Toothless' head is a bunch of frightened thoughts, stirred into chaos, but knowing that he isn't alone in this strange place is a good thing. There had to be vikings around, of course, to build such a strange hunting lodge, but he hadn't seen any when he'd crash-landed. What he's assuming is a crash-landing, of course, because what else could it be?

This viking's attire isn't anything he recognizes. He looks for weapons, out of habit, before he slows down to a cautious trot, trotting in one way and then another with nervousness. Toothless makes a quiet rumble in the back of his throat, not sure what to make of the vikings' approach — are you friend or foe?