A/N:Thank you so much to everyone for all the support! I hadn't intended to continue this, but the response was far greater than I was expecting, so I elected to keep going. I haven't got a big plan for this story, so it really could go anywhere. Feel free to let me know if there's something you'd like to see!

Special thanks to potatosock, DoomsdayBeam, Carlmike, Jelloshots and AtkiakFF for taking the time to leave a review and give me the much needed encouragement!

CracktheSkye -Thanks for your constructive criticism, it really helped and I edited the first chapter accordingly. I found it read much better after I did that, so thank you once again. Thank you so much for all your comments, they really meant a lot. I hope the world buildin I've added in here lives up to the first chapter. :)

~x~

"Hicc-up."

The boy has been repeating the strange word for the majority of our walk and I am starting to have concerns I might end up repeating it in my sleep. He trails along just behind my left shoulder, irregularly brushing up against my folded wing. Walking is not easy for a Dragon on a good day - walking through dense forest is definitely not my description of a good day. My feet ache fiercely and it takes concentration to avoid scraping my wings on trees. Several times I've been forced to alter direction slightly to avoid a gap I can't fit through.
"Hicc-up. Hiccup. Hiccup, Hiccup!" The boy carries on behind me and I flatten my ears against my head, wishing I could drown him out. Is that all you can say? I wonder irritably, though if he was to say anything else I wouldn't understand anyway. Might as well name you Hiccup, since you like it so much.

The forest floor is littered with vegetation, twigs that poke at the tender spaces between my talons and moss that sticks unpleasantly. The hatchling - Hiccup - is not having much better luck; I have heard him fall several times, but I am quietly impressed by how quickly he gets back up. I had always thought human children sit around and cry, but this one -

Sniff.

Oh dear. I am almost afraid to look, but the same part that had been discomfited by the idea of leaving the child is apparently just as concerned by crying. I stop and turn to find my charge has fallen several feet behind and is sitting upon the ground. He stares at me with liquid eyes and I am not so stupid I don't see the pleading in the gaze, although I can't figure what he wants. Take the child with you, what could possibly go wrong? I berate myself as I walk back to where he waits, and it is only when I get close I smell the faint tinge of blood.

Haven't even had him for a suncycle and he's already injured. As I draw near, the liquid in his eyes spills over and it is suddenly like a dam breaking. I've only ever seen a dam break once, but I find the comparison apt; the first drops quickly morph into a steady stream, accompanied by hitched breathing and I can see this is going nowhere good. I sniff gently at the boy, looking for the source of his injury. Aside from crying he sits quietly, whimpering only slightly when I get to his rear paws and my nose brushes the tender flesh. His rear paws are scratched and while there is only a little blood they do look painful. How, in the name of the Sky Mother, do Skinchangers ever get anywhere? I can't help but wonder. Even a Hatchling knows Skinchangers get around by walking on their rear paws, but how do they manage that if their skin is so fragile?

Tiny paws touch the top of my head, brush lightly against an ear flap and I have to tamp down on the instinct to flinch. Hiccup seems oblivious to my unease, and in fact even goes so far as to actually pull on my ear. It is not enough to hurt, but is so surprising that I don't even think to pull away. The next thing I know, the little Terror has climbed gracelessly up over my head and settled himself on the natural dip where my shoulders and neck meet.

And I freeze.

I am not a horse! Is my first thought, liberally coated in stung pride. Hiccup giggles, his little rear paws drumming uncomfortably on the sides of my neck and I am reminded of the blood and his tears. No I am not a horse, but he cannot walk on his own.

Sky mother save me, what have I gotten myself into?

I resign myself to my fate with a quiet sigh, and set off once more for my cliff. I expect Hiccup to keep kicking his legs, or to perhaps strangle me when I begin moving, but I am pleasantly surprised when the boy does neither. He sits comfortably and weighs so little that after a while I almost forget he's there. Almost. My pride is still wounded, but I will tolerate the indignity for the sake of my new hatchling. Hiccup's blunt little claws scritch at my neck as I walk, and it feels nice enough that my whole day looks a little more improved. I can drop the Hatchling back at my cliff and then I can hunt us some lunch. I hope humans can eat fish, because it's my favourite and the easiest to hunt.

The trees disappear rather abruptly and I stop in shock; I hadn't even realised how much ground we were covering. The wind is much stronger here at the cliff edge, whipping at my face and combing along my wings. The urge to fly is strong, and the groaning of my stomach only makes it worse. I make my way to the edge of the cliff and stare down at the ledge that's been my home since Mother left. Now, do I climb down with Hiccup or do I -

Hiccup whimpers and suddenly his legs are strangling me. With some difficulty, given how tightly he holds onto me, I angle my head enough that I can see him. He is looking nervously at the roiling ocean below and fidgeting upon my back. I look away from the Skinchanger and down to the ledge and I almost sigh as holes start appearing in my plan. Perhaps a Skinchanger child left alone on a cliff ledge is not the best idea. The forest doesn't look like an ideal place to leave Hiccup, either, with all that open space; there could be wolves, or bears or any other form of trouble. The cliff is pockmarked with plenty of small recesses and caves. The idea of leaving Hiccup somewhere he could so easily fall makes me nervous, but the inaccessibility of a cave appeals to me. Getting to it will be a challenge, but I'm sure the child can hang on if I take it slowly.

I don't give Hiccup time to react to what I'm planning; I feel like the faster I get it over with, the less frightened he will be. I spread my wings and push into the air as smoothly as I can. This close to the cliff edge the wind catches beneath my wings immediately and I spiral upwards. Hiccup screams, a small sound that cuts off almost as soon as it begins. He clings to me with strength I wouldn't believe his tiny frame would possess. I angle downwards, drifting parallel to the cliff face and examining the honeycomb surface of the wall. It takes a while before I find one I'm satisfied with, but eventually I settle upon a small, narrow opening near the top of the cliff. The size of the opening denies entrance to larger Dragons, while my own lithe frame will fit quite neatly. The interior of the recess is smaller than I had originally thought, but still suits my purposes well. It takes some careful manoeuvring to get through the opening, and the space is really only just big enough for the two of us. Hiccup slides from my back almost immediately, plopping to the floor on his rear and glaring defiance up at me.
"Bad." He growls, folding skinny arms across an equally narrow chest. I have no idea what the word means, but I can guess that he is reprimanding me for the impromptu flight.

Not one to be scolded by my own hatchling, I make sure to gently thwack him with my tail on the way back out.

~x~

The hunting goes surprisingly well, and I am near to bursting with pride when I return to our den laden with armloads of fish. I spill the pile proudly before Hiccup, who gives the entire thing a distasteful look. This is fine, as I am not expecting him to eat just yet. Hatchling Dragons often have the same reaction when they first come across food; fish doesn't seem to develop any appeal until we are strong enough to digest it on our own. My stomach is rumbling so loud I fancy I can feel the walls vibrating, but duty means I must wait for my meal. I swallow the first fish and try to ignore the delicious, oily flavour that bursts on my tongue. Hiccup watches dubiously as I sit for a moment, waiting for the fish to partially digest. When I am ready, I lean over my hatchling and regurgitate the softened, slimy fish into his lap.

There, hatchling. I have provided for you, like any good father. I sit back on my haunches and wait, feeling inordinately pleased with myself. Males quite often take on the responsibility of feeding newly hatched young, hunting and storing food to feed both himself and his mate while the eggs harden. When the eggs hatch the parents switch places, leaving the father to care for the Hatchlings while the mother hunts. I hadn't thought to be feeding any Hatchlings for many more mooncycles, if not longer, but here I am. Hiccup stares aghast at my offering and then, delicately pinching the tail between two of his nimble little claws, he drops it on the ground next to his feet.

I am truly baffled. Is he sick, or injured? Is this why he will not eat? Do young Skinchangers not eat? Hiccup's stomach growls loudly, answering the last of my questions. He is hungry, and yet he does not eat my food. Perplexed, I contemplate the rest of my pile of fish. Perhaps he is older than I originally estimated, and he does not need his food digested? Yes, that seems right. I mimic his earlier motion, although with far less grace, scooping another fish from my pile with my talons and dropping that into Hiccup's lap. He looks far less disgusted by this offering, although his nose still wrinkles and he makes no attempt to eat it.

Frustration and hunger gnaw at me simultaneously. What does he want? I know nothing of Skinchanger children. Is there something I am doing wrong?

Splat!

The fish strikes me directly between the eyes, sticking to my face for a moment before it falls to the ground with a noisy 'plop'. Hiccup crosses his arms and stares at me, leaning forward so that I can't help but notice the mutinous expression on his face.
"Bad!" He enunciates carefully and then punctuates this by nudging the fish with one paw. The fish that I caught, that for some reason is not good enough. Irritation surges through me and I can feel my tail lashing back and forth behind me. I don't mean to, but a tiny burst of flame erupts from my mouth, and rather than direct my ire at Hiccup, I focus on the fish. It sizzles instantly and goes a little black; the smell that wafts from it is utterly foul, but Hiccup's face lights up. He snatches the fish from where it lies, yelping as the heat burns his paws. I watch in utter disgust as he blows on the fish until it cools and then tears into the slightly blackened fish.

Skinchangers are disgusting.