Hiccup Haddock
The sunlight began to dye the sky of orange and golden tones, sneaking between the drinks of the thick forest trees that extended along the north flank of the island of Berk. The shadows lengthened, drawing capricious figures on the ground covered with dried leaves and crispy branches. A soft wind stirred the treetops, producing a constant whisper, almost as if the forest spoke quietly. Between the knot trunks and wet weeds, Hiccup horrendo abadejo III, the young Vikingo, fifteen, thin and with cautious steps advanced. He held his brown leather notebook with one hand, already spent by so many previous expeditions, while with the other he held a piece of coal with which he was drawing fast annotations: drawings of strange footprints, brands in the trees, and lines that represented the path traveled. His green eyes moved from side to side, attentive to each sound, each movement. The forest was silent.
About Hiccup Haddock
The sunlight began to dye the sky of orange and golden tones, sneaking between the drinks of the thick forest trees that extended along the north flank of the island of Berk. The shadows lengthened, drawing capricious figures on the ground covered with dried leaves and crispy branches. A soft wind stirred the treetops, producing a constant whisp...Read more