HTTYD: Dragon Girl

Chapter 8: Bright Wings

Mood Music: Forbidden Friendship

I cautiously peek into the clearing, hiding behind a shield I "borrowed" from the arena. No sign of it.

I scoot forward a little, not wanting to come out into the open too quickly, but the shield gets caught in a narrow space between two rocks and won't budge. I slip under it and try to push it from the other side, but it's stuck fast. I sigh, defeated, and pick up the fish I brought, still stuck on carrying out my original plan. Minus protection, but hopefully I won't die anyway.

"Hello?" I call hesitantly. "Are you in here, Creeper-thingy?"

A soft whoosh comes from behind me. I turn to see the White Creeper standing there, staring at me carefully, but not with the kind of caution that says it's afraid of me. More like it's worried I'm scared of it.

"Hey," I say gently, fighting to keep the tremor out of my voice. "Remember me? Nice death-dragon..."

The White Creeper sniffs, then slowly leans toward the fish in my hand.

"You want this?" I ask. "Here you go." I toss the fish at it quickly, hoping it won't change its mind and decide it likes people better.

The White Creeper catches the fish in the air and just about swallows it whole. Then she (I think it's a she) crawls toward me, sniffing expectantly.

"Um..." I step back as the dragon slowly creeps toward me. "No, no, no. Sorry. I--" I feel the rocks at my back and press myself up against them, but the Creeper keeps coming closer and closer. Finally, her snout is just inches from my face. "I don't have any more," I whisper, my voice hoarse from trying to choke back a shriek of terror.

The White Creeper looks me over. Then her eyes roll back into her head, and she begins to retch. Half of the fish she just swallowed, coated in dragon spit, falls into my lap.

"Oh..." My nose wrinkles at the sight, and I look up at the White Creeper, who's staring at me like she's waiting for something.

Oh, boy. I pick up the fish and hold it up to my face. The smell is awful, but I have to get on this thing's good side.

The White Creeper's tongue flicks out of her mouth, like she's licking her lips. (Do dragons have lips?) With a shudder, I take a bite out of the raw fish. Trying my hardest to keep from spitting the thing out, I hold the rest of the fish out to her and smile as best I can with my mouth full of slimy fish. She swallows.

Odin's eye, was that not good enough?! I close my eyes and force the disgusting stuff down my throat, shivering with disgust. I attempt to smile at the dragon, whose mouth twitches. I wonder what she's trying to do as she stretches her lips out, showing more and more teeth, until I realize that she has a sort of dragonish smile on her face.

"Wow," I whisper. "You're... really something, aren't you?"

The White Creeper cocks her head, then snorts and retreats a short way before spreading her wings. The sunlight reflecting off of them makes me shield my eyes.

"Woah," I say, squinting against the hard light. "You have really bright wings."

The Creeper's wings drop as I say this, and she runs up to me excitedly.

"Bright wings," I realize. "Is that what I should call you? Brightwing?"

The Creeper jumps around eagerly at the sound of her new name, and I smile at her playfulness. "I'll take that as a yes."

Then, suddenly, an inexplicable desire to do something that no one in the village would ever dream of hits me. Driven by the sudden impulse, I reach out for Brightwing's snout. She jerks back, looking startled, and I quickly pull my hand away. Maybe I shouldn't have been so fast.

For some reason, I find myself not wanting to look Brightwing in the eye. I pick up a stick at my feet and begin drawing absentmindedly.

Brightwing watches over my shoulder as the basic outline of her face appears in the dirt and starts wiggling excitedly. She runs across the clearing, and I hear a large crash. Brightwing returns a minute later with a thick tree branch in her mouth and drags it behind her, making her own marks. I watch her in perplexed amusement, wondering what on earth she could be up to. After a minute of dragging her branch around, she stops and stares proudly at her masterpiece.

I gape at her work, shocked. It's clearly something. It looks like...

I can hardly believe what I'm seeing. It looks like a girl, riding on the back of a dragon.

My head explodes in pain, and though I try to suppress it, a groan escapes my lips. Brightwing notices, and, to my surprise, she rests her chin on top of my head in an almost comforting way. I blink in shock, then put my arms around her neck.

"I will come back," I whisper in her ear, a promise I know I will not fail to keep.

Somehow, I think she understands.