Wolfsbane
Chapter 1: The Bite
A/N: Yeah, like I said in the prologue, I'm doing Nano Wrimo, so this kind of fell by the wayside. But it's not over or discontinued or anything, it's just gonna be a bit of time between updates is all. And wow, 27 favorites, 7 reviews and 36 follows just for the prologue? :D wow.
Yeah, yeah. I know. I was stupid for not saying anything about the bite, right? Well, maybe I was, but whenever I mentioned being hurt, everyone just glared or gave me the evil eye, even sometimes my dad. So I learned to shut up and just take care of things myself. It was quicker, easier and less embarrassing that way if I handled it. So, I figured I'd put in just enough work at the forge, duck out and get back to my house, wrap the injury and wait until the next attack. They were becoming so frequent nowadays that I wouldn't be surprised if there was one tomorrow.
But in the meantime, while I wasn't out there on the battlefield trying to prove myself, I'd try to survive. Maybe you think I'm being dramatic, so to give you a clue as to what I mean, this is what happened when the attack was over and I walked out of the forge: Phlegma the Fierce rolled her eyes, Mulch the fisherman scowled and folded his arms, and my dad's gray eyes landed on me for an instant before flicking away again. I looked away from him, back down at the grass. It was easier to stare at the individual blades of green than see anger or disappointment in his eyes.
I passed by Snotlout and his gang on my way back to the house, and of course he started laughing at me. I used to cry a lot whenever he did something to me, but lately I'd become so used to it that it hardly mattered anymore.
"Thank Thor you finally got it into your head to stay inside and leave the fighting to the more capable Vikings." That was the first thing he said, but I could tell he was gearing up for some other stuff. He reached out like he was going to punch me, and I sidestepped easily – he wasn't putting a lot of effort into it, to be honest, otherwise he probably would've given me an impressive bruise.
"Yeah, sure," I mumbled sarcastically, keeping my eyes fixed on the ground while Snotlout's friends, the twins, giggled like idiots. If I could just make it past them and up to the house, I could get home before my dad and avoid an awkward conversation with him altogether.
Snotlout frowned, and I knew why – he wanted a response, a reaction, and I wasn't giving him one. "Listen, Useless," he snapped, planting himself in my path so I had to look up at him, "don't start getting all cocky now. You're still our little screw-up."
"I know," I told him. Maybe you think I was being dramatic, and maybe he thought that I was humoring him, but to be honest, I was only stating the truth. I was a screw-up. I always would be. Nearly every time I went outside during the attacks, I managed to hurt the village and myself in some way – not that anybody really cared if I hurt myself, of course, but still.
"What's wrong with you?" Snotlout demanded, confused and frustrated.
"Everything," I replied. The truth was, I was just so tired of dealing with his shit. He had been giving me too much for too long, and I was tired of giving him a response every time he wanted one. I waited patiently for him to step aside.
He gave me a shove to display his dominance, I presumed, and then swept away with his idiotic friends. I glared after him, rolling my eyes as I picked myself up off the ground. Brushing myself off and still scowling after them, I managed to make it to my feet, but I was so distracted that I walked – and I mean, literally walked right into – Astrid Hofferson.
But wait. Slow down. You don't know who Astrid Hofferson is, do you? Let me paint a picture in your mind.
She's beautiful, blonde, blue-eyed, tough but delicate-looking, handy with an axe, Viking-ly yet graceful. And, uh, did I mention out of my league? Basically, she is the peak of perfection and as I was the lowest form of imperfection, the idea that she would ever even look at me was essentially laughable.
Astrid scowled when she saw it was me. "Watch where you're going," she growled, but as I started to blush and stammer out apologies, she glanced down. Surprisingly, her angry demeanor faded. She slipped her axe into the hold at her waist and grabbed my stinging hand in her warm ones. "Hiccup, wait."
Butterflies started in my stomach, mostly because I didn't even know Astrid knew my name until right then, and she was actually touching me willingly.
"Where did this come from?" Her blue eyes were serious and intent when they focused on me.
"One of the wolves," I replied, before realizing how weak it sounded.
Instead of calling me weak, however, Astrid just looked kind of shocked. "They bit you? I didn't know the wolves did that."
I lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. "Yeah, neither did I." But really, who cared about a stupid bite on my hand when Astrid Hofferson was touching me?!
"You'd better look after that," she released my hand and spoke firmly. "Who knows what's in that bite?"
"I….um….I was actually going home to do that. Right now," I managed to stammer, and Astrid smiled. Astrid actually smiled at me.
"Good thinking. I'll see you later then, I guess?" She slid her axe back into her hand and started on her way, but my heart was pounding so hard that I barely made it up the steps to the porch. I slipped inside the house, replaying her words in my head, over and over again.
That 'I'll see you later'… had she said that because she actually wanted to see me later? The idea was too good to be true. Still…I managed to make it through an entire conversation with her without embarrassing myself once, and that ought to count for something.
So, grinning from ear to ear, I walked into the kitchen to find the ointments and bandages.
