In How To Train Your Dragon As A Stormcutter

It stood on two legs.

Its wings were tucked in on its sides, and its scales were a strange but oddly bright foray of blue and green. Horns and pointed spikes littered its body. The dragon let out a pleasant roar, and laid down on the forest floor.

Randy tilted his head.

'What is that tail?' His eyes lowered to its spiked tail, 'It's like a porcupine,'

Then it clicked.

'What was that thing called again, a Stormfly?' Randy's eyes widened, 'No...A Deadly Nadder! That's right,'

How could he have forgotten? Regardless, a Deadly Nadder was before Randy, but something made him incredibly excited, as if he were a dog seeing a chew toy.

It was merely pure awe.

To be a dragon, sure, it was exciting, and Randy found some enjoyment, but seeing another dragon with his own eyes, he was sure to just cry from the amount of energy flowing into him. Randy shook his head. He had almost forgotten that while it was cool to see a dragon, it would be just as dangerous now as another dragon, so he had to keep his guard up.

He killed humans, he can kill another dragon.

From the looks of things, it looked like Randy was indeed bigger than this Deadly Nadder. The best idea was to take advantage of the element of surprise and jump on it, which he liked very much. It had been a while since Randy killed. He paused. Why was he excited about killing? Randy was doing his job of defending his territory and home, that's the plan, not killing for sport. He bellowed.

That was exactly the plan.

Silence followed before Randy pounced on the Deadly Nadder. He had taken precautions, and as mentioned, Randy had been silent, so there was no way it would have any time to fight back. However, he must have rustled a bush or crushed a branch from that jump, because the Deadly Nadder manoeuvred itself out of the way. It growled, its slit eyes glaring back at Randy.

"What's the big idea?!"

Randy was stunned. It could talk? Maybe it was because he was a dragon himself, so he could understand its sounds, but still, all those growling, snarling, and weird noises could be articulated into a sentence?

"...Uh..."

"Don't act like you weren't just about to ambush me!" It, or he, exclaimed, "If I weren't-"

The Deadly Nadder tilted over and groaned, his stomach growling. Randy's incentive to kill lightened upon hearing his starving growl, and right after, his need to kill intensified. It was kind of annoying, after all.

"You don't know any nearby fishing spots, do you?"

That caught Randy's attention.

"Fishing spots?"

"Around this island, you know?" The Deadly Nadder asked further, still staying on guard, "If it makes you feel any better, I can tell you a few spots I saw,"

Randy tilted his head with curiosity, and it clicked. The only spots he knew were the storage area, and he was not about to fly over the sea without frightening himself, so perhaps, maybe he could benefit without killing this Deadly Nadder.

"These spots are real, right?"

The Nadder looked at him incredulously.

"I am starving, but I'm not one to wade you through false directions," He narrowed his eyes, "besides, why in the hell would I lie?"

"To be frank...there are many reasons,"

Another growl escaped the Nadder's stomach.

"...Follow me..."

A sigh left Randy before he turned, and looked back at the Nadder, as if to motion to him to follow. The Nadder did. As the two took off into the sky, Randy kept on glancing at him and made sure there were no moves to attack or stab him in the back.

They landed.

"What happened here?" The Nadder looked around at the rubble of the village.

"There," Randy ignored him, pointing a wing to the only standing building, "don't eat all the fish,"

The Nadder sniffed, his eyes widened, and ran over to the storage building, barreling in before he broke open a barrel to devour the fish. Randy sat and watched. It was weird, mostly because the Nadder was less terrified of him and more annoyed or even irritated, as if Randy were a fly buzzing around his face.

"That hit the spot..."

He heard a burp, and the Deadly Nadder walked out, his eyes stern, but satisfied. Randy narrowed his eyes and waited ever so patiently for the Nadder to do his end of the deal and tell him of the places he could so desperately hunt.

"I will not forget this," The Nadder spoke, his eyes narrowed, "however...I will neither forget about that ambush,"

"..."

"Because of that, I will not tell you my name,"

Randy stared at him. Indifferent. Did this Nadder really think he gave a damn about his name? He wanted to scoff.

"And I'll only tell you of one spot..."

That ticked Randy a bit off and made him want to rip the Nadder apart, however, he took deep breaths, making sure not to overreact. The Nadder gazed back at him with the same expression.

"...You did feed me from your spoils," He turned, and looked towards the horizon, as if lining his head accurately, "That way, there is a spot full of fish,"

Randy tilted his head. He was curious, for the Nadder looked down at the dock and just about the direction those vikings he drove out.

"How would I know I found it?"

"You see the island, you'll find the spot," The Nadder huffed, as if it was obvious, "well then...I suppose I must go,"

At this point, Randy glared at the Nadder, his growl low and his throat kindling with a fire blast, but something was holding him back from unleashing it. The Nadder looked at him, his eyes focused and ready.

"You want to do this?" The Nadder asked, his tail whipped around, "I thought you'd be nicer after I gave you the directions,"

"..."

"Must I guide you there myself!?" He huffed, flapping his wings, "if that's-"

"Go," Randy closed his mouth, halting the blast, "just...go,"

"If I ever meet you again..." The Nadder grumbled, taking to the air, "...I hope you learned some manners,"

Randy said nothing. He only watched as the Nadder flew away and disappeared into the horizon, over the ocean that sent a chill down Randy's spine.

'Why didn't I just kill him after he told me?' Randy sighed, turning to the storage room, '...Why am I so angry?'

It was weird, as he felt this boiling frustration within him, maybe it was anger, or something deeper, and much more devious. Was this bloodlust?

All Randy could do was walk into the storage room. He moved past the barrel that the Nadder broke open, and fortunately, there were still many of them, so at least that dragon had no appetite. However, Randy had one. As he dug in, he couldn't help but think of the sea once again while devouring each fish.

'...Stupid fish,'

•••

"Kurt!"

A Viking walked into the town hall. He called out to the man who sat at the end of the large table, who tore into the leg of a roasted chicken, chewing loudly.

"Hmm?"

The man looked at the Viking and grunted before he swallowed, wiped his face, and placed the chicken leg down. He had this calmness to him.

"What is it?"

"Chieftain, there are boats arriving at our port."

Immediately, Kurt stood, taking another chicken leg. He motioned the man to walk with him, and he did as they left the hall and walked down to a cliff overlooking the busy port. Kurt peered over and saw the ships.

"Must we send them away?"

Kurt looked at the man and lobbed him the chicken leg. He caught it with confusion.

"Let me deal with this,"

With that, he walked alone down the steps and to the pier where he laid eyes on the people. Their faces looked hollow. They weren't dead, but it's as if something attached itself to them.

The next thing he saw was two of his men talking to a young man. He looked panicked. His face ran with sweat and his eyes bled with pleas.

"PLEASE HELP US!"

Even his words and voice matched his expression, so Kurt decided to help. He walked over and placed a hand on both men, who moved out of the way so he could speak with him.

"Sir..."

"Take deep breaths," Kurt said, patting his shoulder gently, "What is your name, lad?"

"Aaron," He replied softly, tensing at the pat, "My father, Albin..."

He turned around, and Kurt looked and saw Albin, his right arm, what was left of it, tied up with cloth that was soaked in dried blood. Kurt raised an eyebrow.

"Take them in,"

With that, the withered people walked out one by one. Each man, woman and child was aided and helped by the folk of the village, all given food, water, and shelter within the village.

"Son,"

However, Kurt stopped Aaron.

"Can you tell me what happened?"

Aaron tensed, this time struggling to speak.

"A dragon," He sputtered out, "a dragon attacked our village, attacked us, destroyed our village,"

Kurt's gaze softened a bit. That is why everyone looked shaken to their cores, as he could assume they evacuated.

"My father tried to stop it," Aaron continued with a frown, "now...all he does is clutch his stump and mutter strange words,"

"Hmm...What does he say?"

"I don't know! I..." He sighed, his head in his hands, "...it's something to do with the dragon, I think,"

Kurt nodded.

"You are safe now, lad. Go along now, and get something to eat,"

Aaron listened and Kurt watched as Aaron walked with his people, and next to his dad. He crossed his arms and looked at the boats. The sounds of a dragon attack, the fire everywhere, the bashing of shields against fire blasts, and the slicing of swords and axes into dragon skin. Kurt was quite familiar with it.

However, he took that as an affiliation with the groups of dragons that would raid and pillage his village, and yet, Aaron stated there was only one. Fear can jumble the mind. So, Kurt headed to the hall, where most of the people were sent.

He needed to know.

When he entered the hall, he eyed all the survivors, conversing with each other and his people. At one table, sat Aaron and his father, Albin.

Kurt knew Albin was the chief. He most likely was in the thick of it, considering his wound and what he was told by his son and the people alike.

He walked over to the table, his eyes going to Aaron, who ate a piece of meat, then to Albin. Just like he was told, the man seemed to fiddle with his wound and bandage, and Kurt could even hear slight mumbles from Albin, or was it just his breathing?

"You should eat," Kurt said, motioning to the plates of food before him.

Albin seemed to stop. He met Kurt's gaze, his eyes cold and hollow like the rest, but there was something different. Kurt could not put his finger on it, but something hid beneath.

"I'm not to eat," Albin spoke, his voice low, "not until I have Jugulator's head on a spike..."

"Excuse me?"

"The dragon...the demon...the one who sunk my village into a sea of fire," Albin grumbled, and tightened his only hand around his bandaged arm, "may Odin have mercy on it, for I will have none,"

There was nothing Kurt could say to that, but he could only nod, pretty much understanding somewhat what he was talking about. Kurt scratched his cheek.

"It's best if you get some rest," He reiterated, pushing a bowl of soup closer to Albin, "to fight on an empty stomach is a death wish,"

Albin sat silently. He stared down at the contents of what looked to be a fulfilling soup, and Kurt looked on, hoping the fellow chieftain would fill his stomach.

There was only a grunt from Albin, and with a rumble of his stomach, he reluctantly picked up a spoon and began to eat, continuing to mutter on about nothing. Kurt looked over at Aaron.

"Jugulator?"

"That's what he's been muttering," He replied with a sigh, finishing a piece of meat from the chicken, "I don't know why...if it's a way to cope, or something."

After that information, Kurt walked away to tend to any others that might have needed it. Still, a thought peeped. What dragon could have done that, to not only destroy a village, but to put men like Albin in a state like that...Kurt shook his head.

It must have been a large dragon.