The prison was not serving the dragon well.

There were fish in the lake, but he had not learned how to fish. All of the animals worth eating were frightened away by his furious caterwauling he made when his frantic flapping did him no good. He could not have been there for more than a few hours, but it felt like several moon cycles to the Night Fury.

The next day dawned gray and cloudy. He shuddered when he thought of what the rest of the clan would say. What fate awaited him if he came back with nothing to offer, no food, no information on the doings of the horned-people? He wished, not for the first time, that he could leave the island to which he was bound. There was nowhere to go, and there was no time to explore the waters around the nest. The worst part was that because he could not see past the walls of stone, he had no clue where he was. He blasted a spot on the ground in frustration. One more time. Then he could try climbing. As a dragon, doing anything on the ground was unthinkable, even shameful. Dragons were creatures of the sky. The Night Fury crouched down, wiggled his haunches, and leapt into the air. The flow of currents kept him airborne for a few seconds, but then he became unbalanced and smacked into the ground for the seventeenth time. He flopped to the earth in exhaustion, staring into the crystal pool. A fish broke the surface of the water, and he crept to the edge, watching a particularly plump one float lazily just beneath the surface. The dragon snapped at it, but he was too slow. The fish darted away, leaving his teeth to close on water.

Taking his head out of the water, he heard a clattering sound. The dragon's ears told him it was a sticklike object, and it had fallen from about three tail-lengths high. He lifted his head and saw the young male person. The same one as the day before. The one who had almost killed him. But he didn't. The male peered cautiously at the Night Fury, probably waiting for him to pounce. But he hadn't seen him fly, and fail to. Had he?


The following day was the same as before: jump, fly, crash, roar, then blast a scorch mark in the ground and do it all over again. It had rained the night before, and everything was wet and slippery. However, he was thinking about something entirely different than before. The dragon, while licking his tail clean of dried blood, was pondering the appearances of the young not-horned-person. Why did he keep coming back? Surely it was not entertaining to watch a dragon attempt a few pathetic flights again and again. Perhaps he was relaying information to the rest of his clan, much as the Night Fury did in his own. It was the perfect opportunity, to kill a downed dragon. That must be it. After coming to a conclusion, he quite put the thought out of his mind.

Then, while he was exploring the surrounding rock, he saw a fish fly out from behind a boulder. It had the smell of horned-people on it. Or, more specifically, the young male not-horned person. This time, he would not make it so easy. The dragon climbed onto a protrusion of rock, which gave him a good view of the young male stalking the green grass that surrounded the pool. In one foreleg, he held the delicious-smelling fish. His mouth watering, the dragon stepped over the rock and silently moved behind him. The person must have seen movement, though, and whipped around with an intake of air to face him. The male carefully held out the food.

The dragon widened his eyes, and moved forward to take it. But then he remembered the short sharp-stick the person had, and drew back, snarling.

Reading his mind, the person took back the fish and moved aside his extra pelt to show the sharp-stick. His forefoot hovered by it uncertainly, but when the dragon growled again, he removed it loosely and tossed it to the ground.

Still distrustful, the Night Fury jerked his head towards the lake, indicating that he should throw it in. The male did so with his foot.

He sat back, satisfied at last and with a more friendly disposition to the person. The male offered the fish to him again. The dragon crept forward, sniffing the air. He retracted his teeth-a special feature of his own-and reached for the fish with his jaws.

The male squinted at his missing fangs, and said something garbled in people-speak that sounded like, "Toothlis? I kuduv sworn yu had-"

He flashed his teeth out and swallowed the fish whole, licking his chops.

"-teeth," the person finished.

The dragon sniffed around the pelt that hung on the person's lanky frame. All smoke and no more fish.

"No!" the person said, frightened. "No, no, I don't hav ani moor!"

He was backed up against a rock now. The dragon cocked his head slightly. It was rude to eat in front of the male when he had none. Primeval as he may be, he was not one to abandon his manners. He squeezed his first stomach, which still contained the fish, and regurgitated half of the fish into the person's forefeet.

"Ugh," the male said, making a face.

The Night Fury backed up and waited for the person to eat his share. The young one didn't eat, but merely sat there, looking uncomfortable. The dragon looked down at the fish tail and back up. Letting out a breath, the person lifted the fish to his mouth and took a large bite. The dragon made a happy purr. But the male was still not eating it. The dragon swallowed, trying to send him a message. The hatchling swallowed his mouthful of fish, shaking his head and making noises of disgust. But he had swallowed. Then, he did a peculiar thing. He lifted the corners of his mouth, showing his teeth, which were blunt like rocks. The Night Fury narrowed his eyes, wondering if it was a sign of aggression, but the male generated well-being. Perhaps this was a means of communication. He attempted to do the same, pulling his mouth into what he hoped was the same sign. The young person looked awed. What? Thought I couldn't do it?

The hatchling stretched his hand out, and that was when the dragon took offense. He just didn't trust him enough for contact. He growled, then leaped across the lake, gliding as best as he could. By now the sun was setting, casting a pink light over everything. A stream of fire ran from his mouth, scoring a circle in the ground as he settled in for the night. Small flutters and tweets were coming from a nearby tree, and the dragon watched as a tiny bird flew overhead. Oh, what it must be like to be free… he looked down and saw the hatchling. Again. Exasperated, the Night Fury turned until his tail faced the person, which was considered extremely rude in the dragon world. But that didn't deter the young one. The dragon heard him scraping over the ground, getting closer and closer to the fan-like tail in front of him, until the Night Fury lifted it and stared at him. They both crept off in opposite directions. It was time for a nap.

However, he didn't sleep long. He was awakened by the scraping of a stick in the dirt. The hatchling was making lines in the ground. How unusual. The dragon came over to watch.

If the person knew he was there, he did not acknowledge him. He continued to make what looked like the reflection the dragon saw every time he looked into the pool. A bad reflection, but he figured that people didn't have very good eyesight. The dragon decided to try it, too. After all, he would need to learn to inscribe dragon runes someday, and this was a good start.

Walking away, he examined the trees around him. He needed one with no branches and a sharp point. Just like…that one. He uprooted the stick of a tree and dragged it over to the hatchling, leaving a wavy line behind him. Too bad his feet weren't the right shape to hold it. This was harder than it looked. A wavy line here…then there…and then a dot. As the dragon spun around with the tree, he accidentally clubbed the hatchling in the head. Oops.

Finally, the Night Fury was done. He sat back on his haunches and admired his work. Not quite like he wanted it, but it was a start. The young person stood on his hind legs and looked around at the scratches the dragon had made on the ground. He took a step onto his work, and the dragon growled, warning him to get off. The no-horn did, but then stepped on it again. And again. Is this some kind of a game to you?

The young male made his way through the twists and turns of the dragon's would-be runes, coming closer and closer until-

Huff.

The person turned around when he felt breath on the back of his neck. They stood face-to-face for a few moments, and the male lifted his foot up to the Night Fury. The dragon rumbled a few times, and the person took his foot away. He broke eye contact, and lifted his foreleg up one more time.

The dragon gazed at the proffered person-foot, and did something no dragon had ever done before.

He touched it.

He felt the foot shrink back a bit, as though it were expecting a violent move. But when the two looked at each other, they realized that each could never hurt the other.

Friends? the person's eyes asked.

Friends, answered the dragon.