The dragons came out of their frozen sleeping stillness at the edges of the river into wild, frenzied life. The hideous chant of the Dragon Rebellion exploded around the young Vikings as the little ice-raft holding Snotlout, Camicazi and the sleeping Hurricane dragon sped downstream. The excruciating pitch and loudness of their battle hymn became in itself, a form of attack. Screeching like harpies, the dragons screamed at decibel levels that were painful to the ears.

‘Rapids…’ breathed Hiccup in horror, looking down at the churning, foaming water, and the sharp evil-looking rocks ahead of Snotlout and Camicazi pointing upwards like devil’s incisors.
And even worse, there was a distant booming, roaring sound, clearly audible in the still night air. What was that noise, that warning rumble like the beginning of a thunderstorm?
Oh, for Thor’s sake.
