This is an AU where Vikings are not familiar with the existence of Night Furies. They do not attack in raids at all, and only exist in accounts, which are considered to be a load of poppycock!

Am...

Am I seeing this right?

I blink my eyes once again just to check. I would rub them if I could, but, given my current physical anatomy, I don't think that's possible. My tail could, but I am not keen to fine out.

Yes, Hiccup. You are.

You are just in denial.

I attempt to contemplate and grasp, struggling to drag myself back into the reality of the situation.

My brain tells me yes, but my heart is telling me no. I don't know to whom do I listen more to.

So, I meet at a crossroads. I am hovering above water, but I am not looking. Better?

Oh, gods, who am I proving here?

Either I shrivel up and become a faucet of salt water or I face up to my problems.

I am half-tempted for the former to be put into fruition.

-ARGH!-

I roar in frustration.

After a needlessly extensive period of flailing and thrashing my arms in the air out of sheer frustration, I fall flat on the ground.

Defeated.

Dust from the fall fills the air.

I breathe a long, fed-up sigh.

This is not going to work out for me, is it?

I don't even know what breed of dragon I am.

None of the dragons I have seen documented have even remotely come close to what I look like, and no, I am not counting Windwalkers. Those only exist in fable.

Which, by the way, only makes it all the more tempting for a hunter to bag me home.

"Oi! Boys! I just bagged me the world's most pitiful dragon!"

I can hear it as clear as day.

The urge to escape into my own world grows greater and greater by the second.

I try to.

Feeling my ears droop and picturing my pupils broadening, I bury my head underneath the cover of my form, temporarily safe from the horrors of the real world.

I purr uneasily.

My tail finds its way around my form.

Gods.

I am finding increasing parallels between myself and a common household pet, and I am not fond of it, by any stretch.

I ignore the problem for now.

Because,

for now...

I'd like for my eyes to get heavy and for my brain to forget everything that has transpired in the world for a bit.

I do.

A flock of birds fly overhead me.

That's what my ears tell me, anyway. I will take their word for it.

I stretch rather blearily, smacking my lips. A good night's rest is one where I feel or experience nothing at all. Last night was one of those nights.

I'd rather not charge my problems today so head-on. So, quite lazily, I groggily open my eyes, and sit on my hindlegs. An amusing sight for the common viewer, but, for Vikings...

It would be their worst nightmare.

With great effort, I properly open my eyes.

I had not got a good chance to take in the environment because of my distress the previous day.

So, this is a good moment for any to take, and I cease it.

The lake before me makes itself known to me by sheer looks alone. It looks, dare I say it, impressive. You will never get these sorts of vistas anywhere near Berk.

The silver-blue panorama lay without one ripple or fracas, as if time itself within the lake had been frozen.

The soft, gentle overcast sky only compliments it further.

Behind the sight lay a range so generous and plentiful it would rival the number of mountains any Viking had seen in their entire life.

A mist haunts peacefully at the top of the array, soothing and calming the rough textures of the crags, elegantly blending two and two together to form the word 'beauty'.

On its surface, broken pieces of the mountain horizon intricately woven together to create a supple, striking mosaic.

And those were only the 's's.

The sun threatens to rise above the horizon, firstly cascading a straitlaced bombardment of colours that are flung over the sky with terrible alacrity. It shone on the lake below; its radiant, all-knowing glow scintillated and beamed: the legacy of the sun.

It makes me nostalgic for a life that I've never had.

I lament by looking downwards – the universal language conveying: "I have really done it now."

I sigh.

And then,

Once again.

Something intrudes me in my deep, personal moment.

I was half-expecting it to be Dad, but, fortunately, that wouldn't be.

Basic animalistic nature intrudes instead.

And.

When I lay my eyes on the lake. Oh boy.

I salivate with what remaining water I had left in my body.

-Of which, I can tell you personally: it wasn't much-

I lunge at the river as if it was contemptuously brandishing my notebook.

Greedily, I gobble up as much water as I humanly... draconly can, in one go, letting it wash down my yearning throat. It ends my dry smell.

I drew a breath of satisfactory relief, my paw, caressing my throat.

Then, for the second time. Nature intrudes yet again, and this time, she has come knocking on my belly's door.

It growls.

I had been purely running off on adrenaline these past two days. So, it never occurred to me just how famished I was until this instance of peace and quiet. I try to ignore it.

It only growls louder.

My front paws find their way onto to its surface – a frail attempt at stopping the sound.

I grumble to myself – a hint of desperation in the tone.

Now, just... where am I going to get food in the first place?

I doubt forest berries would fill me up. So... what then?

I can't hunt.

There is nothing hunt for.

And, even if I do find game, I highly doubt that I would be able to finish the job. I haven't hunted in years, and even when I did, I was mostly reliant on Gobber to do all the work. Setting the traps, combing for foot tracks - all of that stuff. Traps are out of the question in this form.

I ponder in thought for a bit.

My eyes drift to the lake. Oh, sweet, sweet temptation!

Deep inside, a brewing battle. The two sides in my head.

No!

But...

I don't know how to catch just one.

You are not exactly teeming with choices here.

I know, but—

You miss every shot you don't take.

...

Right?

You...

Used your own words against yourself. I know.

Great. Just great. How would this do for my public image?

Do you even have one?

...

...

Good point.

I decide to give fishing a go. Not like I can do anything.

Not yet.

I stumble to the lake shore, eyes gleaming for that perfect opportunity.

I wait unwearyingly.

It was then, after I estimate what was about around ten minutes...

I see it. The golden opportunity.

A fish, swimming obliviously near the seemingly innocent shore, not knowing that its life is about to end.

I cease it.

Within a moment's notice, my claws slash at the aquatic. It was a reaction so quick and silent that I was left flabbergasted once I had done the deed. Am I really that fast now?

Sometimes, it scares me, this new body.

I bring my paw up to access the damage.

A clean cut. It displays not one sign of struggle or stress. It remains idle. Dead. So fast was its death it did not even acknowledge it. I huff in part-worry, part-satisfactorily.

Gods, am I fast now.

I play with my food like how a toddler would, realising yet another problem that emerges from the kill.

Now just where in the Hel am I going to cook it?

As much as I concede that I am an animal now, inside – on one side, at least – I still possess human consciousness, with a capacity to adopt basic human mentality.

Breathing fire is out of the question. I don't know how.

Oh, by Odin.

Do you understand the struggle?

My human side intervenes in my plight, screaming at me:

-Don't you even think about eating it raw!-

The other side, the more... beastly side, roars at me:

-Embrace your calling – embrace the beast inside!-

Ah, decisions, decisions.

Which do I pick?

...

Ugh.

Dad is going to hate me for this.

But I can't argue with my basic animalistic instincts.

They are screaming at me so loud that it may make my ears bleed.

And I'd rather not be another Sigrunn. Thus,

I devour it.

Munch it.

Then, abruptly, I stop. The fish flesh, still residing on my tongue.

I pull my eyes wide open in shock.

To my bewilderment and surprise...

It doesn't taste half bad.

No.

No, no, no.

There's more to it than that.

It tastes heavenly.

My taste buds lavish in the purity of the catch – the freshness. Its smooth, baby-skin texture. Its moist, refreshing underbelly. Its crispy bones. Its tang of sourness with a delicate, subtle hint of saccharinity.

So.

Needless to say?

I am glad I went against Dad.

I could get used to this.

But alas, the high was not meant to last.

I need to swallow it someday.

I disappointingly gulp.

I need to get my paws on another fish soon.

So far today, I feel content. I have made way with about twenty percent of my problem. And with eighty more to go, I feel optimistic.

Oh.

Who am I kidding?

That twenty percent was the easiest part of the whole ordeal. The eighty percent will be the hardest.

If only I could use the notebook in my satchel next to me.

I brought it along, and, to be frank, there will be not much use for the notebook for quite some time. If at all.

I have no opposable thumbs, and my paws look rather flat.

Cursed be these stubs for fingers.

After a few seconds figuring out what to do with myself, I decide to make mental notes to myself about my objectives. It is good to think ahead, is all.

CURRENT OBJECTIVES FOR HICCUP HORRENDOUS HADDOCK THE THIRD, REV. 2 (W.I.P.):

(a) Answer to nature's call (done)

(b) Figure out what has happened to me.

(c) Find a place to set up camp. (done)

(d) Avoid any human contact for the time being.

(e) ESPECIALLY avoid contact with Berk.

(f) Scout for any threats.

(g) Make peace with my form.

(h) Try not to cry.

(i) Cry a lot. (done)

I have put a lot of work into my cheat sheet, and I have put a lot of work for myself by doing this cheat sheet.

If all goes well, I may complete... forty percent of the work by the end of the weekend.

However.

That is saying that if it all goes well.

Realistically, many things will go awry. I mean, I wasn't given the status of 'minute' in Berk for nothing.

I sigh.

Suddenly, off the distance from the place I came from, I hear something rude.

Something intruding.

Something concerning.

A horn.

Granted, a horn that is near inaudible, but a horn nonetheless. Its deep bellows are what give it away.

I also hear...

A ship.

At the beach.

My left ear perks up to get as much sound in as possible.

The horn blows again.

This time, I can hear it much clearer now, now that I have placed all of my mental power onto my ears.

It sounds like...

It sounds familiar. Almost hitting close to home. But I can't fathom exactly why, - can't place my finger on it. Why?

I listen further.

This time.

I catch its specific undertones and texture. It sounds meaty but rough, a culling for any more war for some, but this one seems too deep for that.

No.

It is hearty. It is fat. It is a bit crooked sounding.

Oh, no.

It is Berk's.

How?

How could they have managed to track me down?

Gods.

Oh, gods.

Gobber can't see me like this. Dad can't see me like this.

They will unknowingly kill me.

I quickly decide that all of my effort put into that cheat sheet has to be put into the bin.

Why, you ask?

I had just cut out all of the objectives on said list, only leaving a single, new objective behind.

CURRENT OBJECTIVE FOR HICCUP HORRENDOUS HADDOCK THE THIRD, REV. 3 (W.I.P.):

(a) Run.