Well it certainly took me long enough to get this finished, my sincerest apologies for the delay, Sovereign. This is a prompt response from the first season of the Land Before Time Prompt challenge. Sovereign's prompt as the winner of the April and May 2017 challenge was: During times of great uncertainty and inner conflict, our thoughts and actions are based on our past experiences. Most of all, the treasured, precious moments of the past will live forever and guide us through the more difficult moments of our lives and stir long-hidden and missed memories and emotions.

With that out of the way, I hope that you all enjoy this story and I look forward to your feedback.  

Reunions

Weary eyes looked out upon the monoliths in the distance with the slightest hint of recognition.  The watchful gaze of the mountains, long since having gone silent from their volcanic past, still loomed over the desolate landscape with a presence that could not be matched by even the largest dinosaur.  Here, nestled between the high walls of the ravine on both sides and the two watchful peaks in the distance, even a longneck could feel insignificant.

The young adult turned his head to gaze upon those assembled before him.  The necks of the numerous sauropods stood out between the ravine’s walls like stalks of innumerable plants.  Some were smaller than his and many more much longer, but they all looked to him for leadership in the journey ahead.

His father was dead.

“What do you think, Littlefoot?”

He looked towards the towering longneck beside him.  Shorty had grown like a weed during the wet season and was no longer the modestly sized sauropod that he once had been.  Now he towered over everyone in the sizeable herd, including its leader.

“Well we won’t know if it works until we try.  What do you give as our odds, Shorty?”

The massive green longneck showed a bit of his old self as he rolled his eyes.  “You’re supposed to be the smart one.  How do you think a bunch of longnecks crashing into Threehorn Gorge is going to go?”

Littlefoot couldn’t help himself as he raised his neck assertively.  “What?  Are you saying that my longneck charm might not be enough to win the threehorns over?”

“We’re doomed!” a voice in the distant background of the herd heckled, as the rest of the herd laughed, diffusing the tension of their upcoming stop.  The herd had long since gotten used to the banter of the brothers.

“Thanks for the show of support, Rhett!” Littlefoot replied with equal mockery as he looked ahead at the gorge.  Despite the levity he was not immune from the tension of the mission that lay ahead.  But he knew that he would never forgive himself if he did not at least make the attempt.  He owed his old friend that much.

“Alright, herd!  Today we are advancing into Threehorn Gorge.  Hopefully we get a warm welcome, but if not…”

In that instant the stronger males and females advanced to the sides of the herd, forming a barrier against the steep ravine walls as Shorty and his defensive cadre began to shuffle to the front and Ali’s rear guard moved to the back.  This left the younglings and elders protected in the herd’s interior.  Littlefoot did not even have to give the order.

He smiled.

“Exactly!  Let’s move!”

--------

“I know that it is unpleasant, but we must ration the food!  There simply isn’t enough to make it through the Dry Season without sacrifices!”

The yellow threehorn could only sigh at the agitation of the crowd.  Normally the orders of the herd leader would inspire muted acceptance at worst, but in light of recent events even the most loyal of the herd had reservations.

Lack of food had a tendency to do that to people.

“Brutus is right.  We can’t simply go on eating as we have been.” Cera watched the reactions of the crowd as she did her best to diffuse the tension. “When the going gets tough the tough get going!”

Cera restrained herself from smiling as the prideful platitude appeared to placate some of the younger males.  Sometimes when horns were directed at you the best defense was to redirect them at their owners.  An oversized ego would often overwhelm even the hardest head.

A certain annoying flathead had taught her that long ago.

“Then maybe we should get going to where there is more food?”

Cera tried to hide her growl but failed at the attempt as she stared at the grey threehorn in the distance.  The herd Night Watcher had decided to add his wisdom to the conversation.  At the moment Cera would have preferred to hear the “wisdoms” of a yellowbelly.

“And just where would you have us go, Brakus?  We have picked the best valley that we could find.  Would you have us risk our children by leaving before they become sure-walkers?”

Cera smiled at the new voice as Brakus glared at the speaker.  She did not need to look back to know that her mate was glaring back in kind.  But both males were well aware that no fight would arise from this dispute.  One did not fight the mate of the herd deputy without fighting the deputy himself.

Or herself in this case.

“Dalmar shares my thoughts on the matter, Brakus,” Cera gave him an impassive stare, unreadable yet horrifying in its own right, “And I am sure the thoughts of the females with young as well.”

A chorus of affirmative grunts emanated from the mothers who had previously been complaining of the restrictions.  The re-focusing of the discussion onto what they valued most had changed the tide of the meeting in an instant.

Cera glanced in Brutus’s direction as he nodded slowly his approval.

“And Cera shares my thoughts as well,” he said finally, “I do not like my decision either.  But sometimes life is hard and only those harder than life can survive its charge.”

Both deputy and leader shared a slight nod as the herd began to calm.  Brakus’s indignant expression quickly turned to one of reluctant withdrawal as he proceeded to the flank of the meeting circle to be with his fellow scouts.  That was when a sudden realization hit Cera’s consciousness.

“If your scouts are here, Brakus, then how are they watching the Western Gorge?”

Cera would have been amused by Brakus’s sudden look of horror in any other situation as he stared directly into the eyes of his fellow watchers. “What are you doing here?”

“Sir, um… we were given no orders to stay so we thought…”

“What you thought is irrelevant!  We will go there now and…”

It was then that the gorge erupted into a deafening echo as Brutus stomped on a large rock.  It was normally the calling signal, but now it was being used as a silencer.  Everyone grew silent as he spoke.

“I think not, Brakus.  We can use the remainder of this meeting to discuss your performance as of late.” Brakus’s expression noticeably darkened as Cera awaited the orders that she knew would come. “Cera and Dalmar can take a look at the gorge in the meantime.  Perhaps it would be a useful demonstration on how to do your job.”

Cera nodded her understanding of the orders as she and her mate proceeded towards the Western Gorge. They maintained complete silence until once the roared condemnations of the herd leader echoed in the distance.

“You know, dear, sometimes I think you hold a grudge against him.”

Dalmar’s voice cooed in her ear like an innocent flyer but still stung with the force of a buzzer.  It was only when she turned in her mate’s direction, his scarred face prominently displayed, that she spoke.

“He decided to take something that wasn’t his to take. He’s lucky that I didn’t take his life in return.”

She felt a playful nudge in her side as she returned the favor with a slightly more powerful nudge of her own.  They both knew that nothing had gone to plan during the courtship fights on that day.

Dalmar stood bloodied but victorious as the other male backed away.  He grunted with both exhaustion and more than a hint of relief.  Cera’s expression clearly indicated that she favored his advances, and he had proved himself against the other hot-headed bucks.  Their temptation to mate with her could either have been for her beauty or the strength of her pedigree, but his motivation was for neither.  If anything, being forced with the burden of defending their position was not something that he relished.  But if it meant being with her then it was worth it.

A grunt broke through his thoughts.

Brakus stood in front of him with not a sign of exertion emanating from his features.  He had obviously avoided the harder fights so that he could have a chance to topple the obstacle to the greatest prize of them all.  Several of the older bucks stared with contempt at the maneuver, but remained silent.   A challenge was a challenge.

He felt the ground tremble slightly as Cera walked beside him, her face radiating anger at the advancing male.  The message was clear: she had already made her choice.

But Brakus had other plans.

“Well you took his pride, dear,” her mate noted, “he never quite recovered from that.”

“Hmrph!” was her only reply.

Dalmar nearly collapsed to the ground as he forced himself to stay upright, horns locked with the challenger.  Could he really lose like this?  If he couldn’t defend Cera from a single upstart then how could he defend her from the challenges of the world?

He gritted his teeth as he forced himself steady.  He would not back down here.

“You know, Dalmar, you aren’t good enough for her.  And to think that our leader thinks you have what it takes to be Deputy.  Pathetic.”

What happened next was a blur of movement and chaos that to that day Dalmar couldn’t make sense of.  In an instant the weight of the challenger's horns dissipated as a roar echoed into the land which made the entire herd look on in stunned silence.

Brakus was on the ground.

“I made my choice, Brakus.  Or are you honestly that dull?”

The voice was cold and distant.  Something that he had never heard from her or any other female before.  It was the tone of a challenge.

Brakus rose as he licked the blood from his beak.  His eyes were narrowed in unmistakable rage as Dalmar attempted to step in front of her in a protective gesture.  He was rewarded with a forceful shove as she took a step forward.

“You stupid female.  Do you think this is about what you want?  This is about the good of the herd - the strongest gets to choose.”

Cera didn’t blink.  “Yes.  And I chose.  Are any other males stupid enough to face me?  If so then show your horns you pathetic tail-chasers!”

Dalmar was tempted to take a step forward to defend his love, but he already knew something that Brakus did not.

When not to cross Cera.

Cera spoke in an authoritative roar.  “Good.  Looks like it’s just me and you, Brakus.”

Brakus snorted.  “This is absurd!  Males fight for mates - not the females!”

Cera smirked.  “Sounds good to me.  How about we fight for your position then?  After all, a commoner would be no match for a Deputy.”

Dalmar opened his mouth, “Cera…”

Brakus roared with anger.  “For this I will show you a lesson in discipline, you insolent fool!”

Several moments later, as Cera was pulled away from the Brakus’s bloody body by a collection of the herd’s bravest, Dalmar could finally get a good look at her handiwork.  Brakus would most certainly live, but nothing would be the same after this.  Everyone else fled from the female as she began swinging her horns in anger, but Dalmar had other plans.  With a soft grunt he directed her attention.

And was immediately face to face with her horns.

There was a flash of recognition in her eyes finally as Dalmar, despite his bloodied face, allowed himself to smirk.  The expression was contagious as Cera’s rage began to falter.  In the awkward silence that followed Dalmar found that he just couldn’t help himself.

“Well.. this is awkward.  Am I supposed to perform the female part of the courtship now?

Cera could only groan as she licked one of the wounds on his face just as tradition demanded.  Dalmar was somewhat relieved that the roles had again been taken by the proper participants.  Though the same could not be said about the rest of their position.

There were no threehorn rules on what to do when your female outranked you.

“So um… besides the obvious problem, how are the scout teams doing?”

Cera tried to suppress a groan as she gave her mate another playful glance.  Despite being together for a year it seemed that her mate did not know how to consolidate his role as ëprotective mate’ with that of ëbeing a good underling and following Cera’s orders’.  To say that Cera enjoyed occasionally playing with these expectations would be an understatement.

But she would have mercy on him this time.

“Besides the idiot who runs the evening guard, the other two trainees seem to be adapting well.  Teron found out why we don’t threaten big-crest flyers, though.”

Dalmar laughed.  “Surely he didn’t…”

Cera nodded.  “Got crapped on by the whole flock.  Dirty flyers.”

The two laughed softly as they exchanged banter on the way to the gorge entrance.  Despite the growing tension of the dry season it was nice to have brief moments of normalcy.  No one really knew how long such peace could last.

Cera watched the trees sway in the distance as they nearly finished their climb up the hill.  The tall trunks gently swaying in the heavy wind was a reminder of what had been lost.  The food was rapidly becoming scarce in their lands.  A reminder of a valley from long ago that now seemed like a sleep story.  A paradise that too had turned into a barren wasteland.  A victim of its own success.

Could that be avoided here?  It was a question that Cera was loath to contemplate, but a deputy did not have the luxury of avoiding tough thoughts.  A side effect of her pride on a day over a year prior.  It was enough to make her realize why her father was so paranoid sometimes.

She looked up again at the trees in the distance.  Though she would admit it to no one she almost wished there were some flatheads here in order to get treestars from the unreachable vistas.  Such trees could not be toppled even with the hardest head.  She could confirm that as she had certainly tried.

But that was when she noticed her mates far-away look.  Was he in as deep of thought as she was?  She looked back at the distant trees.

And that’s when she noticed that some of the swaying trunks were most certainly not trees.

The evening echoed with her alert call.

---------------

Shorty groaned as he tossed another branch down to the little ones.

“Better eat up quick!  Looks like the horn-faces are going to put an end to our fun!”

The other longnecks quickly began to make a defensive line of sorts at the front, blocking the pathway out of the gorge.  A controlled retreat would allow them to maximize their food consumption before the inevitable occurred.

Or at least that was what Littlefoot had said earlier.  Shorty was too distracted to expand upon that thought as Rhett continued to dump something on his back.

“What in the heck, Rhett?”

The brown longneck didn’t even bother to look up as he accidently hit Shorty’s neck with a branch as he laid it on the taller sauropod’s back.  

“If we can take some of the branches with us then the little ones could eat for a few days.”

Shorty opened his mouth but then closed it.  That wasn’t a bad idea, actually.

“Alright, but put these on the backs of our ladies.  We males might have a battle to attend to!”

Ali nearly slapped Shorty with a branch as she transferred one onto her mother’s back. “And what about the females in my line, Shorty?  It’s our fight too.”

Shorty smiled cheekily.  “Okay, and also the honorary males.”

As his head suddenly lurched to the right he couldn’t help but smile.  He deserved that tail-slap.

The sound of roaring feet and Littlefoot’s sudden call put an end to the playful banter, however.

Their time was soon running out.

“At my side, brother.”

Littlefoot did not have to ask twice.

---------------

Littlefoot watched the stampede of horns and feet appeared on the top of the hill.  Like a current of roaring mud in a landslide, their teeming multitudes trampled the earth, disfiguring and occluding everything behind them.  A threehorn display of force was not something to be trampled with.

“Steady.  Stand your ground.” Littlefoot watched them advance, knowing that some of his own herdmates would be tempted to break away.  “Begin!”

In an instant the herd went from complete silence to an authoritative bellow.  A loud call that challenged the threehorn’s charge for dominance in the dry air.  To the threehorns this would be a show of force, but Littlefoot knew its true purpose.

A herd focused on something, even a mindless chant, had less time to think about panicking.

Littlefoot joined in the second bellow as the threehorns began to slow, not breaking their line.  Littlefoot knew enough about threehorns to know what was next.

He let out a hiss to tell the herd to stop.  In an instant there was silence.

The two herds were facing one another.  One line of fighters to another.

Now it was his turn to speak.

“Good evening, threehorns.” Littlefoot spoke in a loud authoritative voice.  He couldn’t tell if a nonchalant attitude would piss off the threehorns or placate them, so he spoke with calm assurance.  “We see that you still claim this gorge.”

There was silence for a moment as the threehorns rubbed their feet against the ground.  It was both a stalling tactic and a show of aggression.  It was then that he noticed two of the threehorns share a look as one stepped forward.  One a foreboding brown threehorn and the other a yellow… could it be?

“Well, now that you have been reminded of that fact you can go.”

Well, as far as threehorn replies went this was promising.

Littlefoot nodded.  “We could… but you see there is a problem.  We either go around this gorge and possibly run into sharpteeth on the seven night journey… or we could take a shortcut through this gorge.” He kept his gaze on the leader despite the temptation to look at this friend again.  It was now time for him to make an opening.  “...It depends on how long you want to hear our bellowing…”

As if on cue the herd erupted into a bellow at Shorty’s prompting.  It was a reminder of what the threehorns could hear for seven days if they decided to take the obstinate route.

“Well, Littlefoot, you certainly haven’t changed much.”

Littlefoot stepped back as Cera addressed him directly.  Her voice was deeper than he remembered from when they had separated during the Time of Parting, but there was no mistaking her unique tone.  But if she was speaking then did that mean… he gave a quick glance at the presumed herd leader.

“I am the Deputy, flathead.” Cera replied to the unspoken question as several of the males in the line snickered despite the possibility of imminent battle.  “Though flatheads usually aren’t so stupid to challenge threehorns.  Have your heads gotten flatter or something?”

Littlefoot met her eyes with a smirk as he refused to be fazed by her rhetoric.  He knew the necessity of keeping up appearances.  And if there was one thing he could recognize from a gorge away it was Cera keeping up pretenses.

“Famine has a way of making you consider things you normally would not.”  Littlefoot then grabbed a branch from one of his herdmate’s backs and tossed it at Cera.  Though the threehorn line edge forward she did not move.

“You cannot reach these with your not-so-flat-heads, right?” Littlefoot questioned, “Well… how about a trade.  We help get some of this down for your little ones and you help us and our little ones get through this gorge?  That way we are on our way, and you are all fed.”

“We have enough food, you stupid…”

“Shut up, Brakus!” came the enraged voice of a female behind the line.

“My child barely eats enou…”

“Silence!”

The threehorns went quiet at Brutus’s demand.  He now too stepped forward as he contemplated his answer.  Littlefoot, for his part, stood with his neck arched majestically.  Not willing to show any weakness to the threehorns.

He knew that they would not respect that.

“So you offer to help our herd in exchange for us helping yours?”

Littlefoot nodded.  “That is our proposal.”

Brutus frowned slightly.  “Next time, see to it that you mind where your herd treads.  But for this time we will honor your request.”

Shorty audibly gasped in surprise as several of the others in the longneck herd murmured amongst themselves.  Being careful to guard his emotions, Littlefoot merely bowed his neck slightly in appreciation.

“Our herd thanks you.  You will not regret this decision.”

Brutus grumbled.  “For your sake I had better not.”

The threehorn line began to shift uneasily as the possibility of battle had been taken out of consideration.  Despite the arrogant grunts and expressions Littlefoot could see that the only viably angry threehorn was the one that one of the females had called Brakus.  That one might be a problem.

He looked over at his herd to see if any of his trusted confidants had picked up on the same thing.  Instead what he saw was Ali, Rhett, and Shorty all look at him as if he had turned into a yellowbelly.  Oh for the love of… threehorns are arrogant but not stupid.

He turned to glare at Brakus one more time as he did the same.  Well… with a few exceptions.

“Alright, everyone!  You heard the agreement.  Now let’s help the threehorns get this food!”

He continued to look at Brakus.  One problem to deal with first… how to keep this one in line?

“And Shorty?”

Shorty nodded as he leaned in to listen to his brother, a considerable effort considering the size difference between the two. “Hmmm?”

Littlefoot smiled as he spoke with a sarcastic tone.  “That threehorn seems to like longnecks… maybe you and ol’ Titan over there can partner with him?  I would hate for his group to feel left out.”

Shorty looked over at the elder whose neck stood over the over the rest of the herd like a tree growing sideways from a crevice in the bluffs.  The Argentinosaurus didn’t have it in him to hurt a buzzer, but his massive bulk seemed to dissuade conflict anyway.  Even sharpteeth knew better than to attack the ëwalking mountains’.

Shorty smiled.  “I am sure we will be fast friends… come Titan!  I think that these threehorns over here need some help with those trees!”

---------------

Cera could barely contain her amusement as Brakus and his flunkies tried to show no fear around the gigantic dinosaurs. The scene of them making a threat display while staring nearly straight up was something to behold.  As was the surprise when Brakus took a branch straight in the face.

“He so did that on purpose.”

Thunderous footsteps arose from behind her as her mate turned out of concern.  Cera for her part could only smirk as she turned to greet the longneck who needed no introduction.

“Are you accusing my herd members of intentionally injuring one of yours?” Littlefoot asked coyly as he extended his neck over Cera to shake one of the branches, swiftly causing the dehydrated wood to yield with a resounding crack.

Cera was as quick as lightning as she caught the branch midair, stopping it only a few feet from what would have been a collision with her back.

Cera dropped the branch to her side before giving Littlefoot a victorious look, “It takes more than a branch to injure a threehorn.”

Littlefoot was quickly joined by Ali who proceeded to help him with another one of the branches.  Only to have the resulting flailing branch smack him right in the face on the way down.

Ali smiled apologetically while the two threehorns couldn’t help but chuckle at the display.

Littlefoot couldn’t help but laugh as well.  “Our flat heads are also surprisingly strong.”

The two pairs of dinosaurs stopped for several moments as each appeared to size up their counterparts.  Cera for her part examined the long neck of her friend for a moment.  Where once was a smooth hide of brown skin now resided several deep scars.  Hints of a difficult time since the parting…

…and then there was Ali.  Her eyes radiated the same kindness that existed before, but the clear lean towards Littlefoot would have been noticeable even for a blind flyer.

“It is good to see that you two are together,” Dalmar spoke much to Cera’s surprise.  She nodded in agreement.

The longnecks smiled as they appeared to size them up as well.  “The same can be said for you two,” Ali offered.

Cera nodded her appreciation of the sentiment, but then proceeded to examine the longnecks all around them who were helping to fell branches alongside threehorns.  For a moment it seemed like an earlier time.  A time before the Second Great Migration.  A time before… Let it go, horn-face!  It isn’t like we can go back there!  That was when she noticed something else.  A telling absence.

She stepped back slightly, causing Dalmar some confusion.  Then she gave the slightest of nods Littlefoot’s direction.  “You are the herd leader now?”  It was not really a question and everyone present knew it.

Littlefoot frowned.  “Dad had a bad back for a long time.  He began to delegate things to Shorty and I,” he then shook his head, “I told him that the Old One was not a fighter but she was still a good herd leader, but you know dad…”

Cera frowned.  Had she known the pain was still fresh she would not have reopened the wound, “Littlefoot, it is…”

He shook his head before opening his eyes.  There was no moistness there, but a pained expression still remained, “He had Shorty and I scout ahead while he went on his Last Walk.  By the time that Ali told us, and we rushed to where he went it was too late.  He knew that he was slowing the herd down and he would not allow that.”

Dalmar opened his mouth to speak, but then quickly closed it.  The look that he gave Cera communicated one thing: what do we even say to that?

Cera bowed her head in respect.  “Daddy died the season before Dalmar and I became mates.  I’m sure he would have respected your father’s sacrifice.”

Littlefoot was silent for a few moments as Ali looked at him with concern.  Though she would never admit it Cera was concerned that she had offended the longneck in some way.  Those fears were not relieved until he finally spoke.

“Longneck herd, threehorn herd, swimmer herd… we all walk under the Bright Circle and we all do what we think is best.  I just wish that I had known before he decided to walk straight into that sharptooth’s territory.”

Dalmar merely shook his head in a tired voice as he helped to gather some of Ali’s dropped branches into a more manageable pile.  All around them the sound of laughing children echoed against the bluffs as both threehorns and longnecks enjoyed the lush verdant leaves.  They did so separately, but without looking at them both he and Cera could imagine another time…

Darn it, Cera!  Stop thinking like that!

Cera quickly began to turn her attention to the task at hand as Littlefoot and Ali proceeded to shake branches and leaves from the impossibly long trees.  With a focus on the future she, Dalmar, and Brutus did the same thing in directing the longnecks to remove more of the spike-leaves from the trees, as she had taken to calling them.  The spike-leaves were thin and nasty tasting but they rotted much more slowly once removed from their trees.  If they were going to survive the Cold Time then the spike-leaves might be their best hope.

“So the food situation is this bad, huh?” Littlefoot asked as he snapped a branch in front of Cera.

“It will be a rough Cold Time,” Dalmar spoke before Cera could intervene.

“Dear!” Cera protested as another branch fell, smacking her straight in the head.  “We are threehorns, we can…”

Dalmar interrupted.  “We are alone.”

Cera stopped to take stock of her position.  The four dinosaurs were deep in the forest of spike-leaves just as her mate had confirmed.  The implications were clear even in her currently confused state.  The longnecks wanted a conversation where the pretenses of their respective kinds could be dropped.

She turned back to Littlefoot who had stopped knocking branches from the tall trees.  As soon as she saw the assured smugness on his face she felt an emotion that she had not felt in years.  The desire to knock that smirk right off of his face.

But she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that.

“Alright, you two.  You’ve a private audience so what do you want to say?”

Both Ali and Littlefoot shared a knowing look as Cera arched her head to keep focused on them.  In that moment she realized what Brakus had felt trying to maintain his threat display.  Darn longnecks with their heads in the clouds!

Littlefoot looked down with a neutral expression.  “The valley was a failure.”

Cera snorted.  “Tell us something that we don’t know.  The swimmers bred like swimmers.  The longnecks ate like longnecks.  And then there were too many of us to make the food stay.”

Littlefoot nodded.  “Yes.  But it was not a complete failure.”

“We became friends,” Ali noted, “And we all lived to adulthood.  Would we have done that without the valley?”

Dalmar rolled his eyes. “If memory serves me right, all of you did your best to not live until adulthood.  My Mom forbade me to play with Cera because she thought she was a bad influence in hanging out with you guys.”

Littlefoot snorted as Cera nudged her mate quiet.  “And what made you hang out with her anyway?”

Dalmar smirked.  “Like I said she was a bad influence!”

As the laughter of the others arose all around her, Cera couldn’t contain the emotions that she struggled to keep down.  Despite being the Deputy, and having very clear expectation on her, in this sanctuary of relative solitude she had the opportunity to let the real her shine through.  It only took a few seconds for her laughter to join that of the others.

Cera shook her head once the laughter had died down.  “It is a shame that cannot happen again, but you know as well as I that those days are gone.  The valley was a paradise, but it couldn’t last.”

She watched the necks of the sauropod’s sag slightly and immediately felt guilty, but someone had to be the voice of reason.  They were not children anymore and they owed it to the children of their herd’s to get this right.

“You are right, of course,” Littlefoot’s soft voice barely registered above the light breeze, “But we forgot something that we were absent from.”

“What’s that?” Cera prompted.

“The Great Herd and the First Great Migration,” Ali noted, “It was a herd that only knew death when others left it or when some could not keep up with it.  As long as it found food it thrived.  And then it found the valley.”

Littlefoot nodded his head.  “What if the Great Herd could join together again?”

Cera groaned.  She really hated to be seen as the naysayer, but she would have expected Littlefoot of all people to have gained some perspective over the years.  “And what?  Find a new valley?  Eat all of the food again?  Leave as hungry herds only to watch our friends and families die?”

“Oh to spiketail dung with the valley!”

Both Dalmar and Cera looked at Littlefoot with surprise at the outburst.  Even to them such an exchange about the valley sounded like a vulgar obscenity.

“We don’t need to find a valley.  We go from place to place, migrating from food to food.  That way the trees and grass can recover and the Great Herd would not need to worry about other herds denying us access,” his glare at the threehorns made his point rather obvious.

“But that doesn’t solve the number problem,” Cera protested.

Littlefoot nodded.  “No it doesn’t.  But time and the elements will.  I always wondered why longnecks often passed through the valley, risking danger in the Mysterious Beyond, instead of staying inside.  Well we all figured that out, didn’t we?  It’s better that the elements take a few of us each season instead of all of us… or an entire herd.”

The last four words seemed to land on Cera like an avalanche of boulders.  How was what her herd doing any different than what happened to the valley?  Instead of many overpopulated herds they had one.  A herd that would barely get through the Cold Time, but whose time was numbered in this expansive gorge.

She had forgotten how much she hated it when the longneck was right.

“The herd will never go for a proposal from a longneck,” Cera noted with some exasperation.

Littlefoot smiled.  “That’s why if anyone asks it is your idea, Deputy.”

---------------

The Time of Thawing, The Barrens:

“You think they coming?”

Littlefoot rolled his eyes as he addressed the bundle of wings that continued to longue on his head.

“Well you could check… the last time I checked you were a flyer.”

“Me could, but right now Petrie is a tired flyer,” came the exhausted answer from his friend.  “Some flathead demand Petrie direct all the herds, remember?”

Littlefoot chuckled.  “Yes, I do seem to remember.  And did the threehorn herd tell you anything?”

“They tell Petrie to piss off!”

The longneck chuckled as he watched the swimmers emerge over the horizon, but in his mind he was filled with trepidation.  Coming from the threehorns ëpiss off’ could be a dismissal or an acknowledgement of the message.  His thoughts were interrupted when Petrie took off again.  “I thought you were tired?”

He did not get an answer as the flyer became a small dot in the distance, but he already knew his reasoning.  Ducky and Petrie had much to catch up on.  It was as he watched the sea of green in the distance that he noticed a very distinct dark green body among the teaming mass of hadrosaurs.

Littlefoot smiled.  It was good to see Spike again.

“So that’s nearly everyone.  Has there been any word from the horn-faces yet?”

Littlefoot suppressed a groan as he turned towards his brother.  “You are determined to get rammed by one of them aren’t you?”

Shorty smiled, “Only one of them?  You think too small, brother.”

Littlefoot could only groan as he gave Shorty a playful nudge.  Sometimes he wondered how his Deputy managed to keep out of serious trouble.  But his brother always seemed to know where that line was and proceeded to walk it with the finesse of an agile fastrunner.

But the feeling of amusement was short-lived.  Despite preparing himself for either possibility, he had desperately hoped that the threehorns would listen to Cera’s proposal.  

He sighed.  At the very least if the herd was mustered then it meant that the threehorns were going to migrate.  At least they would carry on.  He supposed that was all that really mattered.

He looked over at this brother, getting ready to give the order to prepare his section of the soon-to-be Great Herd to join up and head out, when he noticed that his brother was staring at something at the horizon.  This made Littlefoot look in the same direction as he arched his neck with all of his might, but not quite reaching Shorty’s view of the distant horizon.  Despite know that whatever it was would soon be within his range of view, the herd leader couldn’t help but ask his brother the obvious question with all of the anticipation of an excited youngling.

“What do you see, brother?  Is it them?”

Shorty only smiled in response.