A Night's Tale

A Night's Tale- Love Strike

Dalton and Strike flew into the night sky, following the girls. Gold twisted around the sky with Taylor surprisingly holding on tightly, and she seemed to get ahead of Strike instead of closer.

“Is it just me, or is Gold getting farther away?” Dalton yelled over the wind.

Strike nodded in agreement and shot out a blue fire-ball, exploding feet away from Gold. She turned around and glared at the Night Fury with golden eyes. Without warning, to everyone, the female dragon dived toward the ground. Everyone was caught off guard, Taylor held on tight quickly, Strike, as a reaction, dived as well, nearly making Dalton fall off.

Land came and both dragons opened their wings with a snap and landed outside of Berk, both looking wary as their riders jumped down.

Dalton looked at Berk and sighed. “They won’t like me. Why don’t you ask for the saddles?”

“It would look really weird if I asked for two Night Fury saddles. Get Strike covered in mud and disguise yourself because I’m asking for mine.” Taylor confirmed, walking into town, Gold staying back with the two guys.

The dark Viking slapped his palm to his forehead, “Why is it always that girls are always difficult? And its worse with them around and strange quietness.”

Gold growled at the comment and flew off with a curious gaze from the other dragon. Dalton sighed and walked into the woods, motioning Strike to follow. He followed reluctantly, but not before the Viking fell in a mud puddle.

“Gah!” he cried out in frustration. “Ugh. Strike, this is where you’ll get yourself muddied up.”

He looked into the mud warily before stepping in it. It barely went up to his claw tips, but it was enough to transform his appearance. Happily rolling in it, Taylor came back with a nice-looking leather saddle made specifically for a Night Fury. It had golden rims, perfect for Gold, and the leather was dark.

She scoffed as she saw Strike getting out of the mud, flipping his wings open to dry. “So, boys actually take advise?”

A growl came from the sky as Gold landed. “No. They think for themselves.” she teased.

“Hey!” Strike complained. “I nee--” he stopped himself. What was he saying? He was acting like a tamed dragon, as if he already wasn’t. Sighing, he looked at his mud-covered self and wanted so bad to shake it off.

Gold looked at him, expecting more. “Trust me, you’re not a tamed dragon. None of us are.”

“Being told what to do is useless. We are dragons. Wild and untamed. No dragon should be held captive.” he growled to the female, opening his wings and taking to the air. The saying brought him back to his old self, avoiding Vikings. If only he told himself that earlier.

He repeated his saying, new courage seemed through his veins, both exterior and interior, and flew in a straight path to Red Death Mountain. He landed in one of the mountain crevices and curled up confidently, knowing the mud on his scales would camouflage him welcomingly.

Before he even closed his eyes, a distressed roar came charging at his eardrums. He growled, opening an eye as he saw minuscule movement, the object he saw were the color gold. Gold, he thought. Leave me alone.

“Strike! Strike!” she cried helplessly. Like a hatchling, he teased in his head.

A new voice called his name: Dalton, “Strike, come on!”

His subconscious struck in and he raised himself to be known. Gold spotted him first, seconds later, Dalton who was riding Gold, with her new saddle. He had a saddle in his hands, but with difficulty as he held on to the Night Fury flying and the wind threatening to take the object.