Hiccup Horrendous Haddock, the third, immediately dropped the sword he was sharpening and rushed toward the window of the forge. The villagers were all running to shelter behind whatever they could find; the more exposed ones gave up any chance of escape, hoping their shield would offer them enough protection. But the young Viking didn’t try to hide, and even looked out through the window, attentively listening to the whistling preceding the typical plasma blast of Night Furies. In fact, he had spotted it even before the first Viking had given the alert. It was the only noise he was always on the look-out for, because this noise meant he would have another chance to prove himself.
Hiccup stared at the sky and waited. The whistling got louder. And the dragon struck.