Greetings, Gang of Five, and all of its splendor! BEHOLD! MY FIRST (posted) STORY...AND IT'S A SONGFIC!
Rating: T (for disturbing elements, including death)
Disclaimer: I OWN-ETH NOTHING! "Land Before Time" belongs to Don Bluth, Universal Studios, and anyone else I failed to mention involved in the film series/T.V. show. The song here is "No Good Deed" from "Wicked." The rights to that go to Gregory Maguire, Stephen Schwartz, and any others I failed to mention related to the play. There. That was easy!
Summary: It all started from good intentions...but, you know what they say about those... Just a warning: this is a story idea that’s been done to death. I simply decided it was my turn to take a shot at it.
With that said, let's take a look at...
Wickedly Sharp
It all started from good intentions.
But, you know what they say about those...
Chomper had grown. All of them had: Littlefoot, Cera, Ducky, Petrie, Spike, Ruby...
But, with Chomper, growing was a problem.
They were young yet, before you ask; no longer “children,” but certainly not yet “adults.” Juveniles, more appropriately...adolescents. They kept their sense of fun...but with a new size comes a need for more food.
The indigo Sharptooth had spent hours that night, pacing back and forth, unable to sleep. His teeth had grown longer and sharper, the same went for his claws; although he had grown bigger, his arms were still long enough, in comparison to the rest of him, to be of some use sometimes. He was taller, his eyes brighter, his jaws stronger.
Ruby, his caretaker, a pink Fast Runner with a red crest, feathers, and spots (which were the source of her name), had fallen asleep a while ago. She didn’t know...none of them did.
He hated the thought of them knowing.
Especially Littlefoot.
He smiled slightly at the thought his best friend; his surrogate brother, in his mind...
And a Longneck.
He loved Longnecks.
He shuddered, and his pacing continued.
It wasn’t killing itself that bothered him; he’d killed before. Several times.
He had always found it strange, even as a younger Sharptooth, that his friends never asked him how he learned to talk...and he hadn’t been chasing them for sport when they showed up on his Island...
Blood didn’t bother him. Hunting wasn’t the problem.
No, what really frightened him...was the thought of hunting them. Or their families. If it was just a random nobody...a dinosaur he barely knew, or did not know at all...he wouldn’t care. At all. In fact, he thought, with a grim sense of satisfaction, he’d very likely enjoy it...not because he was EVIL, or anything. He was just hungry. And, in a place, like the Great Valley, there were certainly a great number of those...
But, even then, he wouldn’t survive for long; either the “random nobodies” would disappear, or someone would quickly figure out what was going on...or both.
He sighed, looking out of the entrance to the Secret Caverns, to the pond below, watching the Water Swimmers flit around in the water. He could hunt them...they weren’t dinosaurs...
He growled. Even THAT wouldn’t last long; some Sharpteeth were built to survive mostly, or entirely, on those kind of Swimmers...but he wasn’t. Like the buzzers, they’d do for a time, but soon he’d need...different meat to keep him going.
And thus, he came to one conclusion...the only conclusion he could see as possible, that would not cause any danger or trouble or hysteria...
It's coming, he thought. I’m either going to have to kill something...someone...in the not-so-far-off future...
He gazed off behind himself, past Ruby, deeper into the catacombs...
Or leave.
And, so, not as reluctantly as you may think, he walked past Ruby, nuzzling her one last time (softly, so she would not wake up)...and deep into the Caverns, till he came to the one that led back into the Mysterious Beyond...
His greatest mistake: he never told anyone. He should have known better...
A few days later, the young Sharptooth yawned as he awoke, rising out of the small cave where he had rested the night before. He shook, stretched...and was quickly on the prowl.
His plan: to get back to the Island. He and his parents had left it when food (for them) had grown too scarce, and they had noticed a bridge, of sorts, that was only available at low tide. Crossing this, they began to stalk in other places...that’s how they had met Ruby and her family.
When they were separated by Red Claw – first Chomper from his parents, then Ruby from hers – Chomper went with Ruby to the Great Valley. His “second home.”
He didn’t know where his parents were, but he did know where the Island was. And, by now, he figured, at least some enterprising leaf-eaters had found the bridge, seen all the green food on the Island, and crossed.
He hoped.
Just then, he smelled something...
He froze, taking a few sniffs, trying to determine what it was...
He grinned, teeth bared.
Mmm...Longneck! Perfect...
Let’s just hope it’s a small one...
(Even so young, he knew better than to take on a fully-grown Longneck single-clawed.)
He quickly, quietly ran towards the direction of the scent; he could move very fast when necessary...and a hunt was definitely necessary.
The scent grew stronger...he was getting closer. He came to an aged, dried of river-bed, the walls very high...a sort of small canyon. It was sparsely vegetated, loose rocks lining the cliffs. He hid behind a boulder, and peeked out, salivating...
He gaped.
A young Longneck – only a little older than him – that seemed to be looking for something. The tan scales, and pale brown belly...the deep, brown eyes...
It couldn’t be...could it?
“Chomper? Chomper!”
It was.
Carefully, taking a deep breath, Chomper came out from his hiding spot.
“Hello, Littlefoot.”
The Longneck almost seemed to jump out of his skin. He smiled, delighted.
“Oh, Chomper! You’re here!”
The Sharptooth gave a small, tooth-concealing smile back.
“How did you find me?”
Littlefoot chuckled.
“I’d say it’s more like you found me! What are you doing here?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing.”
“Well, when you vanished, we all came looking for you: Me, Ruby, Cera, and the rest. I woke up early this morning, and decided a little extra searching on my own wouldn’t hurt...”
Chomper squirmed, uncomfortably, trying to ignore his growling stomach.
“It actually might have,” he mumbled.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Littlefoot eyed his friend, concerned, head tilted.
“Littlefoot...you need to go back.”
“WE need to go back. Why did you run off, anyway?”
“Not ëwe.’ You. And that’s why I left.”
Littlefoot looked wounded.
“You...left because of me?”
“Yes. No. Sort of...” the Sharptooth fumbled. “ I-I didn’t mean...”
“Well, what do you mean?"
“I mean that I can’t go back with you!” Chomper replied, a little snappishly.
“Why not?” the Longneck inquired, taking a step forward.
He felt his heart sink slightly in his chest as his Sharptooth friend took a step back.
“Littlefoot,” he said softly, desperately, almost whispering. “Please, don’t come any closer...”
Littlefoot’s eyes narrowed, growing a bit frustrated.
“Why. Not?” he asked again, a little more forcefully, and took another step.
Chomper didn’t move this time, but winced, as if each step his friend took physically hurt him.
“Littlefoot, stop...”
“Tell me why.”
“Stop.”
“Tell me why!”
“STOP!”
And the Longneck did.
Chomper took a deep breath.
“I’m hungry,” he said, flatly. “I don’t want to hurt you...I had to leave.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that creepy-crawlies aren’t doing the trick anymore.”
There was a pause.
“You...you’re starving right now, aren't you?" Littlefoot whispered, leaning his neck closer, but pulled back as Chomper let out a quiet hiss, and both took a step back.
“Yes,” Chomper said simply. “I haven’t eaten since I left the Great Valley.”
Littlefoot bit his lip.
“Were you...stalking me? Is that why you were hiding?”
“Yes and no.”
The Longneck glared sternly.
“Meaning?”
“I didn’t know it was you till I saw you.”
The Longneck’s expression was blank.
“Do you get it?” Chomper pressed. “If I didn’t leave, I might have hurt you...I might STILL hurt you. And I don’t want to.”
“Chomper...we’re friends! After everything that happened with Doc, and Ali, and Petrie’s family...”
“That’s just the point, Littlefoot: I left so that I could keep my promise. I...I don’t want anyone you care about to be hurt because of me. Or worse. I’m doing this to save you.”
There was a pause.
Silently, Littlefoot nodded, somberly.
“I understand,” he said, quietly.
“Thank you.”
The Longneck smiled, sadly.
“You’ll...come by and visit, won’t you?”
The Sharptooth laughed wryly.
“You bet!” he replied, with a mischievous smirk. “I’d never be able to stay away!”
The Longneck smiled wider...
"RAWR!"
Both turned, and gasped.
"Red Claw..."
Red Claw: a devilish Sharptooth who hoped to take over the Mysterious Beyond, and, then, the Great Valley. He got his name from a long, red, inflamed scar that ran from one eye (his eyes were also red) all the way down to his arm, where one of his two claws was stained a deep, bloody red. A pair of Fast Biters (one green with blue stripes, one blue with green stripes) stood on either side of him, half-crouched, their long, curved toe-claws tapping the ground impatiently, yellow eyes narrowed hungrily. These were Screech and Thud, a pair of Fast Biter twins who, after being ousted from their pack, joined Red Claw as his henchdinos.
"So," Red Claw snarled with a sneer, speaking the language of Sharpteeth (which sounded like nothing but clicks, hisses, and other sounds to Littlefoot). “We meet again. You two brats have crossed me for the last time!”
There was nowhere to run; the wall behind the two friends was sheer rock. The young Sharptooth growled as menacingly as he could, and got into a predatory stance. Littlefoot glowered at Red Claw, lowering his neck, and lifting his tail, equally prepared for fight or flight.
Red Claw chuckled nastily.
"Kill them!"
Screech and Thud each let out a deadly shriek, and ran forward. Screech – the blue one – pounced at Littlefoot, toe-claws lifted high, flicked up, ready to tear and cut. The Longneck whipped to the side, lashing out with his tail, and sent the Fast Biter sprawling.
Thud, meanwhile, leapt at Chomper, who easily dodged, and lunged, his haws barely missing the Fast Biter (who was now almost his equal in size).
“Still hanging out with Flatteeth, eh, Little Biter?” Thud smirked.
“Not so little anymore,” Chomper hissed back. “I helped you once, remember? You never would have escaped from those rocks without me.”
“I repaid that debt already. How do you think you escaped?”
Chomper snarled.
“I’ll thank you later,” he snapped sarcastically.
Thud licked his teeth.
“By the time I’m through with you,” he clicked out in response. “You’ll never speak again...in ANY language.”
The Fast Biter slashed at him, but Chomper ducked, and kicked the Sharptooth down.
Lest he be forgotten, Red Claw surveyed the fight, crimson darting left and right, trying to decide which side held the better dish...
He finally settled his sights on the Longneck, who had managed to pin Screech to the ground, the Fast Biter screaming in anger, kicking and trying to scratch his prey.
With a guttural snarl, the Two-Claw lunged, though not to bite. Instead, he slammed his head into the smaller Longneck’s side, managing to knock him over. Screech jumped to his feet immediately, hissing in fury.
Chomper and Thud, meanwhile, were each trying to break out of the other’s grip, claws locked, snouts pressed against each other, growling in exertion...
“HELP!”
Chomper saw Red Claw place a heavy foot on Littlefoot’s belly, keeping the Longneck down, and opened his mouth wide...
With a ROAR! Chomper pushed Thud away, knocking the Fast Biter to the ground, and sprinted at Red Claw. When Screech blocked his path, he kicked him away...
And latched his jaws around the gargantuan Sharptooth’s leg.
Red Claw cried out in rage and pain, and the Fast Biter twins each snarled, lunging for Chomper, who spun around, still holding Red Claw...
Causing the large Sharptooth to fall backwards...
And slam against the side of the cliff.
Hard.
So hard, in fact, that it caused a landslide, and several loose slabs of rock came plummeting down from the side of the wall.
The three Sharpteeth still standing tried to move...Littlefoot tried to scream...Red Claw let out a final scream as a particularly large and sharp piece of stone smacked into his skull...
Then, there was a rush, a rumbling...and silence.
When the dust cleared, the floor of the canyon was covered in rock. Out of the rubble, three small Sharpteeth rose, coughing and spluttering.
Their leader defeated, Screech and Thud turned tail and fled, no doubt to find a new pack, or a new master.
"This isn't over!" they chorused, and were gone.
Chomper ignored them.
“Littlefoot?” he coughed out. “Littlefoot!”
“Mmrrgh...”
The indigo Sharptooth looked...
"LITTLEFOOT!"
The Longneck was half-buried under the rocks, his neck and head fully visible, but the rest hidden from view...
And he wasn’t moving...
Chomper ran over, and leaned in.
“Littlefoot?” he whispered.
The Longneck opened his eyes.
“Ch-Chomper...”
The Sharptooth sighed with relief.
“Oh, thank goodness! Here...I’ll get you out...”
But try as he might, the Sharptooth couldn’t remove the rocks covering his best friend...they were simply too heavy. While Chomper had been fortunate enough to be buried under small rocks, the Longneck was under several very, VERY large ones. He pushed, he pulled, he kicked...he tried to wrap his teeth around them (THAT hurt)...
Come on, come on, come on, Come On, Come On, COME ON, COME ON!
“Chomper...hold it...”
Chomper stopped, panting, turning to his friend.
Littlefoot took in a deep, raspy breath.
“Chomper,” he whispered, smiling an even sadder smile than before. “What good is that doing?”
“A lot, if I can get you out!” the Sharptooth replied, and growled, returning to his work.
“I...don’t think I’m getting out of this one...”
Chomper froze. The look on his face was one of horror.
“No...no! I am not leaving you...and YOU are NOT leaving ME!”
He continued to try and pry them loose.
“Come on,” he grunted, now voicing his anger. “Come on...”
“Stop...”
He stopped again, growling angrily.
Littlefoot tried to laugh...and finished it with a short cough.
“You don’t know what you’re doing.”
“No, not really, but, whatever works to-”
“Chomper.”
“Wh-What?”
“You’ve tried enough.”
There was a pause.
“To die...will be an awfully big adventure.”
Chomper’s eyes widened.
“N-no...you...you can’t...can’t...”
“Tell the others I said goodbye,” said Littlefoot...the Longneck sounded almost delirious...
Desperate, urgent, the Sharptooth turned back to the rocks, trying to pull them off, straining, swearing vengeance upon stones in his anger...
He stopped as a single, whispered word from the Longneck below him entered his ears: “M-mother...?”
And Littlefoot breathed no more.
Chomper stared...
He felt himself begin to shake...
His red eyes teared up...
One tear slid down his snout...
And a roar of anguish shook the cliffs.
No rocks fell this time.
Chomper almost wished they had.
He closed his eyes, and began to cry, trembling slightly...
For a while, all he could think of was pain...pain...pain...
Then, slowly, things entered his mind...thoughts...
His eyes opened slowly...they were wide.
Something clicked...
Or snapped...
Or both...
And, slowly, Chomper realized something: if he hadn’t saved Thud years (months? Did it matter anymore?) ago...if he hadn’t left on his own...if he hadn’t bit Red Claw...
Littlefoot would still be alive right now...
He backed away from the body, as if it had bit him.
“No...no, no, no, no, no...”
He moaned, falling to his knees, staring at the ground almost dumbly, absently allowing the tears to stain the ground.
“My fault...all mine...”
His eyes closed again, and for a moment, there was silence.
When they opened, the pupils were dilated dangerously...he took a deep breath, and held up his hand, staring at his claws...
A low growl rippled in his chest...
No good deed goes unpunished, he thought. No act of charity goes unresented...No Good Deed goes unpunished...
His claws curled into fists.
That's my new creed.
He rose, looking at the body with a mixture of both grief and anger...
My road of good intentions lead where such roads ALWAYS lead...
He growled louder.
“No. Good. Deed. Goes unpunished,” he said.
He paused, and began to pace, eyes always on the body, their scarlet depths growing harder and colder and darker...the light more like a searing flame...
He looked over his past: every bloody day after bloody day, trying to prove he was “nice” for his friends and theirs, attempting to make the world “better,” show other dinosaurs what could be done if they would only TALK to each other...
But...why?
He paused in his pacing.
“Why?” That was the question...in learning to speak, he had had to kill. Yet, later, he stopped killing altogether. His first bite of saurian meat had been his friend Cera’s tail, yet never once had he even THOUGHT of hurting her, or any of the rest, in any way...if he KNEW it was them.
Why? Because they had been his friends?
No...they could have still been friends, and he could still have killed...if they were TRULY his friends...
Were they?
Weren’t they?
Why did he keep second-guessing himself?
And then...it hit him.
One question haunts...and HURTS...too much, too much to mention: was I REALLY seeking “good,” or just seeking attention? And...is that all “good deeds” are, when looked at with an ice cold eye?
He snarled.
Well, if THAT’S all “good deeds” are...
“Maybe THAT’S the reason why No Good Deed goes unpunished!” he shouted, not caring who heard him. “All helpful urges should be circumvented! NO GOOD DEED GOES UNPUNISHED! Sure, I meant well. Well, look at what ëwell-meant’ DID!”
Enraged with himself, with Littlefoot, with the accursed UNIVERSE, he spun around, slashing at a tree, gouging the bark deeply. He tore off a branch in his jaws...then remembered how bad plants tasted and released it.
“All right! ENOUGH!” he spat. “So be it...so be it, then...”
He turned, still glaring, towards Littlefoot.
He leaned in, hissing.
"Can you hear me?"
No response.
“Wherever you are, I hope you can understand me when I say this. MAY THE WHOLE WORLD KNOW!” he roared. “Let ALL be agreed: I. Am. A. Sharptooth. Through-and-through. Since I could not succeed, Littlefoot, saving you...I promise: No Good Deed shall I attempt to do again.”
He paused...
Then, with another growl, he turned away, and stalked off.
Never again.
He wasn’t sure for how long he walked...
Just then, he heard a familiar yell.
“Chomper!”
He froze, eyes wide.
Ruby?
"Littlefoot?"
Cera?
He paused, wheels in his mind turning.
Then, he made up his mind, and took off in the direction of the voices.
He found them soon enough...all five of them.
“Look!” came Petrie’s voice. “Me see Chomper!”
They all turned, smiling.
“Chomper!” said Ducky, elated. “We’ve been looking for you. We have, we have! Yep yep yep!”
“About time,” Cera grumbled.
“Chomper, have you seen...”
They stopped.
Chomper’s eyes burned like fire...his claws were splayed apart, their sharp tips glinting in the sunlight...and he was grinning, every single tooth in his mouth showing...
"Ch-Ch-Chomper? Are you...all right?”
Spike let out a whimper, and took a step back.
The Sharptooth let out a short, deranged-sounding giggle, and took a deep breath...
Five scents...five familiar scents...five delicious scents...filled his nostrils.
"No Good Deed..."
“Wh-what are you doing?” Cera whispered, eyeing him uneasily.
"Will I do..."
He pounced.
They screamed.
"AGAIN!"
The End...?
