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He stuffed a cloth in his mouth, desperately trying to keep his sobs quiet. Someone could come here any minute and he couldn’t risk getting found, not like not; crying and bleeding and weak.
Hiccup cried out as he stuck the burn hand in the cold water, the fabric mufffling his voice. It took all his willpower to keep the hand there but slowly and surely the pain lessened.
He spit out the cloth, adding it to the mess of bloodied tatters of his clothing on the ground next to him, and reached for the bandages.
He hissed upon seeing them bloody and dirty already but he had no other choice than to used them. Slowly, he started to wrap the clothing around his forearm, trying to ignore the smell of melted skin and burnt flesh. His other hand was bleeding heavily from the scratch wounds the dragon’s claws left on him.
It was a miracle he was alive. He still didn’t know how he managed it or why the dragon let him live, but he wasn’t complaining. He just knew that one moment he was running from a dragon he’d tried to take down using one of his unsuccessful projects, and the next the dragon had him pinned to the ground, ready to kill, when the beast suddenly stopped and flew away.
It made zero sense because Hiccup was alone. There weren’t any other vikings around, there was no one who would come to his rescue. It was just him and the dragon in the distant, dark part of the village, far away from the fight.
Hiccup fully expected to die, but he didn’t. He had no idea why, but he guessed he will have more time to worry about that after he makes sure he won’t bleed ou tor get the wounds infected. He should seek out Gothi but there was no way he’d go bother the adults because that meant he would have to tell them how he got injured in the first place, and he did not want to get yelled at for his stupidity in front of the whole village.
He had to take care of himself on his own. It wasn’t like it was his first time treating his own injuries, anyway.
However, that didn’t change the fact that his wounded hands were far from steady. They shook, which made the bandage fall off his hand and he had to start all the hard work again. He managed to dress the wound on his third try, barely seeing what he was doing through the tears streming down his cheeks.
When he was done with the burns, he repeated the process with the cuts. He reached for a new bucket of rain water to clear the scratches. He gasped because it stung, but the cuts luckily weren’t that deep and already stopped bleeding.
Bandaging was harder than before, as he had his other hand also tied up, but somehow he managed. The work wasn’t perfect. Quite the opposite, actually; the dressings were messy and bloodstained, but at least they held.
Hiccup blinked, trying to keep the blurriness out of his vision. When he stood up, the world spun around and he had to lean against the house he’d been hiding behind. He cried out when the hard wood pressed against his wounds and he immediately shielded away.
Gods, he was pathetic. No wonder the village though him a burden. He couldn’t even stop crying.
Hiccup started when he heard approaching voices. He had half a mind to gather the dirty clothing that used to be his tunic into his arms before he run away, deciding that he needed to come back home. If the fighters were returning to their houses, that meant that his dad will be too, soon. He couldn’t risk his dad not finding him at home.
Still, he needed to take a detour, sneaking around the village to avoid being seen. Luck seemed to be on his side today, though, because he managed to get home and into his room unseen, unheard and before his father.
He quickly changed, breathing out in relief when he saw that there won’t be a problem in hiding the wounds under his clothing. He had some scrapes on his palms, sure, but that was nothing unusual for him. Accidents in the forge were normal occurance.
He will need to treat the wounds properly. Later, though. He was tired and dizzy and couldn’t keep his eyes open as the adrenalin finally wore off.
He wasn’t sure if he manages to fall asleep, considering the terrible pain, but his worries turned out to be unnecessary because his body gave up the moment his head hit the pillow.
His mind was still awake, though, plagued by nightmares and silent wishes that he won’t have to wake up tomorrow and do it all over again alone.