Chapter One

I found the Night Fury by accident.

Unlike most people around here, I am not at all interested in dragon watching. In fact, I avoid dragons as much as possible. Not because I'm afraid of them—considering that they're big fire-breathing lizards, they are remarkably tolerant of humans. So long as you don't threaten them or get too close, they'll leave you alone.

At least the dragons here at Berk will. Berk is the largest island in the Northern Archipelago and it's famous for three things: cold weather, the weird names/nicknames of its inhabitants, and for being the home of the last flock of wild dragons. No, the dragons are not always on Berk. They fly all around the Archipelago. But the ocean around Berk has the best fishing-something to do with the fish migratory patterns-and fields and big caves where they like to nest, so the dragons are here a good bit of the time.

Back in the Middle Ages, there was a great dragon war that lasted nearly three centuries. No one seems to know exactly how or why it ended, but humans and dragons have been co-existing pretty peacefully since then. Mostly.

I say 'mostly' because we do have occasional accidents-usually some crazy tourist who comes to see the wild dragons, ignores all the warning signs, and tries to pet one or take a selfie or something stupid like that. Even more rarely, it'll be a poacher. No one has died, not in my lifetime, but there have been a few cases where people were burned or scratched pretty bad.

That's rare, though. Mostly the dragons ignore people if you keep a safe distance.

So I'm not scared of them. But I don't like them. Maybe I'm being unreasonable but I can't help resenting them. If it weren't for dragons, maybe my mom wouldn't have left. Maybe Dad wouldn't be so stern and unhappy. And maybe I wouldn't be such a scrawny little shrimp of a kid.

You see, my mom loves dragons—it's like she's obsessed with them. It's how she and Dad met, actually. She first came to Berk to do field work on her PhD in Dracology. She was studying some Gronkles when she accidently trespassed onto our land and happened to bump into Dad, who has always liked to take long walks around the Vastley family estate.

They started talking, fell in love, and a month later, they got married. But it wasn't quite 'happily ever after'. The Vastleys are the richest, most prominent family on Berk, on the whole Archipelago actually, and, young as he was, Dad was already the mayor. So he had to host events and dinners and attend meetings and such. He wanted Mom to be at his side, but she only wanted to study dragons.

They began arguing more and more often. I think they might have divorced early on, but then Mom found out she was expecting me. Apparently she and Dad were so happy that things got better for a while. (That part of the story makes me smile, or even get a little teary—yea, I can be totally sappy. But it's nice to know that there was a time when my parents wanted me).

But it wasn't an easy pregnancy and Mom had to go on bed rest. Except there was a dragon that she was especially fond of, a red Stormcutter, and when one of her fellow students told her that he had gotten very ill, she decided to get up and go see him.

The Stormcutter got better, but Mom ended up going into labor with me much too early. I wasn't just a preemie—I was an extreme preemie. I spent the first ten months of my life in the neo-natal unit at the big hospital on the mainland. Even now, fourteen years later, whenever I see Dr. Gothburg, she always talks about how it's a miracle that I lived and that I didn't have major medical issues.

I know I was really lucky to end up healthy, and I'm grateful, but right from the start I've always been short and so skinny. I can't help but think that if I hadn't been born so prematurely, I might take after my parents instead. They're both tall and lean, but muscular too. Dad's friend Gobber, who is like an uncle to me, always tells me that kids who were preemies eventually catch up in growth, but I'm fourteen and I haven't caught up yet.

Anyway, my being born too early caused even more stress between my parents, and when I was a year old, Mom was offered a position on a dragon preserve in South Dakota, USA. It was a great honor and it meant that she could work with some of the best scientists in the field. But Dad's family has lived on Berk for hundreds of years. Supposedly some of our Viking ancestors helped to settle it. He didn't want to leave his estate or his job as the mayor.

So they divorced and Mom took off to Dragon Paradise. I stayed with Dad on Berk although I don't think he wanted me anymore than she did. Maybe a little, just because I'm heir to the Vastley name and fortune, but he doesn't really like me. I said that once to Gobber when I was younger and he about had a fit trying to convince me that Dad loves me. I finally said okay, that I believed him and I would talk with Dad about it, but of course I never did.

I mean, really, what would I even say? Hey Dad, could you please tell me that you love me even though I'm not the big, strong, athletic son you wanted? And we have nothing in common and you obviously don't want to spend any time with me because you never do, and if we ever do try to spend time together, I do something stupid and wrong and you end up yelling. But underneath all that, you really do love me, right?

I may be pathetic, but I'm not quite that pathetic.

But anyway, I was telling you about how I found the Night Fury. It was a Saturday in late June. I had snuck out of the house to avoid Dad. Mom had actually called earlier and that always put him in a bad mood. I think she was inviting me again to come spend some time with her over the summer. It's crazy, but I've never actually seen my mother in person. Well, not since I was a baby and I don't remember that. I was still pretty frail and sickly when I was a little kid and Dad would never let me go to the preserve. He said the dragons might hurt me or I might get germs from them and get sick.

After a while Mom quit asking, but the past year she's started again, saying that I'm older now and ought to be able to make my own decision about visiting. I don't like it here on Berk, but I don't think I want to see her either. Even if I did, I'm not sure I would have the nerve to tell Dad. He was really furious when Mom started pushing for me to come to the preserve again.

When Dad is in a bad mood, it seems like I can't do anything right around him and he just gets even more upset with me. I was reading in the library when he stalked down the hall past the open door. When I heard him snap, "That's out of the question, Valka!" I realized he was talking with Mom on the phone and decided that maybe I should make myself scarce for a while. I slipped out the library's side door and down the corridor to the mud room. I switched my loafers for olive-green Wellies, grabbed my blue jacket from its hook, and headed outside.

I went to the beach first. Even in summer, it's much too cold for swimming, but there's a smooth, flat rock near the water's edge where I like to sit and watch the waves. But as I approached the edge of the cliff overlooking our stretch of sand, I could hear voices calling to one another. I crouched behind some rocks and cautiously peered down to see my cousin Sly and his friends already there, having a picnic and playing volleyball. Technically they were trespassing, but I knew Dad wouldn't mind, especially since Sly is family—not to mention being the popular, athletic kid he wishes he had.

Sly and the twins can be bullies to me though, so I stayed out of sight and went to the cove instead. The cove is another one of my favorite places. You have to walk a long way through the woods, on a twisty, narrow path. It ends abruptly at a rock face higher than my head, with a narrow gap that even I can barely squeeze through. But then the cove is the most peaceful place in the world. It's surrounded by gray rock walls, covered with moss and tree roots growing down. There's a waterfall and a cerulean-blue pool, silver boulders, tall trees and grass in a dozen shades of green—in the summer at least. In winter, it's all ice and snow. But it was at its most lush and beautiful now.

I squeezed through the narrow gap and stepped into the cove. Then I froze and just stared. I had almost bumped right into a big black dragon. There were plenty of squirrels and birds in the cove, but I had never seen a dragon there before. He lay on his side and for a minute I thought he must be napping.

Then I saw the blood. He had a deep wound on his left shoulder that was just gushing blood. I wasn't sure how much blood a dragon could lose, but I couldn't imagine him living much longer at that rate. He was already panting in quick, shallow breaths. I ripped off my jacket and held it to the wound, pressing as hard as I could.

"Hey, bud. I'm sorry. I know this hurts, but we've got to stop the bleeding. Please don't breathe fire at me, okay? "

The dragon opened his eyes—bright green eyes like mine—and looked right at me. My own breath caught in my throat. There was so much pain and fear in his gaze. For a minute, it was like looking in a mirror. There was intelligence too. I knew that dragons were smart animals, but at that moment, somehow I knew that he understood what I was saying, that I was trying to help, and that he wouldn't hurt me.

I also realized that we needed help. Berk is not a dragon preserve, but we do have a wildlife rehabilitation center that cares for dragons and other animals that have been hurt. I could call them, but my phone was in my jeans pocket and I was afraid to take my hands away from staunching the wound. I tried yelling for help, just on the off chance that someone might be within earshot, but no luck there.

After a long time, I finally dared to lift one hand away and pull out my phone. I couldn't tell if the bleeding had stopped, or if moving my hand made it worse because my jacket and hands were already covered with blood. I could only pray that I was doing the right thing and that the dragon wouldn't die on me.

Operating my phone with one hand was tricky. I was scared to death I would drop it, but I managed to call Berk's emergency number and almost cried in relief when Ingrid Hofferson answered.

"Hi, Mrs. Hofferson, this is Hiccup Vastley. I'm with a hurt dragon. He's bleeding to death and I need to contact the Wildlife Rehab Center."

She connected me to the Center and then I had to try to tell the veterinarians, Sven and Phlegma Jensen, how to get the cove. We all realized at once that it was going to be difficult, if not impossible, to get the dragon out of there.

"It's a sunken area, with rock walls?" Phlegma asked. "Sven, we're going to have to rapel down in there."

Sure enough, a short time later they were carefully but quickly making their way down the side of the cove's walls. Berkians are a pretty tough lot, except for me.

They approached cautiously and the dragon raised his head and seemed as if he were about to struggle despite the wound and blood loss.

"Hey, bud, it's all right. They just want to help. You've got to be calm so you don't start bleeding again, okay?" I was terrified that he was going to bleed out before Sven and Phlegma could patch him up.

The dragon relaxed somewhat and laid his head back down.

Sven gave me a grin. "Looks like he understood you there."

He was joking, but the truth was that dragon did understand me. I knew it didn't make any sense, but I knew in my heart that he did.

"We need to sedate him so we can clean the wound and see what we're dealing with." Sven was all business now.

"You'll feel a little pinch, but it's all right. It'll help you to sleep while they're taking care of you. When you wake up, you'll feel much better," I explained to the dragon.

Both vets gave me odd looks and I could feel myself turning red. I was already considered the odd kid on Berk; I could only imagine how people would laugh about me holding conversations with a dragon. But the dragon remained calm and that was the most important thing.

The next hours passed in a blur. Once the ebony dragon was unconscious, Phlegma and Sven bathed and stitched the wound. I washed blood off my hands in the pool but it wasn't sterile so I couldn't help. I stood at the dragon's head and just watched while they worked. They considered trying to bandage it, but the shoulder was a difficult place to bandage on an animal.

"He'd probably rip it off anyway," Phlegma sighed. "We'll have to hope that antibiotics will be enough."

"Is he going to be all right then?" I asked. If anyone had told me that morning that I would be so anxious over a dragon, I would have thought they were crazy, but I couldn't deny it—I felt a real bond this guy.

"Well, I hope so," Sven answered. "He lost a lot of blood, but at least he'll be too weak to fly for a few days, maybe a week or so. That'll give us time to get some antibiotics in his system to fight infection."

"Maybe the shoulder can heal a little, too," Phlegma added. "We don't want him to rip the stitches out being too active too soon."

They explained that he would need to take antibiotics several times a day—the easiest way would be to mix powdered medicine into his food.

"I could help with that," I offered.

They exchanged looks. "We shouldn't let you. He's a wild animal and you're a minor. But it would be a big help. We're short-staffed at the Center," Phlegma said slowly.

So we agreed that they would come to the cove in the morning, to check on the dragon and give him his first dose, and I would go over to the Center later to pick up medicine. After that, I would be responsible for feeding and dosing him.

"But be careful and don't take chances," Sven warned. "I would hate to have to face your father if anything happened."

"What kind of dragon is he, anyway?" I asked. I've certainly never cared to study dragons in depth before, but I know the basic types—Gronkles, Nadders, Nightmares. But this one was subtly different. He almost looked like a cross between a dragon and a cat.

"A Night Fury," Sven answered. "You don't often see one. I hope he'll pull through."

They began gathering their things.

"Wait, you're just leaving him? Shouldn't someone stay with him?"

Phlegma gave me a kind look. "He's a wild animal, Hiccup, not a pet."

I frowned. "But he's hurt."

"He may be disoriented when he comes out of sedation," she went on more firmly. "And a disoriented dragon can be a dangerous dragon. It's safer if he's alone when he wakes up."

"How did you get in here?" Sven asked, looking around as he and Phlegma prepared to climb out.

I pointed to the narrow gap in the side of the nearest wall.

"You can fit through there?" They looked incredulous.

I nodded. "I do it all the time."

"Well, you'd better hurry home. It's getting dark," Phlegma told me. "We'll see you tomorrow."

It was getting late. I hated to leave the Night Fury, in spite of Phlegma's words. He seemed so helpless lying there hurt and unconscious. But Dad was very strict about me being home by dark and he was already displeased about Mom calling earlier.

I ran all the way home, but still Dad had finished dinner by the time I burst through the double front doors. He was sitting at his huge carved desk in the study, waiting for me.

"Hamish Stoick Vastley, come in here please."

I went to stand before the desk and tried not to fidget while he studied me with cool disapproval.

"I assume you have a good reason for being home so late."

"Actually I do." I told him about the Night Fury and helping Sven and Phlegma, though I did have the sense not to mention that I was going to be caring for the dragon from now on.

If anything, Dad seemed to grow even angrier. "That's not an excuse! You're not a veterinarian. Once the Jensens arrived, there was no reason for you to stay. You were gone all afternoon without leaving word to anyone and then you come home late. Did it ever occur to you that if something happened, no one would know where you are?"

"Dad, nothing happened," I began to protest, but then he stood up and glared down at me so fiercely that I stopped and bowed my head. "I'm sorry."

"Since dinner was obviously not important to you, you may go on to bed," Dad said coldly. "I trust you'll remember the rules in the future."

"Yes, sir," I mumbled and escaped upstairs.

I took a quick shower, but when I went to my room I didn't go to bed. I dressed in warm clothes and packed a flashlight and some blankets into a duffel bag. I prayed Dad would sleep soundly because I had made up my mind.

As soon as he retired for the night, I was going back to the cove to check on my dragon.

Author's Notes: Sly is Snotlout. I've tried to keep most of the names the same, but I just couldn't accept having a modern kid named Snotlout. Also, Hiccup's real names is Hamish Stoick Vastley, but he goes by the nickname Hiccup so hopefully that won't really matter.

It may seem that Hiccup changed his attitude towards dragons very abruptly, but didn't he do that in the movie too? Hiccup in this story didn't really hate dragons-he's too kindhearted to hate anything. He's hurt that his mother loved dragons more than him and he blamed them for that. But he is a gentle soul and when he saw Toothless desperately hurt and needing help, he automatically went to him. Then when their eyes met and he recognized something of himself in the dragon, it created an instant kinship for him.

Sven and Phlegma played a more prominent role here than I had intended simply because they are the veterinarians and Toothless was hurt. They are not major characters but may have minor roles as the story goes on.

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