Prologue

Twilight had fallen over the forest of Brluw when the young man entered his tent. The old man gazed up from his book at the intruder. The low light from the fire caught shadows of the other mans face, making him appear menacing and dark. Although, when he smiled all darkness disappeared.

"Hello." He spoke gently and stepped nearer to the old man. Closer, the old man could see a long scar curving its way along his right cheek. It began somewhere behind his ear and flowed over the corner of his mouth, only to disappear down his neck. The darkness that had been lost was replaced with intrigue.

"What do you want?" The old man bit out. He was not accustomed to people, let alone people in his tent.

"I was told that you could give me a tattoo." The young man tilted his head to the side. It was a childish gesture. The old man eyed him for another moment be fore rising. His bones snapped and he grunted.

"You have money?" He asked. The young man nodded and pulled a pouch from his side. He gave it to the old man who weighed it in his hand then nodded. "What do you want? A tribal design?" the old man rolled his eyes. That's all the young vikings wanted these days, he suspected that this boy was no different.

"No, no, nothing like that." He spoke and pulled out a book from his satchel. He flipped it open and handed it to the old man. The elder took the book and stared down at the picture. It was a dragon, one he had never seen before. It was dark, lean and strong, with wings like a bats. It struck the old man with a sense of evil. He flicked his eyes up to the young man. The boy smiled, causing the old man to grimace. Someone with such a scarred face as the he should not smile so gently. Someone like him should not have eyes with such life.

"Can you do it?" The young man asked, his green eyes catching the old man's. He held no impatience in his voice, no fear, no arrogance, just gentle curiosity.

"Of course." The old man snapped. "It's a simple design."

"Great." The green eyed man grinned.

"Remove your top and sit down." The old man grumbled and crossed the tent to retrieve his supplies. The old man stumbled in shock as he turned around to face the young man again. While the scar on his face was enough to deter unwanted attention, the massive scar that arched around his chest was enough to send some running. The scar was made up of large teeth marks that curved in a perfect crescent over his left side. It looked as though he could have lost his arm, and the deep scar tissue that remained told the old man that he almost had.

"What kind of dragon did that?" The old man had to know.

"I don't know." The young man shrugged.

"Same one that gave you the scar on your face?"

"No." The man gave no other answers and the old man didn't ask.

"Sit." The old man said, the other did as told. "Where do you want this?"

"Covering my back."

"Alright. Turn around, I'll draw it out."

The young man turned around on the chair as the old man took out wet paint.

"What kind of dragon is this?" He asked as he began to sketch out the design.

"It's a Night Fury." The green eyed man said. The old man paused.

"You mean it's what you believe a Night Fury looks like. No one has ever seen a Night Fury and lived to tell the tail."

"Have you ever heard of the village of Berk?" The young man asked, confusing the older.

"Everyone has."

"Ask anyone of Berk and they will all tell you that they have seen a Night Fury. It attacked a little boy who was killing his first dragon." The young man said almost wistfully.

"What happened to the boy?"

"He was taken by the Night Fury, never to be seen again."

"Did you live in Berk?" The old man asked as he finished his sketch. He admired his work. The wingspan fell delicately over the young man's back and reached up to his shoulders and stretched out slightly down his arms. The head of the dragon was turned to the side to show wide haunting eyes. It's body flowed down his back, as for the tail he kept straight, lining it up with the man's spine. The old man paused and glanced down at the drawing in the book.

"I grew up there." The young man answered with melancholy in his voice.

"What?" The old man tore himself from the drawing.

"I grew up in Berk, left a while back."

"This...This drawing, the dragon is missing a tail fin. Did you draw this?"

"Yes, that's right. Only one fin."

The old man frowned but wiped away one tail fin off the man's back.

"So this tattoo is to remember the boy from your village?" The old man asked.

"Something like that." Was all the answer he got.

The old man pulled up another chair and sat behind the green eyed man. He set his tools next to him then began to outline the tattoo. The young man didn't even flinch. When he arrived at the scar tissue the old man carefully worked through it.

"You're a ways away from Berk." The old man said, surprising himself, usually he had no care for conversation with his clients. "What brought you out to this side of the waters?"

"Don't know. Just felt like the place to go. I've been traveling for a very long time." The young man told him. "I've been in Beluw for three weeks, I'm leaving for The Stoney Shore tonight."

"Have work out there?"

"I carry my work with me. I make things."

"Oh?"

"Mostly armors, though I have become a handy builder in the past few years."

"Bet you wish you were using some of that armor when that dragon nearly got your arm." The old man huffed a laugh.

"I've never really used it. Not the ones I sell anyways. I don't need them."

"This scar says otherwise."

The young man made a noncommittal noise then fell silent. The old man continued with the tattoo. The ink stained his hands and soon the green eyed man's back was covered in the black wings of the Night Fury. When he finished the old man stood, his bone popping as he stretched.

"Well, it's done."

The young man stood as well and stretched silently. He thanked the old man and looked over his shoulder. From there he could only see the tip of a wing. He smiled and nodded at the old man. He pulled his tunic on gingerly and rolled his shoulders once more. The old man couldn't stop himself from asking another question of the scar covered man.

"The boy who was killed by the Night Fury, you knew him. That's why you wanted the tattoo, right?"

The stranger lowered his head and laughed.

"The boy didn't die. The dragon never even hurt him" He said and moved out of the tent. The old man followed.

"I don't understand." The old man shook his head.

"The tattoo is not to remember the boy." The young man looked back at the old man. The night had settled and the stars and moon were out, shining brightly above. It lit the man's face in a glow that made him seem so much younger than the harsh fire light of the tent had. "It's to remember the dragon."

"Why would you want to remember a dragon?" The old man sneered

"Why wouldn't I want to remember the dragon."

The man then reached into his pocket and pulled out a whistle. He blew it and the low pitch surprised the old man. The green eyed man looked to the sky and the elder copied. Then the sound of wings startled him away from the heavens. Out of the woods, not the sky, came a dragon. Not just any dragon, a Night Fury. It's brilliant green eyes burned brightly in the dark. The old man was entranced by them. The young man walked up to the dragon and smoothed a hand over it's glistening black head.

"I want to remember the dragon because he saved my life."

With that, the stranger jumped onto the dragons back. The old man held his breath. The pair took off and he watched them soar into the sky until the darkness and the dragon seemed to pool together and vanish from sight.