So here it is, chapter 3. Now that we have cross species interaction I think its important we distinguish "Normal Speech", "Dragon speech", and 'thoughts' .

At first Astrid thought she was blind. Her eyelids felt impossibly heavy, and as much as she tried, she just couldn't ease them open. She could feel a gentle breeze, and the birds were singing freely. That meant she outside, probably in the forest, not a good place to be waking up.

Panic slowly began to spread and her heart rate increased. There was a deep throbbing inside her head, each beat of her quickening heart brought another shot of pain through her skull. Concentrating, she could feel an acute stinging in the centre of her forehead.

Blood, she could smell lots of blood.

There was a large, open wound on her head, she could feel where the skin had been cut away. Still, at least she would get a cool scar out of it. She began to calm down as she realised that her eyes were probably glued shut from dried blood. That would make sense, head wounds bled a lot. She tried to lift her arms to clean it off.

Except she no longer had arms

Memories of the night before came flooding back, and Astrid could remember every detail of her horrific transformation. Panicking again, she started to thrash wildly against her rope restraints, an uncoordinated mess in an unfamiliar body. Forcing her eyes open, she let out an inhuman moan as she was met with the sight of scales. Row upon row of hideous black scales, her scales. She tried to scream.

"AHH, AHHHH, AAHHHGH, HELP ME, HELP ME PLEASE", but to her horror, all she could hear was a Dragon's screech.

The blood was in her eyes now, and they started to water uncontrollably. To an onlooker, it would looked like the mighty beast had broken down in tears. Half blind, she screamed louder, and fought against the rope with every muscle she had. It dug painfully into her new, deformed body as she twisted and writhed around on the floor. The more she moved, the tighter the rope got. She stopped for a second as she felt a thick section of rope pressing firmly against her scaled windpipe.

Astrid made the decision without hesitation, she would end it all rather than live through this hell. She was an abomination, a Demon, a Night Fury. She was her own worst enemy. It was time to end this satanic nightmare. If she was to die, it would be on her terms, even if that meant choking to death. She would tighten the rope and strangle herself as quickly as possible.

Closing her eyes, she whispered a prayer for her soul and for her family. She stammered as she did so. Astrid had seen death rites being performed on the battlefield, but she never imagined she would have to administer them alone, for herself. Mentally, she tried to prepare herself to take her own life. Imagining the pain, the panic and the darkness, she began to tremble. She took a deep breath, savouring the taste of the air one last time. She was hit by a wave of scents and smells. The forest, trees, flowers, animals, people, salt and blood. It was sickening. It took her a moment to realise that, as a dragon, she must have inherited a superior sense of smell.

The thought brought her no comfort, and she threw herself against her restraints before she could change her mind. As she pushed and pulled, and the rope got tighter around her throat. She let out an involuntary, strangled cry as her air supply was squeezed out of existence.

Her legs were straining against the other side of the bola, tightening the rope around her thick, draconic neck. Her tail began to twitch and spasm, her body protesting the punishment, but she held firm. She was beginning to suffocate.

Astrid pushed the thought of air to the back of her mind, instead focusing on the pain, and her hatred for dragons. All her life they had raided and attacked her village, her family. She had seen loved ones die at their claws. She was not about to become one.

As her eyes closed once again she thought of everything she had done in her life, how hard she had tried to make the Hofferson's proud. She would honour them one last time, by getting rid of one more devil. She could only hope that the doors to Valhalla were still open.

"Oh the God's hate me" Hiccup mused as he trod along the path for what must have been the third time that day.

"Some people lose a cup or a knife, but I manage to lose an entire dragon". He scribbled angrily over the map he had spent most of last night making. The sun's rays flickered as a gentle breeze blew across the tree tops. It was past noon and he was no closer to finding the Night Fury or Astrid. Hiccup wasn't an idiot. He knew that the chances of Astrid still being alive were next to nothing, but he had lightened up considerably since the funeral. It was funny what a gentle walk through the forest could do for his mood. At least he wouldn't have to help rebuild the village, not that he was any help. Loki must have had a field day with Hiccup, as it seemed the only thing that he was truly talented at was needless property destruction.

"Maybe that's why Dad never let me become a small-home-repair Viking…"

Hiccup had no illusions that he would have to become a warrior. With Astrid out of the picture, he would be forced into dragon training, even if just to make up the numbers. Being the son of one of the greatest dragon slayers in Berk's history was just something else he could bring to the table. Or just another way to disappoint everyone he knew.

Speaking of dragon slaying, Hiccup had brought his trusted knife to finish the creature if he found it. The blade caught the sun as he slid it out of the sheath. Turning it over in his hands, he couldn't help but marvel at the fine engravings running down from the tip to the handle. There were only a few, (the blade was a pitiful length), but they were all beautiful. It was his first decorative work without Gobber's help, and he was so proud. Two long, thin serpents wrapped around each other up the length of the metal, each individual scale lovingly etched into the dragons' hide. No matter what his Dad said, Hiccup still considered it one of his greatest achievements. He did have plans to give it to Astrid one day, but that turned out well…

"Hiccup, you are so talented…" he murmured to himself, right as he walked headlong into a low hanging branch.

Looking up, he saw that the tree had been split in the middle, like somebody had scored a direct hit with a catapult. It wasn't natural, he was certain. The broken pine lead to a long trench that ran down a steep slope. Whatever had torn through the forest was big, like 'dragon sized' big.

Hiccup's breathing quickened. He climbed down the slope, careful to avoid falling and sliding straight into what could be the very irate, fire breathing offspring of death itself. He moved as silently as he could, his years of avoiding perpetual bullying finally seemed to be paying off, as he reached the rock at the bottom of the hill undetected.

He risked a glance over the top, and quickly ducked again when his eyes caught the sleek black scales. He pressed his back up against the rock and squeezed his eyes shut. He waited, frozen still for a full minute of pained silence before he looked again.

The dragon was lying, still as death at the edge of a small crater where it had landed, and it had landed hard. Its head was rested on a blood soaked rock, most likely the cause of the injury to the Night Fury's forehead, although the thick scab was almost indistinguishable from the scales. The bola was wrapped tight around its wings and legs, and also its throat. Hiccup looked on with moderate disgust. He hoped that it had died quickly, and hadn't choked itself slowly, with no hope of escape.

Was it dead? He supposed he would have to check. But then again, what if it woke up and broke out of the bola?

'Impossible' thought Hiccup, 'I designed it myself'.

"Yes" he whispered to himself. "I did this…"

Astrid awoke with a small moan. There were no illusions this time. She was not in Valhalla, but she was not dead either. She was trapped in a Night Fury's body, which was trapped in a bola somewhere in the forest. After she passed out, she'd stopped struggling and the ropes must have loosened up enough for her to breathe.

'Stupid girl, can't even kill yourself right.'

Her thoughts were interrupted by a tiny gasp and a warm hand on her leg. She opened her eyes, taking a second to adjust to the brightness.

"Hiccup?" she rumbled.

The boy visibly flinched at the sound, and she could clearly see the horror written across his face as her eyes locked with his. She felt oddly relieved, at least now she was certain to die. She could only ever be a danger for her village from now on - that much she knew. She could still remember how she felt the night before, how she behaved, like a dragon. In a way, it was probably best for everyone that the chief's son would be the one to claim the glory. Maybe he could make something out of this mess. Hiccup raised the knife.

"I'll kill you dragon. I'm… I'm gonna cut out your heart, and bring it to my father!" he tried to yell.

"Yes, please, do it now!" She knew that Hiccup wouldn't understand, but it comforted her to say it. It felt like she was confronting death, like a warrior, like her uncle used to tell her.

"I'm a Viking". He raised the knife high above his head, "I AM A VIKING!"

"Just kill me, please… quickly… now", she pleaded, trying to end the nightmare as soon as she could. Her eyes shut as she slumped back in defeat. She held her breath and waited for the deadly blow.

It never came. She heard him mutter something like "I did this", before the restrictive bola came undone. Opening her eyes, she saw the boy sawing through the rope with the serrated edge of the knife.

"No No NO NO!" she screeched and shot forwards, a mixture of rage and half-forgotten instincts fuelling her movements. She pinned down the toothpick of a boy with a massive black claw.

"Stupid boy. You were supposed to kill me!" She stared him directly in the eye, her grip tightening around his thin, fragile throat. For a second her anger got the better of her. Here was everything he could ever want, tied up and presented to him. He would finally be respected by everyone in the village. All he had to do was plunge the knife into her heart.

He was a coward, a failure. The one thing in his miserable life that he needed to do, and he had backed out. She could see why Stoick was so disappointed in him. He was struggling to breathe now. She didn't care that he was the son of the chief, he had denied her a rightful place in the halls of her ancestors, and he would pay.

He was clearly terrified, it was a wonder that he hadn't fainted yet. She's seen him faint at less before, the weakling. She stared long and hard into his deep green eyes. She could see the fear, she could smell the fear. Oh gods, since when could she smell fear? She could not kill him, that would make her no better than one of the beasts. For a moment, her grip loosened.

"As far as you're concerned, I'm a wild Night Fury. Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

Whatever his motives were, the boy was a fool, but she had an idea. If she could scare him away, he would go back to Berk and get help, and she could finally die a warrior's death. It was all she could do. A real dragon would never just let him walk away.

She reared back, and slammed her paws down right by his head. She opened her mouth and vented all of her anger and frustration into the loudest roar she had ever heard.

The trees shook as birds took off in flight. Every creature for miles around became suddenly and immediately silent, as they recognised the danger from the world's most deadly predator. Astrid couldn't believe it. She had roared like an animal, a dragon. For a second she had thought about… she almost killed him. Hiccup, the goofy son of their heroic chief. She was becoming one of them, a beast. She deserved to be mounted on the wall as a decoration. She began to shake.

"I'm… I didn't… I… I'm so sorry"

Before Hiccup recovered from his daze, she turned and fled through the undergrowth, making a distinct track for Hiccup to follow. She seemed to have more control of her legs as she stumbled through the forest, tears streaming down her horrifying scaled face. To think that she had been so pretty before she was twisted into a lizard freak. She cursed whichever sadistic God was responsible. Probably Loki, nobody else had the imagination.

Blindly crashing though bushes, she didn't realise what was up ahead until she met a sheer drop. Her momentum was too great, there was no way she could stop in time. She barrelled over the edge, a sick feeling in her stomach as she began to fall. Eyes shut tight, her wings instinctively tried to keep her airborne, but she immediately spiralled out of control and plunged straight into an ice cold lake.

The cold bit into her, sending her into shock. Her unfamiliar muscles seized involuntarily as she was dragged into colder and colder water. The surface drifted further and further away, her limbs felt like iron weights. Reeds brushed against her scales as she neared the bottom. Her wings hung uselessly, suspended in the water. She cracked open an eyelid. Thin rays of light cut through the lake at irregular intervals. She could clearly make out a shoal small fish with her draconic vision, busily flitting around the shallows, oblivious to the enormous body that had invaded their domain. For a second, she was calm.

Her shaking came to a stop, and after a minute floating aimlessly, she let go of her body. She imagined the cold water sucking the life out of her wretched body. She smiled inwardly, imagining the gates to the afterlife sliding open for her. An eerie sense of complete relaxation took hold. Scenes from her life twisted together and played through her mind, not in a flash, but in a silent, colourless procession. She saw her uncle, her father, her mother, the chief, the whole tribe, all gathered together in the great hall, toasting to her sacrifice with proud, tearful faces. Memories and dreams bled into each other. She was just child running through the village as the first of many winter storms blew in from the North. There was the danger and excitement, but also the warmth of the family hearth and her mother. It was time for her to go home.

She was dimly aware of her mind slowing and drifting away with no air to breathe, but she could not bring herself to care. Retreating into her dreams, she surrendered her body to the water. Astrid the shield maiden was ready to die.

But Astrid the dragon, was not.

From deep within her spirit, a screaming, feral force took control of her body. A voice of survival that refused to give in; an ancient instinct whose raw will to survive had been keeping creatures fighting for life since time immemorial. Snapping back to consciousness, Astrid was barely in control, and her body acted as if possessed. She let out an involuntary screech as her brain realised the air had run out. Folding her wings, she powered upwards, legs burning. The instinctive need to breathe had gifted her the ability to swim, and overwritten all other thoughts. Her sense of honour forgotten, she desperately fought towards the surface. Even in her frenzied state, her strength was failing. If she did not get out soon, she would surely drown.

The icy lake mocked her efforts, and her body felt heavier with each passing second. She was no closer to salvation. She was out of air, out of energy and out of time. The surface was just too far away. The barrier between life and death seemed impossibly high, and she was on the wrong side.

"I AM NOT DYING" she roared, not caring for the water that entered her mouth and lungs. Her vision went red, and she lost control as every facet of her being was focused on reaching the light above her.

She broke through the surface with a huge gasp, coughing up water. With the last of her energy, she kicked hard towards the edge of the lake.

Using her claws, she dragged herself onto the shore, before collapsed a heap, coughing long and hard, and eventually tasting blood. An impossible amount of water flooded out of her lungs before her first, stinging breath. Her body began to hyperventilate, desperately trying to keep itself alive. Unable to move, she was totally overcome by cold, pain and exhaustion. It felt as if the entire dragon body was screaming in pain at her as she lay on the loose rocks by the shore. But for the first time since her transformation she felt a different emotion cutting through her exhausted mind, coursing through her veins and clouding her thoughts.

Brave Astrid Hofferson, the dragon slaying protégé, was paralysed by fear.