Hiccup's Point of View
The heart was still warm in my hand when I dropped it into the dirt.
The wet thump it made felt final. Like a curtain falling. Like a bell tolling.
Silence stretched across the clearing—thick, heavy, strangled.
Only one remained.
I turned my gaze slowly to the last raider—the woman. She stood frozen in place, her skin pale as moonlight, eyes wide with animal panic. The stink of fear rolled off her in waves. She opened her mouth once, then closed it, lips trembling as if even sound had abandoned her.
I stepped forward.
She flinched.
My claws flexed as I walked. Blood dripped down my knuckles, weaving crimson paths through the ridges of my fingers. It splattered onto the grass with every swing of my arms. Each drop echoed like war drums.
She took a step back.
Good.
Another step forward.
Another retreat from her.
I said nothing at first—let her fear speak for me. Let the weight of what I'd done sink into her bones. I wanted her to feel it. To wear it. To drown in it.
Then her mouth opened again—ragged, broken.
"P-Please..."
Her voice was barely a whisper. She raised trembling hands, palms out, like they could somehow hold back death.
"I-I didn't mean to... I wasn't gonna— I just followed orders, I didn't... I didn't think he'd actually—"
I didn't stop walking.
She stumbled back again, nearly tripping over the corpse behind her. Her heel slipped in blood and she caught herself with a strangled cry.
"I can give you money!" she gasped. "Gold, real gold! I've got a stash, I swear! Hidden in my gear—just let me go and it's yours!"
I tilted my head slightly, letting her see the full curve of my smirk.
"Money?" I repeated, my voice low and dry. "Vermin like you always carry it close. Easy to grab. Easier to lose."
Her eyes darted to her belt instinctively. She was armed with pouches and satchels, all too full.
"Besides," I continued, raising my hand slightly as blood slid down my claws, glinting in the moonlight. "My bait has already found your boat."
Shriek.
The high-pitched cry of wings cut the air like a dagger. I didn't even need to look—my little scout was always on time.
The Terrible Terror swooped down from the trees, fluttering with smug satisfaction. In its maw hung a string of blood-slick coins and two necklaces, their jewels still glistening with the sea's kiss.
The woman's eyes widened.
The Terror dropped its haul at my feet with a victorious chirp before settling on my shoulder, still panting from the chase. A silver earring clinked as it rolled to a stop by my boot.
"See?" I said, looking up at her again. "I already own what you were going to offer."
Desperation shattered whatever fear kept her still.
She took a shaking step forward, chest heaving, voice cracking. "T-Then I'll offer you something else. Something better. You can have me—my body. I'll do whatever you want—anything—just don't kill me."
The words hung there. Foul. Filthy.
I froze.
Disgust slammed into me like a wave crashing against stone. My lip curled before I even registered it. I stared at her—really stared—and all I saw was filth in skin. A parasite offering her rotting meat to the wolf that had already tasted blood.
"Touch you?" I said, voice low and flat, poisoned with loathing. "I'd rather claw my own flesh off."
A sound cracked the air.
A roar.
Feral. Female.
The air shifted, thickened. The shadows trembled as something ancient stirred above.
I glanced up—just in time to see a flash of green emerald eyes burning in the night.
Luna.
She stood motionless on the roof, frozen for only a heartbeat.
Then she descended.
The woman didn't even have time to scream.
Luna struck the ground like lightning—black fire and fury wrapped in muscle and fang. Her wings flared once before folding tight as she lunged. The woman tried to run. She got three steps.
That was all.
The snap of teeth echoed across the glade as Luna's jaws clamped down on her shoulder, dragging her backward like a rag doll. Flesh tore. Bones cracked.
I took a step back, blinking.
"Damn..." I muttered under my breath. "That was hot."
Wait.
What the hell?
I shook my head hard, like I was trying to knock the thought loose. Where the hell did that come from? I wasn't into murder-mania... was I?
Luna roared again—louder, deeper, shaking leaves loose from the trees.
The woman shrieked, flailing with one good arm, but it was useless. Luna batted her legs out from under her with her tail and pinned her, claws sinking into her back.
I watched, almost hypnotized, as Luna leaned down and ripped her right arm off at the socket. The scream that followed was guttural, animal—full of agony and betrayal and horror.
But Luna wasn't finished.
She threw the arm aside and went for the other. A crunch, a twist—gone.
Blood sprayed like rain. My Terror hissed, wings shielding its face.
Still not done.
Luna leaned down one last time, teeth flashing—and tore her head off in one smooth, vicious jerk.
I winced. "Yikes."
She stood there a moment, panting over the mangled remains.
And then—
BOOM.
A blast of blue-white plasma ignited the ground.
Luna fired again.
And again.
And again.
The woman's body—what little was left of it—vanished in fire and smoke.
Ash and charred scraps drifted through the air, the scent of burning flesh thick and sharp.
Luna stood there, glowing faintly in the aftermath, smoke curling from her nostrils.
I stared.
The clearing was silent again. Not peaceful. Just... waiting.
"...Definitely not touching her," I muttered.
My Terror chirped.