REVIEWS:

Silverleone: All the big ideas have already been taken! I'm glad this is interesting for you.

stelsinister21: Ooh, tricky question. I like those. The first thing to remember is that this is only the first part of a trilogy (I'm undecided about a fourth book). This and the second one stick pretty closely to the movies, but there are hints of some pretty big changes in the third installment. My main aim, I guess, is to prevent the humans and dragons separating in a way that doesn't contradict much canon except THW's epilogue. Does that help?

Follow my head or heart

It took me a while to find the cove, but it was so worth it. When I got there, it was just as beautiful as last time, maybe more. Green and calm, silently waiting for me. It was hard to believe such a place could exist on the wild and rugged rock of Berk. I crept through the tiny opening at ground level, holding my shield and fish ready nervously. How would I know if the Night Fury was still there? I shook my head, mentally berating myself. Surely I'd gone insane, trying to use a place where a Night Fury had been just a day ago. It might even be waiting for me to come back, ready to pounce on the other side of the rock. I hurriedly tossed the fish through before I could chicken out. It had to show itself at some point, right? Then I'd know if it was there or not. Maybe I could climb up to the place I'd been yesterday; that hadn't been too bad.

I waited a moment.

Nothing.

I peeked around the corner, moving more confidently when there was no midnight black dragon anywhere. A sharp tug jerked me to a stop as the shield wedged itself against the rocks.

"Great, my day gets better and better."

Groaning in annoyance, I yanked on the shield but it didn't move an inch. I couldn't face the thought of returning to the village, and the fish was still lying on the floor untouched, so I risked crawling under the shield and entered the cove.

It was even better than I'd imagined. Cool green air filled my lungs and the sense of peace permeated my very skin, pouring into me through every pore. I half heartedly pulled on the shield from the other side but it didn't budge. My plan was ruined. I'd have to improvise. A small smile crossed my lips. I was technically doing what Gobber had asked.

I couldn't see the Night Fury anywhere, but I picked up the fish and held it out in front of me just in case. I needed to make a thorough search of the cove to make sure that I was the only occupant.

About half way round the pond, I had a feeling I was being watched, a faint prickling on my neck and a tingling up and down my spine. The forest often played tricks on my imagination and I tried to ignore it. Most of the time, the feelings died away pretty quickly. This one didn't.

A small rustling behind me confirmed my suspicions. I slowly turned around, dreading what I might see. The cove suddenly seemed like a bad idea now. On top of a large rock, the Night Fury was waiting, ready to pounce like a beast from a nightmare. It started to creep down, landing on the floor with a soft thump, and I flinched. Head low, eyes thin and accusing, it stalked me like I was prey, and, like a muttonhead, I pulled my arms—and the fish—closer to my chest.

It slowly moved towards me, sniffing the air. My heart flip flopped in my chest. I suddenly realised that it must have been in the cove since I set it free—maybe it was injured when I shot it down?—which was nearly three days ago. The creature must be starving.

I blinked, starting to scold myself for thinking of a dragon with pity, but shook my head in defiance. This dragon was different from all the others. It was intelligent, capable of showing mercy—not once, but twice—and its eyes and flame were extremely expressive. Almost human. I held out the fish even as I backed away, trying to buy some time though I had no idea what I hoped to do. All I knew was that my idea had sounded a lot better in my head: check to see if the Night Fury was there, distract it with the fish and run away if it was.

The dragon moved forwards and I forced my legs to stand still. It rumbled, almost curiously, and slowly opened its soft pink mouth to take the fish. Its eyes flashed towards my waist and it growled suddenly. No!

Its green eyes were narrow and suspicious. Why was it suspicious? I wasn't strong or agile like the other Vikings. And if it thought the fish might be poisoned, why hadn't it leapt away from the start? I followed its gaze to my waist again, more specifically, the belt across my waist. What was in there that it didn't like? I lifted my vest to check, not daring to take my eyes off the threatening dragon, and my fingers brushed against the cold hilt of my knife. Of course!

The Night Fury growled, suddenly looking more like the 'Unholy Offspring of Lightning and Death Itself' it was supposed to be, and I yanked my hand away from my knife in a panic. I had no intention of using it, but I always carried it with me everywhere I went, for emergencies. Knives were useful in most tricky circumstances—and I'd learnt that the hard way, which involved an angry yak and a vest tangled in some branches. But how could I tell the dragon that?

Slowly, watching the Night Fury carefully, I reached for my knife again and drew it out. The blade, the first one I'd ever forged without Gobber's help, twinkled in the sunlight as I held it out at arms length. Was I really going to abandon my only protection? I knew the answer before I finished asking the question. The knife wouldn't be much use against an angry dragon, and if I got rid of it, the angry dragon in question might calm down a little.

I dropped the knife, but the Night Fury didn't relax an inch, still coiled like a spring about to pounce. It nodded its head to the side and I juggled the knife onto my boot, kicking it away without question. Years of dealing with panicking Vikings and lots of weapons had given me some unusual talents, like making the most of every limb. My heart sank as I heard the plop of the knife falling into the water. I hadn't meant to kick it that hard. It held most of my few good memories, the simple blade with a plain handle, and I didn't want to lose it.

The moment the dragon heard the knife fall into the pond, it lowered its wings and lifted its head. With raised ear flaps and big round pupils, it looked almost… cute. I held out the fish again, barely breathing. Slowly stalking closer, it hesitated in front of me with its mouth wide open. The soft pink gums distracted me, and I held the fish for a moment longer.

"Huh. Toothless. I could've sworn you had—" Pearly white fangs shot out of the squishy gums and chomped down on the fish as fast as the fire it shot through the sky. Tossing the fish in the air, the Night Fury swallowed it in two bites. I pulled my hands back to my chest, shakily checking I still had all my fingers, and it licked its lips. "Teeth..."

That must be very useful, keeping its teeth sheathed until it had to use them. Wearing down wouldn't be much of a problem, and it could never hurt itself by accident. Could weapons be designed that way? I started mentally drawing up plans for a knife, or maybe a sword, that could look like a harmless handle until it was needed. I wondered how much sharpening time that would save—

The Night Fury was right in front of me.

It bent down again, its head coming closer to sniff at my clothes, and a curious rumble shook from its chest. I backed away hurriedly, palms clammy and pulse racing, but it followed me. Stumbling over my feet, I kept scrambling backwards, stuttering words as though it could understand me.

"Uh, uh, no, no, no."

My back hit a rock.

I was trapped.

Its face was inches from mine, and I uselessly twisted my head away. "I—I don't have any more." I should have pulled out a basket of fish from the storehouse, no one would have missed it.

Its green eyes narrowed in concentration, and a weird choking noise rushed over my ears. I sat there, petrified, until it opened its mouth and dropped something warm and sticky into my lap. I jumped with a small cry of panic, before realising it was the tail of my fish, all slimy and covered in dragon bile, and wasn't going to hurt me. The Night Fury sat back on its haunches, waiting for something.

"Eurgh…" The fish was absolutely disgusting, and I tried to ignore the slime soaking through my clothes. The dragon made a small noise, and I searched my brain for anything that could help me. I had no idea how patient it was and I didn't want to test it.

The green eyes looked straight into mine, still waiting, and I looked away, uncomfortable. Who knew a staring contest with a Night Fury could be so awkward!

The silence stretched, long and uneasy, and I couldn't help looking at the dragon again. As if it had been waiting for me to watch it again, it flicked its eyes downwards with a soft purring noise.

I looked down too, and—Thor, no! There was no way I would even touch something that had been in a dragon's stomach! As quickly as the thought came, it was pushed aside by another one. What would happen if I refused?

My stomach churned rebelliously at the thought, but I lifted the fish off my knees and towards my mouth. Oh Thor, the smell. I closed my eyes and took a couple of deep breaths.

It's okay. It's okay.

I took a bite.

It was not okay.

The slime pulled away in strings, the scales on the fish were gritty on my tongue, and the muscle was soft and squishy in my mouth. I shuddered, and yesterday's dinner threatened to forcefully eject the fish from my mouth.

The Night Fury tilted its head and lifted both ears.

"Mmmhhmm." I pretended to be satisfied, holding the fish towards the dragon and praying it would take its 'gift' back. Maybe if the Night Fury ate the rest of the fish, I could spit out my mouthful while it was distracted. The black throat bobbed as it swallowed.

The Night Fury swallowed.

I let my arms fall limp. Nothing was going right that day. I pushed the slimy lump of fish around with my tongue and tried to force it down. My throat rejected it, but I caught it in my mouth and tried again. The lump of raw fish slid down my throat, still slimy and horribly warm and revolting, but once it was in my stomach, I could almost ignore it.

Almost.

I shivered in disgust and relief at getting the Odin-cursed stuff down.

The Night Fury licked its lips and made a questioning sound. Was it good? I forced a smile, praying to all the gods in Valhalla that one bite would be enough. The dragon squinted at me, but its wonderfully expressive ears were still raised, so I knew it wasn't mad or scared. I decided to use those ears as a warning sign. When they went down, I went home.

It slowly peeled back its lips, starting at the left corner. It looked weird and awkward, but I wasn't going to say that out loud. Offending a dragon was the last thing I wanted to do. I stared helplessly, wondering if this was a hallucination brought on by food poisoning. The lips started to curve upwards, and my fake smile shrank to be replaced by a more genuine one as I realised it was copying me!

Slowly, carefully, I put the fish on the ground and stood up. This creature, this dragon, was intelligent, but more importantly, it actually treated me better than most of the village. I wanted to touch it. I needed to know that someone, even if it was the most dangerous dragon in the Archipelago, trusted me with more than their weapons. Some people didn't even let me touch their swords and specifically asked Gobber to deal with them. What did they think I was going to do, put Zippleback gas in them or something? Even Gobber hadn't believed me about the Night Fury, but if I could earn this creature's trust, maybe I was worth something as a person.

My hand stretched closer, and the dragon's smile wavered, then dropped. White teeth shot out and it growled, turning away and leaping into the air. My heart sank, but there was a pool of determination growing in my chest. I was going to touch that Night Fury, or—more likely—die in the attempt.

Concern nibbled at my heart when it crashed again on the other side of the pond, even after beating its wings furiously to stay aloft. Was something seriously wrong with it? Thor, I hoped I hadn't injured it when I shot it down. That would be too cruel. It fired the ground beneath it, and I stared when, instead of an explosive blast, a steady stream of fire scorched the ground. I'd never heard of any dragon that could use two different types of fire!

I started to walk closer, placing my steps as carefully as I could. Thank Thor, there weren't any twigs in the soft grass, but I was surprisingly quiet, even to my own ears. When I concentrated, I could be quite stealthy. Patting the flames out, the Night Fury rested its head on its paws. I was about halfway between where it had taken off and landed, and it hadn't noticed me yet—or it was ignoring me.

As I got closer, I noticed that the dragon hadn't fully closed its eyes like it wasn't tired enough to go to sleep, though its ears were flat against its head. All thoughts of leaving had been banished from my brain, I was completely enthralled by the beast. I walked as close as I dared, then sat down on the ground in front of it. If it went to sleep, maybe I could get a closer look at it, and find out if there was an obvious wound that I could help with. I almost laughed to myself. Instead of fearing dragons, I wanted to touch one and earn its trust. What was happening to me? And, more importantly, why didn't I mind?

Suddenly the Night Fury's head shot up, and I tensed, ready to leap away at any moment. It swung its head round to follow something, probably a bird, and for a moment there was nothing but pure longing in its eyes. I gulped quietly, suddenly unable to breathe past the lump in my throat. Thor, I thought I'd wanted things before! The pupils were bigger than I'd ever seen them before, soft and mournful and strangely vulnerable. I knew in an instant that there was something tremendously wrong with the Night Fury, something that had ripped away the most precious thing it had. And it was my fault.

I was still struggling with my new perspective when the dragon saw me, and I gave a little wave, not sure what else to do. Its ears went down and it huffed in annoyance, before sweeping its tail between us. At least it didn't run away like last time.

With the massive tail fin spread between us, it couldn't see what I was doing and I scooted closer. It didn't complain and I moved closer again. I reached out, my hand inches from its tail fin, and noticed a bare patch of skin, covered in a strange scab-like thing, on the other side of the tail. Strange…

The tail fin jerked up and I caught a glimpse of decidedly unimpressed green eyes in the split second before I jumped to my feet and walked away as fast as I could. If I ever wanted to connect with the Night Fury, antagonising it wasn't the best way. I forced myself to remember that, no matter how intelligent and merciful it had been so far, it was still a dangerous predator, and I really didn't want it annoyed at me. The cove was probably the best place on Berk to waste time, so I hoped the Night Fury would let me stay until it was time for supper.

From the other side of the cove, I watched as it wandered over to a big tree that was barely clinging on to the side of the cliff. The big ebony wings opened, and I had a moment to wonder if the dragon was trying to escape again, before it pushed down hard on the air and leapt about halfway up the cliff. It belly flopped painfully on a large protruding roots and slid forwards until it hung by its tail like a bat, eyes closing. I winced at the clumsy manoeuver, sure it should have been graceful and fluid.

Sighing, I moved over to a small log near the centre of the cove and sat down. My thoughts were trapped in a guilty loop, repeating over and over again. Somehow, when I'd shot the Night Fury down, I'd grounded it. Whether permanently or not, I had no idea. But if I didn't know what I'd done, there was no way I could fix it. And if the dragon wouldn't let me get close to it, I couldn't figure anything out. Which brought me back to the problem of earning its trust.

I tried to put myself in the Night Fury's skin. If I'd been shot out of the sky and grounded, why would I trust the person who'd done that to me? I examined my behaviour so far, and mentally kicked myself. Cutting it free, giving it the fish, watching it from above—Hel, even shooting it down!—had all been part of a scheme to get closer to it. Even though the dragon tolerated me, I'd always been the one to try and get closer. I was pushing it out of its comfort zone. For this to work, I had to let the dragon come to me. I sighed again and walked over to a nearby tree. It was thin and springy, but eventually I managed to break a branch off. Drawing always helped me think, and I needed all the help I could get.

oOoOo

The sun had almost reached the edge of the cove, which was when I'd promised myself I'd go home. So far, the Night Fury hadn't moved at all, it just hung from its branch like an oversized bat. I was running low on hope and empty space to draw in, and my legs were stiff.

"It's hopeless." The words surprised me. I hadn't meant to talk out loud, not really. "Who am I kidding? If my own village doesn't like me, just because I'm—well, Hiccup—what are the chances that a dragon will?" There was an unfamiliar heat in my chest, one I started to recognise as anger. "Especially since I shot it out of the sky in the first place!" I took a deep breath, promising myself I wouldn't start shouting. Slightly calmer, I tried again. "Thor's hammer, what did I expect?" I walked over to the side of the cove and pulled at a clump of leaves, blinking back angry tears. A chief doesn't cry… I got angry at myself for letting my weakness show, which made me cry more. "That I'd magically get a friend, just because I really wanted one? It doesn't even know Norse!" A fair sized bundle of leaves tore away, and I only just caught my balance, surprised by the sudden lack of resistance. "I'm lucky it's only ignoring me."

I knelt down on the ground and viciously scrubbed out my drawings of Dad, Gobber, Astrid, and a few tentative designs for new inventions, battling my emotions. When there wasn't any ground left to sweep, I dropped the dusty leaves on the ground and moved back to my log. I didn't feel like drawing any more. But the small stick in my hand called to me, prompting me to start one last portrait. I put more care into that picture, filling it with my shattered hopes and dreams for the future. That face, more specifically, those eyes, were the reason I couldn't kill the Night Fury, and I hoped that by drawing them, I could figure out why.

A large head with big ears on a thick neck, leaving plenty of room for the eyes—

Whrrrr?

I glanced sideways and my heart leapt into my brain. The Night Fury was studying my picture intently. I wondered if it recognised itself. Adding the eyes, big and round with pupils that I just couldn't get right, I heard the dragon purr. Hopefully it wasn't offended. Suddenly it was gone, and I turned around to follow its movements. I couldn't help smiling when I saw it tug hard on a nearby sapling, then tumble over backwards when the trunk snapped.

Picking itself up with a small whuff of air, it started twirling across the clearing of freshly swept dirt, dragging the branch along the ground. I craned my neck, trying to see what it was drawing, and it looked back at me. I sat up straighter, afraid I'd done something wrong, and it turned back to its drawing and dabbed a single dot onto the ground. Huh…

During the dragon's next pass, its tree hit me on the head but I barely noticed. I was awed by the creature's ability to learn and process, unable to speak. It was probably just squiggles, but still! Finally, with a soft purr, the dragon dropped its stick and gazed at its artwork.

I stood up to see it better, and looked at the picture. It looked vaguely like a face, with a loopy nose attached to the right eyeball and a mass of what I assumed was hair. The dragon glanced at me again, and a crazy idea started growing in my mind. What if the Night Fury had drawn me…

Of course, I had a rock in the middle of my forehead and a Night Fury tattoo on my temple, but if I ignored that, it was actually pretty good for a first attempt! Remembering my first scribbles, I chuckled. When I started to walk out of the picture for a better look, the Night Fury lowered its ears and snarled. There wasn't any menace in the snarl, it was more of a warning, but it still made me nervous. What had I done wrong?

I glanced down and mentally slapped myself. I was standing on its drawing. Whoops. I hated it when Gobber accidentally left one of his prosthetic arms on my drawings, and I was guessing the Night Fury was similar to me. It wasn't similar to any other Vikings, that was for sure.

Just to be sure, I leant backwards and lifted my leg off. Its eyes widened and its ears came up. Happy. Good, now to have a little fun. I lowered my leg again, and was rewarded with another snarl. Up, and the teeth vanished. Down, and the Night Fury crouched this time, ready to pounce. Time to stop. I carefully stepped over the line of what I thought was the left eye, and smiled when the Night Fury didn't snarl. I was in a labyrinth of lines, where one false step would seriously annoy a dangerous dragon. With my clumsiness, I had to be extremely careful where I put my feet, so I always looked for the biggest space, the easiest way out.

That meant looking at my feet carefully and holding my arms out for balance. Round and round and round, looking over my shoulder and under my armpit, carefully step over each line; and repeat. I ended up moving backwards most of the time, which was why the hot, slightly fish-scented puff of air took me completely by surprise. Warily peering up, I hurriedly took a couple of steps forward when I realised I was one stumble away from crashing into the Night Fury. It lowered its head to look me in the eye, ears raised and pupils wide and soft. Trust. Tentative trust, but I might have a chance of touching it now.

My hand slowly reached out towards it, and it narrowed its eyes. The pupils shrunk to half width and it turned its head to the side, showing me the barest glimpse of teeth beneath its lips. I pulled my hand back and sighed, about to turn around and go home, when I remembered what I'd decided earlier. I had to let the dragon come to me.

Ignoring hundreds of years of tradition, and just over a dozen years of my own instincts, I lowered my gaze and started to hold out my hand again. I wouldn't go all the way, just enough to let the Night—

I almost jumped into the air, definitely a bad move this close to a dragon, when my vision switched again and I found myself in a foggy world of white. There wasn't even any itching that time, just a strange twitch between my eyes, as though there was a muscle there. It took considerable effort to not look at the Night Fury's purple flame, but I kept my arm steady, stretching it out as far as I dared.

I kept my gaze lowered, and had my second—or was it the third?—surprise for the day. I had one too! It was pale, almost colourless, but I had a swirling flame inside my chest, dancing nervously. I gazed at the almost transparent fire, and noticed there was a small tendril branching out through the arm I was holding out to the Night Fury. I almost panicked, then forced myself to stay still. I didn't want to spook the—

Dragon.

Dragon scales under my fingers. I almost stumbled, suddenly weak and drained, my legs trembling and my stomach twisting in painful knots like I hadn't eaten for days. My tailbone ached, occasionally throbbing painfully, and there were lines of soreness all across my body as though someone had wrapped me in ropes and pulled them way too tight. I felt a small pressure on my nose, as though a butterfly had settled on it, fragile and delicate.

I looked up, the world still white, and gasped. My transparent flames were merging with the Night Fury's purple fire, sneaking into its chest from where my hand met its snout. A tendril of fire from my chest stretched out to its fire, caressing the purple surface almost like a flickering hand, if hands could have three fingers one moment and seven the next.

The dragon snorted and shook itself, abruptly narrowing its pupils. The butterfly stopped being something to tolerate and became annoying. The moment it broke contact, bounding over to the other side of the cove, my meagre but normal strength came back and the pain vanished.

What in Helheim…

I peered more closely at the dragon as it started to lie down again. Were its legs shaking, ever so slightly? And were those the ghost marks of where my bola had wrapped round it?

Stunned, I looked up at the sky and froze. I was late! With a quick wave to the Night Fury, I started to leave the cove, jogging swiftly through the forest. My mind churned over what had happened as I stared at the ground immediately in front of me, scanning it for any twigs or something that might trip me up. Despite my efforts, I still got whacked in the face by branches a couple of times, leaving stinging marks across my cheeks. I didn't care. I'd just felt what a dragon was feeling. And it must have had something to do with my fire touching its fire. No, not it, him. I knew that much from my brief glimpse into the Night Fury—I couldn't keep calling him that. I needed a name. What was descriptive but not too long or absurd? I ruled out Ebony almost immediately, who would want to be called that? How about Blackie? No, that made him sound like a horse. I needed something unique, just like the Night Fury was unique.

Lost in thought, I tripped over a hidden root and tumbled down a short slope. Something must have shaken loose in the fall, because when the world slowed to a stop, I had the stupidest idea in my head. I could call the Night Fury, the most feared dragon in the world, 'Toothless'. Grinning like the idiot I was, I rushed into the Great Hall through the wide open door and tripped over my own feet, landing on the ground with a loud thump. About three dozen bewildered eyes landed on me, and I froze.

"Umm, where's Gobber?"

Rolling their eyes and muttering about 'recruits who are never on time to anything', most Vikings turned back to more important stuff like food, mead, and bludgeoning their own heads. I hovered by the door, unsure.

Mulch finally took pity on me and called, "Up on the watchtower."

As quickly and as quietly as I could, I slipped out of the large room.

oOoOo

I winced at every noisy creak the stairs made as I climbed them, wishing I could go home and sleep. Unluckily, the only space left on the bench was on the opposite side of the tower, and Gobber raised his eyebrows at me as I did a mini-Walk of Shame past every single person to get to the empty seat.

"Now, where was I?" Gobber challenged, making sure that everyone had been paying attention to his story.

"You'd grabbed the Monstrous Nightmare by its jaw, and were about to throw it back to Helheim!" Snotlout cheered, looking as excited as I'd ever seen him.

"Right, Snotlout." I pulled out the last item of food in the bottom of the basket, a floppy fish that had seen better days. Honestly, I wasn't that hungry. There was still a massive lump of raw fish sitting in my stomach, far heavier than it should be.

"And with one twist, he took my hand, and swallowed it whole. And I saw the look on his face: I was delicious. He must have passed the word, because it wasn't a month before another one of them took my leg." I nibbled on my fish half heartedly, even less hungry than normal. The fishy taste, normally quite enjoyable, only reminded me of the raw stuff I'd already eaten, barfed up by a dragon. I shuddered, putting my fish down. Why hadn't Toothless kept the fish all to himself? He'd certainly been hungry enough, I remembered guiltily. It was my fault he was trapped in the cove, slowly starving to death.

"Isn't it weird to think that your hand was inside a dragon? Like if your mind was still in control of it, you could have killed the dragon from the inside by… crushing his heart, or something." I nearly lost my stomach contents for the second time that day, and it wasn't pleasant. Having your heart crushed from the inside? I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy, and certainly not on Toothless. The other Vikings seemed to like the idea, and I wished I could get up and leave. Maybe, just maybe, I could go and see Toothless again. And take him some fish? As long as no one noticed it was gone, it shouldn't be too much of a problem, right?

"I swear, I'm so angry right now!" Snotlout glared at his chicken savagely. "I'll avenge your beautiful hand and your beautiful foot. I'll chop off the legs of every dragon I fight." Huh, he managed to complete a sentence without sounding stupi— "With my face!" I spoke too soon.

Gobber shook his head, hastily swallowing a lump of chicken. "Uh—uh. It's the wings and the tails you really want." He ruthlessly ripped a wing off his chicken carcass. "If it can't fly, it can't get away. A downed dragon is a dead dragon."

The pieces suddenly snapped together in my mind, so obvious I couldn't believe I hadn't seen it before. Toothless had injured his tail, if the pain I'd felt earlier and the scabbing wound on his tail were any indication, and with a sinking heart, I realised he might have lost half of it completely. Ships had to be symmetrical to move through the water, and I was willing to bet it was the same for dragons in the air. He had a complete tail fin on the right, but not on the left…

"Alright. I'm off to bed," Gobber yawned. "You should be, too. Tomorrow we get to the big boys." Yeah, like the Nadder and Gronkle were so easy. "Slowly but surely making our way up to the Monstrous Nightmare. But who'll win the honour of killing it?"

I hurried down the stairs and headed to the forge.

I had a project I wanted to work on.

Don't abandon it because 'the moment' has passed and something you wanted to happen didn't! There's something else coming, something bigger, I promise.

~JustAnotherRandomPoster