A Step too far

[Sleeping-force's-inside]

I just entirely forgot about this fic during my FF.net crossposting. Shame on me.

Many knew that his stubborn pride would get him into trouble one day. He knew that at times his temper made him say things he shouldn't. But no one thought that something like this could even happen.

Tria had always been a patient Dinosaur, especially by Threehorn-standards. She was the complete opposite of her mate in that regard. But even she had her limits, though even she would admit that they were few and hard to reach.

And only her husband could go far enough to reach them.

The night had begun like any other, until furious shouting woke the very Valley. It was Tria's voice.

Later no one would be able to tell exactly what had happened to push her over the edge, but that very same night Tria left Mr. Threehorn... and the Valley.

Grandma tried to stop her, reasoning that at least she should wait until she could go with a Farwalker-herd – and barring that, at least wait until the Bright Circle had risen in the sky.

It was the first time Littlefoot saw one of his grandparents truly hurt, the old Longneck-female nursing a deep cut on her front-leg. Tria had attacked her, charging the old female as she tried to block her way.

It was unbelievable, but the wound on her leg and the scent of blood lingering around Littlefoot's grandmother was indisputable proof.

Come the rising of the Bright Circle, Grandpa demanded an explanation of the Threehorn-male, for the first time openly furious and even hostile towards the other.

Perhaps the Valley would have seen another side of him if his mate had not been there, interfering and calming him before a temper none even knew he possessed exploded.

Cera and Littlefoot felt awkward around each other for quite a while after this, the Longneck slow to forgive his grandmother's hurt. It had nearly cost her life when the wound grew infected and the old female suffering from high fevers for many days afterwards.

Mr. Threehorn made a wise and wide berth around the Longnecks for several changes of the Night Circle, the accusing glares of Grandpa burning him far more than he'd ever admit.

Tricia suffered for far longer, not comprehending why her mother had just disappeared and left her behind.

They assumed Tria dead: a lone Threehorn at night in the Mysterious Beyond was not something that inspired trust in survival...

Then, many Cold Times later, when the Gang was close to entering the Time of Great Growing, a lone Threehorn came into the Valley.

He had come from a Threehorn-Farwalker-herd. One of their members was close to dying and knowing that the Valley was still within reach, their Leader had send him with the question if could stay in there until said member had died peacefully of old age instead of by Sharpteeth-claw.

Of course they could, the residents told him. Though they did pose the request that she stay somewhere where the hatchlings were less likely to run into her.

He'd deliver the message and expressed his gratitude. She was his mother, he told them, and despite not even being the oldest of the herd, the loss of his father to Sharpteeth was now pushing her over the edge, as it were.

[Sleeping-force's-inside]

The herd soon entered the protective enclosure of the Great Wall, a massive male tinted a dark – near black – purple leading them, the messenger walking at his side.

"This is only part of my herd." He told Grandpa as the old Longneck greeted him. "My father and grandfather took most of them to our next stop, a place my aunt would not have reached anymore." He gestured to an elder female standing near the centre of the good dozen Threehorns that had followed their leader here as protection. She looked weak and starved, her eyes blank from grief.

Five young Threehorns were surrounding her, several of them near mirror-images of the herd-leader.

"My little ones, first nest." His voice was filled with pride as he spoke. "Though I have no idea where their mother went off to at the moment."

"She said she wanted to check something." One of the little ones spoke up, shrugging lightly at his mother's absence.

"Hopefully at least inside the valley?" Old Threehorn had arrived, looking the herd over and mentally measuring the other male. His daughters and their friends had trailed after him, already wondering if the five young Threehorns would be willing to play with them (at least, Tricia was doing so).

As the grown-ups descended into meaningless chatter, she approached them. They were three boys and two girls in differing shades of purple and blue. They looked at her with equal curiosity, being as starved for playmates as she had been. Their herd had an unspoken rule that only one nest was allowed for each set of Cold Times so that the hatchlings could be protected by the entire herd. It had proven effective, most nests making it to adulthood without losses. The downside was that the hatchlings had to depend on their nest-mates as play-partners, a thing that soon made the youngsters grow bored. That the next nest was already underway mattered little to them, since the age-difference would be too great for them to want to play with the new little ones.

"You won't play with her." A cold and calculating voice froze the youngsters in their tracks. The herd shuddered, parting to let the speaker pass. "I forbid it."

"Mother." One of the hatchlings spoke up in greeting to the grown-up female walking towards them. Her little mouth opened to speak again – possibly to demand to know why they could not play – but a single glare snapped it shut again.

Tricia was frozen in shock as the five were led back to the herd-center by their mother. The old female had not graced her with even so much as a look.

"Tria?" Her father had noticed the female as well, still able to recognize that particular shade of pink anywhere.

Even as he moved to confront her, she only briefly stopped to look in his direction. The hatchlings were not like that, freezing once more as the dark-grey male stormed in their direction.

She stopped barely on time to stay out of his charge, her face impassive as she regarded him.

"You are in my way." Tria finally said. "I wish to return to my herd."

Her children were cowering beneath her, peeking with wide eyes at the male towering over them.

"That is all you say after we did not see each other for Cold Times?" He demanded incredulously. "After you abandoned me and Tricia here?"

"What else should I say?" She countered. "Now get out of my way."

He did not, fully intending on confronting her.

The father of the children underneath her was not so keen on that. A thundering roar, filled with rage and indignation. A charge, at full-force and intend to kill.

He barely managed to get out of the way, earth flying up as the dark-purple male came to a stop. Tria had backed off, pulling the little ones with her.

"Stay away from her." He snarled, eyes blazing in fury.

"Zantion." Tria spoke up softly, approaching the fuming herd-leader. "You don't really want to cause trouble now, do you? He is hardly worth it."

He looked from the female to the old Threehorn. "Very well." Though he didn't stop himself from glaring at the grey male as the female and hatchlings walked past them.

The Threehorn-herd moved into the Valley after that, Tria at their leader's side. She refused to speak to any of the residents, all but declaring her daughter and once-mate dead. Tricia was devastated, trying again and again to talk to her mother, only to be rejected every time. Cera was helpless in consoling her sister, unable to come up with a good explanation for the older female's behaviour. Their father proved even more useless in that regard, secluding himself from everyone in the valley.

[Sleeping-force's-inside]

Never before had the five disobeyed their parents, but the pain of their mother was simply too profound for them to miss.

And they were smart enough to realize that it had something to do with the black Threehorn male that had confronted their mother. There was only one that would do such a thing and could provoke such a reaction from their normally kind-hearted kin: her first mate.

Regardless, it was downright terrible for them to watch their mother's heart freeze over as time progressed. It was just not right for her to be like that.

"We're gonna play a bit!" They announced one early morning after breakfast, knowing that their parents would stay with their great-aunt the entire day.

The next moment one could find them on a search for the light-pink female named Tricia and barring her, her older sister Cera.

They found both and more: Cera's friends all seemed to be there as well, including the Sharptooth.

"Weren't you forbidden from playing with us?" Tricia asked softly, her face sad as she regarded them.

"Are we playing?" Zaron, the oldest of the nest, asked smugly. "It's just... mom's so hurt and we want to help her, but you know... we don't even really know what's wrong... Except for the part where everyone of our herd blames your father for Mom's pain."

"Yeah, no one really knows what happened between them." Cera muttered, walking up to them. Having been forced into a mother-role to her younger sister the Threehorn had mellowed, her temper having long ago fizzled out. "But why would you want it to be fixed? She'd be leaving your father if things go back to the old times between her and Dad."

"So? There is no love between them." One of his sisters spoke up. "Her heart is still with your father, but we see fear in her eyes: fear of being hurt... again."

"We do not know what he did, but he did it well." Her other brother took over. "She whimpers his name at night."

"They say she nearly starved herself to death when joining our herd." Zaron interrupted his brother, looking at the other two Threehorns evenly. "Your father nearly cost her her live by his actions."

It disturbed the older children how calmly they spoke of this. As if it had been known to them for Cold Times.

"And what can we do?" Littlefoot finally spoke up. "They are avoiding each other like the other is a Sharptooth. Not to mention I doubt Tria would be willing to talk to him even if they encounter one another."

"We know." All five of them said in unison.

"It's the only thing you do, isn't it?" The voice was a deep rumble, a massive form appearing between the trees nearby. "Truly the children of your father."

The male walking up to them looked ancient, the once rich and vibrant purple of his skin having faded to purplish-grey by age. But his face... None of them had ever realized that one could suffer wounds that would remain for the rest of one's life. Half of his face was smashed in, malformed and twisted. His surviving eye was clouded over, leaving the old Threehorn completely blind.

Despite this his step was sure as he walked up to them.

"Grandfather." Zaron whispered. "Weren't you supposed to be with Grandpa and the rest of the herd?"

"Perhaps." He answered. "I wanted to hear how everyone was doing. And here I am, with you five running off to the young ones you're not supposed to be with. My grandson will be furious should I tell him."

His blind eyes swept over the children in front of him. Littlefoot felt as if the old male could still see him, despite one lost and one blind eye.

"But I shan't. For now." He turned away. "A word of advice to you, youngsters: parents go far for their children, whether they hate the other parent or not. Tria and Tops have a common ground in young Tricia and even if she does not wish to admit it openly, Tria would still die for her daughter. Consider this. It might help."

"He is our father's grandpa." Zaron's sister stated at their questioning looks.

"He has to be even older than Mr. Thicknose then." Ducky nodded her head. "Yep, yep, yep, he has to be."

"You know what happened to his face?" Tricia looked over at her half-siblings.

"He once said he 'paid dearly for a terrible mistake'. But no one in our herd knows what mistake that is." The youngest of the five looked after the old male as she said that. "He won't tell anyone."

[Sleeping-force's-inside]

While their great-grandfather had certainly given them something to work with, the question remained as to how they would use it. Tricia would need to get into 'danger' in such a way that both Tria and Mr. Threehorn had to join for her to be saved, but any danger they could relatively get her into themselves would merely be enough for one of them.

They were also not helped by the acting the five younger Threehorns had to do to keep from alerting their herd to their dealings with the Gang.

They did not see the old male Threehorn again, him having returned to the herd out in the Mysterious Beyond. Tria kept evading her former mate, though she did take up talking to some of her friends in the Valley again.

Littlefoot watched from afar as Tria talked to his grandmother, the Longneck more than a little reluctant to revive their old friendship. She had never fully recovered from the fever she had suffered after the Threehorn-attack. The healer doubted she would ever return to the state she had been beforehand.

For the first time in many Cold Times, Grandpa Longneck was cold towards someone, not at all as forgiving as his mate was towards the female Threehorn for what she had done.

Tria staid well away from him in answer, only visiting the female Longneck when he was elsewhere.

Littlefoot was nearby when a... difference of opinion happened between the two. He hid himself, cowering under the bushes he had been eating from when it began and crept forward.

Neither was yet screaming, but he could clearly make out the hard edge in his grandmother's words.

"How long will this last, Tria?" She demanded, turning to face the younger female more fully. "This cannot continue. By all accounts the old female that is supposed to die here is recovering: your stay is prolonged. Sooner or later you must have a confrontation with old Threehorn."

"I refuse." An hardness like he had rarely seen came upon the pink female. "He will get nothing from me but hate."

"Says your head." The Longneck stated, her face now close to the other's. "Yet your eyes betray your heart. You are still in love with him. You suffer from this separation between you."

"You don't..."

"I don't what? Understand? Oh believe me, I do." Grandma Longneck looked up to the few Sky Puffies passing overhead. "I know of hate mixed with other emotions only too well, Tria, more than you can understand." The old female looked down again. "My life was never perfect, not even before I lost my last child – last of many, mind you – to The Sharptooth all those Cold Times ago during the Great Earthshake. I suffered pains you are far from suffering in equal measure."

With a shock he realized she was referring to his mother here. But it was true, he had never even heard rumour of aunts or uncles, despite both of his grandparents having survived until now. The closest he had come to meeting family outside of his parents and grandparents was the Old One's herd, cousins to his grandparents.

"I think someone was lying. Though certainly grieved at her mate's loss, your new mate's aunt looked not like she was dying to me. Not to mention I doubt you just so happened to be near here when finding out she 'was dying of grief'." Grandma softly continued. "Makes me wonder in what kind of relationship you are when even your new mate wants you to talk to your previous one. You might want to think about that."

She left then, walking slowly into the distance, leaving behind a Threehorn who was reasonable certain that this was not what she expected when she woke that morning.

Littlefoot considered sneaking away then, but Tria turned and walked right past him, though she gave no indication she had noticed the little Longneck cowering on the ground.

It was quite a while until he dared come out, rushing off into the opposite direction. He just hoped neither would notice he had been eaves-dropping!

In the distance he saw his grandparents together, talking softly over a nice Treestar-meal. What made him do a double-take was something he saw over at the water-hole: Tria and Mr. Threehorn, obviously uncomfortable with each other, but together nonetheless.

He gasped when he saw who was approaching them: Tria's new mate, children following in his wake. It seemed he was not the only one noticing the coming confrontation, more dinosaurs now moving in their direction, his grandparents among them.

[Sleeping-force's-inside]

To say he felt uncomfortable in this situation would be a lie, though he'd always deny it if anyone said so.

"Tria, what is the meaning of this?" The dark-purple herd-leader looked at the pink female with fire in his eyes. He had heard enough of their conversation to know that she was forgiving her former mate.

"I think you heard just fine." She countered, not the least bit afraid of him. "I am giving him another chance."

"Really now?" His eyes bore into hers. "This quickly?"

"I think several Cold Times is not quickly, Zantion. You know me well. What did you expect when bringing me here? I cannot carry a grudge forever." The youngsters backed away, moving to the herd as their father and mother confronted in front of them.

For once, old Threehorn stayed silent, not making a sound even as his eyes never once strayed from the two in front of him.

"Not forever, this I know, Tria. But this?" He closed the gap between them, horns nearly locking with hers. "This is far too fast, if you were any indication when you joined my herd."

"Let that be under my judgement." She softly said. "What are you afraid off? That I shall be hurt again?"

"That too." For a moment the two males locked eyes, the younger one soon turning away again. Acceptance came in his voice. "Are you certain about this?"

"Got to take risk once in a while, don't I?" Tria joked softly, a teasing smile on her face. "You're on your own again."

The smile around his corners was a mere twitch. "Damn you." He turned to leave, walking to the herd before apparently changing his mind and coming right back.

He did not stop in front of Tria though, instead walking straight up to Tops.

"I'll make one thing clear with you: hurt her again, and your ass has more extra holes than a tree has leaves." Zantion's voice was civil, but the look in his eyes did little to hide the truth in his threat. "If I get her crying in my herd again, you are dead."

"Zan..." Tria glared at him. "Leave him be."

"For now, I shall." He had a smug grin. "Herd, we're getting the rest. I want Dad and Grandpa to be present for this."

The female Threehorn merely rolled her eyes. "You are a moron."

"Sure I am." He snickered. "Wonder what that says about you."

"Get out." She dryly countered.

He laughed the entire way out, followed by a small number of the herd that had followed him in. The rest would stay and wait for his return with those that had followed his father. His children were among the latter group, not willing to miss out on anything happening with their mother and her ex.

"So..." Zaron murmured as he looked up at Tria. "What are you to us now? What is he to us now?"

"Nothing changes, little ones." Tria looked down, nudging him. "Now, I guess you already know Tricia and Cera, what with sneaking off to meet them."

"Oops?" All five chuckled at that.

"Off with you." She countered, gesturing to the other children.

"Yes, Auntie!" They rushed off, laughing all the while.

"Behave yourselves!" She called after them. They didn't really listen, leaving her standing with her former husband and the other little ones.

"And off they are." The older female sighed in exasperation. "They take too much after their father when he was young. All over the place, I tell you."

"And what do they have from their mother?" Tops asked softly.

"Precious little. They were raised by their aunt, after all." Tria grinned lightly. "Did you truly believe I'd just get a kid with the first male I encountered? Zantion is my brother, Topsy, not my mate. I took the place as mother of his children because their actual mother died."

"That does explain some things, doesn't it...?"

[Sleeping-force's-inside]

The rest of the actual herd of Threehorns was nearly three times as big as the group that had first arrived in the Valley. They were off all ranges of age... and colour as well. Though most residents had only eyes for the purple-tinted group clustering around their leader: his father – even bigger, but lighter shaded – and his grandfather, among others.

Even the adults were unsettled at his looks, marvelling that he would have survived these for so long.

For some reason Topps found his one unseeing eye a whole lot unsettling that the two disapproving – perhaps even hateful? – eyes of Tria's father.

Neither male spoke, regarding him in ways he couldn't even fathom as the silence around them stretched on. The earth shook beneath them as the Longnecks arrived on the scene, their steps reverberating in the ground.

"Father, meet my daughter." Tria finally spoke up, not intimidated at all by the massive Threehorns facing her with disapproval on their faces.

"Already met her." Her grandfather spoke up. "Much like you, unlike her sister, who takes more after her father."

"I am doubting that that is a compliment, grandfather." Her eyes narrowed in answer, gaze travelling to said sister beside her. Cera wasn't saying anything, her green eyes fixed on some point in the proverbial distance.

None noticed that someone was only watching from a distance, eyes fixed on the smashed-in face of the oldest Threehorn. They traced the contours of the broken jaw even as memories flashed in the mind hidden behind them. Memories that were older than even most residents of the Valley, made in a time long past.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

He was running, fleeing blindly from his attacker. Pain arched through his face, drowning out nearly all other sensations. Furious roars echoed over the plain he was running across, the earth shaking under his stumbling feet as something big took up the chase.

"Coward!" Her voice would haunt his nightmares for many Cold Times to come, her hate and anger permeating it. "Coward!"

Was he a coward? He simply wanted to live! And yet... could he blame her?

He lost his footing, crashing to the ground. He struggled to get up before the female reached him. Had to lose her... somehow.

With only one eye he was dangerously impaired in this chase, but he saw the side of canyon in the distance. There was a bridge there somewhere, he knew it. It would be enough to hold him, but most assuredly not her.

He had to find it before she got to him! He had to!

A massive impact send him flying, despite his own weight. No...

"Die..." Her voice hissed, her considerable frame blacking out the Bright Circle for a brief moment. He would feel terror whenever a dinosaur would shield him from the sun in his later life because of this.

He fled anew, his will to live overriding his body's will to just drop down somewhere and have it all end.

Her anger was almost palpable, the kind nature of her species overridden by pure and undiluted hate.

So great was it that she nearly forgot that the bridge would not hold her weight anymore.

As he collapsed on the opposite side of the canyon, she prowled on hers, unable to cross.

He would never forget her face as she did so, her eyes burning as they sought for a way across.

Her face, her scent... Both would be burned in his memories forever. He would never forget this day.

[Sleeping-force's-inside]

The others were talking, but he felt himself grow restless all of a sudden. Having lost his eyesight many, many Cold Times ago he had completely specialised on his other senses. And one of those was telling him that there was trouble ahead. Someone was staring at him.

"Grandma, Grandpa." The young Longneck's voice called out in greeting, joy brimming in those two words. He loved them dearly, it seemed.

"Hello." If his grandfather's voice was anything to go by, it was very much warranted. The old male sounded kind and caring. "I take it you are Tria's family?" There was amusement in there as well, he noted.

His son introduced himself first, then his father.

And that's when he realized what was wrong.

"We are already acquainted." A hush fell over the group at the freezing cold in the female's voice. The earth trembled ever so slightly as she approached.

A cold shiver ran down his spine. He knew that voice. He knew it damn well despite having only heard it once before long ago. Around the time his face ended up being like it was.

"That we are." He finally found his voice. "Apara, was it not?"

"Oh..." The old male Longneck's voice seemed to cut off her answer. "His wound did seem familiar." Gone was the amusement, the care and even the kindness.

It was then that Tria's grandfather realized that this time she would not be alone, but her mate would be at her side. And there would be no weak ravine-bridge to save him now.

"Off all the places you could have taken up residence, Tria, you had to pick the one with them..." He muttered under his breath, turning horns-first into the direction of their voices. Not that it would help him much: they could both still see and were quite a bit larger than he was. He faintly wondered how this would look to the bystanders.

There were screams, nearly drowning out the sound of something moving through the air quickly.

He screamed in pain and surprise when the massive tail of one of them slammed against his side, throwing him off his feet. He somehow knew it was not her that had hit him this time.

He roared, struggling back to his feet, shaking his head.

She is the one to answer, startling many. Longnecks do not roar, they do not need to. Their size alone is enough to daunt most opponents and those that are not, regret it soon enough. Most did not even know the sheer volume the behemots of the Dinosaur-world can produce. He did: he heard it every time he had a bad sleep-story.

Tria could only watch with wide eyes as two Longnecks stared down her grandfather. She had never seen them like this, not even when he first met her after she had come into the Valley once more.

The children are long gone in the near vicinity, having rushed well out of range. All of them, but Littlefoot who could not move out of sheer horror as his grandparents looked ready to kill.

[Sleeping-force's-inside]

Their minds were filled solely with rage. And for the first time in many, many cold times Grandma was the one more likely to lose what restraint she had at the moment. She had been the one to smash in the Threehorn's face long ago with her tail.

And then he had escaped, turning her massive size against her once more. Twice he had done that already and for neither she would forgive him.

Grandpa though had never seen him before, only knowing him from accounts by his wife. It was why he had not recognized the Threehorn immediately, which might actually have been a good thing. His wife's rage calmed his own, reminding him that his own outside conscious was not able to do her job of calming him should things get ugly.

Her face promised that things would get ugly. Not that he could blame her for that.

"Dear." He tore his eyes away from the Threehorn, turning to the female beside him. "Not here, not now."

If looks could kill, he would have died the moment he met her eyes. Talking her down from finishing what she started so long ago really was not the best course of action in her mind.

"Littlefoot is watching." He pointed out, ever so slightly moving his body in her path. It would hardly matter should she decide to go for the other male – he'd never consider actually protecting him outright -, but he hoped it'd deter her a bit that she'd have to beat her husband to get there. "Do not make him see his Grandmother lose her control, my love. Please."

Something shifted in those red-brown eyes: the fire faded to be replaced by something he had not seen in many, many Cold Times. She looked as if something in her had died.

The behemoth turned and walked away, a wide path being made before her.

Her mate watched her go, eyes narrowing as he read the unspoken messages in her every move.

"I do not mean you well, grandfather of Tria." He whispered into the silence without turning to look at the one he was speaking to. "Leave this Valley. Neither she nor I will condone you here for long. And Littlefoot will not be around to save you a second time."

He easily picked up the young Longneck, carrying him by his tail as he followed his mate.

"Well, you did want to know how I got this wound, did you not, my son?" Tria's grandfather turned away. "There you have it. Happy now?"

He too walked away from the gathering, though one of his legs now had a limb. The hit with Grandpa's tail had been more than a light graze as he first hoped.

So much for having his last Cold Times in this world be peaceful.

[Sleeping-force's-inside]

The old male had settled down on bare rock. Some loose stones dug into his stomach as he staid as still as the rocks surrounding him. Even his breathing was so shallow one could miss it at a quick glance.

Of all the places Tria could have started calling home, she had to pick the one they lived. He had no doubt that the words of the Longneck had been true. They'd kill him if he stayed. He had to leave... His son wouldn't be happy with this.

He sighed, his entire body moving briefly. As they had re-found their fury, he had found his fear again. He had been terrified of Longnecks ever since that Grandma had smashed in his face and even now he had been wary of Longneck-herds they encountered, staying as far away as had been possible without raising questions.

And of course the one time he cared about other things more, he met the wrong herd. Damnit.

"Father." The voice of his daughter – the one that had pretended dying to get Tria back to Topps – sounded from nearby. "Are you alright?"

"No." He stated softly. "Why did you come here?"

"You're my father." She answered, lying down beside him. She was the oldest of his children and the one the most like his late mate. "I care about you."

"Their anger is not unwarranted, Astra." He murmured, not moving his head as he spoke. "Their hate is justified. It will do you no good to take my side."

"What did you do?" She whispered, nudging him lightly.

He remained silent, not speaking for quite a while. When he finally did speak, his voice was defeated. "I'd rather not talk about it."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"I'd rather not talk about it." Someone else said at that exact moment as well, his voice cool.

Littlefoot shuddered at that sound, completely unused to this way of acting of his grandparents. His grandmother, desiring to be alone, had thrown a withering glare at his grandfather and since he had still been hanging from the elder male's jaws, he had felt the shudder run through the massive body at it.

Grandpa seemed to have realized the unsettling effect his change in character had had on his grandson and reached down to comfortingly nuzzle him. "Some pains are hard to explain, little one."

"But..." The young Longneck looked up, before being shushed by the elder.

"Look at your grandmother, Littlefoot, and tell me that that is not pain." Grandpa whispered, gesturing to his mate a short distance away. Silent tears were trailing down her face. "He hurt us badly, in ways you cannot yet understand even if I could explain them, and that has made him our enemy."

"Why do you think that?" The young one demanded. "I'm not stupid."

"Of course you aren't." The customary warmth and gentleness was returning. "But some pains are only truly understood if you feel them and perhaps one of the few in this Valley that could possibly understand is Old Threehorn."

Now that confused Littlefoot, making him blink in surprise. The thought that Cera's father could understand anyone was rather strange. The faint hint of amusement that was on his grandfather's face indicated that the old male had followed his line of thought.

"I see..." Littlefoot tilted his head. To be honest, he could not see, but he knew he wouldn't get much more on the subject out of his grandfather. "So... what will happen now?"

"I don't know." Grandpa Longneck lifted his head again, looking into the direction they had come from. "I spoke truly back there, Grandma and I cannot – will not - accept Tria's grandfather in the Valley. It is up to them to do something with that to keep the peace. I will not stop her again. She would never forgive me. Nor will she take you into consideration again."

[Sleeping-force's-inside]

A stranger came to the Valley a few days afterwards. It was a lone black Longneck – similar in shade to Cera's father – with a pale grey underside in a pattern strangely reminiscent of Grandma Longneck's and scars littering his body. When the children met him shortly after he had entered, they thought he had been attacked recently.

He assured them his scars were old, begotten in a time where he had been even younger than they had been. They marvelled at that, but refrained from asking: several of them looked like Sharpteeth tooth-marks and similar wounds.

"Oh, I have been a loner for a long time." He told them at their question. "Herds are not for me."

"Then... why did you come here?" Cera asked, eyes narrowed lightly. Something seemed off about him. He had reacted worse to her than he had to Chomper and he was the Sharptooth here! Thankfully he had mellowed quickly, though there was still a hateful glint in his eye whenever he looked her way.

"To rest from travelling everywhere on my own. And I heard rumours I wanted to investigate." He answered, looking over the valley. "Though this place is marvellous enough to warrant a visit all of itself."

They agreed whole-heartedly with that. In the distance a cluster of Longnecks could be seen. Bron was also there and he seemed to be in deep discussion with the other two.

To say that seeing them came as a shock to the stranger was an understatement.

They likewise froze when noticing him.

"Well, finally showing your face again?" Grandpa finally broke the silence. "And why do I feel like you got some more scars since last time?"

"Is it my fault Sharpteeth find me irresistible for some reason?" The stranger countered. "Also, really? Is that how you greet me?"

"Yes." Grandpa rolled her eyes. "I am certain it is a better greeting than you gave your nephew."

He gestured to Littlefoot with his head.

He squeaked in answer as the black longneck turned to him with more interest... and a look that was heavy with many, many emotions.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

He was their eldest, Littlefoot soon learned. A hatchling from their first nest, though the mention seemed to hurt them. His grandmother was quiet while they were together and all too soon they took him aside.

The black male – named Ater – seemed far colder towards Cera afterwards, his eyes now burning with... hate? They realized that whatever problem Littlefoot's grandparents had with Tria's grandfather, it also applied to his uncle. Even when his father could not tell them what was going on.

The next day Cera told her friends that Tria's grandfather had nearly gotten a heart-attack when she told her family that Ater had arrived. It seemed like he knew that the son had as big a problem with him as the parents before being told.

Once more Littlefoot tried to find out what had happened, but none were willing to give an answer.

As all this was going down Cera had to 'enjoy' the endless arguments of her family wherein the old Threehorn insisted they just let him leave the Valley and the rest was vehemently against it. She was less than thrilled with those going on and on forever even well into the night.

The Valley grew tense, with three Longnecks after him, the old Threehorn disappeared almost completely from the main grounds. But he could not hide forever.

[Sleeping-force's-inside]

The dark-coloured Longneck staid in the Valley, wishing to reside with his parents for however long it took his fancy. None could stop him, despite everyone knowing that it would only grow worse for Tria's grandfather the longer all three staid near him.

He took to brief and sneaky visits to the watering holes well away from where the Longneck-family had their main spots of presence. Despite this, they did run into one another soon enough.

Luckily for all involved, Grandma had regained her equilibrium and despite glaring at him at intensities rarely matched, she held back from attacking. It was then that the Valley saw exactly how close the two elder Longnecks were: her calm demeanour reflected in her mate, just as her fury had done during their first meeting.

None were with them. None saw what happened at that small pond in the very outer corner of the Valley. But they heard it, and they did so well. Her voice echoed among the stone walls that protected their sanctuary, accusing him of cowardice and malevolence.

Those that were close enough heard him defend himself... against the accusation of malevolence. He did not deny the cowardice.

The voice of her son sharply cut through his excuses, repeating the accusations and adding some more of his own: murder.

To the horror of the listeners, the old Threehorn did not defend himself, falling silent as the younger Longneck confronted him.

Word of that reached the Threehorn-herd soon thereafter. Murderer, Littlefoot's uncle had called Tria's grandfather, coward, Grandma had screamed at him. Neither had been denied.

"That can't be true." Tria breathed, looking at her father with wide eyes. "He wouldn't..."

"I sincerely hope he wouldn't." The older male murmured, but there was fear in his eyes. His father had not denied the accusations. Why had he not done that?

Even Pterano had not been called a 'murderer' for all that he had done...

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

It was equal parts bravery and foolishness, he thought as he regarded the young Longneck that confronted him. His nephew, only child of all his siblings glared at him. He demanded answers all refused to give, all for the sake of a friend.

Why should he care for a Threehorn? Because this youngster did.

"Very well, I shall tell you." He answered, eyes lidded. The black male walked away into the direction he knew the Threehorns were. His tail lazily swung from side to side.

He was like an omen of death, his scars reminders of something terrible.

The Threehorns looked at him in surprise when he appeared, youngster in tow. "His mother was a dear sister of mine, for her sake I answered his request. You wish to know what happened? Very well, so be it."

He towered over them, blocking the Bright Circle of touching them with her light.

Appearing in the distance, from opposite sides came the other three, drawn here by this weird meeting.

[Sleeping-force's-inside]

They had heard his words, carried in their direction by the wind. Grandma came to a sudden stop and then turned around to leave once more. She walked just a touch too fast to hide that she was fleeing the scene. Grandpa watched her go even as the rest gathered around his son.

"Ater, is this necessary?" He demanded when he joined the group. "It'll only worsen things."

"And this silence is not?" The younger male counter-asked, his visage softening. "There is so much hate here, father. It hurts me to see mother like this. This is not her."

"Her hate will not lessen with more knowing." It was Tria's grandfather that spoke up. "We both know my sins, Longneck. She will not forgive."

"Perhaps not." Ater sighed softly. "But she might be more bearable."

The Longneck looked at the old Threehorn then, studying him with a gaze of grief and anger. Grandpa too looked at him. "Did you ever regret it?"

"Every day." Came the answer. "There was not a day that I regretted what had happened, not a day where I wished I could have changed it all."

"Tell them if you wish." Grandpa murmured. "But I have a wife to console."

"What happened?" It was Cera that asked the inevitable question for the umpteenth time.

"I cost them their first nest." The old male whispered. "I killed their first-born save for Ater here."

"What?" Tria whispered. "How?"

"Cowardice at the wrong moment." Her grandfather whispered. "It happened when I was still young, barely an adult. The land was still green back then."

He sighed softly. "The herd I belonged to had taken a rest near a fast water. So had theirs." He nodded in the general direction of the elder Longneck.

"There was a lower section at the water's edge." Grandpa mused as he remembered that time. "It was sheltered with thorny bushes and steep sides. It was unlikely that Sharpteeth would be able to get down it or try to cross the water."

"Both herds let their children play there." The old Threehorn added. "It was safe for them. Then came a day when I strayed from my herd. I was attacked by a pack of Fast Biters. In a blind panic I fled: there were simply too many for me to take on. I intended to get to the herd, have their numbers offer me protection."

He fell silent briefly. "I went the wrong way. In my panic, they had managed to cut me off. So I took a second option: the river. It was such a wild one, I knew they would not be able to cross it after me. I was not even certain I could cross it, for that matter. But anything was better than to be eaten. Or so I thought. But the edges near where we were, were steep and high, save for that one spot where we let the children play."

He turned his blind face to Grandpa. "I thought none would be there, I hoped it. I barrelled straight through it and managed to cross the river. It was only when I reached the other side I realized something: there had been children."

He shuddered. "They were trapped with the Fast Biters. Having lost me, they attacked the next best thing: the hatchlings they found. The youngsters screamed for help, but I was frozen in fear and horror."

"But Grandma did hear." Grandpa whispered. "She told me she heard the children cry for help and rushed there."

"I saw her. She was quick…" His remaining eye pressed closed. "She could do nothing. She was too big to fit down into the lowered part. She could only watch helplessly as the Sharpteeth killed them all… and then she noticed me. I will never forget her eyes when she realized I had been there the entire time, in fact had been the reason that sanctuary had turned into a dead-trap and had done nothing."

He turned his blind eyes to Ater. "Only one child managed to by-pass the Sharpteeth and reach safety, though badly wounded. The others were slaughtered."

Ater nodded sadly while looking at his many scars. "Mother was devastated. Three complete clutches, reduced to one survivor barely clinging to his life. She feared I would succumb to my wounds, but despite that she left me with her sister. Only later did I realize she had gone to kill the ones responsible. Including the Threehorn that had caused the tragedy."

"Yes…" He lifted his front-leg, resting it briefly against the horrible wound on the side of his face. "I barely escaped her and for weeks, I was followed by a pack of Fast Biters who were just waiting for me to succumb to my wounds. But I survived. By then I was completely lost. I joined another herd, but never saw my own family again…"

"It took her Cold Times before she dared try have another nest." Grandpa looked away, towards where his wife was standing. "For a long time, she was hostile against any Threehorn we encountered. For many changes of the Night Circle, I feared I would lose her to grief."

"You weren't there when it happened?" Littlefoot hesitantly asked his grandfather.

"No." He shook his head. "The route we used to take back then got treacherous shortly after the stop at that Fast Water. We always send a couple of males ahead to check its' safety. I had been one of the males send out that year. I only found out what had happened when I returned several days later."