I have returned. Once again: This story is purely imagination and time to kill. long live smoothies!

Read, review, ask questions and such, etc.

Disclaimer: I own neither the characters of HTTYD or their respective actors, because I don't believe in ownership over life. I wish owned this computer and the software therein, but my lender doesn't believe in my ownership of Macs; We're working on it.

"Leather, sticks of metal, rope," I murmur to myself as the before mentioned items plunked onto the sand. I had been going through my possibles over and over, trying to think of what I could possibly do with any of them, the leather was too small to wear or even use for shelter (besides, I had my pelt), the thin bars of steel had absolutely no use in my mind, rope , however, is somewhat useable.

"hatchet-okay now we're getting somewhere, knife, flint'n'steel, and whatever the rest of this crap is . . ." I listed off with more charisma, happy dad had left me with something practical to use, can't exactly survive without fire and protection. I heaped all the supplies from the first box back into it, and shoved it aside as I pulled the smaller second chest closer and opened its lid. Food, some of our tough and tasteless veggies piled in with some dried fish meat, filled the small chest to just below the rim. I grabbed a pale carrot and bit off a chunk, then closed the food box, grabbing the hatchet out of the possibles box before closing it too. Holding the rest of the carrot in my mouth like a cigar, with the hatched hanging on my belt, I grabbed my "luggage" and started to drag it through the soft sand, heading inland. Thank Odin that there were handles on the sides, curse Odin that they didn't have wheels on their opposite sides. I only got twenty feet into the dark trees before I stopped, winded, being tied to a mast for a whole day really takes it out of you.

I dropped my stuff up against the stump of a palm, looking for the actual tree in the dark, for hope that I wouldn't have to cut one down myself. Ah, there it was, half buried in the sand. I laced my fingers under the protruding end and heaved up, grunting with exertion as the dead tree slowly rose from its sunken position in the half sand. Whew, now to pull it over to the stump, I planned to myself as I attempted to lift/drag the hefty piece of wood to my stump. Once it was there, I hefted the one end on top of the stump, making an upside down check mark that would serve as a a backbone to pile brush on each side, like a lopsided tent.

"Forget the walls." I wheezed, bent over. I laid down underneath my mock shelter, looking up to see that the moon was almost centered in the sky, time to sleep. Listening to the odd bird calls, and voices of the woods, I wondered just how uninhabited this rock really was . . .

After being dead to the world for the whole night and a few hours after dawn, I rose groggily from my slumber. After eating a few chunks of dried fish for breakfast, leaving the vegetables be, and going through my routine of rummaging through my possibles to see if anything had eluded my appraisal, I deemed myself ready to explore my new temporary residence. Hatchet held ready, knife at my side, food in my pants pocket, I stalked inland. Not long after, I noticed the change of scenery from palm trees and sand to Beeches and rich dirt, how this kind of vegetation had survived in the cold climate in this area, I knew not nor cared.

From my view on the ship I knew that there was a cliff heaped up on one side of the island while the rest stayed flat. If I could get up there, then I'd be able to see the entire island, and possibly find a better spot to set up my lodgings. My thoughts were cut off as I stumbled into a clearing and bumped into something BIG, something that I had prayed never to see again: a dragon. It was curled up, sleeping I hoped, its dark green body was riddled with stripes like a tiger and gnarled horns sticking out haphazardly. Identification from dad's cool picture book, plus its shining wing-scales: Striped Timberjack, speed twelve, extremely dangerous-kill on sight. H-yeah right!

I turned very slowly, plotting the clearest path through the undergrowth, and ran . . .

Dun Dun Dun . . . okay so its not that suspenseful.

Thank all of you for reading these chapters, and forgive me if I fail at writing. Criticize constructively, be gentle with complaints, and most of all: Enjoy!

Thank you to all who have reviewed, input is wonderful!