The hunters on the other side of the island waited with anticipation despite being unable to see the fight taking place miles away from them. Instead they judged the fight based on the amount of time that passed. Either the time would run out or the dragon would come back, no doubt feeling confident in its abilities to kill more hunters, only to be captured once more. Of course there was always the third outcome of the hunter winning, but once lone hunter against a dragon, especially one as feral and as unpredictable as a speed stinger stood a very small chance of surviving at all. This was why hunters were usually seen working in groups when hunting down the dangerous beasts.
Mort, the captain of the Thors Pride shared his mens thoughts. The young viking who he had ferried to the other side of the island was surely dead by now. Judging from the suns position at least seven hours had passed since they released the dragon and still nothing. Yet here he stood at the railing along the port side of the ship just as curious as the others. Although maybe that was because he was waiting for a sign that the fight was over and he could return back to the hunter shipping docks. He couldn't just leave after all. The dragons duel had stated that he had to give the young viking twenty four hours before he was left behind, and he still had seventeen more to go, much to Mort's annoyance. Still, he figured that it wouldn't be much longer before the dragon returned with its jaws covered in the poor souls blood.
At times the hunter captain believed that he had caught a glimpse of something coming at them from the distance but it always ended up being nothing. Just his impatience getting the better of him. The sun certainly wasn't doing him any favours either. The enormous bright orb beated down on the ship and its crew with sweltering heat. It made Mort rather thankful that they had enough water to last for a total of four days. He was about to head back to his quarters, the long hours had finally gotten the better of him until he heard someone go 'hey, what's that?' Causing Mort to hesitantly turn back and look around the barren wasteland. About a minute of searching the captain finally spotted what all the fuss was about. It was too far to properly see but there was something moving towards them. At least he assumed it was heading towards them. The thing of interest was no bigger that a dot.
Nobody moved but instead talked amongst themselves on what they thought it was. The majority of the crew believed that it was the speed stinger while a rare few dared to voice their thoughts that it was the viking himself. It took an agonising two hours before they got their result. As the shape grew closer the outline of a human took form. It was quickly clear to them who the victor was. The few crew members who had indeed gone against the flow of predictions smirked and were even sourly given handfuls of gold coins by those who had put their money on the dragon. However once the viking had finally reached the ship and stood just twenty feet away from the hunters, all smirks and scowls were replaced with surprise and disbelief.
The viking stood before looking like he had fought his way through a battlefield. His short hair was messy and he sweated profusely thanks to the sun. His left arm bloody and covered in long narrow slashes. His face however showed no fear anger or even relief. Just a simple blank stare. Gripped in his right hand was the speed stingers tail. Its body had been dragged along like a heavy bag though the sand and grit. But even with all that there was only one detail the hunters were focused on. Gripped in the vikings left hand was the stingers head. Just the head with one eye punctured. Even for the hunters it was brutal. Having allowed the hunters to observe him the viking slung the body forward, showing off its headless form to everyone and confirming the kill. He then continued forwards, the head still grasped in his hand and entered the ship. Many were unsure why he had cut off the head of the dragon. Judging from the jagged flesh hanging from its neck it was not a clean cut. However Mort knew perfectly well what this was about and gave an amused grin. The young hunter had claimed his first trophy.
2 HOURS LATER
Even though they had now already sailed back home to the dragon hunter docks, Farran had remained within the ships cargo hold alone, sitting down in an open cell collecting his thoughts. His mind, though free from the pressure of battle continued to race. Always circling back to what he had accomplished. He had done what he had set out to do. To him, all that should have mattered was that it was done and that he was ready for his next assignment should there be one. This wasn't meant to be a moment of celebration but a chance to prove his worth, as was his intention upon first being put into the Dragon Duel.
And yet his mind kept going over the battle again and again. Many thoughts crept into his head like what he could have done differently to avoid getting injured like he had done. His arm, while already been treated by healers still stung whenever he moved the limb too quickly. At least it wasn't beyond healing in which case they may have needed to remove the limb just below the elbow. Even that realisation made Farran pale slightly. Still, at least he had come out on top, and he had the evidence to prove it.
His kill, the speed stingers corpse laid down on the opposite side of the cell. Farran remembered the looks on the hunters faces as he revealed his kill. It would, to them at least have seemed odd to drag the corpse of his opponent across an island. Yet he felt he needed to. Show to them all that he had actually killed it and to crush any thought that he had gotten lucky and escaped the dragon. As for the beheading, despite feeling little over his victory Farran still felt it necessary to keep some sort of reminder of today. His first true triumph over the dragon threat recognised by all aboard the Thors Pride.
He soon heard footsteps slowly approaching his cell. Farran merely assumed that it was Heather once more, wanting to see the kill for herself. Fate always seemed to throw the two of them together. Or perhaps it was Mort coming to tell him to clean up the remains of his kill. However, once the person of interest stepped into view, it turned out to be neither.
Instead he found himself face to face with a man he had never seen before. He was rather... unique compared to most hunters. His face carried many features. It was covered in stubble and with red hair standing up on its own. The right side of his face carried a long ugly scar while the other showed some kind of blue marking painted over his eye. He wore only a chest piece on the top half of his body which showed off some kind of dragon Farran didn't recognise. The look on his face seemed unsettling. It was the kind of face one would make when trying to intimidate someone, yet something didn't sit right about his. To farran this look, as well as the guy in general seemed somewhat... deranged.
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Sorry for the short chapter guys. Been kind of busy with work lately/ Don't worry I'll make sure the next chapter is longer :)