A Night's Tale

A Night's Tale- Strike Down:

Although the net was large, even for dragon standards, Strike was squashed. He could understand why the Vikings used these things for capturing dragons that terrorized their village so many years ago.

                His body was at a half circle, the tip of his tail made him sneeze repeatedly. With his wings at strange and hurtful angles, he couldn’t move that well. Fire balls didn’t help either, because Vikings poked him with spears, his greatest fear, when he tried.

                Sighing, he decided to give up and let them take him wherever they were going to take him. Over the ocean, the dragons carrying him, two Gronkles and a Monstrous Nightmare, flew down at the water and set him on a wooden ship.

                “Great.” he growled.

                Water; another fear, but not as great as spears which they continued to point at him with. The swaying for all dragons made him already expect the worst for the ship. When they set him down, a large Viking came up.

                He had a long beard and hair. Small head and helmet with beady eyes. Armor glittered in the moonlight, with the few stars that were there. Two Vikings came out from behind him along with a dragon. Hiccup, Toothless, and the dark one.

                Snarling, he fought against the net, which didn’t do anything but get some pokes from spears and even an arrow stuck between his body and wing joint, making it very uncomfortable. “Are you following me?!” he roared.

                The Night Fury behind Hiccup growled and snorted shortly, “Calm.”

                “How could I be calm!?” the younger and less experienced dragon cried, wanting to fly away, not wanting to be here facing his father. “You-- you-- Yah!” He struggled more, “Let me out!”

                With his mind and body going out of control, the only thing he heard was a snapping sound before the pain came to his brain. Looking in the net at his tail, the big Viking had smashed down on his tail near the end, breaking it.

                “Hiccup! Calm this dragon down!” the Viking roared as Strike began breaking the net with his fright and pain.

                Adrenaline rushed through his veins faster and more potent than he had ever felt before. When he heard the net begin ripping, he fought against the binding harder. Pokes, shouts, yells. All were being water rushing down a stream to the trapped dragon as he finally broke free.

                Opening his wings, he jumped off the ship and flapped. But he fell into the cold waters of the ocean. Strike fought to the surface and gasped for air. His wings also broke the surface, sending drops of water everywhere. He held his wings even with the water, making air bubbles to keep him afloat.

                Why couldn’t he fly? Then the pain came to him again as the adrenaline moved away. His tail was broke. With the realization, he wailed pitifully and painfully, not wondering what was going to happen next. How did all this happen? He searched his mind that was slowly coming back away from the pain and remembered.

                Hiccup had said he would be back. Is this it? But he had just escaped. But a roar and claws wrapping around him realized, this is just the beginning. Hiccup and the Vikings won’t give up. Another pair wrapped around his torso, but he didn’t fight. With his tail broken, he couldn’t fly, couldn’t escape, couldn’t live. The pain of the truth stung like a spear had went through his wing membrane.

                The dragons dropped him back on the ship without much care. The same people looked at him, Strike in the same spot. Night was at its high point, Strike’s other favorite time of day, but he couldn’t fly in the cool wind he once knew.

                A boot came in his half-closed eyes, but he didn’t look up as someone kneeled. “You will be safe, protected, and raised correctly.”

                Strike couldn’t care less. If he couldn’t fly, he wouldn’t argue. That was his instinct, at least what it told him. But he had said no to it before. Why listen to it now? Because I have a broken tail, he cried to himself. Like I have any choice.

                His father walked up to him and with a golden eye, looked into Strike’s half-closed blue eyes. “Up, Strike.”

                “You have no reason to call me anything.” Strike snapped.

                He heard a sigh as the boot and Toothless backed up out of his blurring sight. Strike lay there, unable to grasp the fact that he was captured. In his mind, he told him his saying that he says everyday, just to try and make him stronger. It usually helped, but now. The wording sounded dry and meaningless, forgotten and unwanted, strange and alien.

                “To Berk.” a deep voice boomed.

                That night, Strike curled up in a tight ball, holding his broken tail gently in his paws and slept cold and alone on a ship that was heading to the village of Berk, the one place he tried to avoid…

                Until now.