Chapter Text
The Great Hall was still busy even after dinner ended. Most vikings who stayed were apprentices carrying wooden plates to clean in a wash table near the back wall.
A pair of older vikings were adding fresh logs to the fireplace as a few Terrible Terrors lit it. The entrance had two dragons curled against the wall with one’s tail wrapped tight and another pacing in a circle while its handler attempted to remove its saddle for the night.
The smell of smoke, wet wood, animal feed, and cooked meat mixed in the air.
Berk depended on dragon training because the settlement used dragons for nearly everything. They hauled timber from the forest, helped fishing crews pull heavy nets, carried messages between outposts, and patrolled the coastline for storms or hazards.
Students were expected to learn tracking, care, and flight handling before they could bond with their own. Each season, trainees completed assigned quests to prove they could follow instructions, observe dragon behavior, and work safely around them.
The Training center served as the center of this system. Quests were announced there, equipment was stored there, and dragons were held there to learn from. The Great Hall is where one would catch up on their studies at dinner.
Will particularly loved staying to draw after curfew here. Most vikings have a Great Hall curfew set by Chief Hopper, but students had the exception for the opportunity to study.
Will arrived there early enough to have some peace and quiet as he drew. He sat at the far end of one of the long tables with his sketchbook near the firelight.
A small pile of earlier sketches rested beside his elbow. One of a Typhoomerang. Another of a small spikey red dragon they trained with today called a Grapple Grounder. Now he was working on a dragon they trained with last week. A Gronckle.
The hall doors were pushed open. Boots thudded across the floor and voices filled the room before the group reached the table. Lucas came in first, still wearing part of his training gear. Once his parents got him this new gear he hasn’t taken it off since.
It’s been a month. “I swear it makes me train better!”
Dustin followed with an armful of scrolls and loose parchment. He’s just about trained his first dragon. A Rumblehorn. However it keeps flying away so he’s not quite there yet.
Max walked behind them, dragging a chair loudly across the floor before dropping into it without bothering to look around. She’s the first of the bunch to have truly trained a dragon. A Razorwhip. The two have a great bond. Will always liked Max, but since she’s in a higher training rank they rarely get to interact.
Mike trailed last, carrying a wooden practice shield under one arm and a stack of notes tucked against his chest. Will temporarily stopped drawing to accidentally watch Mike as he walked toward the table. He caught himself doing it and immediately went back to drawing.
They chose the same table as Will, per usual, but never right next to him. They spread out several seats away, but close enough that Will could still clearly hear them.
“I almost had it today!” Lucas said immediately. “The Scuttleclaw came down to the ridge twice. It was definitely checking me out.”
“Oh come on, didn’t it burn a hole in your roof last week," Max said defiantly.
Lucas waved a hand. “That was one time!”
“It was three times, actually” Dustin muttered while trying to flatten a curled scroll. “And it wasn’t even aiming at you. It was chasing a goat.”
Will silently giggled and kept his eyes on his page as he listened. It was impossible not to.
Mike leaned forward, resting his shield against the table. “Also, that wasn’t even a Scuttleclaw.” he said. “You described the tail wrong. Scuttleclaws don’t have sharp shooting spines on their tails.. That’s a Deadly Nadder trait.”
Lucas frowned. “No, it had spikes.”
“All dragons have spikes. Spikes, spines. Same thing.” Mike said flatly. “You said the fire came out in a narrow, sparking stream and it had a bunch of horns on its head. That’s what Nadders look like.”
Max smirked faintly. “He’s right.”
Lucas slumped back in his chair. “Well, you don’t even have a dragon yet.”
Mike set his parchment down, clearly irritated. “To be fair, neither do you.”
“I’ve got one way closer than you do.”
Dustin had already spread his papers across half the table. “Can you guys keep it down?” he said. “I’m trying to figure out how Rumblehorns track scent trails. There’s three different theories and none of them match.”
“Your Rumblehorn keeps flying away,” Lucas said. “How about you worry about finding it first.”
“It doesn’t fly away,” Dustin snapped. “It’s relocating! The dragon book says it’ll track whatever it finds interesting.”
“Well it relocates for days at a time.” Max said.
Will pressed his pencil a little harder against the page, darkening a wing edge. He knew most of the dragons they argued about without needing to know the names. He recognized their general shapes first. Then he narrowed down to class. Strike class dragons were smart and stealthy. Boulder class ones were hefty and stronger than most. He understood those details more easily than the training drills of competition that filled most days.
Across the table Mike glanced up mid argument, his eyes drifting in Will’s direction before he seemed to realize he was doing it. He looked away quickly, pretending to adjust the position of his shield.
Will noticed anyway. He always notices.
Mike had been doing that more often lately. Quick looks when he thought no one else would see. Sometimes curious. As kids, they would be best friends. But as time passed, Mike gradually started becoming friends with the other students, and Will grew closer to, well, himself and El. At least when she was here.
The seat El usually took when she returned late from training was empty. It’s been months since she’s trained with the others. Not since Chief Hopper started pulling her away for long days outside the village, returning only after sunset. The others knew she was being taught separately. They did not know why.
Will did.
He had seen her once, by accident, far beyond the training fields where the forest thinned near the cliffs. He had seen the pale glittery shape moving beside her in the trees. Then a flash of light appeared and they were gone. Silent and bright.
He never told anyone, not even Jonathan, Joyce, or Mike. He drew it once, but dared not to show anyone in fear of appearing like he was snooping on their private training.
The doors to the Great Hall swung open again before the conversation at the table could settle, and a loud voice carried in ahead of the footsteps.
“Alright, you lot, listen up!”
Murray strode inside with one hand hooked around a bundle of leather straps and the other holding a dented metal mug full of meade. His apron was still dusted with ash from the training yard.
Chairs scraped as the students straightened automatically.
Murray stopped at the edge of the table and looked around them. “Since you’ve all decided to sit here instead of getting proper rest,” he said, “you might as well hear tomorrow’s assignment now.”
That got their full attention.
“I’ve planned something a little more adventurous.” he continued, lifting his mug in a small gesture. “No more short range observation runs. Tomorrow morning, you’ll be heading past the eastern training ridges into the outer woods to.”
Lucas leaned forward immediately. “For what? Tracking?
“Tracking,” Murray confirmed. “Habitat identification, feeding sign recognition, and proper distance maintenance. You will not be bonding, you are not chasing, and I pray to Thor you are definitely not to try and prove anything with recklessness.”
He pointed directly at Lucas for that last part.
“You’ll be in small groups,” he went on. “The job is to log everything you see. Wing patterns, nesting signs, scorch marks. Anything that tells you what kind of dragon has been through the area. And if I hear one story about someone getting too close, you’ll spend the next week mucking stables instead of flying.”
Dustin perked up at that. “Outer woods means large migration routes, right?”
“Yes,” Murray said. “Which means you’ll use your heads.”
Max only gave a short nod, already looking like she had decided she would handle it without trouble.
Murray took another drink from his mug, then turned towards the doors again. “Be ready at first light,” he called over his shoulder. “And for once, try not to lose any equipment before you even start.”
He shot a pointed look in Mike’s direction as he said it.
Then he walked out just as abruptly as he entered. The moment the doors shut behind him, the table erupted into chatter.
“Outer woods,” Lucas said. “That’s where the bigger species pass through.”
Max leaned back in her chair. “Hold your horses. It’s not a competition.”
“It absolutely is!” Lucas said.
Dustin was already shuffling through his notes again. “Hey, If we can identify migration patterns, that counts for advanced tracking credit. Right? ”
Mike picked up his shield and ran a thumb around the rim, focused. “Yeah. We should map everything,” he said. “Wind direction, terrain, everything affects how dragons travel.”
“Sounds good to me. Will what do you think?” Dustin called out.
Surprised, Will perked up and temporarily lost his train of thought. They were now staring at him. “Oh, yeah. Yeah that sounds good.”
“That’s settled then.” Dustin replied. They continued on.
Will returned to drawing. He rarely interacts with their conversations. Mainly useless arguments he doesn’t learn anything from. He listened still and kept working.
The conversation and the table gradually shifted to planning and arguments over who would notice what first. After a while, chairs began to scrape again as people stood, gathering their gear and papers.
Lucas left first, still talking. Dustin hurried after him with his notes clutched tightly. Max pushed her chair and followed without a word.
The hall grew quieter again.
Will stayed where he was, just adding the finishing touches to his dragon.
He did not notice Mike approaching until a shadow fell across the table.
Mike stopped beside him, resting one hand lightly against the wood as he leaned down to look at the parchment drawing. He did not say anything for a moment, then he pointed to the drawing.
“That’s a Gronckle.” he said deliberately. “You got the lower jaw teeth right. Most people mess that up.”
Will didn’t look up. “Yeah. Their bite force is stronger than a Monstrous Nightmare’s.”
Will glanced up at him briefly, then back down at the page.
Mike shifted slightly, scanning the rest of the sketches. His finger moved to another drawing. “This one’s a Typhoomerang,” he added quickly. “Creates a fire tornado spin pattern.”
“I know,” Will replied quietly, nodding. For some reason this made him feel like he was being taught dragon flashcards again from when he was a kid. “Their fire bursts rotate with the airflow. That’s why the tornado formed.”
Mike straightened a little and looked slightly defeated. His attention moved to another sketch. “Grapple Grounder,” he said. “Rare. Hard to track.”
Will finally glanced up. “Usually found in packs,” he said calmly.
Silence.
Mike straightened, folding his arms. “You’ve got decent detail,” he said, like it was an assessment rather than a compliment. “But drawing them isn’t the same as finding one.”
Will looked back down at his page. “I know.”
Mike hesitated, then added, a bit sharper, “Tomorrow’s going to be different. You can’t just sit and observe out there.”
“I don’t plan to,” Will replied quietly.
Another pause stretched between them.
Mike gave a small nod, more to himself than to Will. “Good,” he said. “Because I’m not losing to someone who only studies dragons on paper.”
He turned and walked away without another word.
Will watched him walk back toward the doors, then let his gaze fall on the sketches again. The lines on the page reminded him of everything he needed to learn before he could finally bond with a dragon of his own.
He thought about Murray’s announcement, the outer woods, the migration signs, and how little room for mistakes there are. Training required observation and patience.
He carefully stacked the sketches and slid the charcoal into his pouch. The hall was quiet now, emptying fast, the last shadows of dragons flicking against the walls as they returned to their stalls outside. Will picked up his things and rose from the table, adjusting his satchel over his shoulder. The Great Hall doors creaked open as he stepped out into the cool night air.
Tomorrow, the forest waited, and he would be ready.