First Blood x How To Train Your Dragon crossover

Warning: Description of wounds and blood

Thank you for reading!

He silently took a deep breath through his nose and silently let it out through his mouth. John Rambo has been sitting on this tree for a while now, patiently waiting for something, anything to pass under it. He was standing still, only by the way his chest rose and his eyes wandered around, you could tell he was, indeed, alive.

He had no idea how long he had spent out there, in the freezing cold, dressed only in some old canvas that he turned into a poncho because he couldn't get his shirt at the police station. He managed to take his knife whilst making his escape and with an old wire he found at the place where he found the poncho, he had made a spear. He thought the policemen must have stopped looking for him for the night because it was getting dark and there he was, on a tree, waiting for an animal to walk under it so he can eat something. He wasn't at all prepared for what was awaiting him.

Something moved in the bushes and Rambo tensed up and even stopped breathing so he could hear clearly what was going on. A shadow quickly ran under the tree, but Rambo was quicker and his spear was already deep in the animal's flesh before it could disappear back into the darkness.

The next thing the veteran knew was that a loud roar was filling the air. A roar that was let out by an animal John wasn't expecting even the slightest bit. He jumped back in pure shock. What he managed to wound in the back right leg wasn't an ordinary boar or a deer. It was the unholy offspring of lightning and death itself and it was staring at his eyes, its own pupils widening and narrowing for a second.

What John just hit was a dragon and not any dragon, it was a night fury. Dragons were rare in that part of the country. Some co-existed with humans in other places and some were used for work but humans no longer saw any use for them anywhere. Today, they were just like America's feral horses, the mustangs, but they were mainly found in Europe, especially in the northern parts of the continent.

From the time Vikings existed, there were records found about all kinds of different species. Of course, a lot of them evolved and no longer looked like how they were described in those books. Some went extinct and others couldn't be confirmed they existed at all. But this...

The night fury encounters were very rare. It was unknown how many of them were out there but people thought they knew everything about them. They didn't bother taming because of how small and weak they were. It was believed that a wild night fury was a shy creature, avoiding human contact most of the time and also very dangerous. When a human crosses its path, the night fury wouldn't hesitate to kill and the unfortunate human had barely any chance of survival. Or so it was believed.

The night fury opened its mouth, green gas appeared at the back of its throat but it was fastly ignited and the dragon shot towards John. He ducked down and the blast hit the tree he was standing on mere seconds ago. The tree tilted with a loud crackle and continued to slowly tilt until another tree got in its way and stopped its falling.

Whilst John was looking back in fear, the dragon tried to pull the spear out of its leg which was bleeding heavily. It whined quietly as its teeth made contact with the stick and it began pulling. It tried pulling it gradually but that didn't work and it pulled harshly its head back which caused a lot more pain.

John had looked back and tried to calm himself down and think of what to do. If the dragon wanted to kill him, it would have already done it, he would be a piece of cooked meat. Everybody said that night furies killed every time, why didn't this one do it? Running wasn't an option either. He needed his knife, otherwise, his chances of survival were much lower. Didn't he make all of the traps he placed that day with his knife?

He took a deep breath and tried something insane. He took a step closer to the struggling dragon that was still pulling on the stick but it wasn't coming out because of the angle it was pulled from. John took another step but this one didn't go unnoticed. The dragon dropped the stick and growled at him, showing its sharp white teeth.

Iridian, he thought. A strange thought to pass through his mind at that time. But as strange as it was, that dragon was Iridian for him from then on. Where has he heard that name?

But Iridian didn't do anything except growl to warn him and then got back to pulling the stick. Her teeth loudly clapped as they made contact with the wood and she harshly pulled once again. This time, it broke in half, she frustratedly shook her head and the piece in her mouth fell on the ground. John made another step, crawling, towards her and she began growling again, this time her pupils narrowing.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he whispered.

Iridian stopped growling because of the sound of his voice but still kept her teeth bare. She was just as confused and scared as him and the only thing she wanted was to be left alone, hide in a corner and lick her wound.

"Trust me, please," John said again and tried to crawl closer.

He had never seen a night fury before, only in photos and drawings, opting to believe everything they talked about the wild ones. The one laying right in front of him scared this man who seemed like nothing could ever frighten him, not even an angered red death or two bewilderbeaststs fighting right above him, but fortunately, all of the big alpha dragons were extinct and people could only know about them from the bones they left behind and what Vikings wrote.

"Please," John whispered one last time before crawling so close that he could touch Iridian without even extending his arm.

She snarled again but he shushed her and continued making that sound until she quieted down. He put his hand on her tight, above the wound that covered a lot of her leg with blood. She flinched under his touch and pushed herself up with her front feet to try and bite him but stopped before baring her teeth and laid back down, still staying tense under his touch.

John's eyes widened in fear and he was sure his arm was going to be bitten off. He collected himself and let out a sigh of relief. He prepared himself for what he was going to do next.

"You have to trust me," he whispered again and his hand hovered over the piece of the stick.

He swiftly grabbed it and pulled harshly. The knife started coming out-it had gotten stuck in the flesh under an angle and wasn't at all that deep. Iridian whined from pain and it soon turned into a growl that came deep from her throat but she was laying there, propped on her front feet and looked like she was ready to attack but didn't.

The knife came out covered in blood completely. John sat back and pushed himself away from Iridian. She calmed down and slid down on her side but her green eyes never looked away from the man who helped her. Nobody could know what went through her head at that moment but John was even more afraid and uncomfortable because of her stare.

She forced herself up only to lick her wound which was bleeding even more. She cleaned the blood on her leg and then licked over the wound, tensing up although her tongue was smooth, much like a dog's one.

John brought the knife to his face and looked from it to the dragon and then back to it. He slowly got on his knees and hands and then only to his knees whilst Iridian watched him carefully. He was about to get on his feet when something rattled behind him. He turned his head and the dragon did the same.

He felt the blood rush through his head and was about to lower himself to the ground when something grabbed him from behind and pulled him up by his shoulders.