The next morning, Carloa was out and off, heading deep into the greenery. He was determined to find that dragon...But, alas...He couldn't. He failed to find the deep rivets of churned dirt, and trees snapped in half, baring the claw marks of something or...Someone.
Each moment he spent looking for the beast threatened to boil over, like the geysers beneath the island. Finally; he could bear it no more. His anger burst from his lungs, his feet, every inch of his body.
"How could I lose it?!" He scolded himself, kicking rocks, throwing sticks, anything to release his rage upon. He drew back his arm, chucking a large stone through the brush. A screech emitted from the bush, and the rock bounced off something mildly hard. Realizing what this...This...Thing was...

"The Storm Fury...!" Crouching, Carloa snuck up to the grey and white dragon, its neck had been tangled in the net he had shot the previous night, and it kept pulling against it, its deep, blue eyes screwed shut in a very human like expression.  His soul fluttered with apprehension; quickly turning to fear as the beasts steely gaze snapped in his direction, it lunged toward him, careening backwards to smack against the large tree it was caught in. A screech of frustration made Carloa's ears bleed, and his brown gaze widened as he breathed in. Gritting his teeth; he positioned his blade above the Fury; pausing as its breathing quickened. Father will finally be proud of me. Won't he? He questioned himself; his determination faltering. He turned from the dragon to his blade; his attention compromised. Waiting for its end to come, the creature dropped its head, thumping against the ground.

Instead, Carloa cried out: "I can't do this!" Dropping to his knees before taking his knife, cutting the rope loose from the Storm Furies scales. rising to its feet, it faced him; pupils sharpened as it raised its lips.

"Please don't eat me, I don't taste good anyways!" The Storm Fury paused, blue eyes fixed to his own brown ones for a moment, then reared back, snapping its jaws near the boys nose as it pressed down, leaping off and crashing into the undergrowth. Sighing, he grabbed his knife, the cut rope, and his notebook, and trekked back towards the village. Why did I let it go? He pondered. What did I see in its eyes...? They're soulless killers. They've killed thousands of us! Carloa stumbled, loosing his footing and twisting his ankle as he tried to regain balance, which forced him from his thoughts. "Hey Carloa! I heard you almost died yesterday! It would've been fun to watch!"

Carloa sighed, it was always Pigface. The boy didn't know when to shut up! It irritated Carloa, and placed him on the brink of insanity. All he wanted to do was go over and wipe the smirk from his face. "Yeah, yeah. Go ahead, laugh all you want!" He yelled. Balling his fists, he stormed to his hut, slammed the door, and flopped on his bed. "Ohhh, the gods hate me..." Getting off his bed, he walked over to his desk in front of his window, and began to sketch the dragon. "Son..." Carloa jumped, turning around. "I put you in the dragon killing class. I think I've been a little too hard on you lately..." Carloa opened his mouth, responding. "I-I don't want to kill dragons, dad..." He wouldn't believe me. Carloa looked back at his father's shocked expression.
"What? Of course you do! It was all you would talk about a few weeks ago. You said yourself!" His dad went on, stopping as Carloa interrupted him. "Dad! Rephrase: I can't kill dragons!"
"We've done it for millennia, Carloa!" His dad furrowed his brows, stating that he had dragon killing class in the morning, and left.

Early the next morning

Carloa packed his stuff, a shield, fish, notebook, and a small knife just in case. Nobody questioned him, or if they did, he didn't notice. Making his way into the woods, Carloa followed the trail, down past the ridge; and into a small ravine with a trickling stream. "Uh....Dragon?" He squeaked as a thump was heard behind him, and whipped around, holding the fish towards the dragon. It stared at him, mouth open, and snatched the fish, staring back at him once more. "I uhhhhh, don't have anymore..." he stared back into its bright blue eyes, shifting nervously. Meh. Maybe it deserves a name... "Well–it's a Storm Fury...Altostratus! Thats what I'll call you!" He exclaimed. The dragon snorted; sauntering off with the fish in its jaws; its tail smashing against his calves; knocking his legs from under him. Grumpy much? He chuckled lightly; exiting the small ravine with a newfound purpose. He wouldn't kill dragons. He would help them.

(W.I.P)