"You are so busted."
Four words. Spoken by a shocked girl, blond hair, blue eyes, young and strong.
"Da, da, da, we're dead."
Five words, spoken by a broken hearted boy, red hair, extremely skinny, eyes of vivid green, young and puny.
The sound of flight, the whooshing of black wings, a Fury's roar in the receding light.
Perhaps he should go after her, to somehow get her to see. To see... see what?
That dragons weren't evil?
That seven generations of Viking lore was wrong?
That he had trained a Night Fury?
No. She'd never believe him. She'd die first.
It was then, that Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third abandoned all thoughts of happiness, and began his journey into oblivion.
"Where to?" He asks his companion, who grunts in response. "I'm going to assume that means 'as far away as possible." Hiccup chuckles darkly, and his dragon croons with sympathy
They fly through the night. Silent, letting the wind guide them. Eventually they come to an island.
Bleak, foggy, void of life. Tall trees and sharp stones.
"This seems like a good a spot as any." Hiccup mumbles, sliding off the dragons back.
The dragon croons in response, and curls in around himself, becoming a small beacon of black in the pale sunset.
Hiccup works as if a machine, set up tent, brood, fish, brood, make a fire (mostly Toothless's doing), brood.
As you may be able to tell, Hiccup was not happy with his current situation. Severing emotional ties was never easy, even those with the people who had shunned him his entire life.
He thought about all he'd lost. His father, his tribe, his name. It put him in a sour mood to say the least.
He thought about all he'd gained.
His freedom, his dragon, his pride. He would make himself a name. He would make himself his own tribe of one.
This put him in a much better mood.
He sat back from poking the dying fire. The stars reflected in his eyes, matching his vacant, dreamy expression.
Yes, his tribe of one would be just fine.