The Guardian Games: The Odds of Five

Chapter 20: Warming Up and Serious Burns

Winter Quarter

"Are you sure you won't melt?"

She made an exasperated sigh. "I am not made of ice! I produce ice!"

"'Kay, 'kay, keep your hair on."

He dropped the blazing stick onto the pile of kindling. The tinder caught the flame first, and he blew on it gently, guiding the fire to trickle down to the rest of the logs.

"There," he said, a cheery grin appearing his face as he examined his work. "It'll be all nice and warm in no time. I hope you don't mind that."

"I won't melt," Elsa repeated crossly, staring intently at the flame to avoid meet his laughing eyes. She had already admitted to herself that fire-making was not her forte, but did he have to rub it in all the time?

"I'm gon'na check on the fishing," he told her, as he rose his feet. "You sure that the rod you made won't stick to the ice? It is made of ice, and the lake surface is made of ice-"

"Yes," she hissed, folding her arms as she hunched forwards, still glaring at the orange-yellow glow.

She heard him laugh again. It was like jingling of bells; infectious and merry, and even it stirred a chortle in her throat. Still, she waited till he had left the cave before she allowed herself to smile.

According to him, he had found camped in this cave yesterday, around the time she had started building ice castle. He was right in describing it as a natural freezer, but that wasn't a concern. For her, at least – the poor boy looked like he was freezing his fingers off.

She had started braiding up her hair again, and when she reached the hair ends, she made herself a crystal band to hold it together, since the other was lost. Her hand then went to the cut on her chin, and she patched up with some frost.

"I can watch you do it over and over, and still not get sick of it." She jerked her head towards the boy at the cave mouth. The girl raised a brow at him, but he made no move to explain further. He lifted up the fishing hooks towards the firelight. "So what would you like for dinner; cod," -he raised a hook -"cod," - he raised on another hook -"or" - he produced the last fish, waving it dramatically - "cod?"

She deadpanned at him, but it only started him off again, snickering as he sat down. He begun scaling the fishes with the ice knife that she had given him. "Why doesn't this thing give me frostbite?" He asked, squinting the crystal blade whilst he brushed off the scales.

"Well, do you want it to?" She retorted contemptuously, but her heart wasn't really into it. She would never admit it, but his quips amused her more than annoyed her.

They sat in silence by the flickering fire, only interrupted by the sounds of Jack cleaning the fish, before he set them over the flame to cook. After a moment, it was cooked, and Jack removed the wooden skewers from above the flame, handing one of the sticks to Elsa. She accepted it silently, taking small nibbles at each time.

Out of the blue, Jack suddenly burst into a fit of laughter again, earning a disapproving look from the platinum-blonde. She asked impatiently, "What is it?"

"Who builds an ice palace in the middle of the Arena?" He exclaimed, before releasing another guffaw.

"I was trying to meet them on a level playing field," Elsa defended, her brows furrowing with annoyance. Did he have to poke fun at everything she did? "I didn't want them jumping on me out of nowhere."

"Oh, you mean like how I jumped on you back there? Right," He teased, ripping a mouthful of his fish. Thanks to his carelessness, he ended up coughing on the bones, which Elsa felt a smug sense of justice.

"You never stood a chance," she told him with a satisfied smirk, while she permitted herself bite into the fish again. She had to confess that he was a pretty good cook - either that or she was really hungry.

After fitful coughing, he swallowed painfully, before he asking casually, "So, your sister does this too?"

Her head shot up at the reference, a chill running down her spine. "What?"

"You have a sister right?" To that, she gave an uneasy nod. "Well, does she freeze stuff up with her hands too?"

"It isn't just with my hands," Elsa snapped to cover up the shudder that shook her. Quite forcefully, she continued, "Anna's quite ordinary, thank you very much." Only after she had said it did she realize how dismissive it actually sounded.

"Oh, er, okay." Jack seemed a bit embarrassed by his question, so he sought to explain himself. "You mentioned that you were born with the powers, so I thought it might be genetic, or something."

"I don't know how I got these powers, but Anna certainly doesn't have any," she said more firmly. She hoped that as simple as her declaration was, it might keep her sister from being tormented by the prying Capitol press, - or worst, Peacekeepers.

Another thought struck her mind - what if Anna was accused of helping her hide her powers? What kind of trouble would that get her in? So quickly, the blonde girl added, "In a matter of fact, Anna doesn't even know I have powers."

"Wow." The brown-haired boy seemed rather astounded at this revelation. She prayed that he would drop it now, but before she could strive to change the subject, the fatal yet innocent-seeming words tumbled out of his mouth. "Why not?"

He was asking a story - the story of the secret. The secret that she buried even deeper than the one about her powers. To her chagrin, she realized that not only was the entire Capitol probably listening in to their conversation, but that a certain fifteen year-old girl from District 12 was too.

She was tempted to just tell him to mind his own business - a perfectly reasonable response to a stranger. But somewhere faraway, Anna must also be yearning for some explanation. What if she thought she wasn't informed because her elder sister didn't trust her? Or hated her? Or resented her? That would be far worst than elaborating her life dramas to some boy she'd just met.

Besides, the gloves were off - she wasn't supposed to hide anymore. Letting it go perhaps meant also letting go of her locked-up feelings. And perhaps that came by confession.

He was still politely waiting for her, seeming rather ill-at-ease, probably realizing his question was again inappropriate.

"When we were very young children, my sister did know about it." She noticed that he had relaxed visibly at her apparent lack of anger towards him. "My parents had told me over and over to keep my powers out of sight - that's why the gloves. But Anna would always beg me to 'do the magic'. That's what she liked to call it." A warm smile crossed her lips, before a shadow fell over her fair countenance, "One night, when we were playing with the snow, I hurt her with my powers. An ice blast, to the head."

"Oh," he said in a neutral tone as he turned the fish around, but she didn't miss the fleeting startled expression that crossed his face. "What happened?"

"She went into a coma for days. Pa-The doctor," she amended smoothly, "had to do surgery on her brain." The doctor in the time of her childhood had long passed away, so heaping blame on him would be much safer. "According to him, I froze her head. Even after she came to, she lost some of her memories, and," her hands instinctively returned together, and she clasped them together tightly, "she forgot about my powers. Everything about it. My parents thought it best that she didn't re-learn it, and from that day on, I hid my powers not just from the world, but also my best friend." A sadness filled her heart at that moment, as she sunk tiredly against the cave walls.

"That's tough," Jack told her finally. It seemed that he didn't know what to say, but he sincerely wanted to convey his empathy, and Elsa appreciated that. "So, were you planning on telling her ever?"

"I guess eventually we would have informed - maybe she was old enough to forgive me." Guilt was written all over her face, and her heart sunk further as she blurted the next sentence. "But then, there was the fire."

Sensing the tension, the boy's hand went to the remaining skewer, turning it as to give himself something to do as she composed herself. Observing how she huddled in against the wall, he sighed, saying kindly, "If you don't want to talk about it, it's okay."

Part of her had been tempted to take him on his offer, but if Anna knew this, then she deserved the whole truth. "No. I can do this."

She clenched her fist tightly, then slowly relaxed it." One night when I was thirteen, our home caught fire. Anna and I had come back late from a party at school, and the house blazing when we arrived." She wrung her together, much like she always did, except this time it was obvious she was forming a ball of frost.

"Our parents were trapped inside and Anna wanted to go in, but I stopped her. People in the town were all trying to help put it out, but the Peacekeepers kept getting in the way." She bit her lip after she said that. It wasn't wise to criticize Peacekeepers, especially not on national television, so she lied, "They were trying limit the casualties. I..."

Her throat tightened, her chest was constricting as the roaring flames reappeared in her mind. "I was so torn that night. The fire-"pushing the words out was harder than anything she had ever done. "-I could have put it out with a thought in my mind. At my will, I could have the entire house coated with snow! But," she folded her arms, turning from the District 10 boy, so that he couldn't see her tears. "I was afraid of showing what I could do. My parents had always told me to hide it all costs, b-but I don't think they meant it that way. I don't know. I just..." She just buried her face in her arms. She didn't want to imagine what Anna thought of her at the moment. There would be shock, yes, but what then? Anger of her cowardice? Shame? Disgust? An unwanted trickle rolled down her cheek before falling into her lap.

The silence that followed was even longer than the last. Elsa felt that she had probably stayed wrapped up like that for half an eternity, before the clearing of his throat made raise her head.

"Um." Jack pointed at their surroundings. Blinking away her tears, she realized that she had accidentally added a layer of frost around the inner cave walls.

"I'm sorry," she told the boy, fiercely wiping the tears, ashamed to show such weakest to her possible competitor. She searched him for any contempt, or worse, pity, but she only found gentleness and understanding. The frost halted its crawl abruptly.

"All that ice-power stuff - it's heavy, isn't it?" He asked simply.

Thankful for the little normalcy in his tone, she shrugged. "I guess so. In here though, I guess I'm getting a hang of it."

"Oh, that's great. Really. "As if detecting that it was a good time to change the topic, he picked last skewer of the rack."You want another?"

"I-If you don't mind," she replied, slightly ashamed, "I haven't eaten since, well, the start." Since we entered this living hell called the Arena.

He nodded her to go ahead, waiting till she was absorbed in smacking her lips before letting himself grin with amusement. As he tossed some more kindling into the firepit, he told her,"Emma would have loved to meet you, Id think. She has a thing for snow-powered people."

"Who?" Elsa glanced up from the meal, as she delicately removed the bones and chucked it in an empty corner of the cave. It wasn't something she liked doing, but it's not as if they had waste-bins here.

He snorted at her bemused expression, his face twisting in disappointed resignation. "You didn't watch my interview, did you?"

"I was busy preparing for mine."

"Oh, well then." The answer appeased him slightly. "She's my younger sister - like 'nine years younger' younger sister. She's very into fairytales, so she'd tack you with the Snow Queen immediately. It's one of her favorite stories."

"The Snow Queen's a fairy story?" She was genuinely surprised.

He looked at her incredulously. "You've never heard it?"

"I thought it was some turn of a phrase, actually," she said, as she bit off the charred flesh.

"Sad childhood you have- whoops." He realized the error of his jibe too late, but fortunately Elsa was distracted by the playing of the familiar anthem outside the cave.

Both of their eyes met as they instantly recognized it; death recap.

"C'mon," Jack said, skipping from his cozy spot by the fire towards the cave mouth, but his pace slackened when he realized it she wasn't following beckoned her over, but she shook her head.

"I can't watch it," she told him, though she offered no explanation. She couldn't forget the screams of the District 4 girl as she tip-toed on the ice's edge, and a wave of nausea swept over her. She wrapped her arms protectively around herself. "Just-just tell me he's on the list, okay?"

"Okay." She was surprised that he didn't ask for clarification, but the bitter tint in his tone strangely informed her that he knew well who she was asking for.

When the anthem stopped playing, the boy returned to the cave, looking strangely both grim and horrified at the same time. Elsa caught his expression and sat upright, demanding, "What is it? What's wrong?"

The boy didn't answer, only sitting himself opposite her by the fire, reaching into his coat pocket. For a moment Elsa was almost afraid he would draw some weapon that he had been hiding away and she held a breath.

To her relief, it was just a few slips of paper that he retrieved. He glanced through the slips, before releasing an irate grumble as he tossed them in the flames.

Elsa's bewilderment turned into anxiety. Inhaling sharply, she barely dared to inquire, "Who died?"

He huffed again, and for a moment, she thought he wouldn't answer. But then, without taking his eyes off the flames, he rasped in return, "The four girl's dead."

Elsa forced herself to take in a slow breath, before she pressed him further, "And?" She couldn't tell if her voice was full of eagerness or dread.

"Your boyfriend isn't dead, if that's what you're worried about." She was taken aback at how sour he sounded. Bitterness, she felt, was very unbecoming on his usually happy self.

"He's not my boy-" she cut herself off when she saw that the darkness in his eyes was beyond mere irritation. She tried to sound concerned, "What happened, Jack?"

He turned away, shifting himself further from the fire, such that all she could make from his face where the dancing hollows of the shadows . Nonetheless, she relayed her insistence by watching his silhouette intently.

Finally, he answered in a cracked voice, "Tooth's dead."

The strangeness of the words made her puzzled for a moment, but the lack of jest in his posture made her understand that Tooth was probably a person. The face of a spritely girl that had accompanied the handsome boy from District 10 during Training Sessions suddenly came to mind. They were more than merely civil to each other, as she and Hans were. They were close, almost inseparable. She even wondered if they could possibly be – well, more than friends.

"It's entirely my fault." She could almost see the hate in his eyes piercing through the darkness. Hate towards himself.

She was no comforter, since she spent most of her life soothing her own feelings, but Elsa was strongly inclined to say something. That's something Anna would have done. "It-it can't be your fault. You weren't there."

"Exactly. I wasn't there," he retorted in an eerily cold tone. "That's why it's all my fault." He arched his neck towards the ceiling, suddenly saying out-loud, "Yeah, I'm proud of it! Rub it in my face."

The faint glow that caught on Jack's face revealed with a twisted scowl that contorted his features, but it eventually melted to an exhausted droop.

"You should get some rest," he told her forlornly, as he ambled rigidly to the cave mouth, where the winter winds were blowing in. "There might be Careers around. I'll take first watch."

"Alright." She felt it was wrong to accept his offer, but she was exhausted, and he obviously didn't want to talk about it. She withdrew further into the cave, away from the flames, forming a bed of snow lie on. Leaning back against her artificial snowdrift, she cast a final glance at the boy. His back was turned to her, his neck arched upwards, absorbed in watching the snowflakes rain from the sky.

It was both refreshing and stifling, to have the door slammed in her face for a change.

Summer Quarter

Hiccup jerked out of his restless sleep, because a thought had suddenly struck him.

Did the book have anything on acid-spitting trees?

The campfire was still lit when he was unceremoniously roused, which gave him sufficient light to work. He flung the book open, rapidly skimming through for anything to do with acid. There were dozens of acid-related muttations, but none of them were plants. As he passed a page on an acid-spitting reptile, he was about to gloss over it completely when his eyes caught on a few particular words; '-camouflaging skills allow blending into rocks, tree, foliage and even buildings-"

It would make a lot more sense if something on the tree was spitting acid, rather than the tree itself.

He read the name, and it was vaguely familiar – The Changewing. Scrutinizing the creature's picture more carefully, he couldn't hold back the skepticism that washed over him.

Reading further into the particulars of this creature, his disbelief only increased. As part of his wretched life of an ex-Career student, he had watched virtually every Hunger Games re-run from the 1st to 73rd at least a dozen times each, and he knew the last year that the Gamemakers ever permitted the use of such dangerous muttations was the 50th Games – as a quarter quell special only. Even if they decided to ignore propriety and splurge on a non-quarter quell year, there was no way they would ever let a dragon into the Games.

Everyone knew about dragons. They were reptile-hybrids bred to be protectors of Panem, under the charge of the Peacekeeping force – in other words, they were trained creatures of terror and mass destruction to keep the common populace in line. According to what he had heard from Gobber, they came in many forms, appearances and abilities. Besides the usually flying and fire-breathing component, different species of dragons apparently had different methods of stalking and decapitating their prey. The variety had been built-to-order for the Capitol, so that the common people wouldn't be able to predict or learn too much about the flying reptiles.

These muttations were intelligent, powerful, and very, very vicious. Which was why controlling the dragons had eventually been found to be fundamentally impossible.

Apparently, it had taken the Capital about thirty years come to that conclusion. With an exception of the few that the Capitol still kept for 'scientific research', the costly project was shut down and the mutts were destroyed.

That was what they wrote in textbooks. Growing up in District 2, he knew the truth. One fact that he knew was that closing the project was useless, because most of the dragon mutts had already escaped into the wilds that lay between fences of the Districts. To keep them contained, a special division of Peacekeepers had been organized, trained to eliminate the reptilian beasts, or at least preventing them from entering Districts and destroying precious produce that belonged to the Capitol. From the conversations that he had overheard by his father and the council, he knew that the Peacekeepers have only barely managed to keep on a lid on the dragons so far. Even now, scientists in the Capitol and even some in District 3 have been researching on a new way to control the dragons once again, less they be overrun by these magnificent beasts in near-future.

Hiccup shut the book, scrunching up his face as he deliberated over this. There was no way the Gamemakers would risk bringing in a dragon into the arena, not if they couldn't control it. After all, they were supposed to be as paranoid as Hel about these kind of things. If they couldn't control something, then planting it in the arena was as good as signing their own death warrants.

A hair-rising shriek suddenly erupted against the dark blue sky, causing him to drop the book. For a moment, he was stark still, his ears pricked up. Inhaling sharply through the nose, he dropped to his knees, starting to shove in his belongings inside his bag, save the book and the catapult. Swinging the haversack over his shoulders, he started scraping up some of the soil on the ground, when he heard an ear-splitting squall somewhere above, followed by several whistling noises.

More frantically than ever, he tossed the dirt onto the fire. The annoyed flame hissed at him as it got uncharacteristically snuffed.

He was clumsily clambering to his feet when he felt a sharp gust of wind slap his face - if wind could possibly feel this hot. Searching in the white wash moonlight, he found his catapult and his book. The book he tucked under his arm, while his trembling hands tried to load up a set of bolas into the catapult, while he strapped another spare set around his waist. He was reluctant to use the bolas that he found at the Horn just yet, but he hadn't time to make new ones at present.

Against the moonlight, he could make out small black shapes hovering over the cliff, and many more flying across the sea to add to the number. Within seconds, the black shapes suddenly rapidly increased in size. That was when another draft swept his cheek, and suddenly the forest behind him flared up into blazes of red.

Hiccup's eyes were like saucers, and his brain couldn't find right muscles to shut his maw as he watched the flickering flames, whilst a shadow flew away from it. Another puff fizzed through his hair, but this one was a much warmer and more direct. He recognized this sensation – it was how he felt every time he stood at the furnace rooms where they baked the shale and slate to make cinder blocks. Except he wasn't in District 2, so anything warm was obviously far more precarious.

Hardly daring to move, Hiccup hesitantly twisted his head towards the puffs of air, only daring a peek behind him, before instantly jerking back, holding his breath.

Yep, definitely a dragon. Had the razor-sharp teeth. And talons. And nostrils exhaling really, really hot breath. The 'raze-you-to-ashes' kind of hot.

Da da da. He was dead.

Taking his heels, he fled, his heart jolting against its chest atthe sudden spike in anxiety. Daring a glance behind him, he noted that the creature had given chase. It was bi-pidal, with long blue scaly wings pressed against its large crest, only extending every so often for balance. Its was adorn with an impressive coat of spikes, from it head all the way to its –

The creatures' tail suddenly whipped forward, shooting a cluster of barbs his way. Ducking under a rotting log just in time, he pressed his back against the log, praying that the dragon just thought he had mysteriously disappeared. Around him, he could see various scaly creatures swooping down to the woods. Occasionally, one of them would pick up a fleeing woodland creature, before leaping back into the sky, screeching as it did. Many other dragons did the same thing, but sometimes they would end up fighting over the game, snarling and shrieking threats through their fantastically huge jaws. He would have been fascinated by the hunt, if he wasn't already prey himself.

The spiky tail seemed rather familiar though. He hadn't seen this breed of dragon in the previous games, so he had no idea how he could have recognized it. Unless…

His catapult then changed places with the book, as he began anxiously opened the book, cringing every time he heard a growl or rumble, hoping that none of the other creatures had seen him yet. Flipping pages rapidly, his heart sank when he heard loud steps of his predator as it approached, squalling in dismay.

Finally, he found the page that he was looking for. A significantly larger portion of the forest had caught fire by now, and the pages were sufficiently illuminated for reading.

"Deadly Nadders can raise hundreds of sharp spines and fling them suddenly- not helping," he murmured irritably as the squawking noise behind got increasing ferocious. "Vain creatures – appeal to vanity. So do I sing it praises? Really?"

Running his fingers along the words, he finally found what he was looking for. "-blindspot between their eyes. Okay, that's a start."

It was a good thing he discovered that in time, because the creature – the Deadly Nadder - had just hopped in front of him, snarling and snapping as it brandish its armour of projectiles.

Scrambling to his feet, he quickly stood directly in front of the Nadder's snout, as the book had instructed. He could feel the confusion emanating from the dragon as its prey seemingly vanished. It twitched its head side to side, and Hiccup quickly followed along, hoping against hope that he'd managed to stay out of sight.

However, a yelp from up above startled him – a pair of dueling reptiles, and he forgot to move in his surprise. So when the Nadder turned its head a full ninety degrees, he found himself staring into the black slit of its constricted pupil.

Accurately accessing that he had overstayed his welcome, he grabbed his stuff, running and screaming. The latter might have actually been a huge mistake, because he found that it seemed to helping the blue dragon follow behind him. The rocky terrain which had been his advantage before now was a hindrance, especially since the dragon chasing him was extremely light on its feet, hoping easily from the rock ledge to rock ledge while he had to stumble over the jagged ground.

A vague tingling sensation ran down to his spinal cord when he felt the tip of the Nadder's claws scrape his back, before a bellow rose from the air. Hot air bristled through his hair and he glanced up, gawking in awe and fear as red wings swept above him, removing the Nadder from his path.

Wisdom told him to run, but curiosity planted his feet to the rock path. Craning his neck over a boulder that he hoped could protect him, he watched in morbid fascination as the two dragons circled each other. The Nadder squawked at the sweeping red dragon, flailing its wings and its barbed tail as a warning. The red dragon snarled at his opponent, before abruptly setting its entire self on fire.

It was a poor time for scientific endeavors, but Hiccup begun flipping through the book, and he found a matching picture. "Monstrous Nightmare. Engulfs itself in flames by coating its hide with combustible spit, and then igniting it." A shudder ran down his body, but it was an even mix of anxiety and allure.

The Nadder struck first, launching a set of projectiles at its fiery competitor. The Monstrous used the claws on its wings-ends grab onto to a tree trunk, grappling on the vines and branches to swing itself out of the spikes' path of destruction. For something so huge, Hiccup had to be impressive at how quickly it could climb.

Flexibility and speed however were still the Nadder's stronger points, and it hopped about, screaming furiously before lashing a tirade of sparky fire shots at the Monstrous. The large, bat-like dragon merely retaliated with its breath of flame, and the duo was locked against combat, with their flames merging together to a single volley of fire.

Something suddenly clicked in Hiccup's head. The dragons weren't merely fighting for fun – no, the Monstrous had attacked the Nadder on purpose. The way they circled each other, taunted each other, roared at each other, wasn't because they were fighting, but because they were fighting over something.

Fighting over him.

And Hiccup realized that he needed to make himself scarce. Immediately.

Snapping out of his trance, he checked his belonging before dashing into the woods. A good deal of it was already on fire and crawling with reptiles, so he had no choice but to run further away from the border, where he knew the forest would clear into an empty grass expanse. He made an annoyed pout. Regardless of what he did, the Gamemakers could always make him do what they wanted.

Straddling through the mosses, he suddenly slipped on a smooth rock face, and found himself tumbling down a slope, getting himself tangled in wide variety of weeds and vines that fortunately didn't have much thorns. On finally reaching a halt at the slope foot, he sat himself up quickly, brushing off the vines quickly, glancing up the hill. No dragons seemed to have followed.

Except for a large, green-two headed dragon that swooped down said slope.

Scurrying to his feet, but still crouching down, Hiccup hopped over behind a tree trunk, hoping that this dragon had just happened to be the type with bad night vision. Of course, the dragon could just light the woods aflame, and then being seen would become less scary that being burnt alive.

Groaning, he opened book once more, having to squint against the pages and pray that his pupils adjusted the dark faster. This dragon was much heavier and clumsier than the Nadder, so Hiccup had a better mental gauge of how much time he had before he ended getting scorched or eaten.

The little moonlight that filtered through the thick greens above lent his some vision, and he was able to find the two-headed mutt. "Hideous Zippleback. Twin heads. Razor sharp teeth coated with venom – Memo to self: Don't get bitten. Doesn't breathe fire." He lifted his brow in astonishment, but the next words shot down his hopes. "Instead, one head breathes gas, while the other lights it." He ground his teeth together, letting the words sink in, before he read on. "Dousing the sparking head sufficiently can prevent ignition."

He was about to groan, when he realized to the cracking of branches was getting especially loud. Throwing aside any hesitation he had, he removed the water bottle that he strapped on the outside of his bag. The book went under his arm again, and the catapult went back on his shoulder, as a precaution. Using his teeth, he gingerly screwed the water bottle with his teeth, spitting the cap on the ground. Then he waited.

He didn't really have time to get antsy, because a green head appeared around the tree trunk pretty soon. He drew back from it, observing the canines lined around the mutt's jaw – if dragons had lips. He didn't dare breathe as he waited for its first move. The huge, glassy eyes were fixed on him, and the creature parted its lips. Noxious fumes came pouring out. He made the mistake of breathing some of it in, and it started him off in a coughing fit. Still, he bravely shifted himself away from the trunk, away from the snapping head, fidgeting with his water bottle slightly he peered around the gas.

Out of the blue – or rather, out of the green, - another head emerged. In its maw, Hiccup noted the faintest 'click' between the creature's teeth, where he saw a spark. Gulping, he flayed the bottle at the creature, and all his precious water thrown away at that moment.

All of it was thrown away. For nothing. The water just splatted on the ground.

There were three very simple reasons why he failed such a simple task that would have saved his life; One, the Zippleback had very long necks, and the sparking head had happened to be too high for his arms to reach. Two, his hands were trembling far too much aim properly. Three, he was Hiccup –things messing up was pretty normal.

He could swear that the Zippleback heads were laughing at him; from the way their heads bobbed up and down as they made eyeballed with each other, their jaws hanging open and their tongues lolling. The, the two long necks swerved the heads towards the prey. The sparking head was clicking its teeth more ferociously now.

Okay, Plan B.

Hiccup dropped the bottle in favor of steadying the catapult, barely gripping on the book below his arm as he aimed the wooden weapon and pressed the trigger. At the same time, the spark between the Zippleback's head met the green gas.

Hiccup had often dreamed of flying, but flying through the woods after an earth-shattering explosion was not the way he had envisioned it. His feet had lost contact with the ground completely, and his body was arched forward, zooming back through a black, brown and red.

He went under thanks to a concussion, but woke the surge of agony ripped through his back woke him up a few secondly later. Hissing in pain, he forced himself to get sit upright. The bag had managed to cushion some of the impact, but his back was screaming in agony. The catapult had landed right on his body, and one of the screw heads on front handle had decided to give him nick along his palm – a 'nick' being a nicer word for 'long incision'.

Blinking, he was slightly relieved to find himself in a clear open glade, away from the smouldering forest and its ignition-happy invaders of carnivorous tendencies.

Squinting through the black spots in his vision, he gathered up his things before searching for the book. He eventually found it in amazingly in tip-top condition, sitting neatly on a stone face as if someone had placed it there.

A shrill shriek rang out from the sky, and he recognized it as the one that he had first heard that night. Frowning, he raised his head to sky, trying to make out where it came from.

He could hear a faint whistling from above – not the kind that he had from the other dragons, but rather the kind that one would hear when you stood next to a bullet train at full-speed. It was gradual, building up until the very last moment, before it-

He grabbed the book and ducked just in time to witness the violet-blue blast that struck the stone. The explosion was strong enough to fling him back onto the grass again. Considering how close his proximity was, it wasn't that surprising when he landed with his legs over his face, his hands tangled up with the catapult and the book.

He heard the shriek again, and he forced the disorientation out of the way, even though his head was still spinning. Going on his knees, he placed the catapult on the ground as he loaded a fresh set of bolas into it. At the same time, he had flung the book on the ground, turning the pages with his foot as while his hands worked.

His current predator must blended into the night, considering he hadn't been able to spot it yet. It had also had purple blasts that exploded with rings of blue and red – plasma, Hiccup suspected. Browsing through the various mutts though, he was unable to find the info on this particular predator.

When he hit the last page, he couldn't help groaning in frustration. His contraption was loaded and ready, hoisted on his shoulder, but he still lacked the know-how for taking down this dragon.

In the moonlight, he suddenly noted that the last page, which he had assumed was blank, actually had something written on it. Examining it more closely, he read its title, "Night Fury-"

The name alone gave him jitters.

"-Never steals food. Never shows itself. Never miss-"

A bolt of purple burst against the same rock surface as earlier. It was almost as if the creature was warning him. Or perhaps, mocking him - about how close he was too imminent death.

"-Speed: Unknown. Size: Unknown. The unholy offspring of lightning and death itself. Never engage this dragon. Your only chance? Hide and pray it does not find you."

Turning his head to sky, he remarked wryly, "Rather dramatic, don't you think?"

As if in response, a violet blast exploded on his right. Fortunately, it wasn't as strong as the first, and he lifted up the book to shield himself in time. So, the explosion only hurled him a few feet from his previous spot, without concussion and his catapult in tact. The book was once again mysteriously uncharred throughout the events.

Heaving himself up, he glanced at the empty glade where the night-blending flying reptile haunted his every step, or back into the forest cover, where every steps was crowded with interesting but extremely deadly predators.

He rolled back his shoulders. Considering his chances of survival of had already dwindled to single digits, he might as well take on dragons in their single digits; preferably the digit being 'one'.

Dropping back and book, he knelt to the ground, both his hands wrapped around the catapult handles firmly; the left index finger curled around the trigger. He scanned the black sky, praying that someone show him mercy and give him something to shoot at – preferably whatever it was that was hunting him in the open field.

Fate – or maybe sympathetic Gamemakers - must have been on his side, because for a split-second, he caught a glimpse of black across the white of the stars. It was fleeting, but it was enough. He pointed the nozzle of the catapult in that direction, squeezing the trigger, before finding himself thrust back to the ground; not by an explosion this time, but the throwback. His heart in his throat as he listened to the zipping of the bolas in the wind, as the nets and balls flew. There was a soft 'click', then a terrifying howl, and in the white light, he made out the rough black outline of something falling from the sky.

His mouth was hanging open. It worked. His catapult actually worked.

His night of anxiety suddenly escalated into one of glee. One of his inventions, built and designed completely by himself, had actually worked! He had guessed that the Gamemakers had doubted him, even though they had given him a nine. He knew that his District 2 had never believed in him, not even Gobber, and especially not his father. But here he was, on a national television, showing the world that he, Hiccup the Screw-up, had managed to succeed in building a weapon completely out of wood in seven minutes, and it worked.

"Did anyone see that?" He demanded the sky, still completely amazed by the events.

He spun around to give a whoop of joy, waving his arms madly in the air-

Wait, why were his hands free? Where was his catapult?

He scoured the rocky grasslands, scooping up bag and book as he did, pouring through the grass, before he found the splintered wreck that was once his creation. The force of the back-lash must have been greater than he had expected.

His shoulders slumped, but he simply rolled his eyes and sighed. Well, what's new?

A deep throaty breath from left startled him, and he found himself was in a staring a snorting dragon. It was red, skinny and its body was covered in leaf-like protrusions. Sharps teeth stuck out from its lower jaw, and a greenish-liquid dripping down its chin, to the grass, burning up a patch of it with a hiss.

He narrowed his brows at the creature, greeting it dryly, "Oh. You."

Just the Changewing parted its maw, Hiccup screamed as he sped across the grassy expanse.

S/N:

Tada! The events of the Summer Quarter have been something I planned right from the start, and it's finally out here.

Honestly though, this chapter frustrated me. I realized that I really suck at writing action. Which begs the question – why do I end up writing these kind of stories?

If you can't out what (or who), Hiccup just shot, well…

All the characters would have to undergo some major story arches, so there would be some parts of the story where I'm wholly focused on a bunch of characters. So don't get worried if anyone doesn't appear for some time. (Like, has anyone noticed I haven't done a Merida POV for 3 chapters?)

Up Next: No quotes (because I've stopped writing in advance), but we'll be seeing some of Hiccup and some of Merida.

A/N:

Hello, folks! Having been here for a while.

School feels surreal. My arms hurt from PE. But I 'valiantly' type on. Still struggling on my philosophy project. Nuff rants.

On the bright side, I had just used all my work money to buy a whole bunch of Art Books, for HTTYD 1&2, ROTG, Tangled, Frozen and Big Hero 6! I'm pretty crazy about the artwork, yeah. My favourite book is still the Big Hero 6 one though, because the Japanese-American with Disney somehow appeals to me. I like the Tangled one just because it has Glen Keane all over it.

Mailbox:

QueenElsaofArendelle1934: Here's my slow update, hope you liked it. Hiro and Rap (calling her Rap comes more easily to mean than Punz, I dunno why) certainly are sorta allies, and Jack too. As for Hiccup's band, it's gonna be way more complicated…

: Thank you! I read the quote on your profile, and I agree with it, which is why this story exists. I hope that this version would continue to be a satisfactory tale, and that the deviations won't be too weird.

A way to uncreative girl: Haha, well, I'd give much for free time now…

Awsomaniatica: Just review when you like, no sweat. I'm glad you like the ice castle battle (I haven't written the rest, but I've a feeling it's gonna be my favourite fight in this story, but I'm getting ahead of myself…) Team-up will be coming up soon, eventually…like after a whole lot and lot of stuff. Oh, Hiccup's not going to have any action. I mean, he just got attacked by a whole bunch of dragons, so… yeah.

StarRunner1: (reads first sentence and throws head back and cackles evilly) Oh, I'm actually just going to save the remaining Careers, and kill of the big Five. Kidding! Can't tell you more about Jack, which tells you something (but your guess is not completely correct). I hope the 'action' here was alright, and if it isn't, the next few chapters should.

ElvisRules41: Happy Super Belated Birthday by now! I present, chapter full of random fire creatures! Tada!

Geekinquietx: (chap2) Yes, Elsa is older than Jack. In their movies, Elsa's supposed to be 21 when she's crowned queen, and Jack's 17 when he died (but his maturity didn't increase). Because I'm a stickler for canon (even beyond just ships, yes), my compromise is that she becomes 18 while he stays 17. I apologise if it makes you feel uncomfortable, but it's just a year, and their relationship is not exactly hardcore romantic.

WarriorQueen 14: Glad you like it, and I'm honoured that you think this fic stands pretty good amongst the THG crossovers. Yep, love canon ships. Well, killing off characters is hardly the worst I can do to characters, but I'm going to confess – lots of the deaths (of good people, at least) are driving points in the story, which isn't really realistic in real life, but it's fiction, so I refuse make their deaths pointless (hmmph...do I make any sense?).

Guest: Um, thanks!

The Next Update would probably be in 2 weeks time. My update times for this story is likely to be every second weekend, likely Friday. How on earth am I going to finish this by June? I dunno.

See ya. Review! Ask Questions! Critique!