The sun dipped toward the jagged peaks of Berk, bleeding orange and violet across the slate-gray sky. Smoke curled lazily from The late afternoon sky over Berk churned with the smoky remnants of dragon fire as Stormcutters circled lazily above the village's charred rooftops. Hiccup crouched behind a half-collapsed sheep pen, charcoal smeared across his jawline where he'd wiped away sweat. His breath hitched at the distant thump-thump-thump of retreating wings.. another raid survived, but barely. Splinters dug into the fresh timber like knife wounds, too precise, too clean for dragon talons. Something had been here during the didn't burn or roar but cut.