A/N:
I finally decided to do a story that kinda covers HTTYD3. If you haven't read the prologue, it's the last chapter in my previous story, "Point of View". Oh, an obligatory disclaimer that I totally don't own Toothless and his crew. They own you, just so you know, and it explains so many things.
I owe a special thanks to VigoGrimborne for beta reading this story. He's got a few substantial series, one with more Light Furies than you can shake a stick at, and another with more Night Furies than any of my stories. Yeah, I see what you're doing there Viggo. :P
And you, dear reader, deserve my greatest appreciation just for being here. Also, thanks to those who comment or PM to provide some feedback. I love hearing from the brilliant minds of the FF community!
-Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah, first off, that name lol, and second, thanks for dropping a line and sharing your thoughts in the PM. This chapter is posted so soon in part because of you.
-Whiskerface, I should warn you that I am sometimes evil. However, the sun will always rise no matter how dark the night.
-Dragonrider's Fury, thanks for the feedback! I think the chapters with Nuffink are my favorite to write so far! My universe is based on just the movies and my whacky imagination. Oh, and if you're looking for the Firebrand origin story, it's the first six chapters of Dragons 101.
Pounced
A dragon prowled along a rocky ridge, body low, paws light, scales black as night, a silent shadow even in the broad daylight. It was a Night Fury, a particularly deadly dragon known for its explosive fireballs and even more explosive bursts of energy in melee combat.
Its prey, a pair of Viking warriors, casually strolled through the clearing, chatting to each other, ignorant of the dragon hiding in the rocks above.
The dragon coiled up and launched itself with blinding speed to crash into the nearest Viking. Despite his exceptionally heavy and strong build, with broad shoulders and wide arms, the man fell, his blonde hair that spewed out from below his helmet fluttering in the wind on the way down. Even before he hit the ground, he drove a fist hard into the bottom of the dragon's jaw, causing it to leap away with a grunt instead of going for a bite.
His partner turned to respond, which proved to be a mistake as another blurry shadow struck like lightning from the other direction, but a large, round, metal shield was brought up just in time. Even though the dragon outweighed the man, who resembled a grizzly bear in orange armor for his size, it still crumpled to the ground, shaking its head dizzily.
The Vikings cackled gleefully as they faced their winged adversaries, their large shields forming a wall. A dragon leaped at the blonde man, who dropped and ducked under his shield against the deadly claws. Not an instant later, two new Night Furies struck from the sky, and the human duo managed to side-step and deflect the dragons. The metallic clang of a shield hitting a snout rang out in symphony with the pained yelp it elicited.
"Get your adorable butts over here!" the blonde man chided as they held their shields up again. He took a step forward. "Please tell me that was only a warm-up."
One dragon leaped from in front of them, rebuffed by the shield and side-step.
"Ha!" the grizzly bear man shouted. "Fool me once–" Another dragon struck from behind, but it was forced to shift around with a startled yip when a swinging warhammer threatened to concave its head. "Shame on me," he casually continued shouting at them as if nothing happened.
The dragons circled the pair. "Fool me twice–" Two leaped in unison, but a quick tumble to the side caused them to smack into each other instead of their target. "Shame on you!" he finished.
A third dragon leapt at Blonde, and as it was struggling to get around a shield, he slipped his arm free and wrapped it around the dragons neck, pulling hard to jerk the beast back onto its haunches, wings flailing in panic. His free hand pulled a stick out of his belt and jabbed it at the dragon's neck, and the beast flopped to the ground in a boneless heap.
The three remaining dragons shared a look at each other.
"Hey, save some for me!" Grizzly shouted as he rushed at the dragons. They put up a fight and worked together instead of competing to be the one to get the kill, but one by one, the beasts all fell. The fight was brutally intense, but it ended as quickly as it started.
The two Vikings bumped their shields in congratulations for a job well done, their breathing labored as they carefully stepped over the prone forms. As they shook out their sore arms, another Night Fury approached on the ground, this one noticeably larger than the others. It did not leap at them, but it walked slowly on all fours with purpose and patience. It did not roar, but a soft snarl drifted from its throat, and the Vikings looked at each other with the first hint of fear.
"You too?" Grizzly grumbled. They raised their shields and steeled themselves. "Let's dance!"
The dragon lunged forward but dug its claws in to circle around instead. It jumped up and flared its wings to fly over them and land on the far side. The Vikings pivoted to keep their shields towards the dragon, but the beast appeared to be teasing and testing them. Grizzly swung his hammer at the exposed tail, but the dragon whipped around instantly and used its wing arm to smack the wrist holding the hammer.
"Ow!" he cried as his weapon fell to the ground. "That hurt!"
The dragon leaped, but instead of bouncing off the shield held up against it, it wrapped its claws around the rim and tore it from the Viking's grasp. He had the presence of mind to duck behind his partner as he fumbled for a weapon on his belt, but it wasn't long before they were both disarmed. The dragon pounced Blonde and thrust its claws into a gap between the helmet and chestplate, and the man's thrashing ceased.
Grizzly turned and fled with the shout of, "I'll go get help!"
The dragon leaped. A tumble saved Grizzly, but the dragon pushed its wings hard and sunk its claws into the ground to adjust. Grizzly frantically jumped to the side, but a tail managed to trip him up, followed instantly by the black form ramming him sideways. He barely had time to make contact with the ground and start rolling when he was shoved up from beneath and smashed against the trunk of a tree. The instant he collapsed to the ground face-first, the dragon was sitting on top of him.
"Was… that… really… necessary?" he panted from somewhere beneath the dragon.
The beast gave a loud, defiant, victorious roar. It then bent down to lick the back of the Viking's neck before standing and stepping to the side.
"You're not as heavy as Toothless, but you sure are bony!"
Both humans and all four of the smaller dragons picked themselves up, jubilantly shouting, chuffing, nuzzling, and patting each other.
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"Hello? Midgard to Gerald!"
Gerald jumped with a loud yelp at something poking his ribs. He forced his hand that was resting on the handle of his belt knife – his only means of self-defense – to relax and fall away. Attempting to use such a blade to defend himself would have looked comical anyway; he wasn't as massive as those two Vikings down there, but he had strength and reach in abundance that was better suited for hefty weapons.
Even his sword that normally adorned his belt was gone to the sea, a consequence of his ship burning to cinders in the wake of a terrifying close encounter with one of those Night Furies. Just the sight of the beast, even when viewed from a high ridge far removed, made him feel unstable and twitchy.
"Sorry," Gerald muttered in a Nordic tongue that fluttered somewhere around passable. He forced a smile on his face as he pried his gaze away from what had distracted him to look down at the girl who poked him, a pretty little thing in her late teens with golden red hair. She had said that her name was "Butterfly"; an odd name, but then again, these Northern Vikings were odd folk.
"It's alright," she idly said as she flicked her green eyes to the scene below that had occupied Gerald's attention. "That's Fishlegs from our tribe, and Hauk from the Greenbellies. Oh, and the Night Fury is Vicious with her four adorable little scraps. They were so offended when made stay on the island instead of joining the fight against those stupid mainlanders, and she set up this little spar to demonstrate why. I told them to play up the cute factor instead of going straight into fighting. Their puppy eyes would have made Fishlegs faint."
That sounded… ridiculous. "Where did those four smaller ones come from?" he asked, trying to sound curious and calm. He really felt a lot more uncomfortable anywhere within sight of Night Furies than he was comfortable revealing to a stranger. A visceral close encounter with one left him with nightmares ever since. Was that larger one down there the one from his nightmares, or a different one? He had no way of knowing and no desire to find out.
"Well, ya see, when a boy dragon and a girl dragon really like each other…" she drifted off with a smarmy smirk at Gerald's unamused look.
He watched as the five Night Furies and two Vikings strolled out of sight towards the Hooligan village. "If that's the dam, where's the sire?" It could be that it was killed by dragon hunters or–
"He's right behind you!" the girl shouted, pointing. Gerald instantly pivoted on the ball of his foot, knife in hand. He knew he was under oath that he would not attack any dragon on this island save in self-defense, but–
Nothing. There was nothing there. He slowly returned the knife to its sheath as he glared back at the girl who was laughing at him.
"Sorry, it was so tempting, I couldn't resist."
"What are you, an impish child!" Gerald snapped. She looked to be in her teens.
She stomped her foot. "I'm almost eighteen, thank you very much, and married to a handsome and sweet man, Gustav! We're just… she patted her stomach, "taking our time. Soon, yes, soon." Tofa spontaneously chuckled. "I was very impish back in the day, though, to your point. Almost broke the poor boy."
Gerald sighed as he followed the lass along a well-worn pathway along a rocky spine.
"Their kids are three years old now," the girl went on casually, "but apparently they had a previous clutch that's now eight, off on their own on the mainland.
They approached what appeared to be a gladiator arena, surrounded by clefts in the ground so wide that it seemed to be an island of rock. "This is where Stoick and some others had spent quite some time training Firebrand in fighting us land-striders– I mean humans, and it seems that Vicious has picked up some of his tricks."
"I've heard there's also a white dragon – I think someone called it a Light Fury? – that's caged up?" Gerald asked. He knew about the pet that Grimmel had used to lure in Night Furies for the kill, and according to rumors he heard, it ended up here. "I heard it went crazy and tried to kill your chief."
Butterfly frowned at that. "Yes. She had tried to kill Firef– I mean Hiccup, not that I can blame her, considering what happened to her. She was held captive and given some sort of venom that brainwashed her. Her mind is all muddled, so we're holding her safe for now until we figure out what to do." She stomped. "Those mainlanders sure are so barbaric and cruel!"
She instantly brightened and started skipping along. "This is where we used to train against dragons. Nowadays, we train with them." She winked at him. "You'll be spending some time here in the coming days. You are here for dragon training, right?"
Gerald nodded with a smile. "Yes, when I was told that such would be available, I almost couldn't believe it. You see, I came here just so I could see your dragons, but to ride one…"
Butterfly winked at him in a way that was distinctly unsettling. "We'll see how things go. We've learned years ago that teaching others how to befriend dragons helps them avoid doing stupid things, like fly off on some conspiracy theory and band together to wipe us out." She looked out over the array of ships at sea, where dragons were still flying their riders out to investigate and loot the wreckage before deciding whether to burn it to the water level or try to salvage it. "Apparently, the idiots from the mainland didn't feel like even giving us a chance to do that," she said bitterly.
Gerald swallowed the reply that welled up in his throat. He was from "the mainland" as these Vikings of the Barbaric Archipelago called it. "I'm sure they had their reasons," he finally said. "I saw their armada from afar on the way in… I can't imagine so many people sailing so far on an ill-conceived whim."
Butterfly rolled her eyes. "Yeah, sure, kings and emperors have never committed thousands of people to fight and die because of an assumption or for their distaste for some other leader."
"Perhaps I could turn some heads were I to fly back on a dragon," Gerald offered, biting back what he really wanted to say. The Holy Emperor wouldn't be in such a position of power without a good reason.
Butterfly snorted. "Yeah, you'd certainly turn heads on the mainland alright, and also turn crossbow quarrels on you. And Ballistae. And thrown spears and axes."
Gerald had to agree with that. Dragons had always been an issue. He recalled his father cautioning him about exploring caves and rocky formations. "A dragon'll swoop down and pluck you up like an apple off a tree," he had warned on several occasions. "Tear you to shreds just like Tullus last month. You remember him, right? Could barely recognize who those scraps of flesh belonged to."
Especially in recent years, the world has become more full of elbows and mouths. As civilizations expanded more and more, the scaly beasts had fewer dark nooks to hide in. It was a simple matter of "To the winner goes the spoils," and with more nations willing to establish peace treaties, share ideas and new inventions, and band together against their common fire-breathing foes, the scales were tipping more and more.
"So, why do you want to see our dragons, let alone try to befriend and ride one?" Butterfly asked dubiously.
Gerald stared at her for a moment. Did she read his very thoughts? No, impossible, of course not.
"Necessity drives all action," he finally said, buying time to organize his thoughts on how to get this girl to change the topic. "I–"
He was mercifully spared when a Deadly Nadder dove down to slam into the ground right in front of Butterfly. It was smaller than most, probably juvenile.
"Fog, so good to see you!" Butterfly squealed. The dragon dropped a stick in front of her and took a step back, tail waving excitedly.
"This is Fog. She's five, and she got her name because she loves flying in it," Butterfly mentioned as she flicked her head to Gerald. "She usually does a good job of not flying into things despite the poor visibility, but it's so funny when she does!"
The dragon hissed and snapped at her, but she seemed entirely unphased, like how a dog handler who shared a strong bond with his pet would only laugh when the dog would playfully nip at his face. "Alright, alright," she huffed, grabbing the stick and pulling her arm back. "Fetch!"
The stick sailed through the air and into the great void between their ridge and the rest of the island. The dragon squawked and dove after it, then landed and dropped the stick again. Butterfly offered it to Gerald to throw, but when he reached for it, the dragon hissed and snapped at him.
"Oh, Fog, you're such a stinker," Butterfly chided, all the while skipping along to the side of the arena's open portcullis door. Down below, the cleft gave way to the sea, and the sound of waves crashing on the rocks below could be heard even from so high up.
Butterfly threw the stick again, and the dragon took off. It returned, accompanied by another Nadder, also with a stick in its beak-like maw.
"Ah Thunder, you wanna play too?" She picked up the other dragon's stick. "Well, too bad, I'm busy with Fog. Go bug Gerald. He's got nothing better to do."
Gerald forced himself to not draw his knife when the dragon's gaze turned to him.
"Better yet," Butterfly idly said as if in afterthought, "Thunder, let's do the snout touchy thing. Gerald, hold out your hand."
Gerald hesitantly complied, eyeing those sharp teeth, taking deep breaths to fight the urge to step back and draw his knife. Folks on the mainland heard about how the dragon master of the Barbaric Archipelago tamed a dragon by holding out his hand and looking away. Many naive fools lost their arms or their lives as a result. He was assured that he would not be attacked by any creature on this island, but this was a gods-damned dragon!
I must be entirely crazy to go along with this, he told himself. Or entirely desperate.
The dragon ruffled its wings and shuffled a little closer. Gerald caught himself twitching for his knife, and barely a flinch was seen. The dragon took another step closer, now a few feet away. It rose up high, sniffed, crouched low, sniffed again, then turned to the side and shuffled away a few paces.
"Oh well, it was worth a shot," Butterfly sighed. "Not too surprising, though. Mainlanders just seem to be less…" she drifted off in thought. "Yes, less." The dragon dropped the stick from its maw and backed up a few steps, crouching low, looking up at Gerald, then down at the stick, up, down, up. "Ah, at least you can be good for something," Butterfly said brightly.
The other Nadder landed near Butterfly and dropped the stick, which the girl sent flying over the edge and towards the sea. The dragon let out a chirp and leaped off. Gerald let out a relieved sigh; at least this was something he could do. He picked up the stick, waved it tauntingly, and chucked it up and out–
"Gerald!" Butterfly scolded. The Nadder watched the stick sail over the ledge and out of sight, wings and tail drooping. It then turned to Gerald hissing and stomping.
"No, Thunder, back!" Butterfly shouted as she inserted herself between Gerald and the angry dragon.
The few Vikings nearby were staring at him, and he felt the back of his neck burn. Even the bloody dragons, as far as he could see, were staring at him, mouth agape, as the Nadder writhed around on its back, kicking and flailing its wings and screeching hysterically.
"But… but…" Gerald spluttered. "You threw the stick and the dragon fetched it. How come this one's screeching at me?" The screeching intensified. "Quiet!" he snapped at the dragon. "Shush!" The screeching intensified even more. "And how do you calm it down?"
Butterfly smacked the dragon's snout with the back of her hand, and it let out a yelp and instantly shot upright, seemingly ignoring both humans. "Quiet!" she commanded, then turned to Gerald. "Don't do that yourself, or you'll lose only a couple fingers, if you're lucky." She turned back to the dragon. "Yes, that was pretty mean of him, taking your favorite stick and throwing it away like that. No, he's not very bright. He is from the mainland, after all."
"But… but…" was all Gerald could get out.
Butterfly made a shooing motion with her hand. "Go find a rope to play with instead. I'm sure Fog will join you."
The dragon turned towards the harbor and spread its wings to take off–
"Not there, and you know that, you little stinker!" she chided. "If you want a new one, work out a deal with Igna. I bet only twenty or so fish would secure you a shiny new rope."
The dragon drooped at that, then it let out a caw and thundered into the arena, grabbed a thick, tattered rope that was maybe five feet long, and pranced up to the other Nadder. The two quickly found themselves in a tug-of-war, where one would eventually gain possession of the rope and play keep-away with the other.
"Don't be too hard on yourself," Butterfly casually said to Gerald. "We all know the mainlander fools don't know proper manners, they're not good people. It wouldn't be fair to expect you to be any better than what you're taught." Gerald started spluttering about how that was nonsense as she grabbed his wrist and pulled him away from the arena, along the rocky ridge back to the village.
At the edge of the village, a Terrible Terror swooped down into Butterfly's awaiting arms, and she cradled the dragon like a child. "Ah, Swoop!" Gerald's palm smacked into his forehead, not that Butterfly seemed to notice. "So good to see you," she continued in a high-pitched, singsong voice as she scratched the dragon's belly.
"Let's try something," she suggested, turning towards Gerald. "Just reach out, let him sniff your hand, and pet him."
Simple enough, and Terrors weren't too dangerous when isolated like this, so Gerald confidently and slowly reached forward, fingers curled so the dragon couldn't nip them that easily if–
It shrieked and thrashed in Butterfly's arms, breaking free and flying off. "Swoop! Come back!" she whined. She then turned to Gerald with a sour look.
"Uhhh, sorry?" he offered. "What am I doing wrong?"
Butterfly shrugged and continued walking along. "Dragons see what's on the inside more than the outward appearance.
That… did not sit well with Gerald. All around, he could see other travellers and traders from his ship interacting with dragons. For some reason, it really bothered him that he couldn't do what they were doing.
Butterfly followed his gaze and shrugged. "Like fooling a dragon." she said, looking at him sideways. "That's become a euphemism for something that is pretty much impossible."
Gerald forced himself to not react beyond quirking an eyebrow. "To pet a dragon, I must first fool it?"
Butterfly nodded. "For some people. Dragons aren't so easily deceived by outward appearances, though. They see what's on the inside, deep down. They know who you really are."
Gerald swallowed. "And what would they think of a simple traveller–"
"They told me, so I know too," Butterfly cut him off. The Terror returned and dove into her arms. "My name isn't really Butterfly. Well, it's the name the dragons use for me, but my real name is Tofa."
Well, that was random. Gerald paused a moment to think about that. "Ah, well, I can call you Tofa instead, then, but what is your game here? Shall I also change my name?"
Tofa blinked. "Again? You did that once already. You could change your name a thousand times and see no different reactions from the dragons. It wasn't as effective as you hoped."
"I–" Gerald didn't like where this was going. "Enough with the games."
"Alright, alright," Tofa waved him off with her free hand before resuming stroking the Terrible Terror's belly. "Let's see…" she began casually, "Your actual name is Ragnar the Ravager, captain of the ship called the Wolf Fang, which had captured Toothless before he escaped and was captured again, but your ship was left behind, half burned to embers, definitely not going anywhere contrary to the currents. So, you somehow managed to make it off that wreckage and arrived here, on that trader ship, but I'll admit the details in between are unknown to me."
Ragnar froze. He realized there was no point in keeping up any pretense of the alternate identity he had come up with.
"How…" was all that he could say as he mentally prepared to fight and flee.
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Astrid stood in the arena, staring at the stone wall.
She had caught a glimpse, through the double portcullis, of Ragnar the Ravager, or "Gerald" as he had introduced himself with his fake name. He thought he could fool them, but he was wrong. He would soon learn of how, and some day, perhaps, he might even come to believe it.
It was especially grating with how he had looked at her when he was introduced to her as the acting chief in Hiccup's absence. Even after bearing three children, Astrid knew that she still looked attractive, lean but firm build, long blonde hair, cutting blue eyes. Perhaps it was understandable for men on the seas for months at a time, with only the scattering of all-too-brief port visits to drink away their problems and find a willing woman for a single night, but most of them had the decency to at least put on a more civil front in public.
That was why she was staring at the wall, because it was away from him. Gerald was one of them, the vile, despicable mainlanders. He wasn't the one who killed Stormfly, but he represented those who did. When that pile of filth stepped off the merchant vessel, and Astrid learned his true identity, it took all of her discipline and then some to put on a formal face and tersely explain the rules of hospitality to him. It was what Hiccup had asked her to do, and though she agreed with his reasoning and knew that the risk was negligible, she still wanted to split his head in two with her ax.
Two young Nadders flanked Astrid, six years old from Stormfly's first clutch, fully independent but still growing. They looked off in Ragnar's direction and then gave an inquiring chirp with a glance at Astrid.
"No, leave him be," Astrid said dismissively. "It would look bad for me if I grant him hospitality and then have him killed, no matter how much I want to."
She walked along the stone wall, which circled the entire arena. Behind that wall was a dragon cell, carved into the rock centuries ago by their ancestors. Well, several stone cells, but the interior walls between the cells had been carved out into large stone slabs that could be raised or lowered to merge the cells into one or to divide the space.
Even dragons sometimes committed crimes, some more grievous than "Oh, that sheep carcass that you had hanging there wasn't for me?" Like people, they had the potential to make very bad decisions, and allowing bad behavior was just as bad for their kind as it was for hers. Even among the worst offenders, even though the cells provided ample food, water, ventilation, and sanitation standards, a single day spent in such confinement was enough to convince almost any dragon that it was best to either be considerate towards others or fly off to some new home.
She found what she was looking for, a small iron hatch along the base of the wall, barely large enough for a Terrible Terror to fit through – those dragons were simply placed in an iron cage on the rare occasion it was necessary.
A basket of fish creaked as she dropped it to the ground, a task made more difficult with one hand always stabilizing her ten month child in a sling against her chest. A shove to a slide unlocked the hatch, and she swung it out to the side.
"Here you go, m'lady," she said as she started tossing fish in, forcing herself to smile and sound cheerful instead of thinking about how much it hurt to lose Stormf–
Astrid took a deep breath and tried again, forcing a smile on her face as she gently brushed a finger down her child's temple before picking up another fish by its tail to toss in. "Valka's busy, so Jorunn will be helping me today." The sound from within was muffled through the small opening, but she could hear sounds of the fish being consumed as fast as she could throw them in.
She sighed. "It really does pain me to know that you're stuck in there."
To be fair, the prisoner practically walked herself into the cell. She was given a choice between one of those dragon-proof cages that were filched from some dragon trappers, which would be dragged into the open sun during good weather and under cover for rain or storms, or the dark stone cell that wrapped around the entire arena with its interior walls lifted to allow space to stretch out and run. There were holes in the ceiling, but shafts of sunlight were nowhere near as good as being out in the open.
She noticed that one of the fish had a little bit of poo sticking out of its bottom. It was something the dragons never seemed to notice or care about, but Astrid wiped it off on the ground before tossing the fish in.
"It's not right, all you've endured, all that Deathgripper venom messing with your thoughts. It's like the Red Death mind control, but there's no big, evil dragon we can simply kill to free you from its grip."
The supply of fish ran out, and the tip of a snow-white snout pressed through the opening to rest against the ground, mouth open.
"There is no way you can still be hungry! I've seen Monstrous Nightmares pass out after eating that much!" Astrid said incredulously.
She hesitantly reached her fingertips to brush against the top of the snout, and it disappeared. Astrid sighed as she gently slid down to sit next to the hatch, fondly stroking her child's head.
"I just don't know a good solution." For all she knew, the dragon was prowling back and forth inside and entirely ignoring her, but it didn't matter. "If we let you out, we can probably trust you in our village, and maybe you'd just fly off and be content elsewhere… with the single exception that we all know that you're going to try to kill Hiccup the very instant you can. I know it's not your fault... Hmmm, maybe it will fade over time? But how long should we be willing to wait and see? A few days? Months? Years?"
She shrugged and let out a sigh. "I will not stand to see you lay eggs in captivity. Hiccup will be back in a couple days. Maybe he'll have learned something after investigating the wreckage those filthy vermin left in their wake. He once shot down a black dragon on a dark night, and put him back in the sky, and somehow against all odds, managed to get me to shut up and listen for just a moment to see that he was right. Crazy, yes, and he often drives everyone insane, and he's sometimes whiny, but also right about a lot of things."
She struck the ground with her fist and winced at the pain, and Jorunn squirmed and cried at the motion.
"Shh, shh, sorry," Astrid cooed soothingly, and the child gradually went back to sleep.
"I bet Gothi would have known what to do, if she were still around. She knew everything." But no, Gothi had gone beyond last year. She had made it to a very impressive age of seventy-three, leaving Tofa to fill her role as healer and seer. It was so strange to hear someone so young give cryptic – and sometimes even helpful – advice from dreams revealed by the gods… while sewing up a stump on a leg she had just sawed off.
The tip of that beautiful white snout stuck out again, and a frustrated growl came out of it.
"Ah, right, stick!" Astrid snapped her fingers. "Sorry, I forgot." The dragon snorted. "I'll get a couple good-sized branches for you to gnaw on. And you may's well empty yourself soon. We'll seal off that end and lay some fresh straw after clearing out your poopies." She suddenly tittered. "Heh, poopies, sorry, that's collateral from being a mother of three." She kissed Jorunn's forehead. "You'll be making a lot more poopies in the next few years."
Shouting and what sounded like wooden boards cracking snapped her attention up towards the village proper. She could see, well, not much, but it was probably trouble.
"Got a fire to put out," she said as she closed and locked the hatch. "I'll be right back."