The gloom consumed the small town on the island of Berk. The buildings were reduced to shadows and the people to mice, scurrying about in fear of the unknown. The slate gray sea swelled beneath the cliffs and the constant battering had taken its toll on the island. The fields were bare and the sheep grazed, looking for meager subsistence in the dirt. Most of the villagers were barricaded in their homes, waiting out the night. Until they couldn't.
Berla heard popping and crackling above her, though the roof seemed intact. She turned to check the fireplace, there didn't seem to be anything wrong with it. She returned to her sewing, humming a little tune. Soon, she could smell something pungent and sickening. She wondered if her mother had burned food again. Berla leaned forward out of her chair to look around, her mother wasn't home. She leaned back as an uneasy feeling settled in her stomach. She kept her thoughts occupied with the complicated stitches she was doing. Right. Left. Under. Through the loop. Right. Left. She stopped when she heard what sounded like the scream of a banshee. The whining turned into roar as it grew louder and someone shouted: "NIGHTFURY!" She fell out of her chair and dropped her fabric. An explosion echoed not far from her dwelling. She crawled across the floor to a closet on the other side of the room. As soon as she closed the door, a lilac ball of fire smashed through her roof and reduced it to ashes. She could taste blood in her mouth and she could smell death, right on her front doorstep and now inside her sitting room. She could hear it circling, searching. She felt the rush of wind in her hair when it finally took off.
She stood up and exited through her now decimated front door. Shadows and flames filled the dark sky and death rained from the heavens. Explosions from the Nightfury echoed from around the village and other dragons burned houses to the ground. Berla panicked and ran towards the cliff side, a cannon was ready on the end of it. She, instead, stood there and looked for something. A bucket of water. A weapon. Something.
She felt the heat of its flames before it came, the Nightmare flew right beside her. It circled around her preparing for the kill. The circles grew smaller and smaller, causing her scalp to burn under her thick hair. A war cry came from the distance, a low, guttural shout. They had come to kill the Nightmare, unaware that Berla was inside the circle. They brandished their axes and shields, eager for a fight. One of the warriors threw their axe, it tumbled through the air towards the lower body of the creature. In a moment, the dragon slithered away and the axe was heading straight for Berla. Unable to dodge the weapon, she took the full force of a blow to the shoulder. In the darkness, the warriors didn't notice her presence or her piercing cries. She was thrown off the cliff and free-fell down towards the raging sea. The Nightmare had returned and flew upside down below Berla. When she landed, it cradled her in its leathery wings. As they flew away from the scene of the battle, the cries of the weak, the roars of the strong, the crackling of the flames, and the clashing of weapons grew quiet. When they reached the other side of the island, the dragon carefully set Berla down. It took a second to discover the full extent of her injury. A pool of red extended around her and she thrashed in agony.
The dragon screeched and called attention to itself, hoping to get anyone from the village could here. Through all the screaming, Berla pried her eyes open. For the first time she could see that the dragon wasn't trying to kill her, it was trying to save her. It soon realized they were too far for anyone who wasn't deaf to hear them. The dragon carefully lifted Berla by the back of her shirt and they took off through the night.
Once they reached the village, the dragon screeched and placed her on a stone ledge. When no one came to investigate, the Nightmare screamed louder because Berla was inches from death and close to bleeding out. A war party on a nearby street noticed the screaming and charged towards the dragon and the now flaming pine trees at the edge of the village. The Nightmare disappeared in a flash and the girl remained still. A spark of lightning illuminated her silhouette with axe still protruding from her shoulder. The warriors rushed over and check to see if Berla was alive.
"Go..." she managed to whisper, "Win the battle, but make sure everyone knows and rattles, that the dragons are good..."
"Not this time, Berla. You've got to live, for your family!" One of the warriors responded. He was tall in his stature and pale beard bobbed up and down when he spoke. He grabbed a long, rectangular shield and positioned Berla on it. The other two soldiers grabbed an end and ran off. The warrior sighed, because, even through the thick layer of blood, that was his battleaxe. He had tried to kill a Monstrous Nightmare, only to end up almost killing a child.
He hoped she would be okay. All he could do was hope...
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Short StorySomehow, somewhere there is a summer class for fanfiction... Fanfiction! Crazy, right? We're supposed to write short stories from a lot of different fandoms, but I didn't want to make 15 works. I'm going to put them all here.
