The forest beyond Berk stretched dark and quiet beneath the night sky.
Tall pines swayed slowly in the wind, their branches whispering as smoke from the village drifted faintly through the trees. The raid was over now. The dragons that had attacked Berk had already vanished back into the darkness beyond the sea.
But one had not returned.
High above the treetops, the bat-winged dragon glided silently.
Her wings barely moved as she followed the faint trail of sound and scent drifting through the air. The wounded roar she had heard earlier still echoed in her memory.
A Night Fury did not crash easily.
Which meant the one that had fallen was either badly injured… or very angry.
Her ears rotated slowly, gathering every sound the forest offered.
Wind through needles.
Small animals moving in the underbrush.
And somewhere ahead—
Metal scraping.
Branches breaking.
Another echolocation pulse left her throat.
The returning echoes painted the forest floor clearly in her mind.
There.
A wide scar through the trees.
Broken branches.
Crushed undergrowth.
Something large had fallen through the canopy and slid across the ground before finally stopping.
She angled her wings and descended quietly.
The forest rose up to meet her.
Moments later she landed silently atop a thick branch near the edge of the clearing.
Her tail curled around the bark for balance.
Below her lay the Night Fury.
The net was still tangled across its body, the ropes twisted tightly around its wings. It struggled against the bindings, snarling and snapping at the cords.
Moonlight filtered through the trees, reflecting off smooth black scales.
The creature was smaller than she expected.
Lean.
Powerful.
Built for speed rather than brute strength.
The Night Fury jerked violently against the net again, claws digging into the dirt.
But the ropes held.
Her ears twitched.
The dragon below was making sounds—low growls, frustrated hisses, bursts of sharp clicking.
Dragon language.
Not words.
But meaning carried through tone and rhythm.
Pain.
Anger.
Fear.
She remained perfectly still on her branch.
Watching.
Listening.
She understood every sound.
Not in human language—but in instinct, posture, and voice.
Trapped.
Hurt.
Danger.
The Night Fury twisted again, trying to free its wings.
The ropes cut deeper with every movement.
The bat-winged dragon shifted slightly on the branch.
Her instincts told her to leave.
A trapped dragon was unpredictable.
Dangerous.
But something else kept her there.
Curiosity.
For forty years she had lived without seeing another dragon up close.
Now one lay just below her.
The most mysterious dragon in the world.
The Night Fury finally stopped struggling.
It lay still for a moment, sides rising and falling with heavy breaths.
Then its head lifted slightly.
Its eyes scanned the clearing.
And suddenly—
They locked onto her.
The bat-dragon froze.
Bright green eyes stared directly at her from the forest floor.
The Night Fury had heard her.
Of course it had.
For several seconds neither dragon moved.
The forest remained silent around them.
The trapped dragon let out a low rumble.
Not a threat.
More a warning.
Stay away.
Her ears twitched.
She understood the message easily.
Her own response came instinctively.
A soft clicking trill left her throat.
Not aggressive.
Not submissive.
Just a simple signal.
Not hunting.
The Night Fury blinked slowly.
Its head tilted slightly.
The ropes creaked as it shifted one wing.
Then it gave a quiet, irritated snort.
The message was clear.
Then leave.
The bat-dragon's tail flicked thoughtfully.
She could.
Probably should.
But she stayed where she was.
Watching.
Studying.
Because she knew something the Night Fury didn't.
Morning would bring humans.
And everything that happened next would change the world.