waking the giant

The sun was coming up over the mountains. Harla knew that at the end of the day, it would set down into the ocean, and set the water afire with reds, oranges, and yellows. Almost like the water itself would become fire, But she didn't dwell on it. What she did dwell on were the rich, moist, earthy smells of the forest near her village at dawn. As she strolled through the forest, she was almost knocked off her feet by a nudge from her companion, A pure white dragon about the size of a short legged horse. The beast had nudged it's rider with it's large wide head, and widened its large, blue, cat-like eyes. "What is it Skyflash?" They viking girl asked her reptilian friend. The dragon responded by growling softly, and gazing up at the clouds that had been stained, a peachy pink, tinged with golden yellow. "Oh," Harla trailed off as she realized what the pearl colored dragon wanted. "You want to go for a ride? Alright, lets go." She climbed onto the dragon's saddled back, and the two flew into the sky. Flying was  the most amazing thing in the world. Skyflash's pure white scales changed hues as they zipped along. Just like the sunlight tinged clouds. Finally, after a good morning ride, the two companions swooped back down into Berk.

Berk. A place that was described as twelve days north of hopeless, a few degrees south of freezing to death, and set solidly on the meridian of misery. It was the only viking village that had not only made peace with dragons, but trained, and rode them too. All thanks to the chief's son, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III. He had trained Toothless the Nightfury, a close cousin species of her dragon Skyflash, a Dayfury. Skyflash's White skin let her blend in with the clouds, and Toothless' dull black skin let him blend in with the night sky. leaving no trace but a barely perceptible silhouette against the stars. Other than that, and the fact that Toothless had a prosthetic tail fan, much like Hiccup's prosthetic leg, and a difference in eye color, The two dragons were identical.

Near a cottage with a grizzly carving of a dragons head above the door, not unlike all the cottages, Harla spotted a familiar hulking dragon form. None other than Deadreaper, the dragon that belonged to her friend, Urso. The large dragon was another close cousin of the furies, but was also a cousin species of the Gronkle. Being a Doom Sniper, poor Deadreaper was always being mistaken for a huge Skrill, but there was a difference. Deadreaper had a more prominent under bite, and was about three times as big as the furies. His Green body with splotches of black was topped with a fifty eight foot wingspan, and two rows of black spines that merged into one when they met to run down his nine foot whip-like tail.

"Hey Deadreaper, where's Urso?" The Dragon growled, and swung his massive head towards the cottage. "Not up yet, huh?" The monstrous Dragon snapped its jaws in confirmation. As Harla walked up to the door to knock, she heard the growling snore of the occupant. Despite the fact that he was only nineteen, Urso had moved into his own cottage/stall combination. Urso was easily the strongest of the young Vikings. He stood almost six feet taller that her, and at least four feet above everyone else. despite his size, his skill at jewelry making never ceased to amaze Harla. The snoring roared again. Urso was also without-a-doubt the worst in the village when it came to snoring. "Sweet baby Freya. I don't think Thor himself can snore like that." She pounded her fist on the door. "URSO FOOTCRUSHER, GET UP YOU LAZY BUM!" She jumped away as the massive teen slammed through the door, flew through the air, and executed a perfect somersault dive. His usual thirty-six pound axe was gripped in his large, meaty paw. This was the usual morning wake-up. When he was six, an outcast snuck into his room, and had tried to kill him. Thwarted by Urso's dad, the killer still managed to run his knife down the boy's chest. Urso finally started to play with others after a year of recuperating, and two years of never leaving his parents side, or talking. He slept hard, but he was quick to attack when awakened. Now though, he usually joked about it, and showed off the twelve inch scar across his chest.

"SWEET BABY THOR IN A THUNDERSTORM! DON'T DO THAT HARLA!" Urso roared. Now that the attack was over, sleep was drifting over him. He was NOT a morning person. The slumping form of his body made Harla laugh.

"Come on you lump. let's go get the others for breakfast." She nimbly mounted her sparkling white dragon as Deadreaper stuck his huge head into his masters back, and flipped him into the saddle. As Urso landed, His arms, legs, and head flopped around like they belonged to a giant rag doll. Harla shook her head as she rolled her eyes. "Dead Reaper, can you PLEASE wake him up?" She covered her ears as the dragon began a monstrous, guttural roar that shook all the houses nearby, and shook the very ground beneath them.