The Last Ones (Toothless X Reader)

Chapter 3 - Every Scaled for Themselves

       Waking up from my previous, and quite short-lived unconsciousness, I moved my wings around to feel them; hoping they got better in the time I was out. Still a little sore, but the exhaustion is not as intense as it was before.

   Standing up on all fours and stretching, I look up to the blank canvas of the night sky. It's still very dark, nearly black with no stars to light it up - the sun isn't showing any of its rays yet. Looking around myself, my cold eyes landed on the Fire Starter.

   "That foolish scaled."

   If she wouldn't have rammed into me, my anger wouldn't have gotten the best of me, and now we wouldn't be here, on an island, who knows where. This is all her fault. Looking at her back, the small portion of my heart that still cares relaxed knowing I didn't inflict any fatal injury to the important body part.

   My gaze travelled to the neck of her, and then to her horned head. It looked as if it was double of the size it should be. Edging closer, I sniffed around for a few seconds. When the smell of fish hit my nostrils, I found my answer; she caught her fish, but didn't have enough time to come back to the surface.

   Feeling satisfied that I got my revenge without causing her too much harm, and even saving her, I hear the call. Growling lowly, I smack her with my tail to wake her up. Jolting up like a scared hatchling, she struggles to hold all the fish in her maw as she glared at me.

   "Don't give me the stink eye. You started it, and I saved you. Get up, we're going back." I growled the command from my mouth in the coldest tone I could muster up; I didn't need to try too hard, my voice is naturally as cold as the icy water we fly above before every raid.

   Crouching low, I take off the ground with great speed. Not as fast as I would've liked to, but if I want to survive the next raid, my wings need to be in the best shape they can. Not slowing down to wait for the Fire Starter, I only focus on getting back home and grabbing my sheep from that Spiked Tail and retrieving it.

       Being the fastest dragon meant a lot of advantages, but it came with disadvantages too. I pushed myself a little harder to catch up with the herd and the Spiked Tail that has my wooly sheep with her. Reaching the back of the large group, I fly above for better view and use my smelling to find the scaled I'm looking for.

   Spotting her at the left edge of the herd I glide downwards, descending until the two of us are on the same level. Looking at her claws, I notice that there's only one sheep, and the one that had my scent on it is gone. Growling menacingly, I raise my head back up.

   "Where. Is. My. Sheep." I fume, already feeling the danger I'm in, but my body radiates nothing but anger. I trusted this dragon with my food, my chance of survival, and she gave it away.

   "I didn't see you resurface so I gave it to someone who was sure to return." She growled back, but I could faintly smell fear stinking from her scales.

   Growling louder this time, I went underneath her and sniffed at her claws, trying to find out who she gave my prey to. Finding the scent of a Lava Spitter (Gronckle), I fly away from her and follow where the scent takes me. Took me a good minute or two, but I finally found the reddish Lava Spitter with my sheep clutched tightly in his claws.

   Flying behind him, I dove down and with a quick spin grab the sheep out of his claws, the prey losing a few patches of its soft wool.

   "Hey!" I hear a roar from behind. "That's my prey!"

   Turning around, I face the Lava Spitter with the same cold eyes I looked over the Fire Starter. Growling loudly, I bared my teeth and scrunched my nose up in anger. This scaled thinks that what he stole is his. And he stole from me. Big mistake.

   "It was never yours, never will be." I roared. "I caught it, and you got it from false claws. But don't worry. I'm sure you can catch a few fish before we arrive." I finished, leaving him there in a puddle of anger, fear and shock.

       Here, every scaled is for themselves. It might sound egoistical, but this is the only way to survive. And when you're the last four your supposed species, no-one will help you. You are stuck alone, full of fear; feel cold, and angry.

   If a scaled can't catch enough food in a raid, they either have to find another way to do so, or face the consequences of arriving empty-clawed. That village we raised is a great, and an awful one to raid at the same time. While they do have a lot of food and prey, they always put up a good fight. Not great, but good.

   The calling got worse and worse as we neared our nest. Mother scaled does not tolerate those who are not back in time, and especially punishes those who don't bring her prey. My eyesight became so bad, that I rather closed my eyes, and let her call and my instincts lead me. At last, the herd reached the island and the intensity of the call decreased.

   Taking off in different directions, all the scaleds entered the nest. Some went from the side, some from cracks, and some from higher above. Slicing the air over the giant pit she rested in, I let go of my sheep and let it fall down into the red mists, not caring - or daring - to take even a leg for myself.

   Flying to the ledge where other Night Wings used to stay and be a family (pack), I scorch the already chalked stone platform. Curling up, I put my head into my paws and let a restless sleep engulf me in itself.