The Downed Dragon

That feat was easier said than done. Contrary to my beliefs, Asher had stayed near my house for a full half hour before he was convinced I wasn't going anywhere. I pretended to be busy cleaning, moving furniture, doing cartwheels—anything to make him go away. As soon as his figure disappeared over the hill, I grabbed my notebook and dagger and dashed out the back door.

Another half hour later, the sun has completely risen. I still can't find that damn Dragon! "The gods must hate me," I mutter to myself as I make another X on the map of Raven Point. "Some people lose a dagger or a helmet. I manage to lose an entire DRAGON!" Frustrated, I kick a tree trunk.

The tree trunk apparently didn't appreciate the sentiment, as a twig comes flying at me. It's as accurate as an axe thrown by Asher, and I get a long cut across my forehead. "Shit!" I cry. "Dad's gonna go ballistic!"

Only then do I notice why the twig came soaring through the air. The tree is split in half, the left half snapped and leaning against the right half. Upon further inspection, I find that there is a trail of dirt and broken trees going downhill.

I feel a surge of joy and race down the hill. Finally, I'm going to kill a Dragon!

There it is at the bottom of the hill. A sleek, black Dragon tied up the boras' rope. It is whining and writhing in pain. My heart clenches, but I shake it off. This is a Dragon. Their kind killed my mother when I was only a few years old. They've killed thousands of us.

Finally, I'll be a Viking.

I move up to it, making it jerk. Its light green eyes stare back into mine, and I can see the fear in them. My heart clenches again. I lift the dagger. "Dragon, I'm going to kill you, avenge my mother, get Asher, and finally become a Viking!"

It looks at me with its sad eyes, and then relaxes, offering its neck to me. Stop! I tell my heart, which is screaming, "Don't do it, Hiccup!" I'm going to kill this monster. I lift my dagger higher in the air, and hear its last whimper.

I can't do it.

I kneel next to its head. "Hey there, bud. I'm sorry about that." It lifts its head and looks at me, green eyes curious. "I'm gonna let you go, okay? I can't kill you when you're defenseless like this. Could you forgive me?" I start to cut the rope, its eyes never leaving me.

When the Dragon is free, it stands slowly. On his four legs, I am as tall as he is. It sniffs me curiously, eyes wide and curious. It raises its head to my forehead, where the cut is, and licks it tentatively. It then races down the hill, out of sight.

I touch my forehead, still slick with saliva and blood. The cut is already healing

It helped me.

()()

When I get back to the village, Asher is waiting. I jump out of my skin when I see him. "A-Asher! W-W-What are you d-doing?" Damn my stutter!

He is picking his nails casually with his dagger. "I saw you leave town, so I decided to wait. You've been gone a long time, Hiccup." He points the dagger at me, not in a threatening way, but an inquiring way. "Where were you?"

"Uhm, n-nowhere! I was just out for a stroll, you know! It's such a nice day, you know!" My hand flies to my forehead to see if the cut is healed over, and then curse myself.

Asher notices and pushes my bangs aside. He gapes at the cut, presumably healing itself in front of his eyes. "What's this?" he demands. "Why is it healing so fast?"

I begin to stutter again, my default mode when I'm lying or nervous. "Uh, I accidentally tripped in the forest. You know me, klutzy, klutzy, klutzy!" I laugh nervously.

He doesn't buy it. "Why is it healing so fast? It's almost gone now."

I smack his hand, shocking him. I use this to my advantage. "Leave it, Asher! I've got to get home now!" I push past him and run to my house.

When I get inside, I fall to the ground and put my hand to my forehead. It burns where Asher touched it.

Oh, Thor help me.

I jump when I hear my father clear his throat. "D-Dad!" I exclaim guiltily. "H-How long have you been home?"

"Not long," he grunts, uncomfortable. "Uh, Hiccup, I need t' talk t' ye."

Oh, no. Usually when he tries to "talk" to me, it is divided into two topics: "Girl talk," which consisted of him fumbling around as he tried to explain how girls changed compared to boys, and "Dragon talk," which consisted of him trying to teach her the important of killing Dragons. I wonder which he's trying to do now as I nod and sit on the floor next to him.

He says, "Well, Gobber an' I were talkin', and he thinks that the reason yer not like the other kids is because I kept ye inside durin' the raids. So, yer goin' to Dragon Trainin'."

My heart sunk. I was about to be trained to kill Dragons when I just freed one not an hour ago. "Uh, Dad—" I try to start, but he interrupts.

"I'm goin' to go on one last search fer the Dragons' Nest afore winter rears its head. By th' time I get back, I want you to be…not failing."

"Uh, Dad, I don't think I can kill Dragons."

"Of course ye can, with a bit o' trainin' in ye."

"I am almost completely sure I cannot kill a Dragon."

"Ye can. Do we have a deal?"

"This conversation feels really one-sided."

"Deal?" This time, his voice is full of authority. I don't have an option.

"Deal," I agree quietly.

In the next chapter: Dragon Training starts and Hiccup is ostracized by her peers. See you soon!