Hostage
Pitch was bored. It had been a week at least since he'd taken Toothless. He wondered how the Haddock boy was doing. Terrible, he hoped.
The spirit of fear glanced to the corner. Sick and unhealthy with scales falling off lay Toothless, bound to the ground by cords of black sand. Pitch made an effort to remove any excrement, for the smell was utterly revolting. The dragon was mostly unconscious. Or perhaps he was just too defeated to move. Either way, Toothless was motionless except for the shaking rise of his chest to show that he was still alive.
Pitch knew that it would be best if he kept the dragon alive. So, grudgingly, he'd caught some fish and thrown it near the beast. He'd left a bucket of water nearby.
But curiously, the nourishment remained untouched. Perhaps Toothless felt there was no longer any need to survive.
Pitch watched as the dragon stirred, but only a little, and let out a wail. It didn't faze him; it had been a common occurrence since the first day. The noise reverberated about the walls of his rather empty lair.