IN NEED OF BETA READER
The night fury hated the queen for controlling him, and the vikings for killing dragons. He was afraid he'd die in a raid, and now it seemed that fear was a reality, shot out of the sky he belonged to. He crashed hard into the forest, and his tail burned where the ropes sliced it. He waited for the vikings to find him and kill him, but no one came. It wasn't right. He was the most dangerous dragon! The one they feared and screamed and ran from when they'd stay and fight other dragons. Surely they'd kill him? But he was downed now. Out of the fight. Perhaps now that he was tied up they didn't think he was a threat. Perhaps they were going to simply leave him out here to starve to death.
No! He was a threat! They couldn't do this! He tried desperately to escape, managing to drag himself further. He hurt his tail even worse, but the ropes didn't loosen. He exhausted himself fighting. He couldn't struggle anymore. The vikings won. He'd starve and die out here as nothing.
The night fury's ear twitched hearing a viking finally approach. So they were coming to kill him. He was too tired to put up any kind of fight. He'd already proved struggling was useless anyhow. At least this end was better than starving. Shock flooded through him when the scent revealed a young viking, just maturing as he was. They sent a child to kill him? Anger flooded him. He opened his eyes to see his would-be killer. The child was skinny, so small and noisy. Nothing like he expected. He hated that he'd die from a child when he was so strong, so much better than this runt. He wished he could live.
The boy quickly burst into panic seeing he wasn't dead. It gave him a small measure of amusement to see that even trapped as he was the vikings were frightened of him. Or perhaps it was just this one. The child clearly had no experience in killing dragons. So why was he here instead of the other vikings? Surely they'd enjoy killing him. Unless the child decided to do so to prove himself. He was clearly not a warrior, but trying to be one in his half-grown stage. Didn't matter. He'd die soon. The knife came down - and he heard the ropes being cut. They were looser. He could move.
He pinned the viking child. He'd kill him! He could! He could fight now! The child stared at him in fear, and looked away. He didn't fight. He knew the dragon could kill him. And he would-but how was he free? He looked at the knife. The child freed him. He came to kill him and instead freed him. It made no sense. He looked at the child again. He's young. Not a killer. Weak. Perhaps he was spared because the child couldn't kill him. Too young. The night fury refused to kill someone like this. It would damage his pride. So he roared instead, a warning. He would live this time, but next time he wouldn't. And the dragon flew off.
He couldn't fly right. Something was wrong. He barely went anywhere before he crashed. He collapsed in a cove surrounded by cliffs. He tried to fly again-but he couldn't gain the altitude to escape. Why? He's too tired. His tail stung, he exhausted himself fighting, and he could feel the queen looking for him. She sensed he's hurt and pulled back. She'll ignore him again until he's healed. Good. In her madness she'll likely forget he didn't give her a sacrifice. He'd rest tonight. Maybe tomorrow he could fly and escape.
The night fury woke up hungry. It felt strange to wake up in the day. He preferred dawn and dusk, the soothing colors of night, and sleeping the afternoon away. But he felt better. His tail didn't hurt as much. So he tried to leave. Again he failed. Desperation drove him to try again and again with no success. He's a night fury. He couldn't be defeated. He searched for an answer, a way to fly and escape. He tried fishing when he's too hungry, but he couldn't even fly well enough to do that. What's wrong? He's scared he'll die despite escaping the vikings.
He heard a rock fall. He jumped switching to a powerful fearless predator instantly hiding his weakness. He would not be hunted. He'd kill whatever tries it. Nothing's at the sound. He sniffed and scented the viking child that freed him. He stared. Why was he back? He didn't move. This was a viking child. He could still try to kill him, or bring other vikings. He couldn't appear weak. The viking child did nothing, and left. The night fury looked around. The viking child knew he's there. He had to hide. He couldn't escape here but he could make it a den he could defend.
A shallow cave behind trees to rest. The clustered trees to use to leap from above as he couldn't fly right. A second den where he could watch if the boy returns. He's still hungry, but making a den lets him forget and ignore that he's trapped.
The night fury realized why he couldn't fly. He's missing a fin. The ropes must have sliced through the membrane and torn it off. He'll never fly again. He can do awkward glides, but that's it. The sky he loved will never be his again. It's worse than the queen. Losing his tail has saved him from being forced to serve the dragon he hates, but he'll surely starve trapped on land. It wouldn't be so bad elsewhere, but this cove is too small for prey outside of the fish in the lake. Anything that had been there must have left when he crashed.
The child's returned again. The night fury vanishes into the small grove of trees and watches. He doesn't understand the viking's actions. He keeps coming back, but doesn't hurt him. He smells of fire and smoke and metal. It would be comforting, if not for the metal, almost dragonish. And he's already realized there's few other vikings around this one. The child seems to be an outcast like himself, living on the edges. No wonder the viking child is weak. None of the vikings are caring for him.
The boy has slipped down into the cove he's claimed. The night fury's angry he's entered the cove the dragon took as his own, angry he dares to approach where he knows the dragon is despite the clear warning he gave, angry the boy can come and go through a path too small for him to follow. He watches the boy walk around cautiously, alert for danger but clearly seeking him. The boy is scared and brave and trying to be welcoming but is too tense to do it right.
The night fury lowers himself behind the boy, stalking him. He's hungry. Viking doesn't taste good, but he's starving, and only the boy knows where he is and he could be a threat. He growls. The viking freezes and turns around. His voice is low and calm, but he's terrified. The dragon's mouth is nearly watering now but then he smells fish. His ears perk up. The viking has a fish! The boy holds it out to him, scared but not a threat. A peace offering? Is the fish poisoned? Why is he offering it? Did he realize the dragon was going to eat him?
He's hungry, and the fish is right there. It's not much, but better than starving. He reaches to take it, but catches a glint of metal. It's a trap! The boy does plan to kill him. He snarls in anger, considering biting the boy's whole hand off for teasing him. The viking child tenses and backs up, more scared now. He should be. He wants the fish, but he won't let the viking kill him. The child examines himself, and pulls out his weapon. The dragon's roar grows louder. The child speaks soothingly and drops it, kicking it away.
The night fury looks at him in surprise. He disarmed himself. Perhaps it wasn't to kill him. Perhaps it's because the viking child is young and was trying to protect himself. Silly, considering how weak he is. The weapon is no defense. He could kill him even if he had the weapon. Still, it makes him feel better to sweep it away from the boy. Both relax, and the boy again offers his fish. The dragon eagerly swallows it, his teeth coming out at the last minute to help. The boy is startled, but the dragon's content. He won't die today. He sniffs the viking hoping for more fish but there was only one. At least he's not as hungry. He retreats back to the trees and watches the boy leave. He doesn't know why he fed him, but it doesn't matter. It'll help him survive. He'll ask why later.
