The Wild Stryke

Chapter 8

  Pitch Black was adjusting quite nicely to living with Hiccup. After he had allowed HIccup to touch him, Pitch was brought out of the arena, to Hiccup's hut. It was probably only a matter of going back to the arena that Pitch didn't light up every flammable (and non-flammable) material in sight. 

  None the less, Hiccup's life was much better (and a lot less stressful) after Pitch Black was trained. And after a whole month, his hut would finally be fixed! They would move back to Berk, where Pitch would find a suitable rider, Hiccup would return to rescuing dragons and Berk would be perfect.

  "Pitch!" Hiccup called. "Hey, Pitch!" After a few moments, a shadow dropped from the sky, slamming onto the landing platform.

  Although not obvious, Pitch had been malnourished, most likely due to his constant moving around. Without a nest or a friendly village like Berk, Pitch would've been forced to hunt wild prey on his own - and fend off outraged dragons and Vikings at the same time. 

  Hiccup tossed a piece of carp up for Pitch and he gobbled it up. "Pitch, we're leaving soon to get to Berk. So, just get ready to leave when the sun sets, okay?"

  Pitch, somehow, nodded - where dragons evolving into beings so intelligent they could wholly understand human speech? - and created a gust of wind as he flew away, still working on the carp in his maw.

  "What have I become?" Dusk muttered half-heartedly. "Living with these vile peasants - being on their side? I should just get one of their disgusting saddles and be done with it!" But in fact, Dusk quite enjoyed Hiccup's company. He had a tentative allegiance with the other dragons and a fierce rivalry with Hookfang that was neither dangerous nor serious. After Hookfang nearly killed him, Dusk had accepted his sullen apology and they had started bantering relentlessly, with hidden barbs and jibes that were more fun than serious. In fact, Dusk would go as far as to say that they were friends. Perhaps not good friends, but serious friends. Friends that would go as far to risk their life to save the others', if only for bragging rights.

  Dusk was going to do one last sweep of Dragon's Edge. This had been one of the most life-changing weeks in his life. His views of the Vikings had completely changed and so had his allies.

  Sighing half-complacently, Dusk swiveled around and looked at the Edge one more time. "Farewell," he muttered. 

  Abruptly, the quiet, almost unnoticable whistling of a net caused Dusk's ears to prick up.

  He blindly grabbed with a tail and hooked the net away, barely inches from his face.

  "Ah, lads, look what we have here." A tall man with black markings on his face urged his boat on. "I've never seen a specimen as beautiful as that one. Drago doesn't have one of those in his army."

  Dusk hissed. A dragon trapper! And so close to the Edge, too. It was Dusk's duty to protect Hiccup and the others - but only to repay the debt of giving Dusk food, of course.

  Dusk inhaled almost lazily.

  And out burst a wave of silver.