DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING
Author's note: Hello again! If you're still reading, thank you! I ramble a lot.
This is short. Just some Toothless flying, and maybe a bit of foreshadowing. Sorry, I move really slow. I like to develop my characters before the plot really starts.
Next chapter's more interesting though!
Sunrise or sunset?
Every flying creature had its preference, The Dragon supposed, when it came to choosing a time to take wing. Sunset would probably better suit The Dragon's interests, since the haziness of dusk could provide better concealment. After all—he was a Night Fury. His scales matched darkness itself, and wasn't sunset the harbinger of darkness? He always felt safer at night, so he should have taken more comfort in the setting sun.
But he didn't. When it came to flying, The Dragon always favored dawn.
There was just something about sunrise. Perhaps the increase in temperature, instead of decrease, warranted The Dragon's preference. Reptiles like The Dragon were cold-blooded. It made sense that he liked warmth. Plus, he was a fire-breathing, externally fireproof dragon, so he was attracted to a fiery object like the sun. There were times when he even dreamed of flying into it, just to see what it would be like in such a beautiful, warm environment.
There were other reasons too, of course. The start of a day was always better than the end. It held more promise. More hope. And for a lonely dragon in a bored state of existence, that meant something.
Morning was also a very special time. It was when all the nocturnal creatures settled down to sleep, while all the diurnal animals struggled to wake up. Therefore, it was almost completely quiet (except for the sounds of the birds), and The Dragon was rarely ever bothered by anyone—other dragon or human.
He continued to fly along the far side of Berk, where none of the Vikings lived. The golden beams of approaching sunlight still emphasized his silhouette all too visibly. With his black form against such a brightly colored sky, it was better to fly in an unoccupied area. That way, he couldn't risk being seen by any early rising fisherman.
Unfortunately, the majority of the fish lived on the other end of the island, meaning The Dragon could not use this time to hunt.
It was acceptable to him, though. The Dragon didn't want to interrupt his flying for hunting anyway. This was a time to be free from everything, even his own biological need to eat, or his fears of humans and other dragons.
The Dragon felt the air whip in and out of his wings, enjoying the pressure that once made him uncomfortable. The sun was bright on his scales, warming his blood, as he rose higher and higher into the pinkish gold sky. At some point, he folded his wings, allowing himself to drop toward the sparkling blue ocean. A few seconds later, he expanded them again. They slowed his fall like a parachute, eventually allowing him to glide toward a sea stack. He avoided it at the last minute though, swinging his tail to maneuver out of range.
Such tricks could be dangerous for a slower, less skilled dragon, but The Dragon was the best flier in his known world. He only found these stunts thrilling, and were thus the closest things he could get to real excitement.
But no one was impressed by his tricks or his flying abilities. He didn't even know if other dragons were smart enough to be impressed. And certainly no humans had ever seen him.
Soon enough, The Dragon realized the sun was too high in the sky. He supposed that it was getting to be late morning, and he could hear the Vikings' lifestock braying in the distance. It wouldn't be long before the sound woke them, and who knew whether the Vikings would begin traveling to the far side of the Island? It was best for The Dragon to settle down somewhere safe.
He found a sea stack far from the Island—one that Vikings wouldn't be able to climb. Feeling content at his chosen spot, he allowed the gas to fill his throat before igniting it. Plasma-hot fire poured out of his mouth as he turned in a circular motion, laying down on the smoldering ground. The heat was comfortable to him.
He had been awake all night—and when night came again, he would have to be awake for that too. It was the only time he could safely venture to the other side of Berk.
So The Dragon let himself drift off to sleep in the warmth of the sun. Far in the distance, he could hear Berk's Vikings waking. Vikings were so loud, The Dragon thought. Always hollering, building, and breaking.