"Ok everyone, first thing's first. Are all your dragons acounted for?"
Hiccup's question was answered with resounding positivity, a lot of the tribe embracing their reptilian companions. The chief smiled "Good good. Now, second of all, all injuries will be tended to by Gothi, so if you have any scrapes, lacerations, or bruising, go see her pretty quickly."
"What about our future Dragon Riders?" Someone asked.
"Yeah what's the shape of the Dragon Academy?" A mother asked worridly.
Hiccup raised his hand for quiet, "I'm still waiting on a Terror Mail from Fishlegs and Heather outlining all the fine details, but I'm sure everyone over there is fine. The Hatchery has survived an attack from a Deathsong before. It's perfectly safe!"
This answer seemed to satisfy the mob of worried parents and relatives, and Astrid guided everyone who didn't suffer serious injuries (I. E. everyone that could still move) out the large doors so they could start rebuilding their homes, or tend to minor wounds. For the children, it was time to comfort their dragons, and for most oif the dragons, it was time to comfort their riders. Hiccup also opened up the old academy to serve as a dragon infirmiry, in case any tame or wild dragons needed help. Gobber was all too happy to assist with that, and the chief was happy to let him help.
Only when all of his duties were complete did Hiccup turn his attention to the young viking that had been brought in. The brown-haired youth was, remarkably, smaller in size than he himself was, and slightly more skinny. But that didn't mean he wasn't toned. While Hiccup himself could never get an ounce of muscle to show, this young viking actually had some beef in his arms and chest.
The dragon was an odd one as well. Sand Wraiths were usually...sand colored. It was odd to see white or black, but white, or cream, was less rare than the pitch this young male sported. The marrkings were odd but not that uncommon, as gold was another variation of brown.
"Who are you, stranger?" Hiccup mumbled, stepping closer.
Toothless suddenly growled and walked in front of his rider. Valka chuckled softly and said without raising her voice above a murmur "The dragon is awake. He's been watching every move you've been making for five minutes now. Toothless wants to protect you, but this young one wants to protect his own rider."
Hiccup looked into the deep dark blue eyes of the prone Sand Wraith, and saw a deep rooted loyalty. "Mom...I think this guy's a rescue. He won't let me see, but I'll bet he's got some wounds under his scales. It's different for egg-raised. Whoever our young friend is, he's a good egg."
"Now now Hiccup." Valka warned "Don't let a viking's treatment of his dragon lead you to the wrong idea about him. Harold cares for Leopald and treats that little Terror like a tiny king, but we know what kind of man he really is."
"I know, but…" The one-legged chief sighed and shrugged "I just have this feeling, you know?"
Valka nodded, and looked over the young viking lying prone. The sandwraith growled at her, but she scratched him under his chin and put him happily on the ground again, much like she did to Toothless during their first meeting.
"Berkian crests...but Outcast leathers. Interesting. Looks like he was a bit of a wanderer as well. That's a Berserker crest on his belt, and his boots are worn to threads.. What I can't understand is what he was doing flying in a middle of a storm!"
"Well, we could ask him, but he's a bit unconscious right now. Trees must have fallen on him pretty hard. His dragon will recover faster than him at this rate."
A groan interrupted the matriarch's response, and a weak voice asked groggily
"Did we make it?"