Caged Monster

The is Berk

This is Berk.

Beautiful isn't it? Twelve days north of Hopeless and a few degrees south of Freezing to Death. Located solidly on the Meridian of Misery.

Cheery. But hey, at least it's sturdy. After all, we've been here for seven generations yet every single building is new. We also have fishing, hunting but the beautiful things are the sunsets. We have the most charming view of them in the whole Arhepeligo.

I sigh and lean out of the window, staring at the scene before me. Dragons. Our resident pests and the ones that bring my voices. Great.

Then they attack. One small good thing with my 'peculiarity' is that I understand their attacks. Like how they're about the set my house on fire. Oh. I race down the stairs pulling my hood up to cover my ears and lifting my tail slightly off the ground. When I reach the door I slightly look out of it, before slamming it hurriedly on a swirl of fire. Good thing the blast wasn't strong enough to get through the door.

I open the door again, this time racing out of it with my cloak billowing behind me. I mentally sigh as people start yelling at me to "get inside". Yeah, ha ha! No. It's on fire at the moment. Trust me, I wouldn't be out here where the voices are louder if I didn't have to.

Not looking where I was going, I race into the middle of a pathway before a yank on the neck of my hood pulls me back and away from the stream on fire where I was just standing. Oops.

I twist round to see Stoick the Vast, chief of our tribe, with a meaty hand clasped onto the back of my cloak. His green eyes glaring harshly at me, anyone else would've winced at the intensity of it.

"What is she- what are you doing our here? Get back inside!" He yells, throughing me down roughly as I scamper away. Few. I do not want to be discovered to be half monster by him. The villagers say he popped a dragon's head clean of his shoulders when he was just a baby.

Do I believe it?

Yes I do.

I race into the entrance of the blacksmith where I help Gobber fix and make weapons. It's the only thing about me that's not useless, and everyone thinks that Gobber is who does all my work.

"Nice of you to join the party! I thought you'd been carried off!" Gobber shouts over the screams from outside, gesturing to me with his interchangeable prosthetic hand.

"What, who me? Nah, come on! I'm waaaay too muscular for their taste. They wouldn't know what to do with all...this." I say sarcastically, flexing my non-existing muscles. I may seem cold and harsh to everyone else, but Gobber is like a second father to me (or a real one in my case).

"Well, they need toothpicks, don't they?" he replies as I grab the weapons needed for repairing.

"Ha ha ha. Funny." I deadpan. I've been the helping with the repairs ever since I was little. Well, littler.

As I start to sharpen another sword, I see at least 4 houses light up. See? Old village, lots and lots of new houses. Our brilliant fire brigade runs forward to help. The twins: two blonde haired maniacs, always fighting. I think Ruffnut's the girl and Tuffnut the boy, but it's honestly hard to tell sometimes. Fishlegs: The nerd of the 'gang' (as they like to call themselves), he seems to always have his head buried in a book. He used to be my best friend, that is until he realised that being friends with me meant he would get picked on just as much. Snotlout: head bully and, unfortunately, my cousin. Yippee. Ever since I was born, he hated me as I took away the chance of him ever becoming chief (although I'd happily hand it over to him) and... Asher.