot them for him.

As she fought her way out from under the cover, Garrett notice the wind change direction. His frown deepened as it blew in the opposite direction they were heading, slowing them down. He didn't even have oars.

Saska's head peeked out from under the sail, eyes wide as the full moon as she swept her head around, looking confused. Garrett turned towards her, completely defeated, "Well, girl, looks like we're, both figuratively and literally, up the creek without a paddle. Er, sea. U-up the sea, without a paddle. I mean oar. Up the… eh, you know."

Saska, now freed from the mess of rigging and sail, waddled over to her human friend and sat back on her haunches, looking expectantly at him. Garrett raised his hand and patted the side of her muzzle, his thoughts a flurry of what gruesome and terrible things the Britons would do to him. He had heard that Briton's cut off the hands of thieves. He rubbed his together nervously.

Saska again recoiled as another lightning cracked over them. She stumbled back and bumped against the mast, her fearful gaze fixed on the storm bearing down on them. Garrett strode over to her, placing his hand on her neck and rubbing soothingly, "Come on, Saska. It's only a little storm." He looked over his shoulder to the ever-closer dark clouds. "A vicious, uncomfortably close little storm."

An idea, at that moment, hatched in Garrett's head. A crazy one, to be sure, but, hell, they were desperate enough. Right?

Surely the Briton's wouldn't be as crazy as him and follow him into the storm. Right?

He looked at Saska with excitement, with which he was met with a concerned and upset expression.

"Quit worrying Saska. I'd say our chances are a lot better in there," he pointed into the heart of the storm, "Than with those losers back there." He swung around and pointed to the three ships steaming towards them, the sigil of the Briton lord they had stolen from clear on their sails.

Saska growled in concern and fear, draping her wing over Garrett like an arm and pulling him close to her. She looked to the storm, and didn't turn back. Garrett patted the back of her neck assuredly, "Don't worry. We'll make it. We always do."

...

"WHY DID YOU LET ME DO THIS?"

Garrett screamed with all his might, his voice but a whisper over the howling wind and torrential downpour. He clung to the mast of his ship desperately, the deck rolling to uncomfortable angles, his clothes absolutely drenched. Saska fumbled onto the deck, digging her claws into the wood in a desperate attempt to stay aboard. She roared in response, barely audible.

He gripped the mast tighter as another wave smashed into the port side of the ship, throwing water over the railing and onto the passengers. As the ship crested another wave and slid down the other side, Garrett yelled, "Next time, YOU come up with the plan!"

Saska looked at him confused and concerned, her tail lashing about and wings pinned against her. If she didn't mind her body, the furious winds would overpower her grip and throw her overboard. Chock one up for not having wings, everybody.

Luckily enough, Garrett entering the storm had freaked out the Briton's enough for them to turn around. Out of the frying pan and into the fire, huh?

Another wave crashed into the side of the ship, listing it to port. The angle was so steep that Garrett lost his footing on the deck and dangled from the mast as if vertical. Just as the ship reached the crest of the wave and began leveling out, Garrett glanced back to stern to check on his dragon.

She wasn't there.

Several yards away, at the base of the wave, Saska thrashed on the surface of the water, the storm muffling her roars.

"SASKA!" Garrett shouted. He abandoned his life-pole as the ship leveled out on the wave. He jumped off the stern railing just as the ship's nose tilted down the other side of the wave. Garrett's concern turned to fear as the ship's rudder came up to meet his falling body. He let out a rather feminine scream as the rudder came up and struck his body. Hard.

Dazed, Garrett tumbled down into the swell of the wave. He hit the water on the flat of his back, sending waves of crippling pain through his body. His vision blackened as his mind retreated into unconsciousness. He sank into the ocean as his limbs grew numb. The light around him fading into blackness.

Before losing consciousness, Garrett barely perceived a piercing white paw reach for him, grab him by the waist, and hoist him onto the paws' owner's back.

Saska paddled away, unable to fly and desperate for survival. The now-unconscious human on her back only serving to weigh her down. Her primal instincts told her to abandon the weight and take flight, for all the good that would do her.

But she didn't want to hear that. This human was good. This human was nice.

This human was family.

So, screw it. What would her life be without him?

So she kept swimming.

Even after the sun had long started shining again and blue dominated the sky, she didn't stop swimming.

They'd make it. They always did.

...

Well, ain't this excitin'? We done go got ourselves here a story!

This is the very first thing I'm uploading to this site, and is one of the very first fictions I've ever written (literally ever). HTTYD is an extreme guilty pleasure of mine and I'm always kicking around story ideas in my head.

Feels good to finally get one of them down.

Each chapter will typically be a one-shot, though some will directly follow the previous or at least reference another. I'll upload more whenever, I 'unno.

Read, and enjoy. Reviews are appreciated and be brutal.

Please.

I have literally no idea what I'm doing.