HTTYD: Dragon Girl

Chapter 6: The Mystery Dragon

I stand in the woods, frowning at what remains of the net that caught the greatest prize in Viking history, fighting to untangle the chaotic knot of thoughts in my head.

Unferth's words repeat themselves over and over in my head: "A dragon will always go for the kill."

"So why didn't you?" I murmur out loud. The Creeper most certainly did not want to go for the kill when I encountered it, or I wouldn't even be here to wonder about it. Why in Valhalla did it let me go?

More than that, why can't I just let it go?

I wonder if I can track it.

I wander away in the general direction of where it took off. Something tells me the dragon's close.

And then I push a branch out of the way to find that the ground suddenly cuts off in a steep drop. At the bottom of the ravine is a small clearing, with a pond and trees and small rock formations. And there, off to the side, looking honestly forlorn, sits the White Creeper.

I watch in silence as the dragon moans and jumps up, as though to take flight, but then touches down and lies down, completely still.

For a moment, I simply sit and stare, as motionless as the dragon, completely mesmerized by its beauty. Then I realize I'm passing up the opportunity of a lifetime. My fumbling fingers hurriedly retrieve my sketchbook from my pocket and trace the rough, shaky outline of the creature. As I glance up again, I notice the Creeper cast a wistful glance at the top of the miniature canyon, toward the sky. "Why don't you just fly away?" I whisper, staring at the beast in perplexed awe.

Then I notice the six-inch-long incision in the left half of the dragon's tail, which leaves the lower part of its stretched skin dragging uselessly on the ground, and a weight of guilt settles in my stomach. Oh.

The Creeper moans again and paws the ground. But as I look closer, I realize the movement of its claws isn't totally random. To my astonishment, the dragon moves its talons to scratch a very clear Z into the dirt.

My head suddenly appears to be splitting open, from the pain that explodes into existence without warning, and I only just choke back a scream. I can't alert the White Creeper to my presence, not yet.

But I will be coming back.

The dragon combat class eats together that evening to review their performance. Well, mostly together. As is usual, I sit alone, silently observing from the table next to them.

Unferth plops himself down right across from me, but not to provide me with company. The rest of the class can see him perfectly from there.

"Study up," he says, tossing a large brown book onto the other table, where it lands with a heavy thunk. "The Dragon Log," he goes on, naming the titleless book. "Everything we know about every dragon we know about. Knowing this information will be the thing to keep you alive when you start killing the beasts."

"Wait," says Fordang as Unferth walks away, as if he's only just beginning to process what the book is for. "You want us to read?"

"On purpose?" Dorfang adds, sounding disgusted at the thought.

"How is this gonna help us kill dragons?" demands Starkwulf. "Killing dragons will help us kill dragons."

"Oh, I've read it so many times!" Mollusk pipes up eagerly. "There's this one dragon that spits super dangerous venom, and there's this one that cuts--"

"Wow, lame," Fordang interrupts.

Starkwulf gets to his feet. "You guys read, I'll go kill. Have fun." He strides out of the mess hall, closely followed by Dorfang, Fordang, and Mollusk.

I tentatively approach Keegan, the last person sitting at the table. "So I guess we'll share--?

"I've read it," Keegan cuts me off, following his friends out without so much as a glance at me.

"O-okay," I say, a little disconcerted. "So I guess I'll see you guys--"

The door slams shut.

I open the book later that night, alone in my bedroom.

"Fear Class, Strike Class, Mystery Class," I read from the table of contents before flipping the book open to a random page.

"Screaming Whale," I read. "'This elusive dragon lives in the sea. When startled, it produces a deafening noise that can kill a man at close range. Extremely dangerous. Kill on sight.'"

I turn the page. "'Chamelion. Even newly-hatched dragons can spit corrosive acid. Extremely dangerous. Kill on sight.'"

A sudden crack of thunder booms from outside. I jump, but soon turn back to the book.

"'Razorflight. This dragon's wings are sharp enough to cut down fully-grown trees. Extremely dangerous. Kill on sight."

My stomach flips over as I continue skimming through the book. Mantrap. Burnspew. Malicious Vipertooth. Chokes its victims, buries its victims, swallows its victims whole. Extremely dangerous, extremely dangerous. Kill on sight, kill on sight, kill on sight.

I feel sick as I read these words. This just doesn't seem right. Kill on sight, without even considering that there might be another way? I know this is the Viking custom, but still...

And then I turn the page to find an entry that is almost completely blank. The runes at the top read White Creeper.

I stare at the fact bites in a strange combination of fear and awe. Speed: unknown. Size: unknown. I read the description aloud to myself. "'The terrible offspring of chaos and doom itself. Do not engage this dragon. Your only hope: hide and pray it does not find you.'"

The words send a shudder down my spine. The White Creeper, born of horror itself, apparently unbeatable. To face it at all means inescapable death.

I am an anomaly of enormous proportions. I am the only known person to have survived a close-up encounter with the White Creeper. The villagers talked of nothing but me when I first arrived in Skaldi, how I should have died by the White Creeper, how everyone who came and retrieved me should have died, too. I was a miracle, until the Creeper began chasing me. Whispers began to take on a more malicious tone. Rumors circulated that I was a curse from Odin, sent to bring the wrath of the White Creeper crashing down on Skaldi.

But then my encounter yesterday changed everything, in my mind. The White Creeper hadn't tried to devour me, as everyone in the village believes it's chasing after me to do. I guess it could have been reluctant to kill me when its prey came to it so easily, but somehow, I don't think that's it.

This book should have made me more determined to kill dragons, so I can rid Skaldi of the menace that drives everyone away from me. Instead, I am more eager than ever to discover the truth about the dragon in my past.

I take out my notebook, tear out the page with the sketch of the White Creeper, and toss it on the Dragon Log's empty pages.