“Explain,” Stoick said. Not a command. A plea.
What he found instead was a wound. A tangle of black scales and broken spine, pinned by a fallen hemlock. The dragon’s eyes were the color of molten amber. They didn’t blaze with hate. They watched him the way a trapped fox watches a boy with a knife—expecting the end, not fearing it, just… waiting. How To Train Your Dragon
No, that purr said. I miss nothing. I had you. “Explain,” Stoick said