Three months passed.
Spring storms slowly gave way to calmer seas, and the lonely island began to change. Hardy grasses spread across the cliffs, berry bushes thickened in the forests inland, and migrating fish returned to the surrounding waters.
Life had returned to the island.
And so had the dragon.
The creature that once fit awkwardly inside the cracked egg was no longer a fragile hatchling.
She had grown.
Not to her eventual size yet—not even close—but the difference from that first day was obvious.
Her body now stood nearly a meter tall at the shoulder, lean but clearly powerful beneath the dark fur and scale-lined skin. The purple tones along her underside had deepened in color, and the turquoise membranes of her wings had stretched wider as they developed.
When sunlight touched them, they flashed faintly like living glass.
The thick white mane around her neck had also grown fuller, giving her silhouette a slightly larger and more intimidating appearance than her actual size suggested.
But the most striking features remained her ears.
The massive teardrop-shaped structures now rose well above her head, constantly turning and adjusting as they listened to the island around her.
Every sound.
Every rustle of grass.
Every wingbeat of seabirds overhead.
Her world had become a landscape of echoes.
The dragon crouched low along the edge of the cliff.
Far below, the ocean shimmered under the early evening light.
She tilted her head slightly.
A soft clicking pulse left her throat.
The sound was too high for anything nearby to hear—but the returning echoes painted a perfect picture inside her mind.
Schools of fish.
Moving.
Dense.
Thirty meters offshore.
The dragon's eyes narrowed.
Dinner.
She stepped back from the cliff's edge and stretched her wings.
They were still too small for full flight—but they were strong enough now for gliding.
Months of experimentation had proven that.
Her first attempts had ended with painful tumbles into grass and several humiliating slides down rocky slopes.
But the island had plenty of high ground.
And she had plenty of time.
The dragon took a running start.
Three quick strides.
Then she leapt.
The wind caught her immediately.
Her wings spread wide, turquoise membranes glowing faintly against the fading sky.
Instead of falling, her body lifted slightly as the wind pushed upward along the cliff face.
She glided.
Not perfectly.
Not gracefully.
But well enough.
The dragon angled her wings carefully, remembering every adjustment she had learned over the past few weeks.
Keep the tail steady.
Let the wind carry you.
The ocean rushed upward to meet her.
At the last moment she tilted her wings sharply and skimmed low across the water.
Another echolocation pulse left her throat.
The fish below scattered in sudden confusion.
The dragon folded her wings halfway and dove.
Her claws sliced cleanly into the water.
With a splash, she pulled back out and beat her wings hard enough to lift herself toward the rocky shoreline.
When she landed on a flat coastal rock, a silver fish thrashed wildly in her grip.
The dragon stared at it for a moment.
Then she gave a satisfied huff.
Still weird.
Even after months, the act of hunting like this still felt strange to the human mind buried beneath her instincts.
But hunger had a way of simplifying things.
She bit down.
The fish stopped struggling.
Half an hour later she sprawled comfortably across a warm rock, finishing the last of her meal.
Her stomach was pleasantly full.
Not completely full—she would need more food later—but enough to satisfy the constant energy drain of a growing body.
She stretched her wings out along the stone, letting them dry in the breeze.
Above her, seabirds wheeled and screamed.
Beyond the cliffs, the northern ocean stretched endlessly toward lands she had never seen.
Somewhere out there were humans.
Vikings.
The stories she remembered from the world of How to Train Your Dragon had made that very clear.
Dragons and humans in constant war.
Villages burning.
Dragon nests raided.
She frowned slightly.
Best avoid those.
For now, the island was perfect.
Food.
Shelter.
No predators.
No humans.
Just wind, sea, and sky.
The dragon rolled onto her stomach and flicked her tail lazily behind her.
Her ears twitched suddenly.
Something had changed.
A distant sound drifted across the water.
Wood creaking.
Canvas snapping in the wind.
The dragon lifted her head.
Slowly, she stood.
Another echolocation pulse shot out across the ocean.
The echoes came back a moment later.
Her eyes narrowed.
Far beyond the cliffs—
something large moved across the sea.
A ship.
And it was heading toward the island.