Just for clarification:
Red Crested Sharptooth = Allosaurus
Spikethumb = Muttabarasaurus
Smallbeak = Leaellynasaura fanfic.net link:
https://m.fanfiction.net/s/13014023/1/Worlds-Apart...
Worlds Apart The feathered smallbeak stood atop the flat surface at the highest point of the forest, using her small but sharp beak to pluck the white feathers from her body. A clicking sound escaped her, the frill on the back of her head pointed upwards, as if she were listening to the responses she received. Her long tail swayed from side to side, her brown tail feathers swatting away various buzzers that made a futile attempt to choose her as their host.
As her large teal eyes surveyed the green landscape, where large conifer trees towered above her and various ferns abounded, she was fully aware that she stuck out like a single tree star, thriving and green, in a tree amongst many more wilting and dying tree stars. Either she’d developed her winter coat too soon, or the cold time was arriving late this year. She would have preferred the latter, had she somehow managed to retain her natural amber feathers.
With that, she resumed her tedious task of manually plucking out her snowy white feathers, occasionally squawking in pain when a feather would require more than gentle pulling to get rid of.
Behind her, the sound of claws scraping against stone caused her to grit her teeth in slight annoyance. However, she managed to quickly curb her displeasure when the source of the noise was revealed.
Another smallbeak, much like herself, had stepped up beside her. His body was covered entirely in brown feathers, his butter colored eyes rather oblivious to his surroundings, only focused on the dinosaur before him.
“Laila, love, what are you doing up here? There’s some juicy greens just waiting for a certain white feathered dinosaur to gobble them up.” He then cupped a hand around his mouth, whispering to her, “And I may or may not have stayed up late to find them.”
Laila offered a kind smile, appreciative of her mate’s efforts, although the smile quickly vanished when she redirected her gaze back towards the horizon. “I’m afraid I don’t have much of an appetite this morning, Hazel.”
Hazel was certainly no mind reader, but with just one sniff, he could tell something was weighing heavily on her mind. Additionally, the plucked feathers gave away signs of distress, or some sort of sickness. While the bare patch of exposed skin on her chest worried him, he managed to effectively mask his concern — not because he wished to hide his true feelings or emotions, but because he knew he needed to be proactive rather than reactive. “Well, then, what’s wrong? Does this have to do with your winter coat?” With his beak, he carefully groomed the silky white feathers lining her back.
“Oh, it has everything to do with it,” she cried out suddenly, her tail moving in a whiplike motion, conveying that she was indeed genuinely concerned. “The cold time is late, but my winter feathers are early. I’ll be spotted easily. If the frost doesn’t come soon…I expect the coming days will be quite difficult for me.”
A worried expression overtook Hazel’s face. His mate’s own plight was causing him considerable grief. A barely audible whine escaped him while he nuzzled the crook of her neck, his tail falling flat. “Well…it’s not completely hopeless. I mean, at least we still have food. And at least we still have each other. That’s more than enough for me.”
Laila lifted her head, the lines of stress and worry etched onto her features for just a moment before she chuckled to yourself. “Yes, I suppose there are those few specific things to look forward to…after all, it could be a lot worse.”
Hazel grinned, vigorously nodding his head in agreement. “Exactly.”
Deep within the forest, there was a disturbance. Hostile screeches and repetitive clicks filled the air. Laila and Hazel exchanged glances, and followed the series of sounds to the heart of the forest in order to see what was prompting the other members of their tightly knit herd to act with such hostility.
Near the tranquil waterfall, where water dribbled down the slippery stones and into the lake below, a group of dinosaurs observed two others argue over a single green fern from a mostly bare tree.
“Alright, that’s quite enough,”Laila said, stepping forward as the two dinosaurs continued to remain at odds with each other. She furrowed her brows, but nonetheless, persisted. It appeared that she would have to raise her voice, something she did not find enjoyment in, despite being the matriarch of the herd. Clearing her throat, she stomped her foot against the earth. “That is ENOUGH!”
Her booming voice echoed through the forest, shaking the few leaves on the trees and scaring the small amount of winged creatures from the rough branches. The two arguing dinosaurs were startled into silence, staring directly at their leader.
Laila advanced towards them, her mouth curved into a tight frown as the dirt sifted through her talons, while she didn’t even take notice of the dried leaves scattered across the forest floor. She stopped about a foot away from their noses. “What is this? Honestly, fighting and bickering like children, and for what— green food?”
One of the dinosaurs, a short and stout male, bowed his head. “Please forgive us, but this is the only green food we could find, and there simply isn’t enough to go around. The other trees simply weren’t good enough.”
“Weren’t good enough?” Repeated the other, a slender female. “That’s an understatement. I don’t even think their leaves are edible.”
“Come on, now,” insisted Laila, “That’s pushing it. Really. We have plenty of green food here to sustain us.”
“But it’s gone bad,” a younger female standing amongst the crowd spoke, “The green food is dry and tastes bitter. Even my hatchlings won’t eat it, and they’ll eat anything.”
Suddenly, all anger was washed away by concern. Laila nervously glanced at her mate, feeling rather unsure of herself. She wondered how long this had been happening, and how she had simply let it happen without even noticing. She let her herd starve, and she didn’t even know it. Just what kind of leader was she? Oh, mother and father would be so ashamed.
Hazel flashed a knowing smile, gently running his beak across the frill of feathers on the top of his mate’s head. “It’s not your fault that you never found out until now,” he crooned, as if he knew what she was thinking, “You’ve done all that you can to provide for us.”
“Yes,” agreed the young female, “Don’t blame yourself. We’ve always had food, even during the hard times, so we didn’t think much of this until now. One of us should have told you.”
“Yes, Rumi, one of you should have,” said Laila, dipping her head, “But as the leader, I should have taken initiative and checked on everyone, especially in a time like this.”
Rumi attempted to protest against the other’s words, but Laila raised her tail, signifying her to be still and quiet.
“There’s no use in complaining about it now,” Laila stated somewhat resignedly. “We have another important matter on our hands— the frost is late this year. That might explain why the plants are dying and why the green food is no longer sustainable.”
The small crowd before her murmured against themselves, seeing the reason in her words. Some of them had family members whose feathers had already turned white in spite of the absence of the frozen ground sparkles.
“I’ve gotten my winter coat right on time,” she continued, “But without the frost, it is useless and might put us all in danger.”
“What are we to do?” A male standing near the back of the crowd cried out.
Laila hung her head sadly. She did not have an answer for him, because for once, she didn’t know what to do.
...
On the sandy shores a little ways from the forest, a nomadic herd of spikethumbs were searching for food. The transformation overtaking the land had affected the lives of even these giants, who seemed to eat and graze without cessation. They used their hollow noses to produce loud whistles which echoed through the air, along with the rumbling footsteps each movement of their cumbersome bodies caused.
Stalking the herd was a juvenile, but hungry and determined, sharptooth. The female, with vibrant red crests over her eyes, had been following them for days, but they either didn’t see her as a genuine threat, or they simply weren’t aware of her presence. Either way, things were running smoothly for the predator. Due to the changing land, many of the herds had departed in search of other lands of plenty. Now that she had found a herd and locked onto it, there was nothing that could prompt her to release her hold.
The herd noisily approached the forest, lured in by whatever vegetation was left. At the front entrance, a sentry stood atop a rock with a flat surface. His clicks sounded through the forest, alerting the others of the incoming visitors. The female sharptooth, however, remained perfectly concealed amidst the brown bark of the trees. The sentry didn’t even spot her.
Laila and Hazel began to wander back to their nest, completely oblivious of the looming threat. Their main concern was not being able to hear what the other was saying because of the booming calls of the spikethumbs. Distracted by the noise, neither were able to hear the warning roar of the crested sharptooth as she bounded towards the pair. Laila was not completely oblivious, for she could feel the vibrations beneath her feet. When she looked up, the sharptooth had already locked onto her, given that she stuck out like a sore thumb.
“Run!” Laila screeched to Hazel, who was at first hesitant to run off, fearing that his mate’s compromised health would lead to her doom. When he peered into her eyes, he saw a gleam of confidence— confidence in him. He gave a nod and utilized his lightning fast reflexes, darting across the stream.
Laila knew that any resistance would be futile, but she had to try. If she were to die, she could at least take pride in the fact that those she loved were safe, and that she gave it her all. She ran off, but her assailant effortlessly caught up with the tiny dinosaur, clamping her powerful jaws around her prey’s tail feathers before moving to her neck, squeezing the life out of her. Laila kicked and struggled, screeching in pain. Then, she went completely still.
Hazel was well aware of how quickly he took off, and hoped against hope that Laila would be right on his tail. When he heard the terrified screeching, he knew it wasn’t so, but couldn’t help looking back. There, he saw the lifeless and limp body of his mate, blood dripping from her neck into the stream below. When he looked into her eyes again, for just a brief second, he saw that she was gone. Laila, his mate, the respected leader of the herd, was no longer there.
The sharptooth dropped the corpse, which hit the ground with a deafening thud, and proceeded to devour the dinosaur, plowing right through Laila’s pale feathers.
Hazel bowed his head to pay his respects to the fallen dinosaur. He was inconsolable, in shock, but right now, he had a legacy to fulfill. He and Laila never had any children, meaning he was her legacy. He would need to carry on her work, and ensure the herd’s survival. His eyes welling up with tears without his permission, he tore away from the gruesome scene and rushed to find the others. There was only one place he could think of sending them off to. He often recalled seeing large groups of dinosaurs traveling there at least once every cold time. They would give up everything and journey so far just to get there, despite the dangers posed to them along the way. If those dinosaurs put all their trust in one wondrous place, Hazel would as well. It was time to stop watching the wandering herds roam by, and instead, join them.
...
The Great Valley had been very, very generous during it’s long life time. The large, formidable walls that kissed the sky protected the residents from outside dangers, while offering a plentiful supply of food and water. Of course, it had seen it’s fair share of natural disasters, and had always bounced back. But as of late, it seemed as if some strange sickness had ravaged the land. There was still food, as there always had been, but the residents were reluctant to consume green food that tasted as dry as the desert, and crumbled as easily as eroding rock.
Still, there were several residents who understood how fortunate they were to even have food, aware of the plights that they once faced in the mysterious beyond. Underneath a tall tree star tree, where ferns sprouted at the foot, an elderly grayish blue longneck was using his flat teeth to strip the tree of it’s tree stars. The taste left a bitter and overwhelmingly hot taste in his mouth, but Grandpa Longneck would rather have terrible tasting food rather than no food at all.
A few feet away, Grandma Longneck, his mate of many, many years lounged about in the grass. Her mauve scales were somewhat discolored and heavily wrinkled, likely due to her old age. Her ruby eyes slowly traced the movement of her grandson, who had grown considerably in the past few years. On any other given day, she carried herself proudly, holding her neck high. Today, however, her form was mostly static and unmoving, apart from a slight whip of her tail.
“Adelaide,” said the other longneck, tearing his gaze away from his meal, “Are you absolutely certain you’re not feeling hungry? I understand that these tree stars are far from delicious, but I feel that you should at least eat something, dear.”
Grandma Longneck smiled kindly at her mate, arching her neck at an angle. It was evident to her that he was worried as he addressed her by name. She was old, even older than Grandpa Longneck, and she knew as well as he did that her days were numbered. “Oh, don’t worry about me, dear. I’ll eat something once the urge hits me.”
“You’re not missing out on much, Grandma,” commented Littlefoot, who was munching on a bush of bipinnate leaves growing close to the ground. “This green food tastes disgusting.”
“I’ve noticed, little one,” Grandma Longneck replied, lowering her neck to her grandson’s level. There was worry in the lines of age etched onto her face.
“Hopefully, the valley will bounce back soon enough,” said Grandpa Longneck, slowly making his way over to the two others. He then gave a chuckle. “After all, it always has.”
Littlefoot began to utter something about the valley taking too long, but was interrupted by someone whispering his name while trying to be discreet.
“Psst! Littlefoot! Littlefoot!”
Littlefoot turned around to see Cera, whose horns were beginning to grow in. He looked back at his grandparents, who were engaged in their own conversation. He quickly padded over. “Hey, Cera. What’s up?”
Cera placed both paws atop the log she stood behind. “The farwalkers are here. There’s a lot of them this time. Come on, let’s go check it out.”
“Wait, farwalkers?” Littlefoot repeated, aloud. “They’re a bit early, aren’t they?”
“I’d say they’re actually a bit late,” Grandpa Longneck interjected, rising on all fours. “The cold time has already started, but the light of the bright circle continues to shine, disturbing the delicate balance.”
Grandma Longneck made an attempt to rise as well, with help from her mate. “In fact, that might actually be the reason why the food in the valley tastes…well, the way it does. If it’s this bad here, we can only imagine what it’s like out there.”
“Perhaps, we should go and greet them. I’m sure they can shed light on the situation far better than we can.” He looked towards his mate, a glimmer of concern in his crimson eyes. “Are you sure you’re feeling up to this, dear?”
“Of course I am,” the female longneck replied with a hearty laugh. “I may be old, but I can still greet visitors.”
...
The residents of the valley crowded near each other as they watched the farwalkers make their entrance. There were a few familiar faces, but many of the farwalkers were dinosaurs that the residents had never encountered before.
Mr. Threehorn stepped forward, accompanied by Grandma and Grandpa Longneck. Mr. Threehorn, as usual, appeared bitter and unwelcoming, as if he would turn the farwalkers away in the blink of an eye. The longnecks, however, smiled warmly and initiated a conversation.
“Welcome to the Great Valley,” greeted Grandma Longneck, “We’re glad you were able to find your way here.”
Grandpa Longneck gave a concurring nod. “Erm, might I ask what the weather is like in the mysterious beyond, as of right now?”
There was overlapping chatter as dinosaurs spoke over one another, believing that they had a better understanding of the weather patterns than everyone else.
“It’s awful,” claimed a smooth and clear voice that somehow managed to silence everyone. Every single dinosaur present at that moment looked down to see a small dinosaur covered in sleek, amber feathers. His yellow eyes were shrewd, as if he knew what he was doing by daring to speak up.
“Ha, look at his stubby little arms,” sneered Cera, standing alongside Littlefoot in an empty space near the front of the crowd.
“Cera, stop it,” Littlefoot whispered as he nudged her in the knee.
“...From a glance, everything appears fine,” the feathered creature continued, “We thought we still had food to store away for the cold time, and that the bright circle was being generous, but in actuality, a strange sickness had overtaken our land. There was too much light and not enough water. Our food was dying, and it was no longer something we could eat. My mate, she received her white winter feathers while the land was still green. She was easily spotted by a sharptooth and stolen away from me…from our herd. The balance was disturbed, and it led to this disaster. We were hoping that we might temporarily regain a sense of balance here.”
Grandpa Longneck began to speak, but Mr. Threehorn beat him to the punch.
“We’re having a hard enough time finding food to sustain us. We can’t have a bunch of farwalkers eating up whatever’s left.” He eyed the tiny dinosaur, “Besides, everyone knows that the tinier you are, the more you eat.”
“That logic makes no sense,” Littlefoot muttered quietly.
The rest of Littlefoot’s and Cera’s friends soon joined them, filling up the empty spaces.
“What did we miss?” Chomper asked, out of breath.
“My dad’s about to tell the farwalkers to leave,” answered Cera, munching on some dried leaves which she subsequently spat out.
“I did not know he could just tell the farwalkers to leave,” said Ducky, “Nope, nope, nope.”
“He
can’t,” intervened Littlefoot, lowering his neck.
“Now, Mr. Threehorn,” began Grandpa Longneck, “There’s no need to be so harsh. The farwalkers have traveled from who knows where just to get here. We can’t simply turn them away.”
“I’ve never even seen a...whatever this guy is,” Mr. Threehorn argued. “How can we trust him?”
“He may be different than you or I, but that doesn’t mean he’s undeserving of a place to stay.”
Petrie’s mother then swooped down and landed on a bare branch in front of the threehorn. “Not to mention it would be rude. We’ve never turned away the farwalkers before, why would we start now?”
“Because we don’t have enough food to accommodate them,” spat Mr. Threehorn.
“That’s quite enough,” Grandma Longneck said, stepping in, “We can settle this later. For now, let’s try to be hospitable to our guests.” She shifted her gaze over to the feathered dinosaur. “What is your name?”
“Hazel,” he answered, using his beak to scratch the area underneath his left arm.
“Well, Hazel, we hope you’ll enjoy your time here.”
“Thank you. You’re most kind.”
As soon as Hazel stepped back, a heavily built longneck stepped forward. As she moved, her slender tail, moving in a whiplike motion, swatted at the air. Her pointed snout faced the sky, and it was at that point in which she lowered her neck. Her jade eyes were kind yet hardened by the many ordeals she’d gone through in the years.
“We won’t be staying for too long,” she said, “We only wish to be able to rest here for a little while and regain our strength. Then, we’ll be on our way. If you’d like, longnecks, you and your family may join us when we leave. The more of us there are, the better. And who knows, we just might be able to bide our time until we find another paradise.”
The female longneck lifted her neck, and bellowed for the rest of her herd to follow as she marched away, her feet leaving large imprints in the grass. As the other herds began to depart, Cera shot a glance towards Littlefoot.
“You
really need to get a sense of humor.”
Just as Littlefoot’s brows crinkled to form a frown, his grandfather’s voice subsequently caught his attention.
“Littlefoot!”
The young longneck looked up, then back at his friends, silently communicating that he would see them later on. “Coming!” He called back, rushing to his grandfather’s side, and beginning the stroll home with both of his grandparents.
...
The journey to the Great Valley had been both emotionally and physically taxing for Hazel, who had lost more than half of his herd. Other members had settled elsewhere along the way. In the end, he was left with Rumi, her family, and a few others. He wasn’t even sure if he could call it a herd at this point. He no longer felt worthy of the title he once held; the leader alongside his mate, the patriarch, the alpha. It felt as if he had been stripped of these titles.
He circled around a patch of grass, his talons combing each blade to create a comfortable place to sleep for the night. As he thought of all those titles, he came to realize that he had never been worthy of them at all. His mate was the leader, she held everyone’s burden on her shoulders, if something were to go wrong, she took responsibility for it. He came to a halt, and hung his head.
“It never should have been you,” he murmured to no one but himself, “You would have done a much better job than I have. I’ve hardly gotten any time to think about you, but I hope you’re not too angry at me.” A sudden wave of despair swept over him, and he found himself sobbing as he doubled over in grief. Then, entirely reflexively and in a great deal of pain, he called her name. “Laila…,” he whimpered, expecting her to breeze over to him, concerned that he sounded as if he were in some sort of trouble, and annoyed because he had beckoned her away from an important task. He would never see that expression again in his life, and it crushed him.
“Hazel?”
Hazel froze in place, slowly turning around. Rumi was standing behind him, wearing a concerned expression. He had to wonder just how long she had been standing there, and how much of his grieving she had seen and heard.
“Rumi...” he cleared his throat, “Um...how may I help you? Do you need something?”
“Well...no. I just wanted to make sure you were alright. I know that she meant the world to you.”
“Yes, well, she’s gone. Nothing we can do about it now.”
Rumi’s worried silver eyes peered into his. Hazel sighed.
“I’ll be fine,” he said, “I’m definitely not right now, but I think I will be, to some extent.” He looked out into the distance, and smiled. “You should get going. Your mate’s waiting for you.”
Rumi curled her tail and dipped her head. “Aren’t you going to come with us?”
“No. I...need some time to myself.”
She nodded. “Well, whenever you feel up to it, feel free to come join us.”
“Of course.”
He watched as she shuffled away and then directed his gaze to the sky, colored with a pale orange glow, soft peach colored clouds drifting slowly across. He could already see a few stars coming into view. He wouldn’t be looking forward to seeing them all, and trying to spot the constellations with Laila. However, he knew that she wouldn’t want him to stop their tradition of stargazing, so he decided that he would continue it, just for her.
...
As Grandpa Longneck guided his grandson to his sleeping place a few feet away from his own, Littlefoot turned to look up at the older dinosaur in the way he usually did when asking a question.
“Grandpa, we’re not going to leave with those longnecks, are we?” Littlefoot knew fully well that his grandparents would not leave the valley without having a valid reason to do so, but it never hurt to reaffirm his concerns.
Grandpa Longneck stared at Littlefoot for a moment, his face glowing in the pale light of the night circle. He looked back at his mate, who was just beginning to get settled. “I doubt it, but...if the need arises, then we will.”
Littlefoot gave his grandfather a strange look. “But why would we need to? Grandpa, are you sick again?”
Grandpa Longneck chuckled, shaking his head. “No, Littlefoot. You would know if I was.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“As you know,” began the old longneck, lowering his voice, “Grandma is not as young as she used to be. She’s been in a bad way for quite a while. If her time comes...”
“No!” Littlefoot interrupted abruptly, hot tears blinding him like debris from a desert sandstorm, “She can’t...”
Grandpa Longneck did not silence him, but only gave a nod. “I know. I understand, Littlefoot, but please— listen to me. If her time comes and the farwalkers are still here, then we will have to go with them.”
“But why? Why can’t we just stay here? Grandma will be fine, we- we can take care of her! Can’t we?”
“You know how the valley is at this moment, Littlefoot,” Grandpa Longneck stated while shaking his head, “Maybe one day, things will get better, but we simply can’t afford to wait until they do. If we go with the other longnecks, not only will we have protection, but we might also stumble upon another paradise, like that old one said.”
“But the Great Valley is our home...we can’t just give up on it!”
“I know, Littlefoot. Even I have a strong fondness for the valley, especially after living here for so long. But, I’m just trying to plan ahead. One should always prepare for the future. And right now...I’m afraid the future of the valley is looking rather bleak.
“But—”
“That’s enough now.” He brought his snout to that of his grandson’s, paying little mind to the warm tears that brimmed the corners of his eyes, “We’ll talk about this in the morning. For now, just try and get some rest.”
Littlefoot was persistent. He raised his neck, displaying a firmer stance. Then, he met his grandfather’s tired but understanding eyes, begging him to drop the subject until the bright circle gave birth to a new day. The little longneck sighed, and lowered his neck in defeat, sighing.
“...Fine.”
Grandpa Longneck smiled, and pressed his snout against Littlefoot’s one more time as a single tear trickled down his cheek. “Thank you, Littlefoot. I promise you, everything will be alright.”
Littlefoot let his eyes wander, letting on that he didn’t quite believe a word his grandfather said. “Sure it will,” he muttered softly.
The old longneck didn’t hear him, and nuzzled him once more before pulling away. His rumbling footsteps caused huge vibrations in the earth as he walked, dragging his tail across the grassy floor.
Littlefoot rearranged the leaves in his nest, stomping on them to make sure they were flattened to the point that they didn’t tickle him in the side as he slept. He curled up into a ball, wrapping his tail around himself. Closing his eyes, he tried to drift off to sleep.
A few moments passed. There was the chirping of nighttime buzzers, creatures that were practically invisible in the dark. A gentle breeze traveled through the air, seeping through the leaves of trees. The feeble wind even tore a few leaves from their branches, carrying them along as it swept through the valley.
Littlefoot’s eyes fluttered open. He groaned under his breath, dismayed that sleep wasn’t coming so easily to him tonight. Usually, he was able to ignore the sounds of the nocturnal nighttime creatures, as well as the rustling of leaves, but he was unusually restless. His mind was running rampant with thoughts. What would happen to his beloved grandmother? Would he have to leave the valley? What would he do without his friends?
He sat up, his tail breezing over a few of the leaves in the nest, subsequently kicking them away. His friends! His friends, who had been with him through thick and thin. He couldn’t possibly leave them. He glanced back at his grandparents, and was reminded of another fear. His grandmother had been with him since he emerged from his eggshell. He knew that she was old and had lived a long, productive life, but to Littlefoot, she’d always been there. He couldn’t imagine a world where he would run up to his grandparents, and his grandmother wouldn’t be there at all. There would just be an empty, gaping void where she once used to be.
He breathed a sigh of exhaustion, resting his head on his paws. His ruby eyes, downcast and despondent, were fixed on a shallow pond a few feet away from him. In the calm waters, he could see a few silvery fish, swimming and circling the pond in a spiraling motion. Atop the green pads, two small flyers landed. They chirped to each other, communicating in their own specialized language.
Littlefoot watched them with the utmost curiosity, wondering what their relationship was to each other, wondering what they could be talking about. Regardless, the sight was serene and relaxing. All he could hear was the swinging of water and gentle chirping. He gave another sigh, this one more relaxed and at ease. Just as he began to settle, a fish jumped out of the water, snatching up one of the flyers in one go. The other flyer chirped in alarm, desperately flapping it’s wings before taking off into the sky.
Wide eyed, Littlefoot lifted his neck as he took a moment to let the sudden escalation of events sink in. Then, he blinked. “Well...that didn’t help.” He sighed dejectedly, turning away from the scene.
...
Meanwhile, Grandma and Grandpa Longneck were also finding it difficult to obtain even a wink of sleep. Lying beside each other, they gazed up at the night sky.
“No one can blame him for that sort of reaction, dear,” Grandma Longneck said in a hushed voice, “He must be scared, knowing that he might have to leave the place most familiar to him, as well as his friends.”
“Of course,” Grandpa Longneck agreed, “It’s a perfectly normal reaction, I know that. I just hope he’ll be able to accept the reality.” He outstretched his neck, the light of the stars and the night circle illuminating his worried face in a pale blue glow. He looked back at his mate, eyes sadder than she’d ever seen them.
The female longneck smiled sadly, nodding her head. She knew just as well as he did that it was unlikely that she would live to see the next cold time. “He will accept it in time, dear.” She paused, a sorrowful expression overtaking her face. “...I’m afraid he has to.”
...
When morning came and the bright circle’s golden light peeked over the ridge as it rose steadily into the sky, Littlefoot began to stir. It wasn’t as if he’d fallen into that deep of a sleep, anyway.
He stretched out his limbs and yawned, licking his dry lips. He peered over towards where his grandparents were. His grandfather was already awake, neck craned, watching his grandmother as she slept. In a sleepy stupor, Littlefoot ambled over towards them.
Grandpa Longneck turned upon hearing the crunch of grass, smiling at the sight of his grandson. “Good morning, Littlefoot. You’re up a bit early today.”
As sleep began to wear off, Littlefoot recalled last night’s conversation. He looked down at the grass, and then at his grandfather. “I…just slept good last night, that’s all.”
Grandpa Longneck could see right through his lie, but chose not to bring it to light. This was a hard time for all of them. Instead, he smiled and nodded.
Grandma Longneck slowly opened her eyes, managing a faint but genuine smile. “Littlefoot...this is a surprise. You’re awake much earlier than usual.”
“Don’t worry about it, grandma,” Littlefoot said with a smile, taking a moment to touch her snout with his. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine,” she rasped, “Just a bit tired is all.” She paused a moment before speaking, “Why, you’ve grown up quite a bit, haven’t you?”
“Yes, he has,” Grandpa Longneck said with a chuckle, “Our Littlefoot isn’t so little anymore.”
Littlefoot dipped his head, trying not to smile as he quickly became overwhelmed with embarrassment. He cleared his throat. “Anyway…I was wondering if I could go hang out with my friends?”
Grandpa Longneck exchanged a glance with his mate, as if asking for her answer. When she nodded, he turned to Littlefoot. “Of course you can, Littlefoot. Have fun.”
“I will, grandpa.” He nuzzled his grandmother before leaving, doing the same for his grandfather. “I love you, grandma. I love you, grandpa.”
“We love you too, Littlefoot,” Grandpa Longneck said, warmly returning the gesture. “Be safe.”
As soon as Littlefoot nodded and turned away, the smile on his face fell. It still weighed heavily on his mind that soon, he might not have a grandmother anymore, and he would have to leave the Great Valley. He didn’t want to think about it, but unfortunately for him, it was all he could think about.
...
Later on, Littlefoot was, surrounded by his friends as he lounged about in the grass near a patch of white flowers, surrounded by what used to be a grove of trees. He watched as Cera paced around, jade eyes intense and focused.
“I wonder what Cera is thinking about the thing she is thinking about,” Ruby whispered to Chomper, so as not to disturb the quiet atmosphere.
“Let me get this straight,” Cera began to say, “So, your grandmother is sick and your grandpa thinks she won’t survive for much longer, so he wants you to leave with that tacky herd of longnecks?”
Littlefoot glanced up at her, sitting in an upright position. “Well...for the most part, yeah. My grandpa told me last night that if my grandma’s time comes while the farwalkers are still here, then we’ll have to go.”
The other dinosaurs exchanged worried glances with each other, while Cera raised a brow.
“Well, that’s easy. Just do what you’re already doing and make sure your grandma is taken good care of. The farwalkers will leave, and you won’t have to leave the valley.”
“It’s not that easy, Cera.” Littlefoot shifted his weight around slightly. “My grandma is really old. She’s been really sick for a while, and hasn’t gotten much better. And besides, even if the farwalkers did leave before something happens to my grandma, it’s just going to be harder on my grandpa later on.”
Ducky’s huge blue eyes shone with concern for her friend as she rubbed the palm of her hand over the stubby plates beginning to line Spike’s back. “This is very bad. I do not want you to leave, Littlefoot, but I do not want your grandpa to have any trouble either. Nope, nope, nope.”
“Me no want you to leave neither!” Petrie cried out, coiling his arms around the longneck’s foot.
Littlefoot glanced down at the flyer, who was now less than half the length of his leg. He smiled sadly. “I know, Petrie. I don’t want to leave either.”
Ruby knew first hand how difficult it was to leave everything one knew and start a new life elsewhere, leaving behind those closest to one’s heart. Her sapphire eyes twinkled with a sort of gleam that was sad, but understanding. “Littlefoot, you may leave your home, but your home will not leave you.”
“What do you mean, Ruby?” Chomper asked, peering curiously into the fast runner’s eyes.
“I mean that even if Littlefoot leaves the valley, the valley will not leave him. He’ll always remember the valley, and the valley will always remember him.”
Littlefoot seemed to be touched by her words, given by his grateful expression. “Thank you, Ruby.”
Cera, as usual, snapped them all back to reality in the blink of an eye. “Yeah, that’s real sweet, but that doesn’t make this whole problem disappear into thin air. So, what are you planning to do, Littlefoot?”
“I...I don’t know. I...” He became silent as he rose to his feet, the turmoil within him burning like a fire. “Ugh! I
don’t know, this is so messed up!”
“Well, you’ve gotta do
something about it.”
“I know, but...”
“But what?”
“I don’t know, okay?” Littlefoot stomped his foot against the dry grass in frustration. “None of you have any idea what I’m going through right now!”
Cera blanched, although her surprise was quickly washed away by anger. “Oh, well, I’m sorry for trying to help!”
“If you want to help, then why don’t you figure out a way to somehow save my grandma’s life, because I’d
love to hear it!” A strangled noise escaped his throat as he tore away from them, disappearing into the tall blades of grass whose color had faded to a pale brown. Without looking back, he slipped through the individual patches, emerging on the other side, near a measly looking waterfall.
Littlefoot collapsed into a sobbing heap, letting all his pent up frustration and desperation out before realizing that he was out in the open. He buried his face in his paws, letting the tears dry themselves.
“They wouldn’t understand,” he said to himself, “Of course they wouldn’t. But what am I going to do? The valley is my home...I can’t just leave it!”
“Oof. You are really starting to lose it, kid.”
Littlefoot opened one eye, his sclera shimmering with his tears. “Wha…What?” He looked closer, and saw a brown feathered smallbeak climbing on top of a rock. “Hey! What are you doing here?”
“I have a name. It’s Hazel.” He shook himself dry, careful not to splash the young longneck. “This water’s not very refreshing, you know. It’s all warm and a bit…mucky.”
“I know your name. I was listening the other day.”
“So was I. Your friend poked fun at my stubby arms.”
Littlefoot averted his gaze. “Yeah...that’s Cera for you. She’s not so bad once you get to know her.”
“I don’t doubt that, but why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you so much that it brought you to tears?”
“Uh...it’s nothing, really.”
“That’s a lie. You and I both know it is, and it’s never good to keep these things to yourself. Believe me, I know. Here, take a seat.” Hazel gestured to one of the rocks spread across the surface of the pool.
Littlefoot cautiously padded over, pushing his weight onto the flat surface. After a few moments of struggling, he finally managed to get all fours on top.
“Ha! I did it— woah! WOAH!” He began to lose his footing, and slipped off the rock, falling face first into the water.
Hazel winced as the force of Littlefoot’s body tumbling into water caused a loud splash, showering him in small water droplets. Once the brief downpour had stopped, his glance bounced off of Littlefoot as he hopped off of his spot on the rock, wading into the water. “Perhaps we should stick to dry land, hm?”
Littlefoot spit out some water, scowling at Hazel from the corner of his eye.
The two dinosaurs found a spot near the slowly drying waterfall where they could sit and talk. There, Littlefoot told Hazel all about his ordeal. Hazel listened closely, giving Littlefoot his undivided attention.
“And I just don’t know what to do,” Littlefoot continued, “I don’t want to leave my friends and my home, but I don’t want to make it harder on my grandpa.”
There was a brief silence before Hazel spoke. “…I think your grandfather’s got the right idea.”
Littlefoot looked at the other as if he were crazy. “What? But how can I leave the Great Valley? It’s the only home I’ve ever known, I’ve grown up here, and I definitely don’t want to make a life out there, in the mysterious beyond!”
“Well, life happens wherever you go, whether it’s good or bad.”
“But...I don’t know if I’m ready to leave my old life…can’t I just let this whole thing work itself out?”
Hazel inhaled, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them, exhaling through his nostrils. “When I was young, I was always more of a ‘go with the flow’ kind of dinosaur,” he began, “I never really thought much about my future, and let things happen and sort out themselves.”
“You sound like you were really lazy,” Littlefoot remarked.
“I was. But anyway,” Hazel continued, “It wasn’t until I met my mate, Laila, that I actually wanted to settle somewhere. But even then, I was indecisive and I didn’t think about the future. When our land started changing, I noticed it early on. I thought that it would resolve itself and we would all be fine.”
“But it wasn’t fine. Was it?”
“No, it wasn’t. I kept making excuses and avoiding the problem at hand instead of talking about it and trying to come up with a solution.” His mind was suddenly overcome with images of Laila’s blood mottled form, being ripped to shreds. He winced and began to double over, but caught himself. Grunting softly, he resumed his original posture. “…I lost Laila to the clutches of a sharptooth. It came like a thief in the night, using a herd of spikethumbs as it’s disguise...if I’d seen it, I could have saved her.”
“But that wasn’t your fault. The sharptooth snuck up on you guys.”
“Nonetheless, we could have avoided it altogether if I’d thought ahead. My point is that you need to think about the future, as well as the present. And you have to start being mindful of others too. You have to start thinking about what’s really best for you, and not just what you want.”
Littlefoot put his left paw forward, digging it into the earth as he frowned. “Well, this doesn’t help me. I don’t even know what I want. I don’t know how I can leave my friends, and my entire life that I have here, or if I even can.”
“I understand. That was one of the reasons I didn’t take action earlier. I had an attachment to my old home, and I didn’t want to leave. But sometimes, leaving behind what we used to know is a good thing.”
“What?” Littlefoot suddenly leapt onto his feet, indignant. “How can you say that? I can’t just leave my friends! We’ve been through so much together...sticking together is how we found the Great Valley in the first place!”
“Clearly, you and your friends have a special bond,” Hazel said with a raised eyebrow. “ But do you think that bond will weaken if you don’t see each other for an indefinite amount of time?”
“I...I’m not really sure.” Littlefoot stopped, as if realizing something. He shook his head and furrowed his brows. “Why am I telling you this? I hardly even know you!”
Hazel shrugged his shoulders, wearing a nonchalant expression. “I don’t know, you tell me.”
“Look,” said Littlefoot, heaving a sigh, “Thanks for your concern and all, but I’ve gotta go.”
“Alright, but in the end, it’s your choice. You’re not exactly a little kid anymore, and you have the power to decide what you want to do. Just make sure it’s the right choice for you..”
Littlefoot dipped his head. “I know. I just don’t think I can move on.”
“Life moves on all the time, whether you want it to or not.”
Something ignited inside of Littlefoot, like a spark. He thought back to the night prior, where he saw the small flyer take off without any hesitation even after losing it’s companion. He had a revelation, finally understanding what Hazel had been trying to tell him.
“All will be well, Littlefoot,” Hazel’s voice sounded from behind the longneck, “You needn’t be afraid.”
Littlefoot grinned, taking a moment to exhale and release all the tension pent up inside of him. “Thanks, Hazel.”
...
Cera stood on all fours, watching as the dry soil wedged itself in between her toes. She gritted her teeth, a low growl escaping her mere moments before she took out every ounce of her anger on a bare bush, subsequently pulling it from it’s roots and knocking it to the ground.
Petrie screeched in alarm, zipping away and hiding behind Ducky, his limbs trembling.
“Can you
believe him?” Cera tossed her head back, kicking the broken remnants of the bush off to the side. “He thinks we wouldn’t understand! Why wouldn’t we understand? We’re his
friends!”
Ruby cautiously approached the threehorn, twiddling her thumbs. “I don’t think that was what Littlefoot meant to say when he said what he meant, Cera.”
“I am more worried about him leaving,” added Ducky, scanning the landscape, “But I do not blame him. There is not a lot to eat around here anymore. No, no, no.”
Chomper pulled his head out of the anthill it had been buried in. “There’s always ground crawlers and buzzers. Those guys are everywhere.”
“That’s nice, Chomper,” Cera replied with heavy sarcasm, “But do you think any of us want to lie around in the dirt all day and eat
ground crawlers?” Using her back leg, she banged her foot against the bark of a tree, sending millions of ants crawling out from the hollow holes within the bark.
Chomper watched uneasily as the tiny black ants dispersed across the earth. “I guess not...”
“Besides, ground crawlers won’t always be enough to feed even you. You’re becoming more sharptooth-like by the day, and it’s only a matter of time before you decide you don’t like those tiny little bugs anymore.”
Chomper stared at his hands. His fingers were becoming sharper and closely resembling claws. His tail alone could deliver a powerful blow. Cera was right; it was only a matter of time before his natural instincts emerged.
Spike’s gaze shifted from Cera to Chomper. He was clearly worried about the wellbeing of both his friends.
Ruby could see that Chomper felt greatly bothered by this and placed a hand on his shoulder, offering a good natured smile. At the very least, the sharptooth managed to return the smile.
A gentle rustle from the grass suddenly grabbed their attention. The dinosaurs held their breaths, watching and waiting for whatever was approaching. When Littlefoot passed through the wilting blades, they felt a huge wave of relief.
However, as relieved as she was, Cera still harbored anger towards the longneck for storming off. She gave a curt huff, and promptly turned her back towards him.
Littlefoot stepped closer, sighing resignedly. He hoped she’d come around soon. “Hey, guys,” he greeted, dragging his back foot across the dirt, “I’m sorry about earlier. I was just angry…and confused. I didn’t know what to do and I got frustrated, so I took my frustration out on you guys.”
Petrie came out of hiding, swooping down in front of Littlefoot. “So…you telling us you know what to do now?”
“Well…I talked to Hazel, and he said—”
“Wait,” interrupted Cera, turning around, “Who the heck is Hazel?”
“The dinosaur with the stubby arms,” answered Littlefoot, “You know, the one that you made fun of.”
Recognition flashed across her features as she recalled the events of the other day. “…Oh. Him.”
“Yeah. Anyway, he told me that life moves on, no matter what.”
“Mhm,” Cera nodded her head, “So what?”
“Well, we all had to move on in order to get here in the first place. We had to leave what we knew behind. And…” Littlefoot’s breath hitched, and he struggled to swallow the bitter tasting lump in his throat.
“And what?” Cera urged, her green eyes showing that, so far, she was not swayed by a single word he said.
“Well…oh, jeez, how do I say this?” He breathed in and then out. He had to remind himself that these were his friends, and they would listen to whatever he had to say with open ears. “…I think that my grandpa, he doesn’t want to stay here because this place will remind him too much of my grandma. I think…he just wants to have a fresh start somewhere else.”
His words seemed to invoke emotion in all of his friends, even Cera, whose eyes were as wide as the bright circle. Still, she stood her ground.
“Isn’t it a little too late for a ‘fresh start’?” One could see she regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth, but there was no taking them back once they were out in the open.
Littlefoot repressed the urge to scowl at her. “I don’t think that’s the kind of fresh start he wants. From the way he was talking to me last night, it sounded like he just wanted me to be somewhere I could be protected and safe in case…in case something happens to him, too. He’s just…”
“He’s just looking out for you,” Cera finished for him, the rash abrasiveness of her voice replaced by gentle understanding.
“Yeah, he is,” Littlefoot replied, craning his neck. “I don’t know why it took me so long to realize that.”
“It’s because you’re a flathead,” Cera teased, snickering.
Littlefoot narrowed his eyes, a ghost of a smile dancing across his face. “Don’t you think we’re getting a little too old for these nicknames?”
“Afraid not,” Cera said dismissively, nudging him in the side with her horn. “Come on, we’re only teenagers. We’re not
that old.”
Littlefoot let out a grunt as the tip of her horn caused a pinching sensation in his side. He gave the area a quick rub with his tail, shifting his glance towards Cera. He thought she seemed to have accepted this far too quickly than he anticipated, but the sooner they all accepted the reality, the better. That way, the separation would be easier on all of them.
...
The seven friends decided to spend the day together, regardless of whether or not it would be the last time they would see Littlefoot. It would be like any other day that they spent together, playing and laughing.
They passed the time by playing a game of toss the seed, like they used to when they were small children who had a tendency to sneak off on daring adventures. Those adventures had since become less common, but it reminded them of a time when things were so much brighter.
While going down to the Thundering Falls, Littlefoot took an opportunity to confront Cera. She’d been unusually quiet, which was a telltale sign that something was on her mind. When she was fully occupied, she threw snide remarks left and right. She was thinking hard about something.
“Cera?” Littlefoot asked once he was able to catch up with her as they sauntered down the hill.
“Yeah?” Cera did not look at him, and simply continued walking.
“Um...are you sure you’re okay with this?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, are you really okay with me leaving?”
“Sure thing,” Cera replied in an uncharacteristically cheery voice, “Why would I have a problem? I mean, you gotta do what you gotta do, you know?”
It became apparent to Littlefoot that Cera was faking her acceptance of his departure, just as he suspected. He permit himself a sigh, ruby eyes gazing gently into her vibrant green hues. “Cera...you don’t need to lie to me. I know it’s hard, even I’m still trying to get my head wrapped around it, but it’s alright. You can talk to me about it. I’ll understand.”
Cera stopped in her tracks, becoming more sad and dejected rather than standoffish. Then, she too heaved a sigh. “I just...” She winced, suddenly whipping her head around to face Littlefoot. “After everything we’ve been through, I don’t understand how you can just leave! Doesn’t our friendship mean
anything to you?”
“Cera, our friendship means everything to me,” Littlefoot said calmly.
“Really? It sure doesn’t seem like it, judging from the way you decided you’re just going to walk away like we don’t mean squat!”
Littlefoot could not fault her for reacting like this. Moreover, yelling back and forth would do nothing to help the situation. “Cera, in an ideal world, I would stay here, with you guys. But in an ideal world, my grandma also wouldn’t be this sick and the valley would still be green. And it’s not like that, and now, I have to think about others besides myself. You said it yourself, my grandpa’s just trying to look out for me, and I have to look out for him, too.”
Cera could not stop the wet, glistening tears from rolling down her face. “I know, but it just seems so unfair,” she said through sobs, sniffling, “You’re what brought us together, and now you’re
leaving. Who knows what’ll happen after that?”
“I know,” Littlefoot said, pressing his forehead to hers, “But you guys have the power to not let that happen. You guys can continue to spend time together, even after I’ve gone and left. And who knows, you all might just happen to find me again. I mean, nothing’s ever stopped you from doing that before.”
Cera thought back to the time Littlefoot left with his grandparents, prompting her and the rest of her friends to follow his footprints and bring him back. She even recalled allowing Ali, who she didn’t exactly warm up to at the time, to lead them to Littlefoot so they could come to his rescue once again. She smiled fondly, chuckling to herself at all the ridiculous journeys they braved, and how many times they challenged fate itself. It was a wonder how many times they got away scot free.
“I guess you’re right,” She relented at last, “When did you get so wise, flathead?”
“You can thank Hazel for that,” Littlefoot said with a chuckle of his own.
The threehorn raised an eyebrow. “You mean that stubby armed creep who put this idea into your head in the first place?”
“He didn’t
put it into my head, Cera. It was more like...he opened up my eyes to the options I had and basically told me to take my pick. I made this decision on my own.”
Just then, Petrie flew up and called out to them. “Littlefoot! Cera! You slowpokes coming or not?”
“I see,” Cera said with a bob of her head as she ignored the flyer, “Well, if you think you’re getting rid of us just because you’re leaving, you’ve got another thing coming.” She smirked, and took off in a flurry.
“I never thought otherwise,” Littlefoot murmured to himself as he took off after her, joining their friends at the Thundering Falls.
The changing climate had not exactly shown kindness to the falls either. The roaring waterfall that had once provided a way to cool off, and had once been a primary source of refreshment, was now beginning to run dry. The brown rocks surrounding the falls were dry and rough, with only a small amount of water trickling down the surface.
Ruby crouched down on the balls of her feet, appearing worried as she dipped her hand in the water. “It looks like the Thundering Falls isn’t exactly thundering anymore...”
Chomper leaned in and dipped his head underwater. Holding his breath for a few seconds, he examined the floor. Disappointed, he pulled his head out, sputtering and coughing. “This water tastes disgusting! There’s not even any fish!”
Both Littlefoot and Cera exchanged glances as the longneck sighed in a way that seemed somewhat despondent. So many of the things that they once enjoyed in the valley had fallen victim to the change of the climate. The leaves, no longer green and nourishing. The water, warm and terrible tasting. Littlefoot wondered if there was anything left to enjoy.
Suddenly, he had an enigma, and eagerly turned to his friends. “What about the top of that ledge where we watch the lights from the north? I heard they’re supposed to be visible by the time the bright circle sets today!”
“That’s all the way across the valley,” Cera argued, “It’ll take us all day to get there.”
“Exactly. We’ll make it just in time!”
Cera groaned under her breath. She was not looking forward to walking all the way across the valley just to see some pretty lights. However, she would do so for Littlefoot’s sake. So, with no further objections, the group of seven began their trek across the valley.
...
By the time they arrived, the sky was painted in vibrant hues of gold and orange, with puffy pink clouds slowly dancing across the sky. The seven dinosaurs collapsed onto the flat surface of a rocky spire, exhausted but excited. They watched as the bright circle’s light slowly faded away, giving way to a dark blue sky.
Then, a shimmer of green light flashing across the sky caught their attention. They all perked up, forgetting about their fatigue.
“Woah!” Chomper exclaimed. “You guys saw that, right?”
Several more steaks of green and purple twirled across the dusk sky, illuminating the land below in a shower of luminescent light.
Ruby sighed as she rested her chin in her hands. “Isn’t it amazing how we can be anywhere in the world and still be able to see the same sky?”
Littlefoot’s attention drifted to his friends, mesmerized by the colorful light show. A contented smile appeared on his face, one that almost seemed a bit sorrowful.
“...Guys?” He said after a moment’s hesitation.
His friends turned towards him, their faces lit up by the glow of the lights.
He inhaled, closing his eyes. “Thank you guys...for this. For everything.”
Cera roughly elbowed him in the side. “Shut up, you sapsucker. You think we don’t know that?” She went silent. “...Right back at ya.”
Littlefoot smiled, and before he knew it, his friends all latched onto him, enveloping him in a loving embrace. At first, he was caught off guard, but within a moment’s time, he found himself hugging his closest friends under the magnificent northern lights. He knew in his heart that even if they were worlds apart, they would always somehow find their way back to each other again.
The dinosaurs shared another embrace before departing to head towards home. Littlefoot crept in quietly, looking up at the silhouette of his grandfather, who had also been watching the lights, his mate sleeping beside him.
Littlefoot tiptoed across the grass, hoping that he could slip in without grabbing his grandfather’s attention, but a stick that he happened to step on ended up giving him away.
Grandpa Longneck caught a glimpse of his grandson from the corner of his eye. Upon seeing him, he was not shocked, nor did he bombard the young longneck with questions about where he had been.
“Hello, Littlefoot,” he said, the lines of age even more visible in the light. “Were you watching the lights as well?”
“Hi, grandpa,” Littlefoot said, sulking slightly as he walked forward,, “Yeah. I just wanted to catch them with my friends one more time. Who knows how long it’s going to be since we’ll be able to watch them together again.”
Grandpa Longneck nodded and nuzzled him. “I’m sorry it has to be this way. It’s just...it will be too painful.”
Littlefoot knew exactly what his grandfather referred to, and gave a nod of his head. “It’s okay, Grandpa. Hazel helped me understand why we have to do this.”
“Hazel...?” Grandpa Longneck tilted his head, mouth agape. “Oh, you mean the smallbeak from the farwalker herd. Well, he seemed to me like a wise dinosaur with knowledge beyond his years. I’m glad my hunch was correct.”
“He told me all about his mate and his life when he was younger,” said Littlefoot, his voice trailing off, “...And about how much he wishes he could have changed things. I think he was holding all of that in for a really long time.”
“I would imagine so. Usually, when we lose someone or something close to us, we feel like we can’t bother others with our burden. We don’t talk to anyone about how we feel, until it begins to eat at us from the inside.” The elderly longneck’s expression turned somber for a minute, “Which is why it’s important to talk to others about how you feel, Littlefoot, because all of that negative energy inside of you can really transform you into a different kind of person.”
Littlefoot gave another nod of his head, indicating that he understood. “How…how is grandma?”
Grandpa Longneck’s face seemed to crumple. He shook his head. “I expect…I expect she’ll pass on any time now.” The words left his mouth with great difficulty, as if he were extremely reluctant to say them. “I’ve been listening to her breathing, and it doesn’t seem to be getting any better.”
Tears began to brim Littlefoot’s eyes without his consent. “Do you think she’ll…go in her sleep?” He loathed talking in this manner. He loathed it.
“I believe so, but I also believe she’ll go when she is ready. When that might be, I don’t know.”
Littlefoot stole a glance of his grandmother’s static form. At least I told her I loved her, he mused silently. He found a little relief in the fact that his grandmother would depart from this world knowing she was loved immensely. In a whole pile of negativity, that was the silver lining.
Grandpa Longneck nuzzled him again. “I know it may not seem like it now, but everything will be alright.”
“I know, grandpa,” Littlefoot replied as they touched snouts, “Thanks.” He pulled away and trudged to his sleeping spot, where he did anything but sleep. He watched as his grandfather craned his neck out towards the sky before turning towards his sleeping mate. Then, he placed his head atop hers.
Littlefoot could not see his grandfather’s expression in that moment, but the young longneck knew that he was suffering as much as he was, if not more. It almost felt unjust, but such was the circle of life, as his grandmother had taught him a few years ago when his grandfather had fallen ill. As he faced away from them and his eyelids began to feel heavy, he had one lingering thought.
The circle of life sucks.
...
When Littlefoot awoke in the morning, it was just like any other day. Except, it wasn’t. A strange force inside of him told him that something was amiss. He yawned and stood up as the final remnants of sleepiness wore of. Then, it dawned on him. His heart sank for a moment, then leaned into his throat. It didn’t really, but it surely felt as if it did.
The bright circle was shining as usual, continuing to have adverse effects on the life forms that resided there. Without any sky water to help new plants grow, the bright circle was not a gift, but a curse.
The searing heat beating on his back, Littlefoot slowly edged over to his grandparents. Each step made his legs feel heavy. To say he felt sick was an understatement. He stopped about a foot away, and looked up at his grandfather.
Grandpa Longneck looked to his grandson, his expression giving him all the answers he needed. The old longneck’s eyes were moist with tears, dried tear trails on his cheeks. He almost looked guilty, in a way. Grandpa Longneck then gave a sorrowful shake of his head.
An audible gasp escaped Littlefoot as he stumbled backwards. He could not control his tear ducts, which unleashed the waterworks with full force. There was no sobbing, just tears. He could not stop his eyes from fixating themselves on his grandmother’s now completely motionless body. Had he expected this? Of course he did. Was he ready for it? No. Nothing in the world could have prepared him for this moment. Nothing.
...
Littlefoot had never felt more detached. The whole morning felt surreal, as if it was something he had dreamed in a sleep story that he was still having. He had a headache from crying so much, but he couldn’t even feel the pain. He now understood what it was like to feel completely numb, to just shut down and dissociate.
As the herds clamored together in one spot, Littlefoot stared off into space elsewhere. As he stood completely still, Cera and the rest of his friends walked up to him.
“Hey,” Cera said, averting her eyes. “Um...are you okay?”
“I can’t believe she’s actually gone,” Littlefoot said, a faraway look in his eyes. “I was just talking to her when the farwalkers first arrived. She was fine, and now she’s…dead.”
Ducky rubbed her friend’s leg. “It will be okay, Littlefoot, you will see. Yep, yep, yep.”
Littlefoot said nothing in response, at first. “It doesn’t even feel real…nothing does right now.”
Nobody was quite sure of what to say, but Ruby stepped up and spoke in a gentle tone. “You know, Littlefoot, it’s okay to not be okay.”
This snapped Littlefoot out of his trance, and he slowly turned to face the fast runner.
“Nobody expects you to feel better right away,” she continued, “To get rid of the pain, you need to feel pain first.”
Littlefoot’s lip trembled as he drew in several quivering breaths, doubling over. In that moment, none of his friends showed a single trace of hesitation as they swept him into another affectionate embrace.
...
Mr. Threehorn steadily approached Grandpa Longneck. Although, this time, it wasn’t to debate with the longneck or to shoot down one of his ideas. No, this time, judging from the way he carried himself, the threehorn looked sympathetic.
“Ahem...er, Longneck?”
When Grandpa Longneck heard himself being addressed, he lowered his neck, his eyes lacking the glint of curiosity they always had. He was always open to hearing the ideas of others, but right now, he just looked tired. He looked like he wanted to get out of there.
“Well, I, uh, well...” Mr. Threehorn groaned under his breath, “Look. I know we haven’t always agreed with one another, and we’ve been at odds with each other...several times, and I’m not good with words. But I just wanted to say that I’m sorry, and...thank you for everything you’ve done for the valley. You and your mate have done everyone a great service in the time that you’ve been here.”
Grandpa Longneck managed to offer a crooked smile, having been touched by the threehorn’s words. “Thank you, Mr. Threehorn. Your kind words are deeply appreciated.” His reply was simple, but sincere.
Mr. Threehorn nodded and cleared his throat. “So…you’re really leaving?”
“I’m afraid so. I simply can’t bear to be here much longer, especially with how much time I spent here with her. And with the valley in the state that it’s in…I want Littlefoot to have a herd that will look after him when I’m gone.”
“Hm. I see. Well, Longneck...I wish you the best of luck.”
“You as well, Threehorn. So long, old friend.”
As Grandpa Longneck began to walk away, he could hear the threehorn faintly mutter ‘So long’. He didn’t look back and continued walking.
“Mr. Longneck?”
Grandpa Longneck stopped and looked around, seeing no one that could be speaking to him.
“Down here,” said the voice.
Grandpa Longneck lowered his neck to see Hazel, the smallbeak whom he had commanded the night before. A smile spread across his face.
“Hello, Hazel. Are you and your herd getting ready to leave?”
“I believe we will be staying a little while longer,” the smallbeak said sheepishly, “You see, our concern is staying out of the reach of sharpteeth. And luckily, the walls of the valley help with that, even if the food is a bit…less than enough to sustain us.”
“Ah. Well, my grandson and I will be leaving soon. And concerning that, I wanted to thank you for talking to him.”
“It was nothing,” Hazel said with a wave of his hand, “I simply told him my view of the situation. He made his own choice, and you should be proud of him.”
“I am. I’m so proud...and so sad.”
Hazel’s frill lowered as he dipped his head. “I’m sorry about your mate. I never knew either one of you, but I know how much it hurts to lose someone so close to you.”
“I suppose we aren’t so different after all.”
“No, I suppose we aren’t,” Hazel replied, rubbing his chin with his thumb as he chuckled, “Take care of yourself, Mr. Longneck.”
“You too, Hazel. It’s been a pleasure.”
Hazel bowed to the old longneck and the two parted ways.
...
Sniffling, Littlefoot finally allowed himself to show his tear and snot covered face. He was in too much emotional pain to say anything, but whatever he wanted to say, his friends already knew. The way he rested his head on their shoulders spoke volumes about how dear they were to his heart. Thus, there was no need for words.
“Littlefoot!”
Littlefoot’s heart sank to the pit of his stomach when he heard his grandfather beckoning for him. He did not budge, and waited for the older longneck to come into view.
“Come, Littlefoot,” said Grandpa Longneck, his utter exhaustion showing in his voice, “The farwalkers are getting ready to leave.” He looked towards his grandson’s friends, smiling sympathetically. His friends were undeniably one of a kind.
Littlefoot looked at his friends, who all urged him to go on— even Cera, who smiled and motioned with her head. He embraced them all one more time and slowly walked towards his grandfather. His steps were unsteady and uncertain, even after he began to walk away. He found himself unable to tear his gaze away from the dinosaurs who had been with him through thick and thin. But eventually, as the distance between them grew larger, he could no longer see their faces. At some point, he turned away and looked ahead instead of back.
When she realized she could no longer see him, Cera’s face fell. She stiffened when Ruby placed a hand on her shoulder, but relaxed quickly as she looked forlornly towards the horizon. After what had happened, one thing seemed certain, and it was that life in the Great Valley would never feel the same again.
...
It had been a year since Littlefoot’s departure from the Great Valley. He and his grandfather had since stumbled across another paradise, not one as grand as the valley, but one that could sustain an entire herd of dinosaurs. Some of the longnecks they were traveling with decided it wasn’t good enough and moved on, while others decided to settle there. Littlefoot and his grandfather were one of them, and just like on the eve of their departure, they were currently watching in amazement as the gaily lights from the north shimmered across the sky.
Grandpa Longneck sighed as he rested in the grass, his heart feeling especially heavy. “Oh, grandma would have loved to see this…”
Littlefoot smiled sadly at his grandfather. “Me too, grandpa. But I’m sure she’s perfectly happy looking after mother in the great beyond.”
“I don’t doubt it,” he said, chuckling, “Your grandma wanted more than anything to see your mother again. The only thing she wanted more than that was to see you grow up happy and strong, into a fine, young longneck. If only she were here to see how much you’ve grown.”
Littlefoot nodded silently, looking down at the dirt in between the blades of grass. “I wonder how my friends are doing. I can’t believe it’s been an entire year…”
There was nothing Grandpa Longneck could say to make Littlefoot feel better. This was simply a truth that he had to accept, and at times, brought him pain.
Littlefoot breathed a sigh, feeling especially dejected. He wished more than anything that he could share this paradise with his friends.
“Hey, flathead!”
Littlefoot perked up and listened for a moment. When he heard nothing after what he thought he heard, he laid down on the grass. “Great, now I’m
hearing things.”
Grandpa Longneck offered a sympathetic smile and looked out in the distance, where he could see something. He squinted, his eyes widening in delighted surprise. “No, Littlefoot, it’s real. Look!”
Littlefoot lifted his head, and saw five dinosaurs coming into view. He almost thought his eyes were deceiving him, but soon realized that that wasn’t the case. Almost like a streak of silver, had it not been for his bulky weight, he ran to meet the five dinosaurs he’d longed to see since he left, nearly trampling them.
Cera laughed, nudging him in the side with her considerably larger horns. “We missed you too, you sapsucker.”
“Oh, Littlefoot!” Petrie wrapped his arms around Littlefoot’s neck. “Me so happy to see you!” A year had gone by and Petrie still retained his odd speech patterns. It made Littlefoot feel rather nostalgic.
“How did you guys find me? What happened to the valley? And...where are Chomper and Ruby?”
“The valley is still a wreck,” Cera answered, raising a paw, “So, we finally convinced our parents and some of the other residents to make the journey to find somewhere with enough food for all of us. That’s when we found this place.” Her expression softened. “About Chomper and Ruby…Chomper was worried that he wouldn’t be able to control his instincts. He left the valley a while back, and Ruby went with him.”
Littlefoot looked visibly saddened. “Oh...”
“As long as they have each other, I am sure we have nothing to worry about,” added Ducky, “Yep, yep, yep.”
Spike concurred with his sister’s statement with a grunt and a nod.
Cera could understand Littlefoot feeling saddened upon the news of Ruby and Chomper’s departure. He had probably been hoping to see them this entire time. With a sigh, she decided to change the subject. “Didn’t I tell you that you wouldn’t be getting rid of us that easily?”
Littlefoot smiled. “Yeah, you did.”
“Now, come on. We got a lot to catch up on.”
“We sure do.”
As he turned to walk away with his friends, he heard a familiar voice.
“I told you all would be well.”
Littlefoot stopped, whipping his head around to see Hazel sitting on top of a rock with his legs crossed. The smallbeak winked and smiled. After taking a moment to let it sink in, he smiled back.
“Thanks, Hazel.”
...
Guess who finally finished their entry for the June prompt? This girl right here! My individual prompt was to add the phrase ‘After what had happened, one thing seemed certain, and it was that life in the Great Valley would never feel the same again’. This took me two months to write, as I started in early June, and boy did I have a field day with this one. Two deaths, my dudes! I honestly don't know what's wrong with me. :,) This is also the longest oneshot I've ever written, but I still feel a bit iffy about it despite being kind of proud. I honestly don't know, I just wanted to get it out of the way while still trying to make it worthwhile. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy reading!
