Dragon racing. It was the only thing that could make you really competitive. You were good at flying a dragon, but you were even better at flying yours. The paint across your dragon’s wings contrasted against its scales heavily. Face paint sat across your cheeks, and your eyelids were decorated to match your dragon’s patterns.

You had your arms outstretched to catch one of the white sheep, before momentary shock fell across your features as Fishlegs snatched it out of the air. You let out an annoyed grunt, lying close to the saddle to speed up behind him And once again, your actions were interrupted. This time, though, it wasn’t as frustrating.

Snotlout stole the sheep from the spinning rider and dragon, mocking the two before he threw the sheep down into your basket, with a smile sent in your direction. “That one was for you, babe!”