Chaos. All of it. A village in flames, surrounded by the screams of the dead and the dying. The taste of ash in her mouth, and the searing glare of lightning flashing across the sky. At her feet lay the still forms of those she cared for most. Hiccup, his armor damaged beyond repair, still and unmoving, his green eyes vacant as Inferno lay shattered not a foot from his open palm. Beside him, the unmistakable shock of white hair and broken staff of her friend. His face was hidden, lying crumpled in the dirt. His body, covered in bruises, was helplessly pinned under so much rubble. As her gaze drew skyward, the clouds darkened, and the fires dimmed, as an immense shadow began to swallow everything and everyone in its path, its smile revealing mismatched, razor-sharp teeth lunging for her friends!
âJACK!â Astrid cried, sitting bolt upright in her bed as the thunder raged outside her home. The shieldmaiden panted heavily, her skin cold and shining with sweat as she tried to quell the raging of her heart, her hand already wrapped around the leather-clad handle of her battle-axe. A flash of lightning outside forced a wince out of her, the memory of the storm on the Edge not easily forgotten as the crash of thunder mixed with the distant cry of a falcon. Just the mental image of that lightning bolt burned into her head as much as it did her retinas, especially with the eerie buzz of electricity and the burning of ozone in her nose. While it may have been temporary, her blindness during the Triple Stryke debacle left her a bit more wary when the storm clouds roiled over the horizon. A soft series of chirps brought her attention to an oddly familiar Terrible Terror, who had somehow managed to sneak into her homeâŠagain.
âTipper,â she groaned, leaning over to scoop the reptile up and into her arms. The young Terror that so often rested on Jackâs shoulders was one of the more unique dragons on Berk. Namely, that this dragon had a system. If Jack wasnât home, he went to Hiccup. If HICCUP wasnât home, he went to Astrid.
âYou canât just keep making a habit of this, boy.â she grunted, hoisting him up to her eye level. As usual, the Terror responded in the most appropriate way possible. Tongue outâŠslap the eyeâŠand all with zero brain cells firing behind said eyes, âRrrrrr.â
âOkay Okay.â Astrid sighed, rolling her eyes. Over the years, she had been riding Stormfly, and she learned there were some dragons you just didnât negotiate with: âDonât for a second think this means youâre getting a bed here.â
Tipper gave a sad little trill, shifting on her shoulders while she reached for one of her heavy cloaks. A crash of thunder made her hand visibly twitch, drawing an irritated grunt from the shieldmaiden, âOh for Thorâs sake!â
She snatched the cloak, draping it over her shoulders with all the irritation she could muster. Her efforts forced Tipper to momentarily flutter off, squawking in confusion as it hung on the doorpost.
âSorry, Tipper. Not my idea of how to spend the morning, but I have someone I need to see,â she sighed, wrenching open the door to Berkâs dreary morning storms. The wind kicked up, forcing Astrid to hang on to the brim of her hood with one hand, rainwater pelting her heavy cloak relentlessly, âGonna be a bit of a trip.â
An excerpt of the new chapter of my fic Wingless: The Poisoned Soul! We see Astrid being given a vague portent of certain doom, along with one of Jack's scale siblings!
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