Louis had what most would call a perfect life. He was the chieftain's son, next in line for the position, and had come first in dragon training at the age of 14. Most Vikings would kill – quite literally – for that honor. He, on the other hand, just saw it as more pressure on his shoulders; another title he'd much rather dump on anyone else.
Their village, a beautiful place called Ullathor, was located on a rather large island in the Northern Sea. For ten generations, they had stood their ground against the dragons and Viking raiders that roamed the area. The dragons they could handle. It was the people they had to worry about. Cold-blooded killers who held most of the sea in an iron grip. Fortunately, though mysteriously, the attacks on their village had stopped about a year ago, right around Louis's sixteenth birthday.
Now, he roamed the woods near the village at dusk, his head full. He thought of the last conversation he'd had with his father the previous night. His loud yells still rang in Louis's ears, a sordid reminder of his everlasting disappointment in his only son.
It didn't matter how many dragons he killed, or how well he helped out the village folk. Louis had never been able to shake off the feeling that maybe he wasn't cut out to be a Viking. He was tall and lanky with the shadow of a beard growing on his chin. He wore his long hair in dreads, cascading down the side of his freckled face. He usually relied on his agility to defeat his opponents, human and reptile alike.
The sun was beginning to wane down into the horizon as Louis stepped over a fallen branch, splintered and jagged. He looked up at the tree it had fallen from and saw a myriad of broken branches dangling from the tops of several trees, as though a giant hand had swiped at them.
"Weird," he whispered to himself, frowning.
He decided to keep going, shooting a few glances at the sky in search of any airborne threats. Though he saw none, he felt a strange sensation in his spine; one of foreboding, and not the good kind. A soft autumn breeze whistled past him, and he pulled his furs closer to him. He'd never liked the cold, which was a problem since their island was no stranger to the harsh winter climate.
His train of thought was broken by a loud voice cursing somewhere to his left. It was followed by a low growl that could only belong to a dragon. Unsheathing his dagger, he broke into a sprint toward the ruckus. Even though the voice was faint, he could still follow the path of destroyed tree branches he now suspected had been carved out very recently.
As he neared the growling, he slowed down, looking around for their source. Eventually, his eyes landed on a clearing. He figured he was miles out from anyone that could help, so he readied his weapon and approached the edge with caution. In the clearing lay a dragon. He recalled all the lectures his best friend Aasim had given him on the importance of properly identifying one.
This one was a Deadly Nadder. Its spiked tail was tucked close to its turquoise body. Its wings, just as bright as its scales, were folded on itself, the right one's tip bent at an odd angle. It laid its head on the ground, growling at a smaller figure standing much too close to its teeth, growling at it as though they were communicating.
The figure, Louis realized, was a girl. She was about his age, with curly brown hair, skin a little paler than his, and a worried expression on her face. Yeah, I'd be worried too, if I was that close to a dragon with no weapon, he thought. The girl, still crouching close to the beast, held out her hand to it.
"Don't!" he said at last, bursting from his hiding spot toward her. He stood a few feet from her, his dagger in his right hand. The girl turned to him in surprise and stood up. She was short, he noticed, so she had to look up to him.
"Oh, thank the gods," she exclaimed, sighing. "I need your help, please."
"Of course," he said, nodding. He approached the wounded beast and brandished his knife. "How did you-."
He was cut off as the girl jumped between the dragon and him, her hands raised. "Wait, that's not what I meant!" she said breathlessly. She shook her head. "He's hurt. We crashed here and his wing got messed up."
Louis took a step back and blinked. She's lost her mind, was his first thought. They were standing two feet from a wounded Deadly Nadder and she wanted to… help it?
"I'm sorry, what?" he said, and it was his turn to shake his head. "You do realize it could kill you, right?"
"You don't understand, he's my friend," she pleaded, glancing down at the dragon, whose eyes were studying Louis intently, as though they could see right into his soul.
"Just get out of my way," he said, shoving her aside and raising the dagger.
He felt the heat before he saw the flames. In a fraction of a second, the Nadder had opened its mouth and breathed a ball of fire directly toward Louis. Had he had to rely on his reflexes, he would have been dead, but the girl had seen it coming and tackled him to the side. The fireball barely missed their heads as it crashed against a tree, charring its bark.
"Whoa, watch it!" he exclaimed angrily, fumbling to his feet, looking for his dagger.
The girl was faster and grabbed it by the hilt before he could reach it. She was once again standing between the dragon and Louis, but her gaze was now trained on the beast.
"Windrider, no! He can help us," she was saying in a soothing tone. The dragon growled menacingly at Louis but glanced at the girl nonetheless. "Just stay calm, let me handle it." To his surprise, it emitted what could only be the dragon equivalent to a sigh, and lowered his head again.
"Are you… talking to the dragon?" Louis asked, baffled. He'd seen people shouting at the monsters, but he'd never heard of any of them answer.
"His name is Windrider, and yes," the girl explained calmly, nodding. "I'm Clementine. I come from another village a day's flight from here."
"Wait, hold up," Louis said, raising his own hands. "You're telling me you… flew here? On that dragon?"
Clementine sighed, closing her eyes. "Yes," she said simply. "I know it sounds crazy, but it's the truth. I've been training him for over a year now. We've been flying all day. Windrider got tired, and he kinda… fell here."
Louis eyed the girl, then Windrider, then the girl again. She stood up straight, her face defiant, as though challenging him to call her crazy again. Despite what every instinct was telling him, he decided to believe her, mostly because she looked ready to kill him with her bare hands.
He looked over her shoulder at the wounded dragon and saw, for the first time, that there was something leathery on its back. Between its wings, a small saddle was strapped.
"And why, may I ask, did you come here in the first place?" he said, entertaining the idea for a moment. "You didn't come to scout us out, did you? We've got enough problems without dragon-riding girls crashing down on our island."
"No, I didn't," Clementine said, her voice weak now. "Our village was… raided by a group calling themselves the Delta. They killed everyone there, including my father and my brother. I barely got out myself. That's why we flew all day."
Louis frowned and leaned against a tree, crossing his arms. "So how did you survive? Or better yet, why didn't any of your people ride off with their own dragons?" he asked, unable to stop himself from chuckling at such an absurd idea.
"I was the only rider," she explained, looking down. "I was flying with Windrider when I heard the screams and saw the fire. I saw my house burned to the ground, my people slaughtered… I couldn't do anything." She closed her eyes and tears filled her eyes, falling to the earth.
He stood awkwardly as she cried, shuffling his feet. He couldn't really focus solely on her, however, as he drifted his eyes toward the dragon every few seconds, fearing it might think he was the one who made its owner cry.
"I'm… I'm sorry about that," he said softly. He thought of the group Clementine mentioned – the Delta – and wondered whether they had any affiliation with the ones who used to attack Ullathor.
Eventually, Clementine calmed down enough to clear her throat and wipe away her tears. "You… you didn't tell me your name," she whispered.
"Uh, it's Louis," he said. He nodded at her.
"Thank you, Louis," she said, smiling. She looked back at her dragon, a frown replacing the smile just as quickly as it had come. "He needs a healer. His wing got messed up when we crashed. Could you help me carry him or something?"
"Whoa, whoa, I can't just bring a dragon into town," Louis said quickly, stepping back. "You have any idea how crazy that is?"
Clementine looked up at him, her hazel eyes shining. "Please, Louis," she pleaded. "He can't fly in this state, we'll be stranded. I'm not a healer, I was never good at that…"
"Uh uh, I'm not bringing some random girl and her pet dragon back," he said firmly. "I've got enough on my plate without you ruining what little respect my father has for me."
"So you're just gonna leave us here to die?" she shot back, her nostrils flaring. "I'm not asking you to parade us in the town square or anything. He just needs a patch and some ointment or something…" She stood with her hands on her hips, glaring up at him.
"I don't care, I'm not risking my life for you," he said, turning on his heel. He began walking back the way he came. "Good luck with your dragon buddy."
"Fine! We don't need your stupid help," she yelled. "Go back to your village, you coward!"
Louis's shoulders tensed, but he kept on walking, pushing through the overgrowth outside the clearing. He didn't even stop to think that he'd left his knife in the girl's hands. He heard Clementine cursing out loud a few more times, followed by more growling from the dragon, Windrider. He wondered what they would do without his help.
"Not my problem," he told himself under his breath, shaking his head. By the time he reached the edge of the village, it was close to midnight. A few people still milled around the paths, some of them waved at him. He acknowledged them with a nod and made a beeline for his house, located on the tallest hill. Despite everything he hated about being the chief's son, he couldn't deny the amazing view it provided.
Just as he was getting to the door, he heard a whistling to his right. He turned to see his best friend, Aasim, standing by a fence with a pack over his shoulder and charcoal smudges on his hands. Aasim was the town scribe's son, and they'd been friends for as long as Louis could remember. He was shorter than Louis, his brown hair neatly combed to the side. He wore a white shirt with a wool coat over it.
"Louis, c'mere," the boy said, gesturing for Louis to follow. Rolling his eyes, Louis obliged and followed his friend around the house toward a dark alley where they wouldn't be heard.
"What's up?" Louis asked, leaning against the wall.
"Where have you been all day, man?" Aasim questioned without preamble. "Violet was looking for you all over, said something about a girl. Not sure if she meant for her or for you, but she seemed nervous."
Violet was Louis's other best friend. A skinny girl with straight blonde hair and gray eyes, she gave the impression of being a sweet person, but in reality, she was one of the fiercest dragon killers in Ullathor. She was also extremely awkward when it came to relationships, even more so than Louis, so they usually exchanged advice on the matter.
"I was… out," Louis said, which was partly the truth. "Just walking around the woods." He shrugged, averting his eyes from Aasim's.
"Yeah, sure," Aasim said, nodding slowly. "Louis, you can talk to me, y'know?"
Louis shuffled his feet. On the one hand, he didn't really have secrets with his best friend. At the same time, he did not know if Aasim would even believe him, let alone know how to advise him on such a situation.
"Sim, I'm fine, alright?" he said, flashing his signature grin at him. "I was just thinking about my dad and got a little carried away with my stroll. I promise I'll invite you next time I have an existential crisis."
"Very funny, Louis," Aasim said, rolling his eyes. "So you're okay?"
"Totally, never been better," Louis said, nodding. He suppressed a rather dramatic yawn and waved at his best friend. "See you tomorrow, alright?"
"Okay, take care, Louis."
"I always do."
He made his way into his house, avoiding making any noise to not wake up his father. After that little success, he reached his bed.
He laid there for about an hour, staring up at the ceiling, a million questions on his mind. Would Clementine survive out there on her own? How had she tamed and trained a dragon? Was he really a coward for leaving here there?
"Yes," he heard himself say almost immediately. He rubbed his face and shook his head. "Ugh, what am I doing?"
He stood up and rummaged through a box, taking some medical supplies and stuffing them in a bag. He rushed out of the house and toward the forest, cursing himself for being such an idiot. Why am I going back there? he kept asking himself, but his body wouldn't respond. It had one mission, and it was to heal that dragon.
"Healing an injured dragon, how hard can it be?" he said under his breath, shaking his head.
It took him an hour to reach the clearing once more. To his relief, Clementine and the dragon were still there. The girl had set up a small fire beside them and was warming her hands, her head resting on Windrider's side. The dragon, Louis noticed, seemed to be asleep. His snores reverberated through the clearing, his injured wing lifted over his body at an awkward angle.
He studied the girl for a moment. Her eyes, previously so set and determined, now stared at the fire with what looked like confusion and hurt. Her cheeks were smudged as though she had been crying very recently. He prepared to be yelled at again.
He propped his bag up on his shoulder and took a deep breath, stepping forward into the light. A branch cracked under his boots, making Clementine jump.
"Who's there?" she asked, looking around frantically, waving Louis's knife around. Eventually, her eyes found him and she frowned. "Oh, it's you. What do you want?"
Louis offered her his signature smile and lifted his bag.
"You said you needed some help?"
