Extra Note: I have commited a grievous error. Without intending to, I have stolen someone else's idea. The name, Bluebell, was first created by Enchantable for Astrid's Nadder, and I have used it. Thus, I have changed the name used. I sincerely apologize to Enchantable, and I hope for forgiveness. Thank you.

'Rather cold tonight,' I think to myself, giving myself as much as a shake as I could manage in mid-flight and surrounded by hundreds of similarly cold dragons. I have to resist letting out a small burp of flame to help against the chill, knowing that it would not be appreciated by anyone else.

'Then again, it's always pretty cold when "she" gets an appetite.' I briefly wonder if she gets hungry because of the cold, if it becomes cold when she's hungry, or if fate just thought that life wasn't miserable enough already and just made it colder for the jollies.

I snap out of that train of thought as I felt a nip on my back leg. Turning my head, I see that it's Birdeye the Nadder.

"Stop daydreaming Nameless," she growls, "We're almost there." With that, she flaps back to her position at the front.

Surely enough, a few short minutes later, we're at the Island of Berk, one of the closest inhabited islands from the nest. Below I can just make out the buildings of the Viking settlement of the island, looking for all the world that they hadn't been burned downed only a few weeks prior.

'Resourceful,' I admit grudgingly. 'But obviously not the sharpest claw of the hand to stick around.' And with that, the majority of the dragons descended upon the settlement. Only I stayed in the air above, learning long ago that this is where I was most useful.

The cold night didn't stay cold. Dragon danced within the settlement, taking any food that could be found.

Which the Vikings, of course, did not appreciate.

Fights broke out immediately, Viking versus Dragon, a tale as old as time memorial. Viking facing teeth, claws, and fire. Dragon facing stone, steel, and wit.

It was all glorious chaos.

It disgusted me in a way that it really shouldn't.

Because there was no real gain for us. It would be easy enough for each dragon to catch its own food without raiding a Viking village. It was all for her. The death and destruction was all for her. All to extend our life expectancy by another day. Because we would feed her one way or the other.

The thought fueled my anger, and my fire. With a shriek of rage I let both out. Toppling a stout stone structure in the process.

Collecting myself, I continued my aerial assault. Diving in low and fast, setting fire to swathes of grass before startled Viking who probably thought the ground had just self combusted.

It was all the same as it had always been. Boring. I was too fast to be caught, especially under the night sky. The sky was my playground, weaving and rolling with reckless abandoned. Knowing that I was by far the safest participant in this fight.

Because I was untouchable.

SLAM!

Until I wasn't.