Memories
Chapter 2: Curious Creatures
The evening was beginning to enter the lives of the herd of Night Furies, and so far, no one had awaken. Like they ever woke up early. Night Furies did not enjoy too much daylight. It bothered their eyesight and disrupted their flight. Therefore, the less sunlight there was, the better it was for them to hunt and stay stealthy.
The runt, however, was awake. He nuzzled against the warmth of his mother and yawned at the break of sunset. Stretching his paws, his wings instinctively opened out and widened to their full length (which was only the span of one of his mother's forelegs). He couldn't help but release a small whine from the back of his throat as he yawned once again.
His mother stirred slightly, but she continued to sleep. The black-scaled runt could tell since she released soft murmurs through her nostrils and warm air from her nostrils.
This was the moment to strike. As quietly as he could, he crawled away from his mother.
Then there were the other Night Furies to worry about. Although the dragon herd preferred to rest with their distinguished mates and offspring, Night Furies tended to sleep near each other. Whether it was hanging from trees or nestled under charcoal dirt, the herd loved the sense of warmth and protection created during their sleeping hours by their close encounters.
The runt had to either crawl over or around his many cousins. This was difficult, because Night Furies loved their sleep. If any awoke, the runt would have found himself unable to move due to the various injuries.
Now, most of the adults weren't his actual cousins, or at least close enough to be considered cousins. In fact, only one of the males was his blood uncle (his mother's nest-brother), and two hatchlings from the past spring were his closest cousins. The herd referred each other as cousins because they regarded each one as family, despite their protective and vicious nature. Brothers, sisters and parents were referred to as such in addition.
The runt wondered if the Wodensfang would consider him his cousin.
He must or he would have hurt me, the runt could not help but think.
The Wodensfang was sleeping on the ground, in the old rubble he always slept in. Deteriorating charcoal laid under his dark blue scales, and there were hints of freshly made coal from what the runt could, the old dragon was by himself (per usual), a few feet from the closest pile.
The runt quietly sat a few feet away from him. Inching closer in a quick pace would be futile. So the runt patiently walked closer and fixated his eyes on the sleeping elder that grew with every inch.
He could feel the adrenaline scorch through his little body, like a blast of plasma about to be released from his mouth. He was so close! He could feel the warm breath escaping loudly from the larger dragon. He snores louder than Mama.
Gently, he lifted his paw and poked the elder. He immediately pulled back and backed up in a stance.
Yet the Wodensfang did not move.
Must be a sound sleeper, the runt mused. He crept up again and lifted his law closer to his head and tapped the elder's head again.
He was met with grey eyes. Big, grey eyes that screamed at the runt, as though its mere look of terror would scare him away.
The runt froze immediately.
For the old dragon, he merely growled and shifted his body away from the hatchling. His wings, tethered with age, lifted up so he could move comfortably in a new position. But also to block his view of the hatchling.
The runt cooed happily. He was finally getting his attention!
He walked around to face where the elder's eyes were. There, he poked at his head again.
Another growl escaped from under the wings.
This time, the runt jumped away from the beast. He knew, from the old dragon's tone, this was a warning. And the runt may not receive another warning.
But curiosity filled the young one. Why was he grumpy? When the hatchling was upset, his mother would nuzzle him until he rubbed his head back. It always worked on him and he eventually learned to love it.
Maybe he needs a cuddle.
Filled with bravery, the hatchling crept closer to the Wodensfang and nuzzled his head affectionately against a huge paw. He hastily backed away, anticipating on the Wodensfang's response. Would he get a growl? Or receive a swat? Anything?
But there was no reaction.
The Wodensfang lifted his wing, slowly, and stared menacingly at the runt. His eyes were slated, as usual, but they were slightly thicker now.
The runt crept closer to him. Was he... warming up to him?
"You should be in your nest, with your mother."
The runt gaped slightly, but he immediately ran back to the other dragons.
Dodging and climbing over Night Furies was more difficult, since they were waking up. He saw his mother near the middle and crawled under her arm.
It was there he noticed he was shaking. Never, in his young life, did he ever hear such a deep, raspy growl from a dragon. One that caused his entire being to freeze, like a Flightmare.
And he spoke! The old Wodensfang never spoke, according to the other Night Furies. What did this mean, if the old dragon spoke to a runt?
He forgot how early it was, because the stars were beginning to appear and Night Furies were stretching.
His mother yawned graciously and glanced down at him. She nuzzled him lovingly. "My, you're up early." She tilted her head curiously and licked him. "Are you alright? You're shaking."
The runt snuggled closer in his mother's forelegs. "Bad dream."
"Was it from yesterday?" she asked, referring to that incident. The runt nodded and snuggled closer to her. "My brother had nightmares after he was slashed from the Wodensfang." She rubbed his head again. "Do not worry; the nightmares will go in time. I will protect you, alright?"
The runt nodded, although his mind burned with questions of the Wodensfang. Who was this dragon? Why did he never interact with anyone? Why did the Wodensfang never speak, but he did to the runt?
He yawned. It had been quite early when he woke up. Besides, this warmth he shared with his mother, this was what he needed. Safety.
He figured those questions could wait.
...Many Years Ago...
The leaves tickled his nose.
He was not used to standing in the treetops. Never in his shirt life of seventeen winters did he have to. However, this was good leverage. It was easier to view any prey passing by.
His species, which hid in the darkness of night, hunted from the ground. Their small statures, compared to other dragon species, was smaller. They could easily hide in the dark shadows, and they greatly depended on the darkness of their scales. Hunting was their instinct; hiding was their birthright.
He groaned in frustration. There was nothing on this island. Just a mountain of an island with fish in the sea surrounding it. If there were sheep, it would be great. Those furry mongrels could satisfy the hunger of his Queen, more than fish could.
The dragon grumbled as he crept down the tree. Stupid, empty island. This island had plenty of sheep in the past. He always went here for hunting (unlike the rest of the dragons whom traveled to a far land for bigger prizes). It was the closest to the nest.
He sniffed the air, allowing his nostril to take in the many scents of the island. Hmm. No sheep here.
Crack.
Wait. What was that?
He spread his wings slightly and allowed the wind to glide him down to the green patch of grass below. It helped him land gently on the ground. The grass prickled against his bare feet, but he was used to it.
Instinct forced him to follow this scent. This smell was... different. Mixed with fresh pine and different sweets. Oh, is that sweat? He caught the stench of open spores. The dragon couldn't help but stick his tongue out from the overpowering odor.
"Oi! Come on, Hiccup!"
He immediately crawled into a nearby bush, ignoring the pain of the prickles that stuck in his back. Luckily, he was used to the pain. He positioned himself so he could easily see any trespassers. He listened carefully, aware of any movement from these new scents.
Two strange creatures appeared. Strange was the right word to describe them. They stood on their hind legs. Their heads were mounted with fur. And they wore fur on their bodies, but of various animal stenches. The Night Fury muttered in confusion. Why would creatures wear animal fur?
From what he could smell, they were both male. Definitely.
"You know I can't keep up."
One was obviously bigger than the other. Both in height and weight. He must have been an alpha, because his body structure was large and he bore horns on his head. Rather big horns.
The other... was small. Sickly. Unlike his companion, this creature had a small set of horns.
He sniffed the air once again. There was the scent of fish. Salty, wet, fresh fish in their grasp!
For some strange reason, and it was not the fish, the dragon found himself intrigued by these new creatures. They were so pale and thin compared to most dragon species. What kind of creatures stood upon their hind legs and spoke in strange tongue? He squatted lower to the ground. Maybe he will stay a little longer to find out.
"You think dragons exist?" the small one asked.
The Large One creating a whooping noise that was foreign to the dragon. "Nah, those are old stories Uncle Horrendous told us as children, Hiccup."
The Small One, or Hiccup, rolled his eyes. "Call me crazy, but they are real."
"Okay, Crazy."
"Oh, shut up, Mammoth."
The dragon eyed the one known as Hiccup. He could easily take this one. The bigger, well, he would have difficulty. This Mammoth would put up a fight, without a doubt, and that stick he held in his beefy claws would be used against the dragon. The small boy would do well to quench the Queen's hunger.
"I'll get some wood. You stay put."
"Just because you're three years older than me, it does not mean you are the boss."
The bigger boy laughed. "I'm your brother. I'm just watching over you." He smacked Hiccup's shoulder. "Stay. And don't wander. Father will have my head."
"Got it, brother."
The dragon watched as the Large One, identified as Mammoth, left. The Mammoth stepped through the thick forest with some type of stick in his hand that looked sharp at the end.
There it was. The Hiccup. Alone.
This was his moment, his time to pounce. He retracted his teeth from his gums and engaged his claws. He could easily kill this creature with one stick with his teeth or simply scrape the ugly face right off.
On instinct, he jumped from the bushes and tackled the Hiccup.
Before the Hiccup could scream, the Night Fury pressed his paw against his chest. This tactic was known in his species. The prey was unable to alert any other larger prey. And in good conscious; this Hiccup would be stupid to alert the Mammoth.
He lifted his other claws, ready to give this Hiccup a merciful death. His Queen shall taste the leaning flesh of this Hiccup.
But the dragon saw something.
The Hiccup glanced up at him with true horror in its eyes. Not that the dragon never saw fear; he witnessed fear in many animals before he killed them.
But this. This was different in the Hiccup His breathing was quick and short. He could tell the Hiccup was losing breath, as his face was going blue.
However, it was the boy's eyes that stopped him.
His eyes were green.
He had never seen green in eyes before. They were so... uncommon. In dragons and other animals. Did this trait of green eyes exist in only this species?
"Kill it," his instincts growled.
He snarled. His Queen needed food. This would give her some satisfactory. The chance to taste a new species unknown to the nest... yes, this will make his Queen happy. It may have some taste behind its bony flesh.
But he couldn't.
This creature... was intelligent. It had a brother. An uncle. Maybe a herd or a colony. Perhaps a father and mother.
A family who would miss him.
The dragon didn't show any sign of remorse. Winters of serving the Queen changed him into a merciless beast who hunted without question. If he were to show pity on such a runt like this, he would not be considered a killer.
To prove his dominance, he roared in the Hiccup's face and took off into the woods.
He ignored the pain in his wings as he crashed through the trees. They stung him and gashed open his scales. He ignored them as he ran through the thick forest and pushed against the stinging branches. He continued to run until he found a clear opening of just grass.
He flapped his wings and prepared to escape from the island. He hated this island! There was not suppose to be creatures here, that stood on hind legs and could speak. They weren't suppose to have... feelings!
But he found it very difficult to leave. His wings stung from pushing against the branches. Yet, he pushed pass the pain. He wan not staying here. He would not hunting here ever again! He needed a new hunting ground.
His senses tingled, the way they did when the herd was on their way to feeding. No, he couldn't go to the nest. His Queen would be furious! She needed food or they were all going to die. He had to find food somewhere else.
He shook his head of the green irises he saw.
He only hoped he would never have to encounter the creature again, or if it was smart enough to not go looking for him.
Damn dreams, he grumbled.
He released a yawn from his mouth and looked up at the night sky. Hmm, tonight was quite beautiful. The sky was black, but the stars shined brightly with the full moon glaring down at the herd. The wind was also surprising dim and he could smell the pines caught in the light breeze. A perfect night to go hunting, if he did say so himself.
The Wodensfang looked over at where the runt had run off to. The little hatchling was cuddling with his mother in their nest. Seemingly, the two were happy in each of their presences.
Why is this hatchling so interested in me? No one ever showed him the time or day. Not even when he returned home so many winters ago to a bloodshed of his kind.
The way the hatchling looked at him with fear in his green eyes... It was scary.
Scary because the boy not only shared the hatchling's green eyes, but he showed fear.
Just like the boy.
Strangely enough, the Wodensfang found himself smiling. It had been forever since he smiled. He thought of the summers when he sat on the lone island and soaked up the sun's warmth. Sitting with Hiccup and talking for hours. How long had it been since he could just sit with his Hiccup and talk about... well, anything. To not care if the world passed them or not. If it did, well, he would not care. He would have been happy if he could be with him, to sit
Too long, he grumbled softly, with a hint of sadness.
He spent years trying to hide those memories, to never look back on them. Yes, some were happy memories, but there were dark memories buried there, too. Many which he promised himself he would never look back on. Thinking of the boy was too painful because of those memories. Those bad one. The ones that crawled in his sleep, turning into nightmares. That showed his fears. Causing him to wake up in the day.
Shaming him.
Seeing those curious, green eyes brought those nightmares back. Made him relive the awful memories of his past, the one shrouded in mystery. Forced him to come in terms with the guilt he carried for years. Tormented his old heart to the brick of pain. Making him realize he both hated and longed for the eyes he saw in the runt.
The ones that matched his Hiccup's green eyes.
This chapter was longer than I planned it to be. However, you guys deserve it.
Just to clarify this: the runt with the green eyes is Toothless. I originally had the runt as some hatchling who was purely fascinated with the Wodensfang, but as I developed the story, I was reminded how the Wodensfang originally did not like Toothless in the books. So I made Toothless the hatchling here :)
Whoa, five favourites and follows already? Along with two reviews for the first chapter? That's amazing!
Thanks for the great feedback, guys :) I'll see you soon!
