First shot at an OC for this fandom. Note that this story will be a tad bit different from the other OCs I've seen in the fandom. Read on and you'll find out. Oh, and this isn't Berk yet. We'll get there in good times.

Now, off to the actual story!

Disclaimer: I don't see how a thirteen-year-old girl who is good at nothing can create such an awesome movie like How to Train Your Dragon

Edit: This file was edited and changed on May 4, 2010

We are the Differences

by

Cookie Master's Apprentice

Prologue

The first time I met him was on a midwinter night.

We were in a raid. The dragons, all kinds of dragons, were attacking that Viking village a few degrees north enough not to be snowy all year long but far enough south so that the winter could still kill anyone dumb enough to go around playing with the snow. Death Rock, the humans called it, and death it was: huge hurricanes and winds attacking the shores in spring, rainy days in summer, and cold, bitter blizzards in winter, not to include that terrifying base of rocks that jutted up when the tides pulled out and became the graves for many ships. Overall, it wasn't a great place for living, and nobody could manage to live here but us, the dragons. Well, until the humans showed up, that is.

To be honest, I was impressed with the stunts they pulled the first time they got here on those floating caved-in big wooden planks called "boats". I remembered seeing more than a third of their flock died, females, hatchlings and males alike, yet the leader, the…chieftain, kept giving pretty convincing lectures and kept his people going. Finally, after twenty-five years, they got down pretty good, and we started attacking their livestock.

That was when we first began our war. It started out small at first, two or three sheep or other animals at a time, and the Vikings blamed it on the wolves, but then the attacks grew bigger and bigger and bigger until we finally started to go in flocks, ten to twenty at a time, and the humans started making observations on us, taking a few of our kind prisoner to train with, and in less than five years, the war became full-force.

We didn't often come in large raids, though, since we could catch our own foods and store up for winter, but when the wild preys were going scarce, we found it necessary to, er, borrow from our neighbors (who took a fourth of the island and were growing). Unfortunately, we never remembered to return what we have borrowed, so we were considered thieves. Actually, they had better be glad the Council of Elders hadn't decided on a full-out attack on them yet. Two hundred humans are several flights under "enough" for a hundred and twenty-five (and counting) flying, fire-spitting, winged beasts.

That night, it was my first time to fight humans in large number. Needless to say, I was excited, not because I get to eat the humans, but because I get to fight them. I have spent most of my hatchling years in the nest hearing my brothers talk about how wonderful the raids was, how they swooped down and chopped the wooden dwellings the humans sleep in with their powerful, razor-sharp wings, how they screamed, how the battles were fought heatedly and all that.

I have been responsible for some folks going missing in the forest at night, and ew, their meats are stringy and smell like dung and sweat, but I have never fought them in such large numbers before. I hovered above the rest of the dragons, not too far back so that I would be left out but not too evident so I would be the first target either.

"Aerial, take the southern part of the dwelling!" a roar echoed from the front as we dived toward the human village. Adrenaline was starting to rush through my veins now, and I almost missed what was being said.

A dragon, a Monstrous Nightmare, swiveled in that direction and roared, setting herself on fire on the way and slammed down on the screaming humans, and BOOM, they were on fire.

"Water!" I heard a human male's voice called. "Water, someone!"

I went toward that voice, my eyes pinpointing out where it came from quickly, and with one efficient swipe of my wing diagnostically, I tore a deep, clean gash in his back, nearly cutting him in half, but not quite. I didn't enjoy cut-up pieces of humans. They look gross, somehow.

With a flourish, I folded in my wings and landed roughly in front of the downed human. The smell of salty blood mingled with the putrid scent of his sweat and that equally repulsing smell of humans. They all stink.

I pulled my head back in distaste and looked up at the sound of running feet approaching from behind me. The humans would take at least another ten minutes before I was in sight, I realized, but my concentration on that subject was broken as soon as I raised my head far enough to look at a rooftop (I think that was what the humans called the top of their dwellings) to my left.

He sat there, silent, big grey eyes watching me with fear, but mingled into it were awe, a sense of defiance and acceptance. The fear-scent was in the air alright, but nearly blocked out by all the other putrid smell of sweat in the atmosphere. He was wearing a black woven tunic, leather leggings, fur boots with the addition of a string of Monstrous Nightmare scales as a necklace, if I remembered correctly. His hair, jet black, was clipped short at the base of his neck. Or maybe it was the trick of the light. I didn't know at that time.

And so there we stood (I stood, he sat) in absolute silence, staring at each other, my head two inches below his neck, five feet between us before my snout touched his nose.

"Timberjack!" a shout bellowed from behind me, and I glanced back to see the three figures of bulking Vikings racing at me. Glancing at the hatchling once more, I thought for a moment about how I should deal with him, then with one last curious stare – I just didn't get what he was thinking, sitting right there next to a dragon who had just slain one of his kind with only a bit of fear and acceptance (what in Thor?) – before I raced down the street, jumped onto a rooftop, spread my wings and shot into the sky again.

That hatchling…what in Odin's name is he? I found myself wonder as I flew up and then swooped down again for another kill, my blade-wing opened wide and slid through the wooden dwellings that hadn't been set on fire or full of spikes yet because of my brethrens.

I didn't return to the area where I found the strange hatchling again. Another dragon would probably get him. Or maybe his brethrens will pull him down and get some sense into that head. Either way, why should I care?

So why did I want to see that hatchling again, if just for the need to satisfy my curiosity?

I didn't see any OC dragon's point of view fanfictions 'round this fandom that is not a Night Fury yet. So, if I have missed something, tell me the title and I'll come see the fiction.

Now, enjoy and review!

~the Apprentice