"...So why didn't you?" I ask out loud, lifting up the heavy part of the discarded bola I had somehow managed to re-find.

I once again twist my mouth, as if searching for an answer.

I wonder if the Dragon is still there.

This is a bad idea, my conscious warns me, but, as always, I don't really listen.

Your funeral.

I'm already dying.

I freeze when I think that. Bonding with a Dragon is sort of like dying, I guess. We wouldn't really know, we never had the mind to study them any further than the Dragon Manual and Dragons couldn't exactly speak.

But I wasn't going to Turn. Maybe I was Bonding, but I am not going to turn. I've held it back this much I can hold it back all the way.

But what I didn't remind myself of was that each day I was growing more and more wary of what I might and could do.

The cove is peaceful once again. It'd be a nice place to rest. You know, if there wasn't a Dragon laying in wait for you.

I slowly creep down to the boulders where I peer down into the cove. I don't see the Night Fury, which is a little strange.

Spoke too soon.

All of a sudden, a large black figure burst out of the water, giving me a heart attack.

It's one thing to have a monster burst out of the water. It's another thing for a real monster to literally burst out of the water.

I can tell you that it wasn't the best experience of my entire life.

I sit still on the boulder, waiting to see what he does.

Once again, I get a pretty decent image of the Night Fury, and my reaction confuses me even more.

I guess from swimming in the small lake, all the dirt washed off, so he's clean now, aside from the blood still caked on the side of his face. His black clothing is completely tattered, and I think he must have ripped what little remains of his shirt that had been left off sometime. Now that I was actually looking at him, he wasn't so much as scrawny as just lean. I can see slightly toned muscles from here, that I assume would be more defined if he hadn't been starving for the past few days.

And that made me feel bad.

But why in the world would I feel bad?

I think he was fishing, but either way, he comes up without a fish. He growls and throws another plasma blast in frustration, but he looks weak, like the effort of attempting to get food had strained him.

His hair is long and slightly shaggy, dripping in his face from the swim.

He looks quite pitiful, and once again I can't help but feel sorry for this creature.

He's beginning to- no, he is- starving.

He could use some food. He needs food. He will die if I don't help this Dragon.

I sigh, picking myself up from my crouched position, not quite yet believing what I'm about to do.


Maybe around an hour later, I manage to steal a fish, a shield, and walk through town with my axe strapped to my back and all of these goods with me, and I don't get questioned.

The day is hot, which is unusual for Berk. Normally it's either storm clouds threatening to rain or storm clouds dumping everything they've got. I think you get the picture.

I scout a way to get down into the cove without having to jump down from that ledge (which I could have done! I'd just...you know, rather not...) and peer out into the cove.

The Dragon isn't in sight. Did he fly away?

Of course he didn't, stupid, I remind myself. You tore his tailfin off. He'll probably never fly again. A downed Dragon is a dead Dragon.

I sigh once more and throw the slippery (and disgusting) Icelandic cod out into the open. Nothing happens.

Maybe he's hiding.

I turn the shield sideways and slip between the two boulders.

I pick up the fish again and slowly turn around as I walk, looking for anything out of the ordinary.

Of course with my luck, a small grating sound comes from behind me. I turn and am face to face with the Night Fury.

Okay, so not really face to face, more like face to crouching-on-a-really-high-boulder, but same thing,, right?

I freeze up just slightly, the Viking in me failing miserably.

So this is what the fearless Astrid Hofferson does when she faces the ferocious Night Fury?

I'm not here to kill it. I'm here to feed it. Odin's beard I must be going mad. But I've survived this beast's encounter. Twice.

That I'm still alive fills me with a miniscule amount of self courage, and it's just enough for me to awkwardly thrust the fish out towards it and raise my shield.

"O-okay," I say shakily. "Here's how it's gonna go. I'm gonna give you this fish," I raise it slightly just so maybe, if the gods are feeling particularly sorry for me today, the Dragon would understand that this was its meal, not me, "and you're not gonna kill me."

Looking at this, it must seem silly. I mean, the boy has to weigh like, ninety pounds (okay, not including the wings, tail, and everything else) and all he has going on are the creepy Dragon body parts. But I know better. Dragons are dangerous and you should never trust them.

The Dragon snorts, and I can only hope it's in agreement.

He slowly climbs down from the rock, tilting his head at me, as if scoping the situation out, as if I'm the more dangerous one.

I take a deep breath and keep holding the fish out.

I cringe when he slowly approaches. The Night Fury leans down, somehow making it seem elegant and graceful in a way that I could never achieve, and opens his mouth, wide. Is he going to...grab the fish with his mouth? If it were in any other situation, I would have laughed. I guess when Dragons forget everything, they really forget everything, including how to use opposable thumbs.

"Easy," I warn as he gets uncomfortably close.

He stops approaching and growls, a deep rumble that sounds way more natural than it should.

"What?" I demand, but not with the usual sternness everyone knows to expect.

He snarls, bringing his lips back in a threatening sneer. He's staring at...

"Oh, no," I argue. "I get to keep that."

He's staring at my axe. No doubt, he thinks I will attack him. Heck, I probably would, too, if I were in his boots- er, feet, or, claws, or, I don't know, this is taking way too much thought process!

"I won't hurt you, I promise," I tell him firmly.

He doesn't appear convinced.

"Look," I say, getting frustrated. "Do you want the fish or not? If I get rid of my axe, here, then I will be completely defenseless. You're a Dragon, even though you're not armed you could still kill me. So it's kind of fair, if you ask me."

Of course he didn't but I don't keep that in mind. But the stupid Dragon refuses to step down.

I groan.

"Fine, how about this?" I ask. "I'll get rid of my shield. Shields are more important to us Vikings, so you're hurt and weak, I don't have a shield and I'm crippled, too, so I need some means of defense if you decide to eat me. Sound fair?"

He makes a sound that I've never heard from a Dragon before. It's sort of like a growl, but it's not. It sounds like something a Viking would say. Like they're agreeing to something they really don't to. Either way, I hope the Dragon has come to some sort of consensus.

I drop the shield with a pronounced thud. He growls again and shakes his head, as if to say, get rid of it.

I roll my eyes and bring my splinted hand to rest on my hip in annoyance, but nonetheless I shove the shield with my foot as far as I can. It slides really far. I wouldn't even have time to run and grab it if the Night Fury were on the other side of the cove.

I turn back to him and raise my eyebrows, shifting my weight to one foot to look even more ticked off.

'Happy?' I mentally ask, as I'm starting to feel silly talking to a beast that I don't even know if it can understand me or not.

He snorts.

'Not really, but I'm hungry and you have fish,' I imagine him saying back.

He proceeds to approach now, still leaning down to retrieve the meal with his mouth.

By some miracle, or some twisted irony, I just happen to notice his teeth.

They're completely normal.

Dragons have fangs as well. They don't protrude out from their mouths like the Ancestral Dragons, but how else could they rip into raw meat? The Night Fury's teeth are completely flat, well, not completely, they're just normal. They look just like any Viking's teeth.

"Huh," I say out loud. "Toothless. I could have sworn you had Dragon-"

He cuts my spoken thought by opening his jaw really, really wide, and then the Dragon teeth that were missing appear, chomping down on the fish and bringing it to the ground so he could gobble it down greedily. I flinch and instinctively yank my arms back.

"...teeth," I finish, still in a defensive position.

My hand starts to sting a little and I realize that in his fit of being faced with food in the start of starvation, one of his fangs had nicked my hand.

I wipe the small trickle of blood off on my skirt and look back at the Dragon.

He had eaten the whole fish, picked clean the bones and had probably eaten some small ones as well.

Talk about ravenous.

He notices me staring at him and stands once again, making a purring sound in his throat that I can't quite decipher as 'content' or 'threatening.'

I back up, momentarily (and idiotically) forgetting about my axe.

"Uh, no, no, I don't have any more," I say quickly. I manage to trip stumbling backwards and the Dragon corners me against a rock.

I lean as far as I can into the rock, starting to panic just a tiny bit.

"Um, I... I promised I wouldn't hurt you, please don't turn against me. I did get you that fish. If you kill me, I can't bring you any more," I try to reason with it.

He flicks his head. If I didn't know any better I could have sworn it was in amusement, but I do and I know he's probably not amused.

Well, I haven't gotten killed yet, that's a plus.

I still avoid glancing at his tail.

Even though the swim for fish in the lake washed the dirt off of him, it didn't do too much for the blood.

I grimace in sympathy.

Even though the Dragon has cornered me, now I feel like it's the one who feels in danger.

"I'm...sorry about that," I choke out. I don't apologize to anyone, let alone a Dragon. But I feel like in this case, he kind of deserves one.

Kind of deserves one? You shredded half of his tail!

Okay, maybe really deserves one.

It should unnerve me that I'm feeling sorry for this Dragon, but I've already come to terms with it. That's what scares me more than anything.

The Night Fury is really close now.

And when I realize just how close, a new feeling arises in me, other than panic or sympathy.

I don't really recognize it, it's not something I've ever felt before.

You stupid girl. You're embarrassed, my brain supplies me.

Holy mother of Thor, am I embarrassed because the stupid Dragon doesn't have a shirt?

I really am losing it.

No. I'm not embarrassed. Astrid Hofferson does not get embarrassed. I'm just a little uncomfortable, that's all.

I try to tell that to the heat quickly rising in my face but to no avail.

Whatever. Again, uncomfortable, because I do not get embarrassed and I certainly don't blush.

However, I do make a side note to bring the poor boy some clothes the next time.

Only because his old black clothing had gotten torn to shreds and it couldn't be easy in this Berkian weather. Of course, he could summon fire from his hands... But that's irrelevant, right?

The Night Fury crouches down in front of me, and takes a sniff of the air.

Why would...?

His eyes dilate into slits, and that can't be a good sign.

He stares at me, and I'm captured in the Night Fury's gaze.

His eyes are an unusual emerald green, a very vibrant and lively shade of emerald green. They're flecked with gold and his pupils are slits, just like any Dragon's. But just the fact that they aren't yellow, they're green, somehow eases my mind in some way unfathomable to myself.

For the first time, I wonder about what I will look like if I Turn. Would my eyes be terrifying and deadly, yet mesmerizing and maybe- just maybe- beautiful like the Night Fury's? Or would mine be a cold, expressionless, and ugly yellow like all the other Dragons' eyes I have seen?

I snap out of it when the Night Fury lowers his head to sniff the inside of my wrist, the one that's not in the splint.

"Hey, um, Night Fury? I kinda need that, I mean, I only have one left," I don't really think that will do anything.

But then he moves to paw at it.

He doesn't get far before I remember my axe.

I tear my hand away and give a ferocious growl myself, reaching behind me with my good hand to grab it (which is not an easy feat considering my right-handed self just had to go and get her right hand broken).

"I promised I wouldn't hurt you but if you hurt me then I won't hesitate," I warn in a low voice. I put every single ounce of the ferocious shield maiden I am into that voice, but somehow I know that that's not what scared the creature off. It must have been something in my eyes. He must have seen that whatever was on my arms was not something he should see and that I would die to protect it.

He must have either respected that or known not to mess with an angry and determined female, Dragon or Viking. It must have been the latter, because, again, Dragons can't really think like we can.

He growls softly and takes off into the air. It would have been a lot more intimidating if he hadn't crash-landed on the other side of the lake, grumbling as he picked himself up.

The Night Fury is still grumbling but he must have gotten more energy from eating a little something as he easily blasts the ground in a small circle before curling up on the steaming ground, aiming to take a nap.

I stare at him in part confusion, part wonder.

Okay, I'll have to admit, he did look a little cute when he curled up on the ground like that.

He had wrapped his tail around himself and was snuggling it like it was a Viking blanket.

I hold back laughter, but I guess I failed, as he shoots his head up and glares at me.

'How dare you interrupt me, I was trying to nap you stupid Viking.'

'Oh, I'm sorry. Please continue on with your cat nap.'

'No point now. You ruined it.'

Apparently, my imaginary conversation was pretty accurate, as the Night Fury gets up, grumbling pointless nothings and sending me glares every few steps. I bite a chuckle.

I sit around the cove for a while, just enthralling in the fact that I was actually in a confined area with a Night Fury and I was still alive.

It's starting to get dark and I really need to get back soon, but the funny thing is I don't want to. I actually like it here, even though we both keep our distance.

I sigh and walk over to a nearby tree. Just as I'm about to break off the sturdiest twig, I sense a presence breathing down my back. Oh, wait, no. More like I feel a presence breathing down my back.

I jump away a little.

Darn that Night Fury he's taller than me, I realize for the first time. I have to look up.

He isn't threatening me. He's only watching me. It seems almost like he's observing me.

Well that pesky Dragon needs to learn some personal space.

'Watch the personal bubble!' I glare at him in my mind, thinking what I would say out loud as I had come to do. And in turn I would imagine what the Dragon would say if he could talk.

'What is this personal space you speak of?' he would ask.

'Oh forget it, you useless Dragon.'

'Whatever. Stupid Viking.'

'I heard that.'

'Good, you were supposed to.'

I get out of hand and snort out loud, and the Dragon looks at me in confusion.

"Sorry," I say aloud, reddening (for the second time that day!) and quickly snap off the twig, hurriedly rushing back to the rock I had been resting on.

I keep my head low, making pointless scratches in the dirt. I couldn't draw very well anyways and I had no hope with my left hand, so all I could do was scratches.

The Dragon follows, once again breathing down my neck (and making me very uncomfortable, but I keep making scratches just to show that he doesn't scare me). In the corner of my eye, I see him follow the movement of the twig with his head, not with his eyes. Something an animal would do in wonder or fascination.

He then moves to stare at my hand, firmly clasped around the twig. And it's only going white because I'm concentrating, certainly not because of the Night Fury behind me.

He blows out through his nose rather loudly and trots off. He's probably going to go hang upside down and nap like he did earlier.

Night Furies napped a whole awful lot for being the most feared Dragon out there.

But, to my surprise, he comes back with a twig of his own.

He holds it like it's a snake and will bite him, or maybe like a toddler who doesn't know how to hold something would. Which I suppose, in a way, he is. He doesn't know how to climb, otherwise he'd be able to get out of this cove.

But then how did he get in that tree? Then again, he could still fly then, and he can use his hands for clawing into things for grip.

But then he sticks the end in the ground like I did and moves it back and forth.

I watch in amazement as two curved lines suddenly get a flat nose, two oval eyes, and a shape.

Soon enough, I'm staring at a very good drawing of an Ancestral Night Fury.

Or, what I assume is one. The Dragon has the same shape of eyes (well, the best I could figure out from a scratch picture in the dirt) and he has the same ear flaps.

The Night Fury nods in satisfaction and turns to me, grinning. He looks very proud of himself.

'Look what I did!'

I smile in amazement and stand.

We stare at each other for just a moment.

I can't describe that one moment. It's like something just clicked. We were no longer the deadly Dragon and the vicious Viking. We were just a Dragon and a human. And in that one moment, there was nothing wrong with that.

It gave me a feeling I could remember but couldn't name. I know that I had felt it at some point, a long time ago, perhaps, but I couldn't put a name to it. It's on the tip of my tongue and I'm sure I'll drive myself crazy trying to think o fit, but I just can't remember it.

Then the Dragon winces and I get a clear image of just how much blood is caked on the side of his face.

No matter how many times he dunks himself in a lake that blood isn't going to come off unless somebody helps him.

And of course there is no one around but me.

'Hold on a minute,' I tell him in my mind.

If he doesn't have his shirt anymore, then that means the scraps of whatever kind of fabric it was must still be here somewhere, and if they were, then I could...aha!

I find the scraps by the shore of the lake. I take the biggest one and soak it with water, bringing it back to the Night Fury while it's still dripping.

He looks at me warily, shifting from foot to foot.

I know he's a Dragon, but that has to be cold on his bare feet. I dismiss the thought and go back to wondering how in Thor's name am I going to get close enough to wash the blood off.

"Hey, there, toothless," I say calmly. He doesn't appear to appreciate my ironic nickname.

He snorts and backs away a little.

"Hey, you've got blood on your face. I can help you clean it off, okay? But you have to trust me."

The Night Fury stares at me, making me feel like I'm trying to communicate with a barrel of fish.

I sigh, pointing to the black cloth which is way softer than what I would imagine.

"I can use this to get this," I then gesture to the side of my face, "off of you."

He looks thoughtful.

'How do I know I can trust you?'

"Are you serious? I've been here all day and I haven't done one thing!"

He stares at me like I'm crazy. Which I probably am. Imagining a Dragon speaking to me just because I'm bored and stalling going back to the village.

He nods his head at my axe, which is still strapped to my back, and hisses.

I sigh.

"I can't get rid of it," I say firmly.

He lowers his head and glares at me.

"Look, if I...give you my axe, will you let me clean your face? It's the least I can do." I cannot believe I am actually offering to do this.

He thinks for a moment before looking at me again and nodding once.

I cautious step towards him, keeping an eye out for any tell tale signs of attack. I don't find any.

I get about three feet away before I slowly reach back and draw my axe out.

He flinches at the noise, but he doesn't shy away.

I reluctantly hold it out in my left hand.

He cocks his head at the axe, and starts to lean down.

I pull it back.

"Grab it with your hands," I demand.

'My what?'

"Your hands you useless Dragon," I say, pointedly flexing the finger on my left hand.

The Dragon stares at my fingers in total awe before attempting to mirror my movements.

It's really weird and actually quite funny to watch a Dragon try to use their hands. Especially if they'd never been taught before. This one is wild borne, so I don't expect him to know anything.

I set the hilt on the ground and use my splinted arm to perch it up.

Then, I flex my fingers again.

"Watch," I order.

I slowly reach out to the handle and firmly grasp it, not loosening once as I bring it up to hold it out to him.

"See?"

He sniffs it, but all the same, he reaches out for it.

When he grabs it, he holds it like at any moment it might attack him.

"But I want it back, that's my mother's," I tell him.

I don't expect him to care, let alone comply. But what he does takes me by surprise.

I would have thought he would have thrown it in the lake, somewhere in the depths where I could never retrieve it, or blasted it to shards with one hand tied behind his back. But instead, he gives me a look with his eyes that I could not have imagined him saying better.

'Okay.'

He turns and carefully sets it on the ground a few steps away.

I just stand there and gape at him, the cold cloth making my hand go numb.

He gestures wit his head. 'Get on with it already.'

I shake my head, as if clearing the little memory of him giving me a fully one hundred percent human gaze from my mind.

"Sit down," I suggest.

To my surprise, he does. He settles on the ground and sits cross-legged, looking up at me.

He's trusting me, I think.

I sit down in front of him. I'll have to lean forward but it's better than getting any closer.

He closes his eyes when the cloth touches him, but I can see him tense.

I don't say anything as I scrub at the dried blood.

Even dried, it's a bright, vibrant red. So alien to our kind. But it's still red, and that somehow makes it...more acceptable.

"Alright, done," I announce thankfully.

I shoot up and let the now-red cloth flutter to the ground. He stands up as well, slower this time.

'Thank you, that was beginning to itch,' I imagine he'd say.

"It's no big deal.'

He turns his gaze down to my wrists, which I notice that I was playing with.

I feel heat rush to my face and I cling to my right wrist with my left hand, praying that he'll go away.

He doesn't.

He uses the new skills of 'grabbing' I had taught him, and cautiously reaches out.

I don't know why, but I let him take my one hand. The left one, of course. Somehow he knows that my right is crippled.

Ever so slowly, he unravels my arm wrappings. Fast learner.

I suck in a breath when my scales are revealed to the evening air.

He stares intently at them for a really long time. He only stares at them for, like, three seconds, but it feels like three years.

I draw them back, hastily covering them back up as quickly and skilled as I can.

'You're Bonding.' he would state plainly.

I redden in shame. I'm sure he doesn't understand why I am so upset by this, and how could he? He was already a Dragon, and to him that must be the best thing ever.

"I'll see you tomorrow...Toothless," I add, just because I know it irked him once before and I hate the silence and the seriousness that had quickly settled in the moment that he had unwrapped my scales.

"Stupid Viking," he narrows his eyes. "I have a name you know."

I smile.

"Please, do inform me what it is?"

He rolls his eyes, something I'm sure he picked up from me.

"It is most certainly not 'Toothless.'"

"Whatever," I laugh. "See you."

I go to grab my axe and he doesn't stop me. I then turn and walk away.

He calls out just before I disappear.

"My name is Hiccup."

I smile.

I get halfway back to Berk before I jerk to a stop in realization of four very important things.

The first; the Night Fury hadn't talked as a figment of my imagination, he had actually talked. Out loud.

The second; I talked back to it. And he understood me.

The third; I had turned my back on a Dragon. The very same thing Gobber had literally just told me today to never, ever do with a Dragon.

And the fourth, the one that should scare me the most but for some reason didn't; I did the last two things as if they were the most natural thing in the world.


And so she finally meets Hiccup! Sorry if I made revealing her scales really rushed, it was supposed to be short for dramatic effect but I think it just came out rushed...oh well.

But yay! She finally met him! And I love how it takes her a while to realize that he was actually talking out loud. I also love how his first words to her are (quote/unquote) 'Supid Viking.' :) Yes it's early for another update but I promised updates at least every Thursday and I have blown that off three times now, so hope this makes up for it? See you next time!