The Rouge Angel (Book 1) - HTTYD

7| The Girl with Brown eyes and Brown hair

|HICCUP|

This village is situated an hour flight away from my cave, and I regularly come here to collect supplies and other resources I might need. But now, I'm here to get some food for my prisoner.

I don't need to eat food; once a week I go on a flesh frenzy and I tear and rip people apart, feasting on them. I can eat food if I want to; it doesn't do anything for me though.

The streets are bustling, and Vikings nudge and bump into me, and I grit my teeth, trying to keep my cool.

Breathe...breathe...

This village needs to stay standing; it's one of the very few things that I rely on.

Part of me hopes that Astrid is awake; I want fear to rise from her core and sweep out in thick, luscious waves. Feeling peoples fear gives me strength on it's own, and I love the feeling of it.

One of my new tricks I have recently mastered, is my little Fear Mist. It's a black, almost metallic mist with tinges of purple. I simply let the mist swirl around the victim, and they imagine their worst fears, as if they were real, and were in front of them.

Maybe I'll do that do Astrid.

I cannot believe out of everyone, she became the chief. She hasn't got the skills to be a chief. She let's anger take a hold of her, and she always takes revenge, whenever she can.

Kind of like you...

No. Not like Astrid. I'm nothing like that pathetic Viking. Nothing.

I'm me.

Who are you though?

I've never thought about that...who I am. I'm the Rogue Angel, yes, but who's under the mask? The man that plays the part of the mysterious Angel that terrifies every soul on this world.

I'm no longer Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third.

Then what's my name?

I'll have to give myself one, later.

In the distance, I hear shouting. Distressed, and agitated. Curious, I tilt my head to the side, focusing, concentrating on the noise.

"Stop!"

"Hey! Hey you!"

"Stop that gir--"

Someone rams into me, and I stumble back slightly, shocked, and rage starts to bubble inside me.

The cloaked person who rammed into me gasps, rubbing their head. "Oh gods! I'm so sorry...I didn't--"

They look up at me, and their eyes widen as they see me, and I am frozen, staring at her.

That girl...with brown hair, blond highlights, slightly tan skin, a sprinkle of freckles across her nose and cheeks, and big, brown eyes that look like they belong to a puppy dog.

"...You're alive??" She says, eyebrows furrowed, looking shocked and quite frankly, suspicious.

I stare at her, unable to break my gaze, my words stuck in my throat.

"Hey! Stop!!"

The girl turns, gasping as the shouts get closer. Some Vikings move through the crowd, pushing people aside, pointing and shaking their fists at the girl.

"Crud-doodles!" She squeals, grabbing my hand and pulling me along as she runs off in the opposite direction.

I stumble before I gain my footing, following her as she dodged through the crowd.