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The sun was high, casting a bright sheen to dapple across the Deadly Nadder’s scales. Astrid was tucked into its side. The perfect place to scratch the pale, softer scales of the underside of the Nadder’s jaw; the rumbling purrs indicated her attention was appreciated.
“Titanus?” Astrid said, tasting the name on her tongue. Her Nadder needed a name, according to Hiccup. It made sense. She couldn’t very well keep calling it ‘it.’ The name search wasn’t going well.
The colourful Nadder snorted out its nose in disapproval.
Astrid chewed on her lip in thought. She looked at the bright blue scales of her companion. “Sky?”
Another snort, almost a chuckle, at the lack of originality from the dragon.
Astrid narrowed her eyes, “Brunhilde?”
There was a pause before another disapproving rumble.
Astrid groaned, and got up to pace. A stream of names came out her mouth in a torrent. “Archer. Nightshade. Ash. Spike. Viper. Heather. Bright Eyes. Axe. Swift?”
A series of snorts accompanied each suggestion.
“Well, I don’t know then! How about we just call you Spot?”
The look the Nadder gave her was the only warning she got. She ducked into a roll, a fireball landing where she had been moments ago.
Astrid brushed herself off, “Well, FINE! What do you want to be called then?!”
The Nadder hopped to its feet and opened its maw to let a curdling scream.
The young Viking planted her hands on her hips. Dragons didn’t intimidate her before, and they certainly didn’t now. “That doesn’t help. If you would just stop shrieking.”
Her Nadder chirped, dancing from foot to foot.
“Shriek?” Astrid asked, hesitant.
Another happy chirp, and even a friendly nose bump.
“Seriously? Shriek? Guess it suits.” Astrid murmured as the newly named Nadder plied for her attention.