Disclaimer: I do not own Hiccup or Toothless, or any other characters mentioned in this fic, as well as any of the original plot I may use. They belong to Cressida Cowell and DreamWorks.

AN: Well here we are on another beautiful Thursday. And I am on time :P Happy day! Truthfully, I didn't think I would make it. But I persevered and prevailed against the mound of homework and demanding-attention-seeking computer games! And now, ladies and gents, please enjoy the latest instalment of Disowned Birthright.

The air had cooled greatly by the time I awake again. Opening my eyes, I see the great expanse of dark sky with the ancestor's lights blinking down on the world, keeping their ever watchful eyes on the hatchlings of the world. A sense of peace falls over me while I breathe in the crisp air of the fading autumn.

Reminding myself where I am and the past events, I flex my muscles, at first slowly, then when no pain comes, with more force. Thanking the gods for gifting my race with quick healing, I get to my paws and stretch luxuriously and yawn widely. My tender ribcage twinges, but besides that I am in perfect condition. Just to check, I call on my fire-breath and feel it rumble its way up my throat. For a moment I hold it in my mouth to enjoy the warmth and then, before the gas is eaten by the hungry blue flames, I shoot the shot at a nearby rock, scorching it black.

An amused thought permeates my own, startling me, 'The fire still burns strong, brethren?'

Whirling around, a growl already in my belly, I curse myself for expecting solitude from my kind as I had on my hatchling's island.

A Catch-Fire is standing tensely an acceptable distance away for a stranger, though his words are those of a close member of a flock. His distance is wise, after addressing not only an elder dragon but also a stranger in such a familiar way could be easily seen as a challenge, or an example of disrespect. He is young, much younger than my 156 sun cycles. Perhaps he is unused to the avoidance and the isolation given to the dwindling numbers of my species, the Thunder-Fires. To speak to me in such way would grant him the same title of outcast that has been given to us.

Anger, as well as fire, burns in my oesophagus, 'Who do you think you are talking to, youngling? I am an outcast species; I am no brethren to you.' I have to fight down the need to rip my claws through his scales to correct his attitude. Clearly, none had done so before. I'm disgusted by the state of disarray the dragon race is coming to.

'On the contrary, you are incorrect. I saved yours and the life of your pet last night. You would not still breathe if not for me.' Smugness coloured the Catch's voice and a little pride too. How I wish I could wipe that smirk off his face. But if he speaks the truth… then I am indebted to him.

'What if I do not believe you, youngling? Perhaps you think having a Thunder-Fire in your debt would be a fine thing? Well let me tell you some –'

'Check you right back foreleg and the tip of your wing on the same side. I have not lied. I only witnessed your fall from my nest and sought to do a good deed. I did not realize your species before I caught you; even if I had it would make no difference. I am not pure Catch. My great-Ma was Thunder.' I stare open mouthed at him after checking my leg and wing. There are indeed marks that could only be made by another dragon's claws on them. I study the other dragon's physique; he could have carried my weight, even in the storm, and the weight on my hatchling is insubstantial. Not only that, but this male is an outcast like myself. The dragon race is cruel. No matter where in your bloodline it be, if it is known that you are part Thunder-Fire you are put under exile with the pures.

So, as is custom, I bow my head and raise my wings straight in the air as if I were about to take off, 'Ai, my fire burns strong. My life is aglow, and it is yours until I may return the honour you have given me.' The standard debt custom words are almost foreign on my tongue; it has been so long since I have spoken them. Still with my head bowed, I await the Catch's reply. To deny that my life is his would be a great insult, as would brushing aside the grave offer. If he did either, it would show that my life was meaningless to him and that he had no respect for me as a dragon.

A hesitation and nervousness surge through my mind from his, and for a moment he says nothing. Then, 'And may your debt be paid quickly, Dragon.'

I raise my head and lower my wings, satisfied that he knew the ritual. Baring my fangs at him in a real smile (not the kind I give my hatchling, as he would be frightened if I did), I ask his name.

'Grrek Knot,' he says proudly. I nod in approval of his true dragon name that is worthy of a pure.

'A pleasure, Grrek Knot, I am Nomad Fyre,' The Catch winces at my name. While his is an honourable name, mine marks me for my status of exile. 'I was mistaken. You are my brethren. How new it is to say such a thing.' I cannot help but be happy with how things are unfolding. A dragon willing to bare my company, even for a short time. I would have never hoped for such a thing.

Before Grrek can say anything in response, I feel my hatchling awakening, his previously muted emotions growing in strength as he becomes conscious. The other dragon freezes but I happily pad over to him and am about to nudge his back with my nose when I notice his shirt is torn and that the fabric of it is darkened by… O good gods above. Blood, a lot of it too. My vision fades out in panic for a moment before I regain control over myself. It was just a scratch, it had to be.

When I look, I can tell that it is much more than a simple scratch. A deep gash ran from his right collar bone over his shoulder and all the way down to the back of his left hip bone. There were rocks and dirt and bits of grass in the wound.

I quickly examine my hatchlings emotions again, to see if he's in a great amount of pain. That's when I become aware of the fevered pitch to them, how erratic and cloudy they are. My human is sick; in danger. Worry clenches my gut and I stand helpless over him.

AN: There you have it, an entire chapter from Toothless' point of view! I honestly just made up all of this stuff out of my head as I was writing; I haven't read the series by Cowell. Any similarities or differences are not my fault, this is simply my imagination at work :P Let me know what you think of the Nightmare – or Catch-Fire ( because they light themselves onfire and "catch fire", haha lame I know:P) I couldn't of course use the name Monstrous Nightmare because that is a human term for them – and of Toothless! Review and/or add me to your story alerts :P Spread the love 3

OOO and for those that bother to actually read my long-winded author's notes then please go to my profile and check out my brand new oneshot, Fallan's Promise! It is for a different fandom, let me know what you think of it :P