A/N: As you can see I decided to put the author's note first from now on. Why? Because I want to, because I CAN! I know that isn't much of a reason, but still! Anyways, I want to thank the following people for reviewing,
Sincerely The Sign Painter: Thanks! Don't worry; I have every intention of continuing this.
CuteBlueCherri: I believe I've already told you thank you, but it can't hurt to do it again! Thanks so much! My goal was to make the dragon like Hiccup, so I'm glad you thought it was.
SwiftslashxLeafstorm: Thank you! I'm really flattered that you thought this was so amazing. I just hope I can keep all the chapters so good.
Well, that's everyone, so I'm going to just start this next chapter.
Chapter Two: The Death Ring of No Return
The Viking seems stunned for a moment, before gathering his senses and looking up at me, wonder and fright clearly visible in his expression. Uncertainly he scrambles slowly to his feet, obviously worrying that I might pounce on him again. But I don't. I just stand still and look at him. He looks right back. His gaze sweeps over my unusual body, committing every detail to memory. When he takes in all of my appearance, his own eyes comes back to meet my eyes, and as I look into them they show silent thanks. I growl softly and nod my head in the overall direction of the center of the village. He immediately understands, and starts to move in that direction, but then hesitates. In that moment of hesitation, a large, bulky figure bursts into the scene, tackling the Teenager to the ground and shoving him away from me. I rear back and hiss, worried for my new found "friend". The figure stands up and turns around.
What I see chills me to the bone. I am facing none other than the great Chieftain, who is large enough to make a Gronkle cower, fast enough to overwhelm a Deadly Nadder, strong enough to daunt a Hideous Zippleback, fierce enough to scare away a Monstrous Nightmare, and deadly enough to frighten a Night Fury. In other words, I turn tail and run. I spread my wings and clumsily lift into the air, but flying-nets, as I now remember dragons call them, whizz through the air so intensely I am forced to drop back to the ground in order to avoid them.
"Where are all of those coming from?" I wonder in dismay.
I am answered a second later by the sight of a swarm of Vikings charging towards me. Panicking, I breathe as much fire as I can manage on everything flammable around me, and blast the ground in front of me with fire. As the flames leap high, the Vikings are forced to slow because of the intense heat. Once again, I spread my wings and try to fly, but once again am foiled by the swarm of flying-nets instantly sent my way.
"Come on, where are those backup dragons when you actually need them?"
I roar loudly, and do my best to look intimidating, but that's hard to do when you're actually running for your life. I'm trapped, with the Chieftain in one direction, and the group of Vikings in the other. I run back and forth for a moment, and then I grow so panicked I simply fly straight up, heedless of the many obstacles in my way. This may or may not have been a mistake, the world will never know. If I had stayed on the ground, I might have fought my way out, but I doubt it. The result would probably have been the same as it is. I pay for my panic attack and blind retreat by flying strait into a flying-net. As my limbs are pinned down for the second time this night, I feel pure, utter terror. Something I have never felt before and hope I never feel again. This time the hard ground knocks me out completely.
When I slowly come to, the first thing I realize is that my limbs are no longer bound. Starting to hope, I open my eyes only to be met with pitch black darkness. The ground underneath me is hard, smooth, and cold like stone instead of nice, soft, and considerably warmer, dirt. I stumble to my feet and feel around through the dark. From what I can tell, I'm in a box-shaped cave of some sort. Instead of being damp though, it is dry. No cave would be so dry, or have such straight walls, and it certainly wouldn't be box-shaped. It reminds me of one of the many small, odd, and flammable Viking nests; only the average Viking nest is warmer, brighter, and larger. This "cave" is so small my tail brushes the sides every time I turn. My train of thought stops right there as my mind suddenly puts the pieces together and comes to a terrifying realization. I know where I am. I don't know what name the Vikings have for it, but I know all too well what dragons call it. The Death Ring of No Return.
It is large and circle shaped. In a ring shape around the circle is lots of benches for cheering Vikings to sit on. Inside of the "Onlookers Ring" as we have come to call the ring of benches, is the actual Death Ring. It is a big open circle that is a full ten dragons' length across the diameter. Staining the stone floor red is the blood of hundreds of dragons. Surrounding the Death Ring are many huge bulky doors, especially designed to resist dragon's desperate attacks. Behind each set of doors is a pen, like mine, with a single live captured dragon in each one. Above the Ring is a large metal dome with many wide gaps in it so Vikings can look in and watch easily. To prevent our escaping, the gaps are securely blocked by thick chains fastened to the metal dome. When Teenagers are being trained, they come to work in the Death Ring. A dragon is released into the Ring, and the Vikings fight it until the dragon is either killed or forced back into its cage. Usually, during a training session the dragon is not killed, and thanks to close supervision by Adult Vikings, the Teenagers are never killed. But every full moon, a single dragon is picked to be slain by the top Teenager while the Vikings look on, cheering. Each captured dragon knows their turn is coming; they will be killed by the Vikings at some point or other. No dragon has ever escaped from the Death Ring alive. Thus, the "No Return" part of its name.
And it is here that I am trapped, in the same pen countless other dragons had once been trapped in, dragons whose blood now stains the Death Ring's stone floor. My now probably brief future looks dark. My only remaining comfort is the thought that maybe, just maybe, my life will end soon and quickly.