Advisory: Some graphic content in this chapter
Rescue
Longclaw: Suchomimus
Frillhorn: Styrachosaurus
Spineback: Spinosaurus
Bellydragger (Forest of Sand): Deinosuchus
The first thing Fyn noticed as consciousness crept back to him was a gentle pressure, periodically running from his shoulder down his back. It felt relaxing, something he hadn't experienced in a while. In his half-waking state, it felt as if someone was licking him clean.
"Mother? S- stop, I'm already clean," he mumbled, giggling slightly.
The "licking" stopped, then started up again at a faster rate. Then Fyn became aware of the taste- a combination of gritty dirt and blood in his mouth. He almost choked when it hit him. His tongue became his eyes, searching his mouth for wherever the awful taste was coming from. There were chunks of dirt everywhere, and the blood was running into his mouth from outside it. It seemed it had dried, so at least the flow had stopped, but now he was genuinely worried. The air smelled odd too, reminding him of the smell the Big Water sometimes gave off when the tide pulled back.
Then the memories came rushing back.
The Fast Biters, the chase, the cliff, and finally the drop down to the river below. So they'd survived it, or at least he had. Zaura! Where was Zaura? Impulses and thoughts came in erratic bursts; it was almost too much to handle. His head ached, something was weighing down on most of his body, and there were what felt like little wounds all over him. Now, of course, he also knew that there was no way he was being licked clean, most certainly not by his mother. That pressure was something else… but what?
Slowly, hesitantly, he cracked his eyes open. The very motion of doing so was painful, and required a good deal of exertion on his end, but he had to know what was going on. The rhythmic movement had stopped again, almost as soon as his eyes had opened.
The white light of day was painful at first, assaulting his eyes like the sandstorm they'd passed through, but as Fyn's eyes adjusted, he could see that skywater was no longer falling.
How long have I been out? He thought. Things were starting to shift into focus now- he was lying down on a stretch of sand and pebbles, right next to the river. He could actually feel his tail being knocked about by the current. Fyn was lucky, he supposed, that the tree trunk he could see out of the corner of his eye stopped him from going into the river. That would've been a disaster.
Wait.
The last time he'd checked, there were no trees that close to the river. And something seemed off about this one's coloration. Fyn blinked, making sure he wasn't seeing things. Yes, it was grey, rough, had three roots branching off the bottom… he stopped breathing altogether for a moment and his eyes widened. That was not a tree trunk. Slowly, without moving his head, he shifted his gaze as far up as he could, and that was when he saw something that very nearly sent him into a cowering mess.
It was teeth- a row of sharp, shiny white teeth. Dozens of them, in fact. Fyn lay still, hoping he hadn't been noticed. For the longest time, the teeth just stayed put, and he waited for the end to come, hoping it would at least be quick. The mouth parted, and Fyn prepared for the worst.
"So are you awake or not?"
"What?" Fyn whispered, shaking. The voice wasn't Zaura's, or any other voice he recognized. It had a sort of twang to it, a foreign accent somewhat reminiscent of what he'd been told Egg Stealers sounded like. He knew quite well who the voice should belong to, of course, but he couldn't bring himself to imagine it. Sharpteeth couldn't speak Leaf Eater, could they?
"So that's a yes. Well I'm almost done digging you out. Do yourself a favor, yes? Try not to move. I don't know how bad the damage is."
Fyn wasn't quite sure what this Sharptooth was up to, but for now, the only option he had seemed to be playing along with his little game. Woozily he picked his head up off the ground, craning his neck back to look at the rest of his body.
Perhaps the most notable thing to catch his attention was the huge rut carved down the hill he and Zaura had slid down. They'd left a fairly large gash in the earth all the way to where they lay now. Zaura lay partially in the river, with only her neck and head on the shore. As for himself…
Mud was everywhere, all over the shore and more importantly, all over him. That explained the mysterious weight on him. Several good chunks of the hillside were missing; Fyn guessed that they might've been shifted loose when he fell. At any rate, he was now underneath most of what had been a significant mudslide. And scraping that mud away, for reasons unknown, was the Sharptooth.
This one looked considerably different (and a good deal more terrifying) than the Fast Biters. For one, the Sharptooth was almost as tall as he was if he were to raise his head up as high as possible. He appeared to walk with a slight hunch, sometimes stooping to stand on his forearms. The Sharptooth's jaws, the first part of him Fyn had seen, were incredibly long, and even when they were closed, some of the forward teeth were still exposed. The mouth line also curved up slightly near the tip of his snout, creating the impression that the Sharptooth was locked in some sort of perpetual smirk. That or perhaps he was just smiling to himself at having found an easy meal. His body was a dull but distinct grey with blue striping, and he had a small sail, which extended all the way to his hips, much like Fyn's own sail. But what caught Fyn's eye most of all were the two extremely long and sharp claws, one on each hand, that he was using to dig him out with. Now he understood why he'd told him to keep still. If one of those happened to contact flesh instead of dirt, he felt it would have no trouble going right through it.
This brought up another troubling question: why should the Sharptooth care? Was he not easier to eat in this position, unable to defend himself? Nothing made sense right now; only one thing was clear to Fyn: he was not in a position of power. He was, in fact, entirely at the mercy of this "savior" who was probably planning to just eat him in the end anyway. Fyn tried moving his hip, and discovered that it wouldn't budge. Either he was too weak, there was too much mud covering him, or both. He'd have to bide his time, distract the Sharptooth with conversation, something. Anything.
"My sister," Fyn said, nodding to the still form of Zaura in the river, "is she okay?"
The Sharptooth frowned. "I dunno. She's breathing, but hasn't budged. Maybe you can help me out with her when I get you dug free."
Again, the Sharptooth sounded genuinely concerned, but Fyn supposed perhaps he just wanted to eat his prey alive or… something. He wasn't entirely sure how Sharpteeth worked, he supposed. With each scoop of dirt, though, he was closer to springing his plan. That was the only certainty he could count on.
"You wouldn't believe the stuff I've put up with getting you two out of here, you know," said the Sharptooth as he scraped a particularly hefty chunk of partially-dried mud from Fyn's back. "The Fast Biters showed up; that's why your Sis is in the river. Didn't take me long to dig her out, so I put her in there for safety."
"For… safety?" Fyn stammered. The Sharptooth nodded.
"Yep. River's mine, or at least this slice is. Anything in it belongs to me. As for you, I'm not sure they wanted to eat something this covered in mud. They ran away. Bellydragger tried to take your sister too, not long ago. I sent him back upriver." He made a disgusted face as he examined his claws. "Ugh, I'll be tasting this for at least another day."
That did it. There was no doubt in Fyn's mind that he was about to get eaten. The Sharptooth must've just been digging down to the good parts. Well, he hadn't come all this way to be some wimpy Sharptooth's appetizer. With a burst of speed and strength that he hadn't expected from himself, Fyn pushed himself up, sending dirt everywhere in a terrific flurry of mud and sand. The Sharptooth took a few steps back, surprised.
"Hey, hey, take it easy!" he said, "you don't even know if anything's wrong y-"
"You were going to- argh- eat me!" Fyn interrupted, favoring his right side. Something between his front and rear legs hurt, and the rest of his body ached all over, but he still managed to snap into something resembling a loose defensive posture.
"Oh for- you thought I was going to eat you? What do you take me for? Look at me! Do I look like a dinosaur-eater to you?"
"Yeah," Fyn swayed his tail side to side, cracking it menacingly, "yeah you do."
The Sharptooth shook his head, touching his claws to the end of his snout in what looked like an exasperated gesture.
"You've got it all wrong, Longneck. I'm a Longclaw, don't you- and look- you've gone and opened up that bugger of a scrape on your side."
Fyn looked down at his side. Sure enough, the three claw marks from where the Fast Biter had dug into him during the previous day's fight were bleeding, blood mixing with the mud and dirty residue caking his body.
I am in some seriously bad shape, he thought. In truth, it was a wonder he'd even survived the fall, much less come to a rest with his sails intact.
"That'll get nasty if you leave it, you know," the Longclaw pointed out, "just, for your own sake, get in the river and wash it off, alright? I didn't dig you out just for you to die in a few days."
"Yeah, so then why did you dig me out?" Fyn said as he carefully backed into the water, making sure to keep his tail primed for any sudden movements on the Longclaw's part. The Longclaw kept his distance, however,, instead walking over to check on Zaura.
"I dug you out because… well, I don't know really. Fast Biters always get to hunt and eat whoever they want before they make it this far. I guess I just wanted to see what would happen if I saved you first."
Fyn stopped in the middle of the river. For such clear water, it was deceptively deep. He had to dig his feet into the pebbly river floor just to keep upright against the current. It was cold too, which he found was actually quite refreshing. The Longclaw's words still confused him. What he was saying went against everything he'd ever heard about Sharpteeth, yet he was still getting the impression he was telling the truth.
"While you're in there, would you grab a mouthful of water?"
Noting the Sailneck's confused head tilt, he added, "your sister's gonna need it. Just get yourself a mouthful of water and spit it in her face."
Fyn spat out the mouthful he'd already prepared. "you want me to do what?"
"I've seen it done, just trust me on this. Might seem gross, but it'll wake her up at least."
Hesitantly, Fyn scooped up a mouthful of water, treading carefully over to Zaura. The Longclaw backed up, either respecting his space or simply out of fear. Fyn hoped it was the latter. Lately he'd been feeling rather good about his ability to put Sharpteeth in their place. Plus he didn't have Zaura awake yet to tell him how bad he actually was at it. Bonus. Fyn drew his head back, spraying the cold water into his sister's face and backing up quickly to the safety of the river. If there was one thing scarier than the Sharptooth he was with, it was an angry Zaura. He knew from experience.
Almost as soon as the water hit her, Zaura's face contorted and her nostrils constricted against the cold blast. With a tremendous gasp she lifted her head from the sand, whipping it every which way.
"Told you it'd work," the Longclaw mumbled with a snideness that, he suddenly realized, he probably wasn't in a good position to channel. Upon hearing the voice, Zaura's eyes locked onto the Longclaw, and just like Fyn she stood up, settling into her defensive stance.
"Fyn, get on the other side of the river!" she snarled, "I don't know how we got here or what's going on, but that's a Sharptooth!"
"Oh not again," the Longclaw mumbled.
Zaura's eye twitched and her tail's rhythmic swinging faltered for a moment. "Did it…" she looked anxiously at Fyn for some kind of explanation, "did it just talk?'
Fyn nodded. "Uh huh. It does that for some reason. Look, I don't know what it wants with us either, Zaura, but I don't think it means to kill us."
"I have a name," the Longclaw muttered, "it's Sol, you know, if you actually cared."
"Which we don't," Zaura spat, "just thought I'd clear that up. Fyn, what the heck is going on? What do you mean he doesn't want to kill us?"
"Well he saved us, didn't he? I think maybe…" he steeled himself for what he was about to do, openly prepared to feel the jaws of the Longclaw around him if he'd been duped. Slowly, he lowered his tail and stepped out of the water, toward Sol. "Maybe he's just a good dinosaur."
Zaura clearly was having a tough time believing anything that was going on, but she elected to leave the water as well, forming up by Fyn's side and staring down Sol.
"Talk," was the only thing she said as they locked eye contact. Sol turned his back on her, choosing instead to pace back and forth in the sand.
"Alright, so the truth is- I've been following you two for some time now."
Zaura's nostrils flared and she pawed at the ground, crouching slightly, ready to launch herself at the Sharptooth. "I knew it," she growled through gritted teeth, "so why? Because what you're confessing to is starting to sound a little creepy at best."
Sol waved his claws, backing up and away from Zaura. "No, that's not at all what I wanted to do! I mean I guess in hindsight it was a little creepy, but my intentions weren't bad at all!"
"How old are you?" Fyn interrupted. Sol counted on his claws, looking thoughtfully up at the sky.
"Let's see…" he mumbled, "my twentieth Star Day is coming up in two cycles, so… nineteen years. Twenty pretty soon." He puffed his chest out slightly, beaming as he relayed the news. Twenty had always seemed like such an important number to him.
"He's younger than you are," Fyn nodded to Zaura, "how bad could he be?"
"Oh I don't know, Fyn. Tell you what- let's go back and ask Ryth how bad Sharpteeth can be. Or have you already forgotten how badly that attack messed you up?"
Fyn's stomach turned at Zaura's rebuke. Sure, Sharpteeth were capable of some pretty monstrous things, but the treatment she was giving Sol was hardly even fair. So far the Longclaw had done nothing to them, yet she was treating him worse than dirt. He tried his best to change the subject.
"Um, anyway, what were you saying about following us?"
Sol nodded eagerly, "oh yes! I overheard you two talking about traveling to far-away places, and searching for someone. I also heard something about stories, and legends, and honestly it just all sounded so exciting to me that I had to find out where you were headed!" he turned around, wading into the river and staring into the water with a cool intent.
"You see," he continued, "this is all I do every day- just stand in this river, hoping a nice meal will come by-"
"And what exactly is it you eat?" Zaura butted in. Sol held up a claw to silence her, and this only seemed to infuriate the female Longneck more. Then, without warning, he plunged forward, swiping one of his massive claws through the water in a flurry of droplets and foam. When the claw reappeared, a scaly swimmer wriggled around, impaled on the end of it. As its movements began to slow, Sol took hold of it in his jaws and tilted his head back, swallowing it whole. When he was done, he gave the two a satisfied grin. He was greeted by a look of utter horror from Fyn and a slack-jawed stare from Zaura. Neither of the two had ever considered that anything could eat a scaly swimmer.
"You… eat those?" Fyn gulped, fighting down the food in his stomach, while trying to block out the memory of the creature sliding down Sol's throat.
"Sure do!" Sol grinned, "and they are positively delicious if I do say so myself! So soft, slimy, succulent-"
Fyn raced to a cluster of bushes on the riverbank and promptly lost the struggle between himself and his gag reflex. Zaura simply rolled her eyes.
"I don't believe you. You're way too big to survive on scaly swimmers alone."
Sol shook his head, "that's the way it is, Miss. I just eat a lot of 'em, and try to find bigger ones when I can. It actually doesn't take much to keep me moving about, plus you tend to find quite a few when it's all you do every day."
Zaura nodded, though she wasn't entirely convinced. She was about to say something else to Sol when Fyn returned, weary from his trip to the bushes.
"Can we just move on to why you're even telling us this?" he groaned. Sol beamed from ear to ear.
"Thought you'd never ask! See, the fact that you're even talking to me is a lot more than any other leaf eater or Sharptooth can say. I've seen a lot come and go, but everyone just ignores me mostly. Sharpteeth don't consider me one of them because I don't eat other dinosaurs, and the leaf eaters see my teeth and decide to attack first and ask questions later, so I mostly stick to myself."
"Surely you have parents?" Fyn asked.
"Nope," Sol shook his head again, "Mother left me as soon as I learned to catch scaly swimmers. Turns out that's all a Longclaw needs to know about life. One day I go to sleep by her side as usual, and the next she's gone. Honestly I think maybe she did it that way to save me the trouble of saying goodbye." He paused to take a deep breath and compose himself. "Anyway, I always kind of wanted something more though. I wanted to explore, but Mother always told me never to leave the river. Out there on my own, she said, I'd die. That's where you come in."
Fyn and Zaura exchanged a confused glance.
Paying them no heed, Sol continued, "I want to see the world. I want to know what life is like beyond this little section of river. So when you two came into the forest, I followed you around, listened to what you had to say about your little journey, and…" he gulped, "I want to come with you."
The statement dropped about as subtly as a falling sky rock and left the three standing, staring at each other awkwardly until Zaura broke the silence loudly.
"No. Absolutely not."
"Zaura, having a guide, someone who knows the Beyond better than us, could be useful."
"He's a Sharptooth, Fyn! The last ones we met didn't make our lives any easier! I thought you hated them! Why is this one so special to you?"
Sol opened his mouth as if to speak, but said nothing, only staring crestfallen down at the water. The look on his face was heartbreaking, and Fyn cracked immediately.
"Zaura, come on," he whispered, 'what if there's nothing malicious about this at all?"
"And what if there is?" she countered, "last I checked, you don't know him."
"He's a year younger than you!"
"So? A year ago I was perfectly capable of lying. Why should he be any different?"
Sol watched the two squabble, trying his best to hide his disappointment. He supposed this shouldn't have come as a surprise. After all, he'd fully expected to be attacked. Instead, they'd held a relatively civilized conversation. The female obviously didn't trust him, and with good reason- he was still a Sharptooth after all. But there was still hope. Maybe the male could see reason. He was ready to go, just itching to leave his familiar surroundings. Now if only the travelers could find it in their hearts to include him…
"Fine. But if he steps out of line only once…"
"He won't," Fyn reassured his sister, "I really don't think he will. Besides, having a Sharptooth along could be helpful."
Zaura raised an eyebrow, casually flicking her tail at her brother as she turned to Sol.
"So here's the deal, creep. You can come with us, but only as far as the mountains. Once we find our herd, you're history. Crawl on back to your river. Make one mistake, and I will remove your head from your neck with this."
She whipped her tail forward, stopping it just shy of Sol's face. The Longclaw stepped back, beaming with excitement but still rather wary of the deadly tail.
"Thank you so much! I promise you I will not slow you down at all, and I'll do whatever you ask of me. Thank you, thank you, thank-"
"Well I'd like you to shut up!" Zaura snapped, and immediately Sol fell silent, keeping an eye on the tail.
"Good, now what's the safest way to get to the mountains from here?"
Sol pointed upriver, gesturing towards the riverbank in what looked like advice to stick to the did this without speaking a single word. Zaura smirked.
"Good. You're learning."
And without any further acknowledgement, she turned and started walking up the riverbank. When she was what he deemed a safe distance away, Sol carefully exited the river, whispering as he passed by Fyn:
"She can't really, you know… cut my head off with her tail, can she?"
Fyn shrugged, feeling more than a little sorry for their new companion, "someone told her it was possible, and now I think she really wants to find out. My advice? Don't test her."
"Got it," Sol nodded, "uh… maybe you should walk between us."
Chuckling to himself, Fyn obliged, and the three set off up the river, Sol taking up the rear. Despite everything he'd seen so far to suggest otherwise, Fyn felt he was going to like this Sharptooth. As long as his diet kept to scaly swimmers, he decided, he was going to be completely okay with this change. Hopefully Zaura would at least be tolerable in his presence, but he wasn't holding his breath. It was probably a good thing they'd be parting at the mountains- if not for Zaura's sake, then for Sol's.
…
The three dinosaurs spent most of the day trekking up the riverbank, always on the lookout for Sharpteeth, Bellydraggers, poisonous groundcrawlers, and whatever else Sol warned them about (of which there was a great deal). Zaura, as before, led the entire way, only asking Sol for the occasional direction, while Fyn and Sol hung a little farther back, talking with each other. Fyn was curious about the Sharptooth's perspective on the world, and about life in the Mysterious Beyond, and as long as their talk didn't reach Zaura's ears, their conversation got along just fine.
"So how did you learn to speak leaf eater?" Fyn asked as they walked past a cluster of rapids.
"A long time ago, a herd came through and I went out to see them- keep in mind, this was when I was around eight or so, just after my mom left me- and instead of chasing me off, they let me mingle a bit. It was a lot of fun- they stayed for a few days, and helped me work on my knowledge of the leaf eater language. Mother taught me some too, said it'd always be helpful if I had to talk my way out of a bad situation. I actually learned a lot from those leaf eaters, and the few herds that followed them. Then the Great Sky Stone fell, and they just became fewer and farther between."
"Great Sky Stone?"
Sol nodded. "Yep. Really big flying rock, to be exact. Would've been about ten years ago. Didn't you see it?"
Fyn shook his head. "I spent most of my life in a grove of dense trees, so I never really got to look at the sky much."
"Well it was quite a sight to see," Sol said, "unfortunately the herds that came following the Sky Stone never really approached me, probably because I was getting older, bigger, and scarier looking. Kind of a shame, really."
"Yeah…"
The crack of Zaura's tail interrupted Fyn.
"Hey, what are you two talking about back there?"
"I'm-" Fyn searched for something to say, anything that might save him from the wrath of his sister, and settled on the best option he could find. "I'm interrogating him."
Sol cocked an eyebrow in amusement, but Zaura was less than pleased. "Fyn, we both know that's a lie. Now unless you're getting directions from him, I'd suggest you don't get too attached. We agreed that he's leaving when we reach the mountains."
So she'd said. Numerous times, in fact, though Fyn was hardly keen to remind her of that.. The mountains were still quite a distance away, and never really appeared to get any closer as they pressed on, so Fyn was, for the moment, content. He rather liked Sol, and his stories were nothing short of fascinating. He'd made sure to ask about his father, of course, but Sol pointed out that, given the time he'd disappeared, he'd been even younger than Fyn, and remembered almost nothing of those days. Not that Fyn had expected to get a positive answer, of course, but covering all options was never a bad idea.
"Stop!" Sol said suddenly, halting beside Fyn and holding up a claw, glancing anxiously around.
"Now what?" Zaura groaned as she made her way back to the rear of their impromptu formation, "this had better be important."
Sol walked over to the edge of the river, peering down its length. Up ahead, the water became much slower, and wove in between some thick trees .The forest around them was quiet, and the water was clear save for a few logs caught in the shallows near the shore.
"This is Bellydragger territory," Sol whispered, "and beyond that- the Spinebacks. We'll want to stay as far away from the river as we can for the moment."
Fyn shivered. Sol hadn't neglected to tell him all sorts of stories about those two particular denizens of the local river. Bellydraggers were known for their underwater ambush attacks, waiting in perfect stillness for a herd to cross through the river before leaping upon them, biting down and thrashing their helpless prey from side to side before the poor creature died of blood loss, shock, bone fractures, or any combination of the above. Spinebacks were just as bad in that they were extremely territorial. Sol recounted one time he'd accidentally pushed into their part of the river; two large Spinebacks chased him away, only stopping when he'd made it back to his own little corner of the river. They ate the scaly swimmers too, Sol said, but their location farther upstream allowed them access to the choicest ones. He also hinted that they'd been known to snack on unwary leaf eaters from time to time, when they got the chance. Surely not predators to be trifled with.
"Well I don't see any Bellydraggers," Zaura said, a bit louder than Fyn felt was comfortable. He could've sworn he saw something just ahead move, but wasn't quite sure.
Putting a claw to his mouth in a shushing motion, Sol nodded towards the logs.
"Two of 'em, dead ahead."
Before Fyn's eyes, the logs suddenly disappeared, and with a queasy realization, it dawned on him that those logs had been the Bellydraggers. They were being watched.
"They'll be moving towards the shore. We'd best be on our way now."
Fyn couldn't agree more, and even Zaura looked a little shaken as they left the riverbank behind for the trees. No sooner had they entered the forest cover, however, when an eerie, moaning sound made Fyn freeze.
"What was that?" he whispered.
Zaura leaned toward the direction the sound had come from, eyes closed. It came once again, the sound reminding Fyn of the stories he and his friends used to tell about ghosts- dinosaurs who'd died but stayed around in half-physical forms to torment the living. Fyn had cast those superstitious beliefs aside a long time ago, but that didn't make them any less scary. Something was out there, and it was making its presence known.
"Sounds like a leaf eater," Zaura remarked.
"And one in pain too," Sol added, withering under the glare Zaura shot him. Apparently they weren't quite on speaking terms yet.
Despite the foreboding tone, only amplified by the forest's echo, there was something familiar to Fyn hidden in the ghostly call. It sounded like something he'd heard before, but not directly- a variation, perhaps from the same source. One of the herd? The sound returned. Not just one of the herd- it was a rough, bellowing, raspy call. There weren't many dinosaurs that could make a call as completely unmelodious as that.
Lyko.
The realization hit him instantly. The clues added up- there were no other Clubtails in the herd that Fyn had seen, he and Zaura hadn't spotted him with the rest of the herd, and he'd gone missing around the same place they had, if not farther back. He'd be in this area. But if that was the case, why did he sound pained? Something wasn't right.
"I think it's Lyko, the Clubtail from our herd," Fyn said aloud, explaining himself for Sol's sake.
"Lyko?" Zaura snorted, "please Fyn, that's a call for help. Lyko's not in trouble- you know him as well as I do."
"Well maybe it is and maybe it isn't. Don't we still have an obligation to find whoever's doing this and rescue them?"
For the first time that day, Zaura was in complete agreement. A fire smoldered in her eyes as she began to relish the possibility of once again being called to action.
"Agreed, Fyn. Agreed. Now let's go find this mystery dinosaur!"
…
Alpha glared through the bushes at the trapped Clubtail. Loyalties were costly- he should've run when he had the chance. But leaf eaters were predictable, and this one had done his best for his friend. It hadn't been enough, and the Hornfrill they'd eaten had been delicious. In a way, part of this situation sparked a primitive glee in the back of Alpha's mind- one he'd always been at war with himself to keep down. He felt powerful. The Clubtail probably could've freed himself at any point over the last few hours, but they both knew he wouldn't dare. He didn't know where Alpha and his pack were anymore. Stumbling off into the foliage would seal his doom. So he waited.
Left was watching the Clubtail's anguished cries for help with a disturbing fascination. He was mostly quiet, barely blinking, and only every now and then purring to himself. This was his revenge- his opportunity to reclaim any semblance of self he still could. And despite the morbidness of the situation, Alpha knew he had no choice but to let Left see this path through to the end. At least now that path was almost complete.
A rustle in the bushes behind him alerted Alpha to the presence of Rear. The female gave him a quick bark, then darted off into the bushes, circling around to the opposite side of the small clearing where the Clubtail lay.
More were coming. It seemed sending Rear away to keep guard had been a valuable idea. She didn't say what sort of intruders were headed their way, but that wasn't a problem; they'd smell them soon enough. Alpha crouched down low, keeping the leaves above his head. Beside him, Left did the same, and Alpha gave him an approving nod. At the very least, he was really shaping up as third in command material. Perhaps next time they could gather a bigger pack; after all, it wasn't often a group of three took down a Clubtail. And his friends.
…
The herd of three thundered through the underbrush, trampling bushes and flattening saplings in their path as they homed in on the cries for help. As much as he wanted to believe that they'd make it in time, Fyn had stolen a glimpse at the fading day sky through the tree canopy on their way; a circle of meat-eating Flyers was already descending. The voice may not have been dead yet, but it was getting there.
Sol, now bringing up the lead due to his faster running speed, halted, sniffing the air.
"My sniffer's not as good as most Sharpteeth," he confessed, "but even so, we're getting close. I smell blood."
Sol's observation was hardly comforting, but Fyn remained calm, knowing now that panicking in a situation like this was only liable to make the situation worse. Sol bent down to the ground, creeping on all fours to a tree with a splintered chunk missing from its trunk. This wasn't natural; something powerful had done this. There was a series of tracks leading deeper into the trees, too- two sets of leaf eater-shaped ones, and three sets of distinctive Fast Biter imprints. It was becoming clearer and clearer what had happened here.
Zaura let out a quiet cry of surprise as something warm dripped onto her, backing up a bit. As the dark red liquid rolled down her shoulder, she immediately identified it as blood, but from who? Fyn saw it too, and tried to mentally piece together where it would've come from. Given where Zaura had been standing, plus where the blood had landed on her… he backed up, squinting at the trees around them. There wasn't much ambient light in the forest, especially with the Bright Circle already starting to set, so he had to make do with what he had, but slowly something shifted into view: a pattern, formed in the most macabre of nature's materials- a spray of blood, an almost perfect slice of red garnishing the trees opposite him. How it had made it so high up without touching any of the lower bushes was beyond him. Perhaps it had been from a large dinosaur, or perhaps someone had simply been hurt badly. Whatever the case, he was already having second thoughts about being here.
"I have a trail," Sol whispered, beckoning. Zaura followed closely, keeping her mouth shut. In this single instance, it appeared that Sol's company was more a boon than a curse for her, now that he was in charge of this little hunt. Fyn, too, followed, trailing behind Sol and Zaura as he led them forward through a beaten-down path through the forest grass. Blood clung to every other blade, and though Fyn tried to keep away, eventually there was no avoiding it. His legs below the knees were dotted with the stuff, and he had no choice but to try and ignore it.
"Oh," Sol said as they crossed out into an open clearing in the trees. "Oh my. Well it looks like whatever we've been following has already eaten."
Curious to see what Sol was talking about, Fyn passed Zaura to get a better look. Something about the air here smelled foul, unsettling, even. He peered over Sol's shoulder at what the Longclaw was looking at, and what he saw forced him to turn away for a moment, to avoid the rush of queasiness he felt.
It was a Frillhorn, on its side, very clearly dead. Its underbelly had been split cleanly open from neck to tail, displaying the cavernous husk that had been its body. The Frillhorn's insides had been picked clean, leaving only the skeleton and a few inedible entrails behind. Blood formed a trail to the carcass, and was pooled around it, indicating that it had died slowly, probably collapsing as it faded from consciousness rather than fighting its pursuers. Frillhorns were tough; the Fast Biters would've had to have been swift in order to take it down before any real fighting started. Then Fyn remembered the spray of blood he'd seen just a moment ago. The Fast Biters were definitely capable. In his mind's eye, he could imagine himself in the Frillhorn's position. Maybe he was alert, maybe not, but one thing was certain- he didn't see the attack coming. A rustle of bushes, a quick flick of a killing claw, perhaps a glimpse of the Sharptooth who was responsible, and then his blood was covering the vegetation. It probably happened so fast he hadn't even felt anything, save for a swift impact. Woozy from the sudden loss of blood, he would've panicked, plunging in a dying stupor into this clearing where he'd lose consciousness, right alongside whomever had been accompanying him. And that dinosaur would be…
Fyn followed the second set of tracks. They danced around a bit, mingling with the Fast Biters', and little mounds of dirt indicated places where the tracks' owner had dug himself in for stability. If the situation hadn't been so dire, the story the tracks told would have been fascinating, mapping out a battle from start to finish that Fyn could clearly follow. Spots of blood and a few broken chips of what Fyn could only guess were teeth indicated that this dinosaur hadn't been caught by surprise, further convincing him that it was Lyko they were looking for.
Something struck him as odd, then. He hadn't really paid attention to it until now, but recently the cries for help had stopped. In fact, it was extremely quiet in the woods. Save for the flapping of the fliers' wings as they descended onto the carcass below, not even the sound of a small animal could be heard. Whoever they were looking for- didn't he want to be found? Why stop now? Of course, there were some plausible answers, and Fyn clung to these. Maybe the caller had just passed out, or possibly escaped by himself. After all, it was clear that the Fast Biters weren't around anymore. But that didn't make sense either. All four sets of remaining tracks continued farther into the trees. The Fast Biters hadn't given up the fight, so where were they?
"Come on," Sol whispered as he tiptoed just to the side of the prints, so as not to disturb them, "we're not done here yet."
Fyn was in agreement. There was something here they were missing; he just didn't know what it was yet. He tried his best to mimic Sol, treading as lightly as possible, but he was met with only moderate success. Sol, despite his size, was much more lightly built- better suited for the task of tracking. It was a wonder he hadn't developed a taste for leaf eater, Fyn considered with some relief. The Sharptooth (or, as he excused himself, Longclaw) would've made an excellent hunter.
They pushed forward into yet another clearing, through a tight cluster of thick leaves, following the remnants of what was shaping up to have been quite a battle. Fyn's head was bent down to the tracks, studying them carefully, so he wasn't immediately conscious of what Sol saw that made him utter a single, chilling phrase.
"Oh no."
Quickly his head snapped up from his work, and for an instant, Fyn and his herd held still, eyes locked with the figure who lay crouched in front of them. It was Lyko. His chest heaved as his breaths came in rasps, and while he was impressively able to stay silent, his eyes were wild, and his teeth clenched. The Clubtail was in pain, and as his observations traveled down his body, Fyn could see why. How it had happened was thus far unknown, but somehow he'd backed into the jagged stump of a thin tree. The tough, anchored wood had gone right into his back left leg, and it had been there long enough for the blood around it to start to dry. Despite his apparent pain, Lyko looked up as the three entered his clearing.
"Sharptooth!" he hissed, "Fyn, Zaura- Sharptooth right next to you!"
Zaura hurried over to Lyko's side, checking for any other injuries. He was cut badly, but the only serious wound was the broken stump in his leg. "He's with us," she reassured him, "what happened?"
Lyko opened his mouth to say something about the Sharptooth, but if it was docile for now, then it wasn't an immediate concern.
"You shouldn't be here," he whispered, straining to get coherent speech out through his pain, "they're still here- cornered me, ran me into this stump, made me listen and watch as they ate Stych. Five… he was still alive when they started. You need to leave me!"
"Not a chance."
Zaura beckoned for Fyn, and Sol followed as well, examining the wound carefully. Lyko recoiled as his snout approached him, but knew he was powerless, and relaxed as Sol checked the injury out from top to bottom.
"We have to get this out," he said, indicating the stump. To Lyko he added, "can you move your leg?"
Lyko shook his head. "Barely. I've been losing feeling in it; think it's gone through the muscle."
That went without saying. As he shifted, Sol could even see the pink muscle underneath the skin. This was a deep wound, and one that would take a great deal of time, rest, and perhaps even luck to heal. Nevertheless, they had to try.
"Okay, so I have an idea. I've seen it done on deep wounds, but I don't know that it'll work in this situation."
Anxieties aside, Fyn and Zaura were both listening intently now to what their companion had to say.
"Fyn, I need you to put your front feet down on his…" Sol picked at his teeth, a nervous tic of his, as he searched for a word, "shell? You need to hold him down, stop him from struggling."
"Got it."
Fyn put as much weight as he felt was comfortable on Lyko. He was met with little resistance, though the Clubtail kept rambling about someone in the bushes. Zaura, meanwhile, was directed over to the injured leg, and instructed to keep it as still as possible. All the while, Sol prepared for his part in the procedure. It would require speed and precision, something he wasn't sure he was capable of, but being the only one capable of grasping and scooping necessitated his role. Gingerly he hooked his claws around the stump, angling his body to put as much strength as possible into the pull.
"Okay, on the count of three-"
"This is what they want!" Lyko hissed, "it's what they're waiting for! Just go!"
"One… two… three!"
Sol pulled back hard, almost losing his balance as the stump uprooted from the ground, leaving Lyko's leg with a horrible squelching noise. This time, Lyko was unable to stifle a cry of pain, and Fyn held him down, fighting the strong dinosaur's involuntary kicks and bucks as he struggled against the torment. Almost immediately fresh blood began gathering and pouring from the wound. Wasting no time, Sol scooped up a clawful of mud, pasting it right into the wound. Blood and dirt mixed, creating a sort of paste, but the blood continued to flow as mud fell away from the wound. Sol applied another daub, this time keeping his claws kept firmly against the wound despite Lyko's grunts of agony. Blood seeped over his claws, but the flow was slowing, and continued to do so until it finally stopped. Lyko's legs gave out and he lay on the forest floor, panting, not even speaking.
Fyn turned away. The pain must've been unimaginable. It was a wonder Lyko had even managed to stay conscious for the whole ordeal. Whoever had said Clubtails were tough was responsible for the greatest understatement of all time.
"I've got to keep some pressure on this," Sol sighed, "but the worst is over. Only time's gonna tell if he can even walk after we're through."
"Shouldn't have.. done it," Lyko whispered. "Fast Biters… still here, waiting."
Until now, Fyn hadn't even given them any thought, but as he focused back on the tracks, he noticed that they did indeed disappear into the trees around them, splitting off in different directions. To the uninformed, the track patterns would've looked like a hasty retreat, but what Lyko was saying had Fyn on edge. If there was one thing they'd learned so far, it was that these Sharpteeth were persistent.
"Fyn, his mouth is dry and he's getting weaker. We need to get him some water," Zaura spoke up from Lyko's side.
She was right- in his weakened state, Lyko would need lots of water, and the only source readily available was the nearby river. They'd have to backtrack; it'd cost them about a day, but if it possessed a chance of keeping Lyko alive, it was worth it.
"Okay," he said, taking a deep breath and assessing the situation, "we need to make it to the river, and we need to do it fast, before our Fast Biter friends decide to rush us. Night's just fallen, visibility is gonna be low, so Sol-"
At the mention of his name the Longclaw stood.
"You've got the best senses out of any of us- you'll bring up the lead. Zaura, you and I will help Lyko walk, and keep an eye on our backs. Lyko, what are you capable of doing, if anything?"
The Clubtail grunted, giving his tail a few practice swings. Movement hurt, but he grudgingly had to admit that the Sharptooth knew his stuff- the mud was drying, and while his leg hurt worse than a Bellydragger bite, it wasn't bleeding anymore, at the very least.
"I can hit; I can fight," he answered gruffly.
Fyn moved over to Lyko, next to Zaura. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that," he mumbled. "Now, see if you can stand up, Lyko. We'll help you."
Shuddering, the Clubtail pushed down, lifting his bulk free of the forest floor. Still the mud held, but the effort was immense. It felt less like he was pushing himself up and more like he was trying to push the ground around him down. His spines dug slightly into the sides of Fyn and Zaura, but if they felt pain, they weren't sharing it. Inwardly he smiled. They were turning out alright after all.
Fyn stole one last glance behind them, into the bushes, just to make sure they weren't being followed. He almost started on his way when two little pinpricks of light in the bushes caught his attention. It was night; what in this forest could have been giving off light at this time of day? Sol noticed Fyn regarding the lights. However, unlike the Longneck, he knew exactly what they were; it was time to go.
"The Fast Biters are back," he whispered to Fyn, "those are their eyes you can see."
A wave of dread washed over Fyn as a tan-colored snout began to reveal itself through the bushes, giving him a nasty, toothy grin.
"Get ready to-" he started, just as the other Fast Biters exited the bushes ahead of the group, cutting off their path. They closed in, tightening their circle around the four dinosaurs and chattering excitedly amongst one another. Interestingly enough, Fyn was actually starting to see some semblance of emotion in them. The lead- the one with the red tuft, was talking to both his companions, seemingly trying to keep the other male in line. Suddenly, Fyn had an idea.
"Sol, you speak Sharptooth too, right?"
"Yeah."
"So talk to them! Tell them we'll leave them alone if they let us pass!"
Sol thought about it. The Longneck's plan was sound; right now, the Fast Biters were just calling out commands to one another, basic hunting lingo. They didn't even seem to be aware he understood them, though they had nothing to hide either.
Crouching down to their level, Sol answered the Fast Biters' talk with his own, deeper growl. This immediately attracted the attention of the lead. Ordering his subordinates to disperse and flank the group, he swapped places with the one closest to Sol, listening intently. Sol engaged him in a rapid exchance of grunts, snorts and snarls, all of which made no sense to Fyn, but the body language told another story. Sol entered the conversation with a neutral tone, becoming more and more insistent as he went on, while the pack leader simply dismissed his advances, growing steadily more frustrated until he finally gave out a loud shriek that sent even Sol a few steps back. Slowly the lead turned towards Lyko and nodded at him. Something beyond simple hunger was behind those luminous eyes; Fyn could see it.
"Oh…" Sol said in leaf eater, tracing the lead's gaze over to Lyko, "oh my."
"What is it?" Zaura snapped, warily eyeballing the Fast Biter by her back legs, "what did they say?"
"They said they can grant us a safe passage to the river…" Sol began.
Zaura straightened up, "that's good enough for me. Come on Fyn, let's get Lyko out of-"
"...but only if we leave the Clubtail to them."
As if comprehending what the Longclaw had said, the leader bobbed his head in agreement.
"Do it," Lyko coughed, "safe passage is never something to turn down."
"Oh and we totally trust them!" Zaura shot back, "no, we're getting you out of here!"
"Listen to me for once! Just-"
Zaura started walking, and Fyn had no choice but to move with her, his side already aching from his earlier injuries and Lyko's bony knobs. The Fast Biters took the opportunity and quickly leaped at them. Zaura stopped short, glaring.
"Now you listen to me, Sharptooth scum! I don't care if you can't understand me- we're leaving and we're taking Lyko with us! You think you can stop us? I'd like to see you try. Dare even say that I look forward to- no, I relish the opportunity to crush each and every one of you. You've failed to kill us twice now- the outcome will always be the same."
Fyn just stared at his sister, slackjawed. Even the Fast Biters seemed somewhat taken aback.
"Damn…" Fyn mouthed, completely unaware that Zaura had such a talent for such inflammatory speech.
"Yes, very motivational," Lyko mumbled, "now drop me and save yourselves already."
A shrill screech shattered the still night air as one of the Fast Biters leaped through the air onto Lyko's back, scratching at the thick armored plating in frustration. Unable to reach him with her tail, Zaura angled her neck down, presenting her spines to him, and swiping her neck back, leaving several long, shallow gashes down his side. The wounded Fast Biter retreated behind the female, who stepped up to take his place. She roared at Lyko, feigning an attack. When Lyko and Fyn instinctively swung for her, she easily cleared both tails, using Lyko as a platform to propel herself toward Sol, who was already snapping at the lead. Fyn watched as the predator landed on Sol only to be shaken off and thrown into a tree. Thank goodness Sol knew what he was doing.
A sudden, white-hot pain took hold of Fyn's left front leg, and he pulled back, just as a cascade of warm blood fell down his skin. The female was back, and she'd managed to land a hit with her "killing claw," as Lyko called it. Fyn kicked out in response, but she was already darting away. He made it his goal not to have that claw touch him anywhere else; that attack had dug in deep, and it was still bleeding.
"Well, we're fighting now," Lyko groaned, "you and Zaura need to let go of me and spread out, or we're all dead. I can make it to the river on three good legs."
Fyn locked eyes with him, trying to discern any indication of deception. He saw none. Lyko was smarter than he was when it came to these situations, so he hesitantly nodded. He and Zaura spaced out, while Lyko regained his shaky footing.
"Three versus four," Fyn whispered to himself, "they're completely outnumbered."
"Fall back to the river now!" Sol roared just as the lead Fast Biter flew through the air next to Fyn's face, trailing a trickle of blood from a nasty-looking laceration on his side.
"You heard him, Zaura!" Fyn opened his mouth wide, letting a deep, loud bellow resonate up from his diaphragm- the signal to start moving. The Fast Biters were recovering, but none were directly attacking; they had to take the chance. Sol turned and took off at a slow run, followed by Zaura. Lyko was supposed to be next. Then one of the Fast Biters sprinted out from his friends, heading straight for the Clubtail. Fyn bounded towards Lyko, twisting his body around to gain momentum for a good tail swipe, but even from where he was, he knew he wasn't going to make it. All he could do was watch as the Fast Biter came closer to the injured Clubtail.
…
Alpha couldn't believe his luck. No sooner had they launched their attack to stop the leaf eaters' retreat when they began to split up. What were they doing, dividing their forces? Now each one was isolated; with speed, they could take advantage of this.
When the Clubtail opened up, he gave his orders: target the injured leg, bring him down, get under him and split his soft belly. The target had suffered enough; it was time to finish this hunt. Rear was battered, and Alpha too had his share of injuries, but the Clubtail was their only focus now. He watched carefully, staying clear of the swinging tails as the Clubtail turned, exposing the length of his side to them. From here, a straight in dash would keep them out of the tail's reach. Additionally, his head was bent down, turned away from them; he'd never even see the attack coming. It was now or never.
Left moved first, the promise of exacting his revenge far overwhelming his sense of pack heirarchy. Alpha barked out for him to stop, to reform and wait just a little longer, but the subordinate Fast Biter was beyond listening. Something nagged at the back of Alpha's mind as he saw Left go for the kill. Everything was coming together far too perfectly. One of the Longnecks was already racing toward the Clubtail to defend him, but Left would get there first, with plenty of time to strike a finishing blow.
Then he saw the Clubtail's eyes tracking Left, following him as he raced towards his mark. Why wasn't he reacting? He had ample time to swing his tail, so why didn't he? The Clubtail began to draw up his left front leg, and suddenly Alpha knew exactly what was going to happen. With a roar to Rear to stay put, Alpha surged forward, putting on a burst of speed unlike anything he'd ever accomplished. Left was almost under the Clubtail, but he was gaining on him. He had to make it in time. Left was too blind to see that he was walking into something beyond his control.
The impact surprised Left. He hadn't anticipated being hit by anything at this angle to the target, yet something from behind him crashed into his rear, catapulting him forward into a less than graceful tumble just to the side of the Clubtail. He hadn't even had time to turn his fall into a chance to strike. Looking back, he tried to decipher what had interrupted his attack. What he saw froze him in place.
Alpha had taken his position. Slowed down by the force of impact, he was trying to race out of the way of the Clubtail, but the bulky leaf eater was deceptively quick for his size. He shuffled to the side, knocking Alpha flat off his feet. Imbalanced and dazed, the Fast Biter woozily tried to get to his feet, and for a moment, their eyes made contact, Alpha and Left- the last two males of the pack- and Left understood.
Alpha saved him.
The Clubtail had been planning, baiting them in for this, and in their confidence they'd failed to see the obvious trap. Suddenly, all thoughts of vengeance gone, Left cried out for his leader, but it was to no avail. In that fraction of a second, the Clubtail's heavy foot came down, on top of where Left knew Alpha's head was. There was a horrible, splintering crunch- the rest was mercifully hidden by the tall grass- and when the Clubtail brought his blood-covered foot back up, Left knew it was over. There was no more Alpha.
Rear simply stood, devastated at the sight in front of her, crying out to her leader to move, to stand and fight, unable to process that he was never going to hunt again. As the leaf eaters turned to leave, she opened her mouth and screamed at them, loud enough that it hurt. Every ounce of air in her lungs was expelled through straining vocal cords, and presently Left joined her.
Left. He was responsible, but like it or not, he was all she had. She approached the younger Fast Biter, roaring directly into his face, and he backed down, nervously, finally subservient. She was Alpha now, and she'd take the name with the burden of responsibility. He'd started this hunt, and now, for his sake, she was going to finish it.
…
