I mentioned in the thread for the "useless sharptooth" that I've spent 70% of my time - probably more now that I think about it - in the TLBT fandom with my head buried in the sharptooth aspect in the series. Of that 70%, I would wager that up to 20% of that time has been spent mocking "the biggest and meanest sharptooth of them all".

Yeah, I'm not gonna beat around the bush, I think Red Claw stinks; for as much as they try to build him up - I've already mentioned Chomper's description of him but there's also the fact that the reason Chomper and Ruby are in the Great Valley in the first place is because their parents want them to be safe from him - he doesn't really do anything more than roar, try to look intimidating and miserably fail to catch a few little kids six times over (his last appearance isn't even him threatening anyone, it's just him out for a stroll in the vicinity of Hanging Rock). His minions don't fare a lot better; Screech and (usually) Thud are no more interesting than any of the other bland post-art shift sharpteeth are outside of 'Escape from the Mysterious Beyond', which gives spotlight to Thud and is actually sort of interesting.

1.) Because the TV series doesn't elaborate on the sharpteeth's personalities too much past that welcome glimpse at Thud, I'm going to veer into headcanon territory here: I don't think Screech shares his honor and I'm certain that, if they ever tried to pull anything like what happened in that episode and Red Claw found out, the tyrannosaur would have their heads in a heartbeat.

2.) I see their failures as a blend of both... mostly incompetence, though 



I actually have a little something for this (I say "little"); something I started in May that was/is still intended as the opener for a larger story about what happened to Red Claw after the events of 'The Hidden Canyon'. Unlike the other unfinished story I've shared here, I think this works on its own as a silly, short one-shot; have you ever wanted to read 833-word description of what was going through Red Claw's mind when Topps launched that one treesweet down his windpipe?

---

Red Claw could only handle so much.

"He-hey, that looks like fun! Toss me a piece," an unintelligible voice had grunted before this moment.

There were a slew of words that could have been used to describe the sensations that ran through Red Claw on that fateful day. Anger, frustration, humiliation, bewilderment...

None embodied what was surging through him quite as well as "disgust".

Treesweets, especially of this kind, were never meant to be be eaten by sharpteeth. They were tuned to entice leaf-eaters to eat them, digest them and pass along their seeds after all was said and done - these fruits in particular were loaded with sugars and acids and had a smooth, creamy texture that greatly appealed to herbivores, bolstered by an intensely powerful, pleasant aroma.

Sharpteeth were different beasts, with dramatically different tastes from their flat-toothed cousins and ways of taking in senses such as smell and taste. To the carnivores, the smell of the treesweets alone was enough to deter them from wherever they grew - what the leaf-eaters regarded as a delectable precursor to a heavenly meal registered as unbearably sweet to the carnivores, so strong that it could make even a young one's nostrils feel as if they were burning if they were present in great enough numbers. Just the Great Valley's luck that there so happened to be an entire grove of these aromatic fruits' trees growing in the adjacent Hidden Canyon, and just Red Claw, Screech and Thud's luck that the valley's resident seven children had stripped the canyon of the majority of its deterrents.

That "luck" had ultimately led to this point. A rain of treesweets upon Screech and Thud and, in Red Claw's case, a once-in-a-lifetime sample of one of the accursed things.

The taste of the treesweet was difficult for Red Claw to comprehend. In fact, it had taken a moment for his mind to register that the big threehorn had launched one down his gullet in the first place. For the ever-brief period of time that its taste was the only thing that struck him, he, having only ever consumed the flesh and body parts of other animals and having spent a good portion of his early life fighting for scraps of varying quality, could best liken the texture to that of an eyeball - unpleasantly soft with a vague gelatinous feel - and the taste itself to the stomach of a yellowbelly - too sweet for even the most hyperactive fastbiter chick.

If the taste were not repulsive enough, the following sensation of the treesweet's scent filling his mouth, overloading his nostrils and sabotaging his hyper-sensitive olfactory bulb would have been enough to send a smaller sharptooth into a coma. His split-second decision to swallow the thing only sealed his fate.

Tears streamed down the tyrannosaur's cheeks as his face began to pale and his lower jaw trembled. He could barely even curse inwardly at himself, his tiny brain too wracked by the agony wrought by the fruit. Before he had the chance to collapse by himself out of sheer shock, the longneck that accompanied the threehorn in his fight against he and his fastbiters - all but forgotten in his moment of weakness - lashed his thick tail at the sharptooth's ankle, sending him tumbling to the canyon floor with a resounding crash.

Lying on his side, Red Claw had a chance to recuperate slightly. His face was slathered in vivid, pink, pulpy juice from the treesweets, products of the barrage that had preceded the incident that had fried his brain and forced his fastbiter subordinates to retreat, but the feeling in his head was starting to fade, albeit barely. Though his vision was typically quite acute for a sharptooth with impaired binocular vision, at the moment, it was difficult for him to make out much more than vague shapes and tiny, floating "stars". A horrid, indescribable aftertaste lingered inside his his mouth. Tucking his scarred arm under his multi-ton bulk and not raising his head from the ground, he opened his eyes and made an effort to look out in front of himself.

Oh, treestars, what did I just...?

Even with his vision blurred, he could make out blobs of yellow soaring towards him from the direction of the longneck and the threehorn, and even in his dazed state, the sight was enough to make his heart drop into his stomach.

With all of the strength he could muster, Red Claw rolled himself onto his belly and pushed his huge body off of the ground with all four of his limbs, turning to face his attackers one last time.

This won't be the last you see of me! I swear it! he bellowed, before lumbering off in the opposite direction, his words falling upon all of the victors of the battle but one as a meaningless roar. Many yards ahead, Screech and Thud bolted towards the canyon leading back the Mysterious Beyond. He growled to himself and picked up his pace to keep up.

That.  Was.  HILARIOUS!  Thought I was in for a treat when you asked "have you ever wanted to read 833-word description of what was going through Red Claw's mind when Topps launched that one treesweet down his windpipe?"  To think you got so much quality mileage out of such a short scene!

I have to agree on your initial points concerning Red Claw, Screech and Thud.  They really don't live up to the hype, and seem to spend the vast majority of their time flexing intimidation.  Akin to your head canon, I ended up portraying Thud as the more honourable of the two in my writing, not that he makes it very obvious most of the time.  I also attempted to paint Red Claw as something truly formidable, with a few twists that set him up as more than a mere predator who 'randomly' bumps into the Gang of Seven.  There's nothing 'random' about him.  He's actually ... well, I won't spoil it.  Here's a clip of my own, if you want an idea:

---

Cera accelerated as Red Claw stood in a stupor, still stunned by her horrendous insult in the sharptooth tongue. She was almost fully grown, but he was nearly twice her size. Nonetheless, she was ready.

Every day of her training had his name on it.

Red Claw's shock turned to outrage. He didn't roar, didn't growl. He simply gestured Screech and Thud to attack the longneck before standing there in silent fury. Did he expect her to run into his jaws? He had another thing coming!

Cera was at the edge of pouncing range when Red Claw lunged. She stopped abruptly, drawing back. His mighty jaws crashed together like a thunderclap, jarring her ears as they fell just short of her. The threehorn screamed a battle cry as she smashed her horns into the side of his chin. The impact sent a shockwave through her skull. It felt good! Time seemed to slow as Cera etched the moment into her memory, relishing the bafflement rippling across Red Claw's face as his head lurched. She bet no threehorn had taken him down in one hit! Red Claw seemed to flash her a glare as he continued to reel. Wait ... he wasn't falling. He was no longer reeling either. He was turning. While his head pivoted away with the momentum, his tail blazed towards her. She almost didn't see it. There was no time to dodge. No time to counter. Cera could only crouch low and brace herself.

Half the breath blasted from her lungs as Red Claw's tail met her side. The strike arced upwards, like a golfer's swing, specifically intended to overturn her. Trepidation spiked through the threehorn as she found herself toppling. This wasn't supposed to happen! Once she lowered her centre of gravity, no one had knocked her down in one stroke! Not Chomper, not even Littlefoot! Maybe that was the problem. Littlefoot and Chomper sparred with her as friends.

Red Claw fought her as a killer.

Upon hitting the ground, Cera skilfully rolled with the blow, ending up back on her feet. She could scarcely stand before Red Claw's teeth latched around her horn. He was fast. So was she. The threehorn hammered his muzzle with her forepaw. The horn slipped free. After knocking his head skywards with a headbutt, she rammed his stomach. He slid back, but didn't drop. Why wouldn't this brute go down?! Then came the realisation. She recognised the feel of the hide against her horns.

Red Claw had stone scales.

Unforgiving jaws clamped her back: easily the most painful, terrifying thing she'd ever felt. If not for her own stone-hardened scales, the battle might have ended there and then. Instead, Red Claw flipped her onto her back with a jerk of the jaws. He went for the underbelly, stumbling away when her hind paws found his face half by practise, half by panic.

She hurried to her feet.

The sharptooth shook off the blow and exploded towards her.

He froze, jaws wide.

Cera had perfectly poised her three-foot horn to meet his mouth in the most damaging way possible. A few inches later and he would have made a grave mistake.

Red Claw backed away, tilting his head as he gave the three horned conundrum a calm, contemplative stare.

"Aww, what's wrong?" Cera asked in her most patronising voice. "Is the big, bad Red Claw scared of me? Booo hooo!"

The sharptooth didn't react. His silence was mildly unnerving. Much to her surprise, his posture seemed to relax as he yawned. It almost looked as though he were losing interest!

Cera subconsciously slackened her muscles as she stifled a yawn of her own. Oh, great. It was contagious.

He blinked lazily, giving the sky a semi-wary glance.

She blinked as well.

The moment she opened her eyes, Red Claw was silently, ravenously, surging at her. The moment she snapped to attention, he launched into a confusing zigzag. Instead of colliding, they converged in what looked like an intricate dance. Back and forth, left and right, neither landed a blow as Red Claw strained her reflexes with incessant attempts to get by her horns.

Thud leapt before Littlefoot's tail snapped beneath him, the thunder crack jolting his bones and robbing his hearing for a split moment. He wasn't expecting the longneck to sharply raise his tail mid-swing, smacking the fast biter high above the ground.

Screech pounced from behind, only to find himself halted inches from contact when Littlefoot's tail snatched him from the air.

Lifting the nonplussed fast biter so that they were face to face, Littlefoot gave the predator a flat smile.

Thud slumped. Yet again, the longneck had him. He supposed he could see the sardonic humour. This time, he was sure he'd be squished.

To the fast biter's utter confusion, Littlefoot set him down with a pat to the head for good measure. Thud blinked blankly, having no frame of reference for what was happening. The longneck wasn't being friendly. He simply gave a deadpan stare as though waiting for something to happen. Hold on a minute, where was that shadow coming fro-?

Thud was beginning to look up when Screech crashed down on top of him.

Littlefoot examined his handiwork. The fast biters seemed down for the count. His job done, he rushed to Cera's aid. Scarcely had he left before Screech cut the act and climbed off of Thud. The fall might not have rendered them unconscious, but they couldn't help but groan from the soreness. Thud quietly snarled after Littlefoot.

Screech chittered, telling Thud that they should go after the others while the longneck still thought they were incapacitated.

Thud argued that he wasn't done with the longneck: not after the smart-talking mound of meat made a fool of him twice!

Screech hissed, insisting that Thud needed no help to make a fool of himself. If they really wanted to spite the longneck, they had to go for his weak spot: his friends! Red Claw could take care of himself.

Thud sneered at their alpha, sure not to be seen. It would be a hollow victory. The longneck wouldn't be alive long enough to see what happened to his friends.

With a malicious purr, Screech assured Thud that the longneck didn't have to see it. They could state the grisly details of their intentions at a distance.

Perking up somewhat, Thud bobbed his head in agreement. After pausing to scan the sky, the two fast biters rushed after the departed dinosaurs.

They would have to act fast, Thud warned, before The Daybreaker found them.

---

Check out more of the story at: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13516136/1/War-Before-Time-Part-1-Mentors-of-Yesteryears

Thank you!   

Sorry everyone.   I'm pretty sure that was my fault as opposed to ArtStation's.  I did a lot of scatter-brained stuff to try and get the picture at just the right size on this site  .  Is it working now?  Furthermore, does anyone know how to scale images, or does it purely depend on the size of the source image?

Thank you!  I might answer that question with an image at some point, but for now I'll say she'll grow even spikier: an interesting balance between sharptooth-level intimidation and swan-like elegance ... but don't ever tell her that last part.  She hates the idea of being 'elegant'.

Introducing Dagara the Sharpneck!

Hidden Valley's only amargasaurus, Dagara is the last of her kind (so far as we know).  This endling is the protagonist of 'Because You're a Sharpneck'.  It occurred to me that many may be unfamiliar with her kind, which might just be my favourite dinosaur species after I recently found out about them.  Thus, I decided to create a visual representation that nobody asked for!

Check out her fics:
Because You're a Sharpneck
Because You're a Sharpneck (Gang of Five forum versions)
or Because You're a Sharpneck
Because You're a Sharpneck (FanFiction version)

Babysitting a Sharpneck - Threehorn 'babysitting' isn't what you think it is.  Find out in this short, comedic oneshot.

Surviving a Sharpneck - Cera forces Dagara into a confrontation to prove whose the toughest girl in the gang.  Things escalate quickly.

Circle of Death - Red Claw finally catches the gang and Dagara, but things are not what they seem.

I initially had a hunch this was some kind of concussion-triggered flashback, given that Zephyr acknowledged him so casually though their kind is something of a rarity.  Of course, I couldn't be more wrong, but I very much prefer the route you took.

'Windrider'?  That's a pretty cool designation for his species.

A 'scout' her parents sent?  Hmm.  Is she some saurian equivalent of a princess?  I doubt they'd go to the effort for a less 'important' member of their society.

Zephyr may not have had the chance to give details, but I'm guessing these coming-of-age traditions would be particularly brutal for Guido, whose strength and flight capabilities would be subpar in comparison to most of his species.  Throw in a Darwinian element and he's in serious trouble.

Great start!  Kinda brings to mind Rio and its sequel.  We've only had a taste, but the characterisation is quite good.  Can't wait to see the world building you employ with this new valley.

---

Mr. Thicknose raised his head from a pond to see Cera storming towards it.

"Good evening, Cera," he smiled.

She seemed completely oblivious of his presence as she grumbled to herself. "Stupid longneck training, stupidly made to work best for longnecks 'cause it's stupid!"

Cera dunked her beak beneath the surface, drinking with a vengeance. Mr. Thicknose raised an eyebrow. That was the first time he'd seen a dinosaur chew water. Having satisfied her thirst, she tore her face from the pond. Mr. Thicknose closed his eyes as she gave the water a good stomp, inadvertently sending a big splash into his face. She marched away from the waterside, vigourously unleashing her horn thrusts on thin air.

Mr. Thicknose turned to see what she doing. "Practicing with your horns, I see?"

Cera paused, eyeing the old dinosaur as if noticing him for the first time. Then she rolled her eyes.

"If you can 'see' it, then why are you asking?" Cera sassed.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," the elder remarked.

That familiar statement gave Cera pause. It seemed everything she said fell under the 'better ignored' category.

"So who, or what, is your imaginary victim?"

"Littlefoot," she grunted.

Mr. Thicknose froze. "I was under the impression that you two had a, uh ... relatively healthy friendship."

"Well ... yeah," Cera agreed, catching herself. "We do, but Doc's teaching us how to fight but I can't keep up 'cause he's teaching like a longneck, and I'm not a longneck! Their tails are different and they don't have horns, which means I gotta work extra hard to get nowhere! I'm the 'tough girl', but every time we spar Littlefoot gets the better of me!" She sighed away some of the tension as she glared at the ground. "It's not like I wanna crush him or anything. It's just no fun when I don't even have a chance."

"Hm," grunted the thicknose. "I knew you two were up to something. Fascinating. Perhaps I can be of assistance."

Cera looked him up and down. "How are you gonna make me anything remotely closer to a better fighter? No offence, but you're basically a threehorn minus the 'three horns', the attitude and, well, pretty much everything that makes a threehorn worth being anything."

Apparently putting 'no offence' in front of her statement didn't guarantee a lack of offence, seeing as Mr. Thicknose was giving her the same stare Doc and half the grownups did on a regular basis. Her frequent mental retort of 'What do they know?' was starting to evolve into 'Maybe they're onto something'.

Cera kicked a pebble, kicking herself on the inside. "Forget I said that."

He seemed genuinely surprised. "Is that an apology?"

Did she have to spell it out for him? Cera groaned, wrestling her pride.

"Yeah, I guess so."

Mr. Thicknose smiled. "It would seem someone's growing up! How about a little background before we begin?"

Cera withheld an impatient sigh. He was doing that thing grownups did when they asked a question after making up their minds to go ahead regardless of the answer. This had better not be long or/and boring. Ohh, who was she kidding?

"When I was little, a group of threehorn far walkers passed through the valley," Mr. Thicknose explained. "They bore the markings of warriors who had barely scraped through a recent battle. Those wounds ... I'd never seen anything like it: not from sharpteeth, or leafeaters."

Cera's interest was piqued. This actually sounded interesting! Well, there was a first time for everything.

"Did they ever say who they were fighting?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Regrettably, I was too shy to ask. However, shyness wasn't enough to keep me from watching them. Their fighting style was incredible! It was more than just running head first into opponents. They could swing their horns like a fast biter's claws, parrying blows, splitting boulders. I didn't know a threehorn could move the way they did! On evenings, I would watch their shadows as they practiced, and try to make my shadow do the same things to be sure I was getting it right. Of course, it wasn't much use to me. I'm not a threehorn, but I could imagine. In time their wounds healed. They marched out to face the unknown and never returned."

"Well? What're we waiting for?" Cera blurted, nearly breaking her 'tough girl' M.O. in her excitement.

The thicknose chuckled. "Come with me."

Cera eagerly trotted up to him as he took a few steps that ended with them standing over the pond.

"That was the shortest 'come with me' I've had in my life," Cera commented.

Again, Mr. Thicknose chuckled like a kid pulling a B grade prank. "Pardon my sense of humour."

Cera couldn't stop the 'What sense of humour?' from popping into her head, but at least she kept her mouth closed.

"Okay, so we're staring at our reflections in the water," Cera stated. "Am I missing something?"

Mr. Thicknose swung his head to the side as if wielding horns. "Try to mimic my reflection."

Cera mouthed an 'ohh' of realisation before attempting to copy him.

"Keep your horns perpendicular to the imaginary target, like so," Mr. Thicknose instructed.

She gave it another go.

He smiled. "Better."

Mr. Thicknose proceeded to carry her through a few more basic swings, jabs and parries until the departing sunlight brought the session to a close.

---

---

"How do you say 'let's be friends' in sharptooth?" asked Littlefoot.

Chomper's answer came in friendly croon.

Littlefoot blinked. "That's it?"

The young sharptooth thought for a moment, trying to find the best way to explain. "You know how 'huh?' means 'what?' in leafeater, or how 'mm hm' means 'yes'? The sharptooth language has lots of little sounds that aren't actual words, but they mean stuff. For example, if you want someone to know you don't like something, you can just growl. It sometimes helps if you point or at least look at the thing to make it clear what you don't like."

"Interesting ..." Littlefoot commented. "So, how do you say 'we don't have to fight'?"

"That's easy!" Chomper replied, before crooning again. "The same sound would work. It's a friendly noise, but if you want a sharptooth to take you even more seriously, you can show them how much you know your stuff." He released a combination of croons, purrs and soft growls that sounded anything but 'easy'. "You can say anything with a growl, a whine or any other noise, as long as you have the pattern right. However, the sound you use lets other sharpteeth know if you're friendly, unfriendly or something else. Using certain sounds for certain parts of what you say adds more emotional meaning and, um ... texture. That's the best way I can put it."

Littlefoot nodded. "Okay, here it goes." He attempted to repeat the complex sound.

Chomper gave him a blank stare before fiddling with his tiny claws. "Um ... you see ... if you say that to any sharptooth of any kind or age, girl or boy, so long as they can speak they will tell their friends, family and acquaintances, who will also tell their friends, family and acquaintances. Then they will all form a pack and hunt you down along with anyone they think is your friend ... or family ... or acquaintance. You can go into hiding, but they'll keep hunting you 'till the day they die."

The longneck's jaw dropped. "Chomper, what did I say?"

The small sharptooth shook his head with eyes squeezed shut. "Probably best you don't know, but I'm gonna have a hard time un-hearing it."

"Sorry," Littlefoot apologised. "You know what? I'm still gonna ask you to teach me everything you can, but maybe we should work together when we're dealing with bad sharpteeth. You can do most of the talking. I prefer not to fight, but chances are we'll have to. You might wanna think about training with Cera and me."

Chomper's face lit up. "You really think Doc'll let me? Aw, that'd be awesome! I really wanna, except Doc gave me nightmares so I'll need a few days to work up the courage."

"That's great. Hold on ... Doc gave you what?"

Littlefoot caught a flash of motion by the side of his eye.

In a blink, his tail had swatted an incoming coniferous seed out of the air. Chomper's eyes went wide at his razor sharp reflexes.

"For a second there I thought you forgot we were playing 'Stop the Seed'," Cera commented with a smile.

Littlefoot snatched up the seed with his tail, tossing it into the air before casually catching it in his mouth. With the exception of Cera, the others exchanged glances. For a four-legged dinosaur, such dexterity was no small feat.

"Sorry, guys," Littlefoot replied, pitching the seed between the two teams. "Got a little distracted."

"Don't worry about it," Cera shrugged.

Chomper and Ruby looked at each other. They expected a sardonic remark. At least a 'hmph!' or an eye-roll. A 'don't worry about it' without a hint of annoyance wasn't part of Cera's repertoire of responses. It would have been less conspicuous if it hadn't been a growing trend lately.

"Are you feeling okay?" asked Ruby, stepping up to Cera and reaching out to test her temperature. "'Cause when you feel okay you're a bit ... different from this."

"I'm fine!" Cera snapped, wincing before tempering her voice. "I, um ..." she seemed to squeeze the next word through her teeth, "appreciate your concern, but I'm okay."

"You haven't been coming to training," Littlefoot added. "That's not like you."

"Who says I haven't been coming to training?" countered the threehorn, raising her head in cryptic pride. "I remember everything Doc taught me about skin, bone and muscle strengthening. I just wanted to get a little space so I could sort something out."

Littlefoot slowly nodded as he examined her. Based on the mild bruises and developing muscles, he already knew that she was still training, but he seldom caught her doing it. Why the secrecy?

"Oh, and Ruby? Do me a favour and stop holding back," Cera requested.

The pink fast runner knit her brow in question.

Cera finally gave that eye-roll. "You're a fast runner, Ruby. It's, uh ... nice, I guess, that you slow down so the other team can keep up, but I want to show you guys a little something, so I expect you to try your best."

"If that's okay with you, it's okay with me," Ruby agreed, looking past Cera. "But ..."

The threehorn followed Ruby's gaze to see Ducky and Spike guarding their team's goal, marked by two rocks on either side. Ducky perked up, noticing the two staring at her brother and her.

She patted the spiketail on whom she sat. "Spike, I think it is time to play!"

His only response was a loud snore. He had slipped into a nap a few minutes prior, and it didn't look like that was going to change anytime soon.

"Spike!" Ducky whined. "We need to guard the goal, we do, we do!"

Cera smiled up at Ruby. "You won't say it, so I will. You have us outnumbered, and my team is at a slight disadvantage."

Ducky might have been mildly disheartened if she could hear Cera over Spike's snoring.

"Like I said, I've got few things to show you, so bring it," Cera coaxed.

"If you say so," Littlefoot conceded. "You ready, team?"

Chomper, Ruby and Petrie voiced their agreement.

"Okay, then," Littlefoot nodded. "Splash!"

"Wait ... wha?" asked Cera.

Team Littlefoot split up while the longneck alone charged for the seed.

"Remember when I suggested we plan our movements as a team?" asked Littlefoot.

Cera exploded towards the seed. "Remember how I ignored you?"

Ever since his training yielded notable results, Littlefoot had grown accustomed to outrunning Cera. This time, she shattered his expectations. She was fast. Strangely enough, she was quicker than he was, but there was one player who was faster.

The longneck lowered his head and Ruby sprang over him, just as they practiced.

The fast runner quickly kicked the seed past Cera and proceeded to leap over the threehorn. "Be careful what you wish fo- W-whAAAah! Oof!"

Cera had reared as high as her legs would carry her, bumping Ruby's foot with her head and sabotaging the fast runner's jump. Brutish? Yes, but over time, Stop the Seed had more or less evolved into American football ... if not slightly rowdier.

The runner landed on her belly, but the seed was already hurtling towards the goal.

"Ducky, Spike! Look alive!" Cera commanded.

Ducky yelped and abandoned ship as Spike jumped awake with a grunt, looking to and fro before the seed landed in his mouth.

"Nice save! ... I think," Cera commended. "Now pass it over!"

Spike blinked down at the seed in his mouth.

"Oh boy," Cera huffed in annoyance.

If anyone knew anything about Spike, it was that when something even remotely edible landed in his mouth, chances were no one was getting it back. This particular seed species qualified.

Ducky pried the seed from her brother's jaws before kicking it towards Cera with all her might. Of course, being mere several inches tall, 'all her might' didn't take it very far, but Cera darted in, bouncing the seed on her nose once and headbuting it under the legs of an incoming Ruby. Startled by the speed of the seed, the fast runner stumbled and ultimately tumbled to the ground once more.

Petrie swooped and blocked the seed with his body, even if it knocked the wind out of him.

Forgetting his place as goalkeeper, eager Chomper rushed to kick it. "I got it! I got it!"

He caught sight of Cera rampaging his way.

"AAAUGH! NEVERMIND! I don't got it! I NEVER got it! I WASN'T EVEN THINKING OF GOTTING IT!"

In spite of his claim, Chomper kicked the seed away more out of self-defense than anything else.

The threehorn headbutted it back, only for Littlefoot to send it hurtling forward with his tail. They bolted for it before it even came to rest. Cera flashed a grin, making as if to dart left. He moved to block her. He was expecting a more direct approach. Ah, there it was. When they reached the seed at the same instant, Cera leaned over it in a headbutt intended to shove Littlefoot out of the way. What Littlefoot did surprised even him as he found his forehead colliding with hers on instinct.

Cera only laughed as she pressed into his throbbing skull. "Still pretending to be a threehorn, huh?"

She jerked her head upwards, tipping Littlefoot's front end into the air. Thinking quickly, he braced his fore paws on her crest, attempting to keep her at bay.

Cera blinked before shoving harder, past the seed. The longneck's feet skinned grass from soil as he was forced backwards. Then he stopped, paws firmly rooted.

"So ... that's your surprise?" grunted the longneck. "You've been training in secret so I wouldn't realise how good you got until you were better than me?"

"Yup," Cera confirmed, before giving a sharp shove to no avail.

"So, who's been training you?" asked Littlefoot.

Cera snorted. "What makes you think I didn't train myself?"

"You were having a hard time adjusting to longneck routines." He stopped to think. "Soo ... did Mr. Thicknose teach you to watch your back?"

She hiccupped. "How did-? Watch my-? NO!"

Glancing back, Cera saw Ruby kicking the seed into her goal, right past Spike who'd made an admirable attempt to dive for it.

Cera's muscles seemed to deflate as she allowed Littlefoot to bring his fore paws to the ground.

"Con-" she choked. "Cong ... grrrr ... gratulations, guys. You weren't supposed to win this one, but you surprised me, especially Petrie."

The flyer blinked in confusion. "M ... me? What me do?"

Cera squinted at him as though it were painfully obvious. "You stopped the seed. In the air. With your body. It was moving really fast and you knew it wouldn't be pretty, but you did it anyway."

The flyer stared at her, along with everyone besides a smirking Littlefoot.

Cera's gaze flit across their faces with an upraised eyebrow. "What?"

"Me not remember last time you complemented me," the flyer stated.

"Maybe you don't remember it because there was no 'it' to remember," Ruby suggested.

Cera huffed. "Yeah? Well ..." She mumbled the last part. "Well, I guess you'll have to get used to it ..."

At that point, Littlefoot was grinning, deeply pleased that Cera was maturing into more of a pal and less of a headache. His grin dimmed as he spotted a small flyer in the trees.

It was watching them.

Shortly after Littlefoot stared back, it diverted its bulging, black eyes elsewhere. Shy but inquisitive creatures, he would feel their eyes glue to the back of his head once he looked away again.

Petrie traced Littlefoot's gaze and shuddered. "Flying nibblers: they give me creeps."

"But they're flyers, just like you," Chomper reasoned.

Petrie shook his head vigourously. "Not like me. They got sharp teeth. Tiny sharp teeth, but they little bigger than me, so me have reason to be scared."

"But they only eat creepy crawlers," argued Chomper. "You're not scared of me, are you?"

"You friend," Petrie countered. "Me can't make friends with nibblers."

"Perhaps if you talk to them, they'll talk back and turn out pretty friendly," Ruby suggested.

Petrie shook his head once more. "They no talk. They only stare. Me no think they can talk. Uncle Pterano say they eat dead things in Mysterious Beyond. Not here though, for some reason."

"Uncle Pterano said a lot of things," Cera reminded. "... Although, Mr. Thicknose told me the same thing, and he's pretty reliable these days."

"I think they're cute," Ruby stated. "Besides, if they weren't around to deal with pesky creepy crawlers, we'd have to deal with more pesky creepy crawlers instead."

"But they so many!" blurted a flustered Petrie. "There never be so many nibblers little while ago! Why more coming here? And creepy crawlers still bite us! Nibblers should do better job!"

As if to prove the point, Littlefoot felt the tiny tickle of a creepy crawler climbing up his leg. He looked to find nothing more than a beetle, and not the biting kind. True to Petrie's complaint, the nibbler ignored it. However, he couldn't blame the creature. It was unable to see the bug at that angle. Littlefoot decided to leave the crawler be as it settled on his side. It wasn't bothering him much, anyway.

Petrie painted a scenario. "What if me bump into one while flying some day, it get angry and bite me? Me not like them!"

Cera shook her head with a sigh. Perhaps this was some kind of flyer-on-flyer prejudice.

"It's not like we can just chase them all out of here," Cera argued.

"Me no care! Me only feel safe when they GONE!" exploded Petrie.

"That's not what the valley is about," Littlefoot reminded. "Unless they cause trouble, they're welcome to stay."

A mild look of betrayal touched Petrie's frustrated face. "You too, Littlefoot? You no think they too creepy?"

Littlefoot hesitated. "Wellll ... okay, I gotta admit they're a little creepy, but it's not like we should judge them for it ... I think ..."

The beetle briefly fluttered, creating the slightest of sounds.

The nibbler snapped to attention. Like a shot, it swooped in.

"LOOK OUT!" Petrie screamed.

Littlefoot ducked. As he did so, the nibbler made a tight loop around his body, diving down his side, zipping under his belly before he finished his crouch and flitting back into the tree. He felt the rush of wind, but it never touched him, not even a tap. However, there was one thing it apparently touched that he had failed to notice.

"Huh ... where'd it get that scrumptious nugget?" asked Chomper.

Littlefoot looked to see the creature nibbling on a beetle identical to the one on his side. When he spun to examine his flank, his jaw dropped.

"No. Way," Littlefoot gaped.

"What?" asked Cera.

"That nibbler snatched the creepy crawler off my side, yet it couldn't even see it!" Littlefoot gushed. "It musta heard the crawler when it flapped its wings, but that thing barely even made a sound!"

"Maybe they have really good hearing," Chomper theorised.

"You SEE? You SEE?" Petrie ranted. "That SCARIEST thing me ever see! NOTHING fly like that, except in terrifying SLEEP STORY!"

The nibbler twittered as it seemed to glance in their direction, at least from Petrie's perspective.

He pointed a claw quivering in outrage at the nibbler. "It LAUGHING at us TOO!"

The others decided to give their winged friend a moment as his little lungs hyperventilated away the agitation. After about half a minute, he calmed down enough to give the nibbler a jealous glower.

"... But me have to admit, me impressed," he stated. "You think Petrie could fly like that?"

"Maybe with training," Cera shrugged, perking up at a thought. "Y'know, it'd be really awesome if we all trained together! Would come in handy if we run into some big, ugly sharptooth ... which we always do."

Chomper gave her a glare and folded his small arms.

"Uh ... no offence?" Cera offered.

"Y'know, just 'cause you say 'no offence' doesn't make what you say any less offensive," Chomper argued.

Cera rolled her eyes upon hearing that past thought put into words. "In that case, I'm sorry. Sharpteeth aren't actually ugly. It was just an insult to the unfriendly ones, so take it or leave it."

Chomper narrowed his eyes at her before shrugging. He supposed a somewhat curt 'I'm sorry' was better than nothing at all.

"But we are not big enough to fight sharpteeth," Ducky countered.

"Unless you plan on staying a kid the rest of your life, we will be," Cera easily parried.

They fell into a brief, thoughtful silence. There was no denying that she had a point, but some of them still had their misgivings.

"Training look hard and painful. Opposite of fun, really," Petrie commented.

"I see where you're coming from, but you know what's really fun?" asked Cera. "Being able to run longer and faster than you ever thought you could! Hitting hard enough to make a stupi- uh, a bad sharptooth think twice about eating leafeater again! Having scales so thick that you can't even feel their teeth! Chomper! Chomp me!"

He hesitated. "Uhh ..."

"Go ahead. I've got stone scales, I can take it!" she insisted.

The sharptooth paused before gingerly nipping her ankle.

"Harder!" Cera commanded.

Startled, Chomper latched his jaws around her leg.

Cera smiled proudly. "See? I can't feel a thi- Okay, that actually hurts. Lemme go. Lemme go!"

He released her, guiltily fiddling with his claws. "Sorry."

"Eh, it's my fault, I guess," Cera admitted. "So maybe my stone scales still have a way to go, but actually this proves my point! What if we needed to survive a bite from an unfriendly sharptooth?"

Petrie shook his head before examining the fragile skin of his wings. "Make no difference for me. Flyers not too tough. Me no think stone scales help us much."

Cera snorted in annoyance as she ran over to Spike, who was on the verge of eating the seed. Hesitation aside, no one could deny that training made her faster than ever. Just before the spiketail could snap up the seed, he found his snack snatched from under his nose as Cera scooped it with her horn. His face fell in disappointment.

The threehorn made her closing statement. "As much as I'd love for you guys to just say 'yes', I won't push you. Just think about it, okay?"

Ruby tapped a claw to her chin. "Hm ... I'll see what I can learn from Doc and Mr. Thicknose, but there's only so much a fast runner can learn from leafeaters who aren't fast runners. My parents are good at this kind of thing, so my best chance at getting good would be learning more of this kind of thing from my parents. I'll have to visit them more often."

Cera smiled. "There we go!"

Littlefoot glanced at the flying nibbler. Once again, it looked away. He hated how they did that. As much as he'd defended their neutrality, their behaviour niggled at his instincts.

"Heads up, Littlefoot!"

The Longneck turned to her. "Huh? YIKES!"

He barely managed to duck in time after she'd headbutted the seed at him with alarming speed. In retrospect, he realised that, having won, his team was supposed to serve the seed first. She was merely being so 'polite' as to give it to him. Nonetheless, he had to ask.

"Cera! WHY?!"

"I thought your reflexes were supposed to be faster than that!" she argued.

"They are! I was distracted!"

"How is that my fault?" the threehorn shrugged.

Littlefoot wanted to yell at her a little more. Instead, he decided to laugh it off. She was coming along, but she was still Cera. He couldn't expect her to mellow overnight. Even so, he had a feeling she'd always be a bit of a fireball.

Cera raised an eyebrow at his laughter. "Are you okay?"

He nodded.

She nodded back with a somewhat impatient smile. "Good. So what are you waiting for? Get the seed! I wanna play!"

---

Thanks for reading! Review and let me know that you think.

If you wanna know what the 'flying nibblers' are, just google 'anurognathus'. They will melt your heart, chill your spine or both. They may not be around anymore, but you can find a reasonable modern day substitute by googling the 'great potoo'. A look at those birds will probably have the same effect.

Next: The Great Valley is a place of comfort and familiarity ... until Littlefoot discovers a mystery that makes him question the nature of his home. What will he discover? Find out in 'The Cornerstone'.

Follow the story on FanFiction at https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13516136/1/Mentors-of-Yesteryears

If you've read 'The Battle Before Time', you will recognise part of the first one and a half chapters of this story, but you'll also see some new details. 'Mentors of Yesteryears' begins the expansion of the world we were introduced to in The Battle Before Time, so keep reading and you'll find lots of new content to sink your teeth into. Battle Before Time was good practice, but I introduced alien concepts a bit too abruptly in that one shot. That's why this story lays the groundwork, sort of like a transitional montage between The Land Before Time we all know and love to the war on the horizon. Well ... sort of The Land Before Time we know and love.

I've made minor continuity changes and elaborations.

1) The scale difference between sharpteeth and leaf-eaters is truer to life, with Littlefoot's species being considerably larger than predators in general. That doesn't mean sharpteeth are not a threat, though – think wolves vs. bison. However, the scale isn't necessarily completely accurate. There are also exceptions, such as Sharptooth from the original movie, and Red Claw from the TV series, who are pretty close to the weight class of an apatosaurus like Littlefoot. There's an explanation for that, as you'll find out soon enough.

2) In the original series, Doc (who is heavily implied to be 'The Lone Dinosaur') had not exhibited too many impressive feats outside of fables. He seems to be a proficient fighter, but I don't recall seeing him launch more than a single attack. I decided to expand on his abilities.

3) Dinosaur lifespans were never specified in the original series ... if memory serves. In this story's continuity, longnecks can get pretty old, and remain surprisingly fit. This would make sense in the original series, since Littlefoot's grandfather and Doc are still capable of fighting sharpteeth effectively. If Doc really is The Lone Dinosaur, that would make him even older than Grandpa Longneck. This is supported by the belief that his species may have had long lifespans in real life.

Enjoy!

---

---

Hi! My name's Littlefoot. If you know anything about my friends and I, you know our childhood was weird ... and wonderful ... and scary. It's all 'Oooh! Aaah!' Then comes running and the screaming. I was sure my journey ended with The Great Valley. Turns out, with a touch of bravery, adventures find you no matter what you do, leaving your poor folks unsure of whether they should be proud or petrified enough to keep you in your nest forever. You know, no matter how crazy life got, there are some things I'd think would never change. Earthshakes come, rocks fall from the sky, but the world never fully crumbles. You wake up every day to find it beneath you. You look up every night to see the stars too high for a flyer to reach. Fire is hot, ice is cold. Up is up, down is down. Well ... turns out I was wrong. Everything can crumble, and it can crumble in ways you never imagined. All it takes is one rock from Beyond the Mysterious Beyond. Then you look closer. The reality hits you. You wish it were a rock. Stars can come crashing down on your head. Fire can be cold, colder than The Cold Times. When it all turns upside down, you fight it. You hold on together 'till the end. Then the end comes and you look around.

The world you thought you knew is gone forever, assuming it was ever the world you knew.

Sounds like a sleep story? Yeah ... I know. To be honest, I don't have the words to unravel the unimaginable. Not in one breath. How about I go back to the beginning? Yeah, that sounds like a plan.

It all began when he returned.

---

Something nudged the edge of Littlefoot's consciousness, rousing him from the realm between wakefulness and slumber.

He raised his head, blinking sleep away as his eyes adjusted to the dim of dawn.

"What was that?" he asked.

His grandparents paused their quiet conversation to leisurely arch their necks down towards him.

"What was what, Littlefoot?" asked Grandma Longneck.

The young longneck squinted in thought. He ... honestly wasn't sure. A smell? A feeling? A sound? ... A sound ... that seemed right. However, he'd been half-asleep - scarcely conscious enough to make it out. He set his eyes on the distant green and hills crested with dark blue firmament; strained his ears against brisk air punctuated by sparse, yawny calls of dinosaurs awakening. Was there anything to see, anything to hear? Perhaps not. For all he knew, it could have been a sleep story.

Then it came: a tremor to twilight's tranquility, rolling across the landscape like distant thunder.

"That!" he exclaimed, springing to his feet. "What is that? Sounds like a sky roar ... but not quite like a sky roar. Don't see any dark puffies up there either."

The elder longnecks slowly turned to meet each other's gazes. A youthful enthusiasm in Grandpa's eyes belied his age. Then the noise repeated itself a third time, in the exact same pattern, like a signature. Now he knew.

"That sound ... just like the stories," Grandpa commented. "Perhaps he really is the legend."

"Who is?" asked an excited Littlefoot.

Grandpa chuckled. "Why don't you go and see for yourself. I heard he'd returned, but I forgot to tell you. I'm quite certain that is not thunder. It's a longneck."

Rapt with wonder, Littlefoot scampered off before he even knew what his legs were doing.

"I'll see you later, Grandma and Grandpa!"

In his hurry, he hardly heard their goodbyes. But where was he going? There was no clear indication of the sound's source.

He listened again ...

*( ( booom ) ) ... ( ( ka-boom ) ) ( ( kraka-doom ) ) ( ( foom ) )*

Like a faraway cacophony of thunder.

He stared at the ground. The feet of a longneck were well attuned to vibrations. It helped them keep track of each other. Even in a dense herd, the footfalls of a loved one could be felt and identified fairly easily. Now, those sensitive feet caught wind of tremors quaking in tandem with the thunder. Definitely footsteps - quick ones, powerful ones. His feet knew the direction.

Should he wake his friends? ... No. Cera wouldn't be too happy to be forced from her nest at this time. She wouldn't be happy if he took the others and left her either. A solo adventure it was!

Through the trees, across dew-dappled meadows, towards the valley's walls Littlefoot ran. The sound grew rapidly as he neared the mouth of a canyon. Whoever was in there had deliberately picked a spot where most of the noise wouldn't disturb the rest of the valley. Nearing the source, the din grew nigh deafening. He rounded the last corner and his breath caught in his chest.

He should have known, he told himself. If anyone could conjure thunder, it was Doc, The Lone Dinosaur.

Littlefoot watched in awe as Doc blazed through his morning routine. Moving with grace and speed defying his size, the giant sauropod skillfully battled nonexistent foes with his tail, sending thunder cracks throughout the canyon as it split the air like a mega-sized whip. Always moving, he bolstered his lashing attacks with shoulder shoves, chest bumps, knee jabs and the occasional headbutt. It seemed any part of his body was a workable weapon. Littlefoot could practically see the imaginary sharpteeth he felled. Before long, the adult's keen eyes spotted the young longneck staring up at him.

"Um ... hi," Littlefoot greeted. "Didn't mean to spy on you like that."

"No harm done, kid," Doc replied in his gravelly voice.

Littlefoot's excitement took over from there.

"Doc, how do you move like that? You're so big!" gawked the youngster, before catching himself. "I- I mean, I'm not saying you shouldn't be able to move like that. You are The Lone Dinosaur, after all!"

Doc tilted his head. "What makes you think I'm 'The Lone Dinosaur'?"

Littlefoot grew slightly sheepish. "Well ... honestly, after all that's happened, you can't not be The Lone Dinosaur. I mean, look at what you were doing just now! I've never seen grownup longnecks move like that without hurting themselves!"

Doc gave a dry chuckle. No point deflecting. The kid had him pegged, not that he planned on openly confirming Littlefoot's belief.

"Been conditioning my bones and muscles since I was young," Doc explained. "Figured that if I kept it up, I'd never lose my agility as a grownup."

Littlefoot's eyes lit up. "Could you teach me?"

Doc shook his head. "No. You might break somethin' if you don't do it right. I did. Several times, actually. Aren't those tail tricks I taught you good enough?"

"They were ... great," Littlefoot slowly stated. "But I wanna learn how to fight: I mean really fight!"

Doc frowned. "You don't want the life of a fighter. The fight will chase you, no matter where you go, like a sharptooth on a trail. Trust me. You've got a better life ahead of you. B'sides, I was just visitin' - be gone a few Bright Circles from now."

Littlefoot sighed and lowered his head in disappointment.

Doc stared at the child and an odd look crossing his face. The youngster had experienced so many harrowing escapades. Too many for a kid his age. It was daunting to think of the number of times he'd left The Great Valley without adult supervision. The Mysterious Beyond was calling to him. Why did he heed its voice? For the thrill of adventure? Oftentimes, perhaps, but more than anything, for friends, for family, even for total strangers. And who were these objects of his concern? Longnecks? Leafeaters? No. They could be anyone. Some of them weren't even 'dinosaurs'. The world was on his shoulders, and it would only get heavier as Littlefoot discovered just how big the world was. It didn't help that the kid was too curious for his own good. Doc had found his place among the legends, immortalised as a hero whether he liked it or not. What would Littlefoot become? Doc didn't know, but he was sure that the youngster would be greater than The Lone Dinosaur had ever been, in part because he would never be alone. Wherever he went, his friends would be there. If none went with him, he would make new friends. However, he had to survive long enough to step into his destiny.

"Guess my stay got extended a few years," Doc mused. "Dara likes it here. We could settle down."

Littlefoot stared at the adult in abject confusion. "Huh? But … you're a wanderer."

"'Was'," Doc corrected, turning to leave. "We'll start tomorrow. Meet me here at daybreak."

He smiled as the youngster's whoops and 'woo hoos' met his ears.

---

---

To say Littlefoot arrived at 'daybreak' was a bit of an understatement. The child had Doc wondering if he'd slept there, but as the grownup commenced with his morning routine-turned-tutorial, Littlefoot was the one left wondering.

"What in the world are you doing?" asked a thoroughly baffled Littlefoot. "Not to be rude, of course.

For the past minute or so, Doc had been rubbing his scales against the side of a cliff.

"Perfect place for a rock bath," the adult stated before rolling on the stone floor, trying to expose the hard surface to every possible inch of his skin.

"A 'rock bath'?" asked Littlefoot.

"Yeah," Doc answered. "It turns your skin to stone. Makes it hard for sharpteeth to leave a mark."

Littlefoot couldn't help but let his eyes wander to the scar running down Doc's temple and neck.

"Well, most sharpteeth," Doc amended, catching his gaze. "Didn't get this from a sharptooth. I got it from THE Sharptooth."

Littlefoot gasped. Among the predators, there was one who stood above them all. Epitomising the concept of the sharptooth, he was known only by the blanket term that encompassed his kind.

"Funny enough, you could thank Sharptooth for what I'm teachin' you," Doc stated with a note of bitterness in his voice. "He took my sister, my last flesh and blood in this world. I tried to fight him. He was practically invincible. Barely made it out with my life. So, I followed him, tryin' to learn his secrets. One day, I found him rock bathing. Saw him pushing his body beyond the limits of his kind. I adopted his techniques. Took them further. Was determined to be faster and stronger than he had ever been. For years, we fought, neither able to finish the other. Then one day, word came from a flier that a couple o' kids lured Sharptooth into a waterhole, shoved a rock on top of him and that was that."

Littlefoot opened his mouth to state that he and his friends were the 'couple o' kids', but the smile on Doc's face confirmed that he already knew.

"'Journey to Big Water' ,'Land of Mists', 'Stone of Cold Fire': a few of the legends you've lived, and you're bound to live more," Doc stated.

"I wouldn't call them 'legends'," Littlefoot declined.

"I would," Doc declared. "That's why I gotta stay here, to see this through."

Littlefoot stared at the ground. "So ... I'm holding you back?"

Doc laughed - an increasingly common occurrence that Littlefoot was still getting accustomed to.

"Training you has been nothing but a pleasure," Doc admitted.

Littlefoot's eyes lit up as his chest puffed in affirmation.

"Wanna know why I could never get the better of Sharptooth?" asked Doc.

Littlefoot thought for a moment, attempting to figure it out. When he drew a blank, he nodded.

"He had a head start," Doc explained. "Thing is, I didn't learn the rock bathing secret 'til I was half grown. Start from your age and you'll be a force of nature."

Littlefoot immediately threw himself against the cliff and began to rub as though his skin were crawling with tiny biters. After a few seconds, he came to grips with his mistake.

"Oww ..." Littlefoot moaned as he eased off the stone.

"Try to be a bit more careful about it," Doc instructed. "Start by rubbing hard enough to feel the burn without bruising."

---

---

Pride.

That's what Doc felt as he lay under the morning Sun, watching Littlefoot practicing his teachings on a rock roughly the size of the kid. Such a fast learner. Was this what it felt like to have a son? Maybe he would one day find out. Maybe not. He could neither count on the remarkable longevity of his species' egg-bearing capabilities nor write it off. However, he couldn't complain. Imparting his knowledge to Littlefoot was one of the crowning joys of his life.

"That's it, Littlefoot," he coached. "Quick strikes. Keep him off-balanced."

Littlefoot paused the imaginary battle, panting. "I feel like ... my tail's too short for this."

"It'll grow," Doc assured. "You got distracted. Now he's on your back."

The young longneck dropped in an aggressive roll.

"That did it," stated Doc. "He's down. Now finish him."

Littlefoot placed his foot atop the imaginary sharptooth and growled into its face before snapping his jaws.

Doc blinked. "Littlefoot ... what are you doing?"

"It's sharptooth talk," explained the youngster. "Chomper said it means 'go away and don't bother us again'."

"What's to say the sharptooth'll go away?" asked Doc.

Littlefoot thought for a moment. "Well ... what else am I supposed to do?"

Doc sighed. If not genuinely clueless, his student was simply refusing to consider the obvious.

"Make sure it can't bother anyone again," Doc clarified.

Littlefoot winced.

Doc raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that what you did to the first sharptooth you encountered?"

"Well, yeah, but that was before I met Chomper," argued Littlefoot. "Can't I just chase him away? Or maybe knock him out? Or-?"

"Or grow a backbone, Littlefoot!" came the voice of a grouchy female.

Littlefoot spun around. "Cera?! I-!"

"You were gonna keep coming here, doing whatever it is you do with Doc without telling me for the foreseeable future!" snapped the amber threehorn as she stomped towards him. "Say, what exactly are you doing? Didn't peg Doc for the type to play with imaginary sharpteeth."

Littlefoot hesitated. "I ... um ... Doc's teaching me how to fight."

Cera's eyes popped. "Say what now?"

"I said-"

"I heard you the first time!" she barked. "Since when did you have any serious interest in fighting?" suddenly, Cera began to smile. "Y'know what? I like this Littlefoot!"

Littlefoot tilted his head. "What did you think of me before?"

"You were ... eh, you were alright," she replied. "More tolerable than most. Anyway, move over. I refuse to let some longneck know more about fighting than I do."

"'Some longneck' already does," Littlefoot stated, gesturing Doc with his head.

"He's old. He doesn't count," Cera dismissed.

Doc grunted in mild annoyance.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" asked Cera.

"I'm not training you," Doc stated simply.

"What?!" Cera shrieked. "Listen, Gramps! You can't not train me! Threehorns are born to fight, and if you can't see the potential in front of you, you're going blind in your old age!"

"The contrary, actually," Doc agreed. "When you've been around long as I have, you start to see patterns – things that start out one way and end up another, like the way you and Littlefoot relate to one and other as kids."

"What's that supposed to mean?" spat the triceratops, tapping a foot in irritation.

Doc sighed. "Hopin' I'm wrong. In any event, you're too volatile."

"So you're saying Littlefoot's gonna be the next 'Lone Dinosaur' and I'm stuck being ... me?" argued Cera.

"You could be a legend, just not a good one," Doc declared.

Cera scrunched her eyebrows, attempting to think her way around Doc's stubbornness. "Is this about the 'old dinosaur' comments? Don't take it personally, it's just how I am, especially now. Dad says I'm having 'adolescence' early, or something like that. If you think I was rude to you, you should hear what I told my dad just yesterday! As punishment, he sat on top of me until The Bright Circle was halfway across the sky. Tria was so upset herself that she didn't even bother to calm him down."

"So that's why you're nowhere to be found when he says you're being 'babysat'!" Littlefoot piped in. "You're literally right there, underneath his-"

"Can we not talk about that?!" Cera snapped.

Doc lowered his head beside Littlefoot. "Hop on, kid."

"Where are we going?" asked the youngster, climbing onto the grownup's head.

"Away," Doc answered without answering.

"Then I'm coming with you!" Cera insisted.

The Lone Dinosaur chuckled. "No choice, Missy."

With a sweep of his tail, he tore the dust from the canyon floor, enveloping Cera in a smokescreen.

As much as Littlefoot hated seeing Doc's unique way of rebuffing Cera, he stared in fascination. He'd never seen a tail manipulate wind like that. The gears were turning in his head.

Racked in a fit of coughing, Cera's lungs finally caught a break when the dust cleared. She looked around and not a soul was to be seen.

"I was trying to be NICE, you ungrateful BUMP HEAD!" Cera shouted after them.

---

---

Having found a quiet place at the centre of a clearing, Doc sat and closed his eyes in a meditative state.

"Um … what are we doing?" asked Littlefoot.

Doc cracked an eyelid and smirked. "We're imagining. kid."

His smirk grew at the sight of Littlefoot's perplexed expression. A grownup? Imagining? It was like stepping into a weird sleep story.

"I'm imagining situations I could find myself in," Doc explained. "For example, different techniques a sharptooth could use against me. Sometimes, they hunt in packs. They actually plan their combined attacks. That's why I try to plan ahead, imagining solutions to things they might do. When I've thought of a solution that seems to make sense, I practice it. Sometimes, it becomes a new technique.."

"Ohhh … wow," Littlefoot commented. "You've probably thought of everything by now."

Doc chuckled. "Not everything. It's good to go in with a plan, but your first thoughts can fail you. That's when you need to imagine on the fly: fast like sky fire, adapting your plan or making a new one. If you get good at imagining, you could see what might happen as if it's right in front of you; reckon outcomes and even predict a sharptooth's actions."

Littlefoot's head spun. "You can ... actually see what will happen in your head before it happens?"

Doc shrugged. "Not always accurate, but usually very close if I know enough about what I'm dealing with."

The kid blinked, attempting to digest the ideas. "What do you even call something like that? I mean, I imagine all the time, but this is way more advanced. It has two different sides to it: planning ahead before a fight and thinking like sky fire in the moment. One affects your first thoughts, the other second affects your second thoughts ... I'm sorry, I'm yammering a bit."

Doc furrowed his brow, impressed. What might have sounded like rambling was actually the youngster's attempt to organise the concepts in his mind. Doc didn't fancy himself a skilled communicator, so it was easy to end up throwing several, complicated disciplines into one messy heap of training. But Littlefoot was right: there were two very different elements involved in this ... 'advanced' form of imagination. Meticulous planning, where the details could be considered at leisure with high fidelity thoughts. Then there were rapid, skeletal plans mid-battle, spanning a fraction of a second: clear and concise, ignoring unnecessary details. Naming the elements was a good first step for pinning down the concept.

"'Advanced Imagination'," Doc stated. "That's what we'll call it. The two sides of it will be 'First Thought' and 'Second Thought'. Amazes me how creative a kid can be. I'm sure you'll be imagining things I never considered."

Littlefoot plopped himself against the short grass, straining his brain to live up to that expectation.

"Don't stress about it," Doc encouraged. "Just relax. It's okay to let your mind wander sometimes."

Littlefoot nodded, although he found it hard not to pressure himself to impress his mentor. In time, he began to relax; feel the breeze; hear it whisper in the trees. It really was pleasant out there. As much as he loved his friends, he understood how Doc could find peace in silent solitude.

He twitched as something brushed against his face. Littlefoot opened his eyes and saw the culprit – a flock of leaves swirling in the wind. He'd seen such a thing before, but it always fascinated him. Why would wind decide to move in circles instead of the winding path it usually took? Sometimes, those circles were huge. Vicious. Deadly. He'd seen a few twisters ravaging the landscape – a testament of the unpredictable possibilities of the world he lived in.

Littlefoot's eyes slowly widened as they took on the glint of an epiphany. Doc glanced at the youngster, noticing the change in body language. He smiled. The kid was onto something.

"Let's hear it, Littlefoot," Doc encouraged.

The young longneck shrank in self-consciousness. "It's kind of silly. Probably impossible."

"Won't know until we try it," Doc coaxed.

Littlefoot sheepishly smiled up at him. "Well … remember when we lost Cera in the canyon?"

---

[bWhat is Littlefoot up to? Find out in ... well, not the next chapter that's for sure, but we'll get there. In the meantime, enjoy the journey.

BONUS STORY: While Littlefoot trains, a new tale plays out in a faraway valley: a tale that will affect him in ways he can't imagine. Check out 'Babysitting a Sharpneck - War Before Time', a short and funny introduction to Dagara's misadventures.

Next: What happens when Cera decides she can't take 'no' for an answer? Find out in the following chapter, redundantly named 'Can't Take No For An Answer'. Don'tcha just love when writers put it all on the table? .

Did anyone pick up 'The Lost World: Jurassic Park' reference?

Thanks for reading! Review and have a good ... whatever time of day or night it is ... wherever you live.[/b]

This story was posted here in response to the May 2020 prompt, 'Hidden', taking place in Hidden Valley, home to the hidden runners and mysteries even its residents don't understand. If you've heard of the hidden runners from the original series, you'll quickly notice that the ones in this story are clearly not the same thing. Within the 'War Before Time' continuity, Littlefoot discovers in the pilot oneshot ,'The Battle Before Time', that the 'hidden runner' he once encountered was apparently not the real deal.

You can find Because You're a Sharpneck on fanfiction.net at https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13556382/1/Because-You-re-a-Sharpneck-A-War-Before-Time-Oneshot

You can also find The Battle Before Time at https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13404463/1/The-Battle-Before-Time

---

Description: While 'mentors of yesteryears' teach Littlefoot and friends how to battle sharpteeth, some dinosaurs are born to fight. The problem is they don't know how to stop.  Meet Dagara. Technically, she's a longneck. Technically, she's a lot of things. Luckily, Hidden Valley is full of 'a lot of things'. Making friends should be easy, right? Too bad making enemies is easier.

---

Author's Notes: In real life, I'm pretty sure amargasauruses (or 'sharpnecks') weren't omnivores, but then again Petrie is portrayed as a herbivore throughout The Land Before Time, while I'm pretty sure his species was carnivorous in real life. I sense some freedom to use artistic license . Amargasauruses also grow bigger than their real-life counterparts in this story, though not quite as big as an apatosaurus like Littlefoot.

If anyone wonders what the 'flying nibblers' are, just google 'anurognathus'. You'll probably respond with an 'aww', a 'YIKES!' or something in between.

By the way, within this story's continuity the dinosaurs judge time using 'heartbeats' (the equivalent of seconds); 'breaths' (five heartbeats); 'sleeping breaths' (ten heartbeats); 'holding breaths' (thirty heartbeats) and 'naps' (one hour). Yes, it's uncannily akin to human time measurement, but there's a reason for that, as we'll find out in War Before Time .

Without further ado, I introduce Dagara, a sharpneck whose story exists on the periphery of my 'War Before Time' series! Sooner or later, her life will converge with Littlefoot and company, but that's a tale for another day.

Enjoy!

---

Maybe you've heard that Littlefoot and his friends are growing into sharptooth-smiting warriors. Maybe you know that someday they'll fight the War Before Time, but you don't know me. Not yet, anyway. Can I let you in on a secret? The Great Valley is just one of many mysterious valleys, like The Land of Mists, Sunstone Valley and ... honestly, that's all I got besides my own. It's not like I've ever had to visit another valley. Don't judge me! Anyway, they're all different from The Mysterious Beyond. Most are full of good green food, water holes, nesting grounds and everything else a leafeater could need in all the right places. I can't complain, but it's kind of strange when you think too hard about it. No one knows how they came to be, but my home, Hidden Valley, is rather unique. For starters, it's not supposed to exist. Not after The Great Earthshake, anyway. These days, the valley's full of 'not supposed to's. Sharpteeth shouldn't really be here, yet here they are. There shouldn't be enough food for us to coexist, but most of the time, there is. The water should have dried up, gone stagnant or flooded the valley long ago, but it hasn't. Some would argue that leafeaters should be leafeaters, and sharpteeth should be sharpteeth. There shouldn't be an 'in between' ... yet here I am.

Hi. My name's Dagara. I'm probably the last sharpneck alive, which makes life ... complicated.

---

---

The young sharpneck was practically vibrating.

She growled at herself. Why was it so hard to sit still? Sure, she was 10, but even the threehorns her age didn't have this excessive energy ... or did they? She couldn't tell for sure. Maybe they were just really good at hiding it. Maybe their parents had trained them better.

A loud snore drew Dagara's attention to her adoptive father: Wartar, the threehorn alpha tattered with the marks of another life spent in the heat of combat. The sharpneck didn't like to look at the marks on his side. She'd long since figured out what most of them meant. He may have retired from the battlefield, but she had a hunch he'd carry his drill sergeant of a personality to his end. No, the other youngsters weren't trained better than she was. No one trained their young quite like her dad. From all appearances, her impatience was 'a sharpneck thing'. Everything seemed to be a sharpneck thing with her, from personality quirks to her unusual diet.

"Dad, are you awake?" she asked.

His answer (or absence thereof) came in the form of another snore. He had to told her not to leave the nest until he had awoken, but this was the first time she'd seen him to sleep in. Yes, he'd had a long day prior, but come ooooon! The Sun was peeking over the cliffs that surrounded the valley, which said a lot! Those cliffs were higher than they had any right to be. Any creature supremely lucky enough to reach the valley would find it hard to get in without falling to their death ... almost as hard as it was for most residents to leave. It was a miracle Hidden Valley hadn't collapsed altogether. After The Great Earthshake, the valley had nearly disappeared off the map, sinking hundreds of feet into the ground so that only the centre's greenery enjoyed The Bright Circle's light most of the day. Luckily, that centre occupied 70% of the valley, dubbed 'The Green Zone'. The valley's edge was the polar opposite. Starved of sunlight, it was a place where only the hardiest, least palatable vegetation survived. Known as The Grey Zone, this was the logical habitat for those who didn't need green food. A such, there was more than enough room for the leafeaters and ... non-leafeaters to keep to themselves much of the time.

"Good morn-"

"GGRRRAAAAHHH!" Dagara snarled.

Without blinking, she charged at whatever had made that noise. She didn't see it, but her ears gave her a pretty good idea of where it was, and it was invading her territory!

Dagara's sharp eyes glimpsed motion as something sidestepped her charge, although she couldn't tell exactly what she was looking at. Then her conscious mind caught up with her actions.

She skidded to a stop, squinting at the nearly invisible thing before sniffing. "Unseen, is that you? I could've killed you!"

The invader's scales turned to a profusion of greens, broken by yellow stripes on her back. With blue feathers running from the top of her head to the base of her neck, it was an adult female fast biter.

Unseen gave a quiet cackle. The young one thought she'd nearly killed her? How amusing! ... Although Dagara might have had a point. She was little more than a third the fast biter's size, but Unseen had watched her training with her father. The sharpneck was a natural warrior, armed with some pretty formidable biological weapons. She could at least hurt a fast biter, even if that fast biter was one of the legendary hidden runners.

"You know, most creatures do not instantly attack when startled," Unseen chuckled. "If they do, they think first."

"I was thinking!" Dagara insisted.

Unseen twitched her feathers in amusement. "And what were you thinking?"

The sharpneck grew sheepish. "Uh ... 'Intruder invading territory' ... 'threatening Dad and me' ... 'nothing friendly sneaks up on you' ..."

Unseen took a moment to consider that. "'Nothing friendly sneaks up on you': that's a fair assumption, but not always accurate, especially in a valley where hidden runners live."

Dagara shrugged before giving a response that was quickly becoming mechanical. "I'm a sharpneck, remember?" That said, she apologised with a sharptooth coo.

Unseen smiled. "It's nice that you are using my language, but I prefer to practise my leafeater."

Dagara thought for a moment. "I prefer to practise my sharptooth. How about you speak leafeater and I speak sharptooth?"

"Deal," Unseen agreed with a bob of her head.

Dagara would speak gibberish for all she cared if it meant spending time with Unseen. When hidden runners entered The Green Zone, they were seldom seen, which was just the way most leafeaters liked it. Of course, if anyone went missing, the pack was automatically placed under suspicion. If no one could find the missing leafeater within hours, there would be dire consequences. Yes, the two groups mixed, but seldom without some incentive. Dagara didn't need much motivation to mix. She thought the hidden runners were the coolest things in the world! In Dagara's mind, Unseen was the closest thing she had to an awesome big sister, although Unseen's unpredictable daily movements made it hard to get in touch with her. Coupled with the fact that the hidden runner always seemed busy, Dagara hesitated to ask Unseen to hang out. Did adults even 'hang out'? By her standards, Dagara wasn't quite sure. If she could just get the younger hidden runners to play with her, though ...

"I'm surprised your dad is still sleeping after the ruckus we made," Unseen noted.

Dagara looked at the threehorn, throbbing her agreement in sharptooth before explaining that he'd had a long day, training kids and rescuing one who got stuck in a landslide.

Unseen nodded. "So I've heard. Ordinarily, I would tell your dad in person, but I must move quickly. I will come back later. In the meantime you can give him the message when he wakes up."

"You can give me the message right now," Wartar grunted as he opened his eyes.

Unseen chirped in surprise. "Oh, good morning, Alpha! You will be happy to know that the hidden runner food shortage may no longer be a problem. We have found a new food source. That's the good news."

The threehorn yawned, not even bothering to get up. "And the bad news?"

"Our food source is a new kind of creepy crawler," Unseen explained. "They are big and aggressive."

"How big?" he asked.

"Two sizes. Some are," she glanced at Dagara, "almost two times bigger than your daughter. Others are slightly bigger than a hidden runner."

Wartar huffed. "That's not big."

"It is when they attack in numbers," Unseen went on. "We think that they lived underground until an earthshake disturbed their nest. That would explain why they are coming out of The Dark Zone caves, but it does not explain why they took so long to get here. Maybe it took time for them to find the valley. Anyway, we're fighting them right now. We are trying to keep them out of The Green Zone, but we don't know how many there are. We're sending most of our chicks into The Green Zone for safety, until we can figure out what we're dealing with."

Dagara perked up. Maybe this time the young hidden runners would be willing to play with her! Wartar wasn't quite as enthusiastic.

"Do what you must," he curtly replied. "And the crawlers, they eat meat?"

Unseen shook her head. "They seem only interested in green food, but like I said, they are very aggressive. Also greedy and territorial. They're eating what little green food they can find in The Grey Zone, while trying to push us out of our territory and spread into The Green Zone. No one has been hurt, but we are confused."

Wartar raised a half-disinterested eyebrow. "Why is that?"

Unseen clicked her sickle-shaped claw against a twig in thought. "They have been living underground, yet green food does not grow underground. What were they eating before coming here? If they came from the surface somewhere else, where would that 'somewhere else' be? The flying nibblers say there is no green food near the valley. Only what remains of the rocky maze that once surrounded it, and dry lands beyond that as far as the eye can see. It makes most sense that they came from underground, but not enough sense."

The threehorn gave a loud, annoyed sigh. Hidden runners and their compulsive desire to understand their prey.

"It really doesn't matter," the threehorn grunted. "What matters is after The Great Earthshake drove you here from the falling canyons around the valley, you made an oath to behave yourselves and help out by eating troublesome crawlers and buzzers."

Unseen nodded. "And we are very grateful that you allowed us to stay. We will try-"

"Don't 'try'. Do. Your. Job," Wartar emphasised. "Don't let them reach The Green Zone. Make yourselves useful for once."

The ordinarily level-headed Unseen usually fidgeted around Wartar. He was one of the few things that scared her, but nonetheless she was eager to please. However, when he said that, her body language changed for the briefest of moments. She stopped fidgeting, narrowed her eyes at him and stared at the ground with the slightest of sighs before seamlessly resuming her usual behaviour. No one noticed except Dagara. The sharpneck was beginning to learn that sharpteeth were more complex than they seemed. They had multiple layers of personality: the one they displayed, and the ones always watching in the background, ready to show themselves at a moment's notice. Unseen had approached the nest with no reason to expect conflict, but a part of her was always ready to hunt or be hunted. That way, she instantly responded the moment Dagara attacked. She was genuinely uncomfortable around Wartar, yet a more settled, sober side had shown through when he insulted her. That side was not afraid of him. It had shifted from slightly offended to disheartened. Dagara had no doubt that that side was capable of telling off Wartar without blinking. To a leafeater, these layers might have seemed deceptive, but it was simply the way sharpteeth were built ... or maybe it was just the hidden runners ... or just Unseen. Hard to tell. From what Dagara could discern, most hidden runners had some degree of multi-dimensional personality, but it was difficult to figure out how much it varied from individual to individual.

"The leafeaters should keep their eyes peeled in case some crawlers get past us," Unseen concluded.

Wartar nodded. "Make sure everyone knows about this."

"But Alpha, mother wants me to help with the fighting!" Unseen argued.

The threehorn stared at her as if the answer were the most painfully obvious thing in the world. "Then get the flying nibblers to spread the message. They're too small to fight, aren't they?"

"Oh, right," she fumbled, nearly tripping on her feet as she left. "Enjoy your day!"

Wartar's only response was a grunt.

The sharpneck stared after Unseen. She would have liked to see those big creepy crawlers.

"Dagara, stay out of The Grey Zone. Otherwise I'll have to babysit you," her dad warned.

She winced. From a threehorn parent, 'babysitting' was not what it sounded like.

"Okay," she agreed, "but can I at least ...?"

He was already snoring once again.

Dagara suppressed a frustrated scream while resisting the urge to headbutt him. Rudely waking him up was one was surefire way to end up being babysat, but HOW was she supposed to stay in this ONE SPOT, watching the Great Circle make its journey and LISTENING TO HER DAD SNORE?!

Dagara's legs started moving before she knew what they were doing. Another 'sharpneck thing'. Long story short, she was impulsive. Long story long, her body had a habit of reacting to her thoughts, feelings and instincts, whether she wanted it to or not. That gave her nearly instant, hyper-intuitive reactions that would go a long way in a fight, but it wasn't much good for making friends ... or obeying commands ... or keeping her mouth shut ... among a good number of other things.

The sharpneck was willing herself to turn back when the unusually powerful, 'Do What You Wanna Do' part of her mind argued that she had already left the nest. His order had been broken. She couldn't break it anymore than she had, could she?

Dagara shook her head. That wasn't a good enough excuse.

Her mind was a clever negotiator. Okay ... so her dad had told her not to leave the nest until he woke up. He'd already awoken. Sure, he'd fallen back to sleep, but if he wanted her to stay, wouldn't he have reiterated it? Besides, he said to stay out of The Grey zone, not to remain within the nest. Did he really want her to sit around while he slept the morning away? It was daybreak! She was always up and about by daybreak!

Dagara considered that for a moment. Wellllll ...

With a sigh, the sharpneck allowed her legs to carry her away. Why did every part of her seem to have its own democracy, even her brain?

Stepping into the forest, Dagara felt a strange, mildly exhilarating sense of freedom. She knew it was the thrill of rebellion. Why did it have to feel so good?

First things first, Dagara searched for a nice, sturdy tree far enough to avoid any noise that threatened to reach the nest. She found many, but tried to ignore them. They'd already been ... used. Technically, she could reuse them, but she preferred to avoid visiting the same tree more than once. She didn't like looking at the trunks after she was done with them.

Ah! This was a pretty good one! The bark had a lovely texture: just tough enough to withstand her, but soft enough to do its job. She walked around it, looking for the best spot before stopping mid-step.

Uh oh ...

Apparently she'd already gotten to this one. It was easy to lose track, but there was no mistaking the scars running along its trunk, dribbling frozen tree sap.

Many of her dad's scars looked just like that.

Dagara released a heavy breath, leaning her head against the tree and closing her eyes. Her dad had always said she was a clever girl. She didn't want to be clever. She didn't want to be a lot of things. Maybe that way her chest would hurt less every time she looked at a scarred tree ... every time she looked at her dad.

Dragging her feet to the other side of the tree, Dagara tried to forget the scars. Once they were out of sight, she rolled her shoulders, loosening up. At the right angle, in the right stance, she might have passed for an ordinary longneck. Then she flexed her neck. Up came the spikes ... or horns. Why couldn't they be both? Two dozen of them bedecked the back of her neck from top to bottom. When most of the threehorns her age were still making do with a single horn, Dagara had all of hers. She was very, very proud of them, so long as she didn't have to look at the marks they left in the tree bark.

The sharpneck tore into the tree with her spikes, sharpening them against the trunk. She didn't feel quite like herself until she'd done that. It came before eating, before cleaning, before she was ready to socialise ... or try, anyway.

Once done, Dagara pulled away from the trunk, shaking her neck in invigoration. Then she caught motion at the side of her eye. Apparently, she wasn't alone.

Dagara turned and looked around. She couldn't see anything, but she knew they were there. Staring at her.

"Okay, har har," she began. "I can practically feel your eyeballs. Why not introduce yourselves? There's no need to be shy."

No answer.

She rolled her eyes. "Don't tell me you're afraid of a little ol' sharpneck. I thought hidden runners were braver than that!"

Again, no response. She knew why: they didn't particularly care what she thought of them. After learning that the sharpneck was remarkably observant, the young hidden runners had made a game out of it. It was hunting behaviour, minus the attacking part. With nothing else to do, it only made sense that the youngsters would come visit their favourite play thing.

"You know, the first time you did this, I thought you were playing with me," Dagara admitted. "Then I realised I wasn't part of the game, just part of the challenge. You hide. I spot you. If I find you, you're out. Last runner standing wins, then you all leave without saying a word. I know Silence has been teaching you leafeater, and Unseen taught me sharptooth, so quit pretending I'm talking to myself here. Why don't we play together?"

Not a peep.

Irritated, Dagara released a low growl that sounded worthy of a full-blooded predator. Then she spotted a massive dragonfly perched on a fern. Sharpteeth considered them an excellent snack, but she hesitated. Her dad had never outright told her to hide her true self, but he had subtly encouraged it. She thought she did a pretty good job of it too, but all it took was one blather mouth to ruin the secret. However, chances were no hidden runner gossip would reach leafeater ears for at least a few years.

"I know your secret," she baited. "You don't disappear. You just change colour to blend in with what's around you," she balked, but only briefly. "Wanna hear my secret? I'm a longneck, but I'm also sort of a sharptooth, just like you!"

Silence. They weren't buying it.

Dagara grinned, displaying pointy teeth usually hidden in the presence of a leafeater. Revealing them brought a sense of catharsis.

"That's not the only thing we have in common," Dagara added.

The sharpneck smoothly lowered herself and crept towards the dragonfly. In doing so, her sandy scales turned mottled green, punctuated by a darker marking running along her side. The colours shifted, pulsing and throbbing according to the movement of the bushes caught in the wind.

She heard at least a few hidden runners chirp with fascination.

"See? I'm just like you," she repeated, stalking the creepy crawler. "My dad says it's called the 'Bush Blush'. I know, I can't disappear as well as you do, but it's enough to hunt- Oof!"

She'd tripped over something soft. After that 'something' squealed, she realised she'd stepped on a hidden runner. His camouflage pattern disappeared the moment he lost focus. Dagara stared. Ohhh ... so that's what the young ones looked like. She'd never seen one up close: one who wasn't hiding, anyway. This chick was one third her height, probably less than half her age. She didn't know sharpteeth could be this adorable when little. The way he scrambled to his feet and stared up at her with big, sheepish eyes and a tail hanging low didn't help his image as a predator.

"Awww!" Dagara melted, before catching his scent. It was faint, but identifiable. "Hey, you smell like Unseen! Are you her so-?

She was cut off by an eruption of chattering from every direction. It sounded like laughter ... and it was. In the uproar, the hidden runners lost their camouflage patterns and she got a good, rare look at them. They were all much smaller than the sharpneck, but most appeared to be bigger than the one she'd tripped over. Her brain unravelled their cacophony of voices, picking up mockery heaped upon the youngster she'd stumbled on. Vanish was always the first to be spotted, they teased, and now the sharpneck had practically stepped on him!

With a series of chirps and friendly growls, Dagara stated that it could have happened to anyone. It wasn't Vanish's fault she was stalking in his direction.

They stared at her and exchanged looks as though she'd grown a second head.

This was getting extremely annoying, and Dagara expressed that with a snarl. "Didn't I SAY I could speak SHARPTOOTH!? WEREN'T YOU EVEN LISTENING?!"

The hidden runners disappeared and the bushes rustled as they fled in all directions. Apparently she'd spooked them. The sharpneck spotted Vanish, who was inching away from her. Strangely enough, the dragonfly remained perched after all the commotion. It was practically begging to be caught.

Dagara pounced, snared it in her jaws and placed it at the hidden runner's feet.

Vanish blinked down at the snack, wobbling on his feet as he pondered his next move. Eyeing her warily, he reached down and took a nibble. Nibbles turned to chomps and soon he was finishing up the last scrap of dragonfly.

The sharpneck smiled at him. "Friends?"

Vanish gave her a blank stare before backing off and fading into the bushes.

Dagara wasn't quite sure how to react to that. He ate her food ... looked her in the eye ... and left. On second thought, she knew exactly how to react.

Her breathing quickened. Irritation flared to anger, and anger made her spikes itch. When her spikes itched, the only way to make them stop was to unleash them on something. It helped if that 'something' had a heartbeat.

---

"DAGARA, this has to STOP!" Wartar once bellowed. "You CANNOT lash out like that EVER again! DO YOU HEAR ME!?"

A slightly younger Dagara stared at the ground without answering.

"You're a GOOD GIRL with a GOOD HEAD on your shoulders!" Wartar continued. "WHY do you feel the need to ACT like the OPPOSITE? TELL ME!"

She sighed. He had a way of making her feel empowered and ashamed at the same time, but she wouldn't respond. The answer sounded too stupid in her head.

Wartar turned around to 'babysit' her.

"Wait!" Dagara exclaimed. "I lash out because of the itching!"

He looked back at her. "... The itching?"

Dagara looked around as though searching for some other, more logical explanation. She couldn't find one.

"When I'm really angry, my ... my horns itch *sniff*," she blurted. "It's a really bad itch, a burning itch, like fire! I don't wanna lash out, but I gotta do something with my horns, or they keep itching and I feel like I'm going crazy! *Sniff* ..."

Wartar slowly nodded as he turned to face her. That explained a lot about sharpnecks. It was too ridiculous to be a lie.

"If you gotta use your horns, try taking it out on the things that aren't alive," he suggested.

---

Greenery went flying as Dagara chopped into the bushes with her spikes. Was it helping? Maybe, but not nearly fast enough!

Wartar had been watching his daughter slash away at a bush for several minutes. Usually, she would have calmed down by now.

---

"Feeling any better?" he asked.

She huffed, teeth bared, a myriad of leaves stuck in her spikes. "No! Maybe I'm just too angry this time!"

He stared down at her. At his height, he saw the greenery attached to the sharpneck more than he saw the actual sharpneck. Wartar stifled a laugh.

"What? What?" she almost snapped.

"From up here, you look like a very angry, very tiny tree!" Wartar exclaimed.

He broke into a full, hearty laugh.

Dagara looked on in ambivalence. Part of her was demanding that she attack him immediately for making fun of her, but she'd never seen him laugh like this. Was it really that funny? Dagara tried to picture things from his perspective. 'A very angry ... very tiny ... tree'? The image brought a chortle. That actually sounded kind of hilarious!

Soon, both sharpneck and threehorn were rolling in laughter, turning heads as their voices reached threehorns reasonably nearby.

When the laughter ebbed to chuckles, Dagara made a startling realisation. "Hey! The itching's gone!"

Wartar smiled at her amid little laughs. "Maybe that's the cure! Laughter!"

Dagara thought for a moment. "What if I don't have anything to laugh about?"

"There's always something to laugh about, if you look hard enough."

"... But what if there isn't?"

He frowned, looking around to ensure none of the threehorns were too close. Certain of this, he lowered his voice.

"Well, if you're sure you're alone, you might be able to take out your anger on something that's alive."

Dagara stared at him in mild shock before lowering her head. "I don't want to hurt anyone ..."

He was so proud of her. "Not someone. Something, like a crawler, or a fish. Something you'd normally eat. Don't let anyone see you. They might not understand, but if I know sharpnecks, that'll definitely work. Just ... try to laugh first, okay?"

Dagara nodded. "Okay. So what else do you know about sharpnecks?"

He chuckled soberly as he patted her on the head with a gentle paw. "When you're older, I'll tell you everything."[/i]

---

A large, primeval horseshoe crab scuttled at the edge of a saline pond in a seldom-travelled patch of forest.

Dagara burst out of the bushes, storming towards the crustacean. It made a break for the water but she seized it with her teeth and hurled it from the pond's edge. No sooner had it landed on its back before Dagara's horns turned the crab's underside to sushi. It would make a decent meal, but she needed more and had some extra steam to burn. Two birds, one stone.


Minutes later, Dagara returned with tubers, fruit, herbs and spicy plants skewered on her spikes. The tuber was a pain to uproot, but at least the effort had burnt off a good portion of her wrath. She dispersed the herbs and spices over the crab. Its shell made an excellent platter. After slicing the fruit with her horns, she began to cut the tuber. Red like a beet, though about as sweet as a potato, it could have done with a little extra flavour. She decided to leave it to soak in the salty pond. The sharpneck licked her lips. Hunger was beginning to replace her anger. They said necessity was the mother of invention, but Dagara's tantrums pushed her creativity to the point where she was discovering a form of cuisine.

Now for dessert. She had fruit, but it could use a little more variety.


Dagara ran headfirst into a sweet bubble tree. The impact sent down a rain of berries and blossoms. Luckily, her skull was pretty sturdy. Nonetheless ... ow ...

Amid the rain of blossoms, she glimpsed a familiar face peeping from the other side of the tree. Was that ...? Oh, it was him alright: another longneck slightly taller than she was. She liked longnecks. With the exception of herself, they were gentle and admirably level-headed. Their mere presence was calming, like a babbling brook, or the whispering wind, but this particular longneck? He was special. His brown, brown eyes carried a warmth and tenderness she could just soak in for hours. Well, technically she couldn't. That much staring would likely freak him out.

"Oh! Hi, Brack!" she exclaimed, speaking in a controlled, softened, higher pitch than usual.

Dagara cringed. She sounded 'girly', and she hated it! It wasn't a matter of shyness or automatic flirting. In her mind, there was no alternative since her voice was breaking early. Well, maybe not 'early' for her species, but the way it broke was particularly problematic. It sounded like a perpetual snarl - not a quite a sharptooth, but something equally disturbing. She could be in her friendliest of moods yet everything she said would come out like a death threat. As if making friends wasn't hard enough already. To mitigate that, she made a conscious effort to temper her voice, resulting in a higher pitched, peppy tone that struck her as feminine to the pretentiously annoying extreme.

"Hi, uh ... it's 'Dagara', right?" Brack asked.

She giggled awkwardly. Okay, that wasn't helping with the impression conveyed by her voice modification, and it wasn't even the half of it.

Confusion widened Brack's eyes as he looked her up and down. His sister, Dipla, poked her head from behind him, instantly mirroring Brack's expression.

"What? What's wrong with me?" asked Dagara.

"You just turned peach and pink!" Brack stated.

No, no, NO! Wartar had explained to her that sharpnecks had multiple 'blushes', and no way of controlling them. The 'Battle Blush' was her personal favourite. The 'Adora Blush'? Not so much.

Dagara uncomfortably pawed at the ground. "Oh, that happens when I feel, um ... it's just this stupid thing my scales do sometimes."

"It doesn't look stupid," Brack disagreed.

Dagara honestly had no idea what he was getting at. "Okay. If it's not stupid, then ...?

"Well ... you know ... it's ... uh ..." he fumbled.

"'Pretty'," Dipla finished. "My brother's trying to say 'pretty'."

"Dipla!" Brack exclaimed in embarrassment.

Dagara glared at the male. Flowers were pretty. Butterflies were pretty. They were also fragile. She wanted to be a warrior, just like her dad, and in her mind warriors were not 'pretty'! 'Cool'? Sure. 'Awesome'? Absolutely, but not 'pretty'!

The longnecks drew back, courtesy of the glare. Dagara quickly pulled the reigns on her expression. She knew she had a tendency to scare off longnecks. She couldn't blow this!

Dipla squinted at her. "What's that wet red stuff on your spikes?"

"Red stu-? Oh, that's mostly fruit and vegetable juices," Dagara explained.

Dipla squinted all the more. "Mostly?"

"It's ... yeah ..."

"How'd it get there?"

Well, 'the truth sets you free', Dagara thought. "You know how sometimes you get really angry and you end up destroying random objects?"

"Uhh ... no," Brack admitted.

Dagara exhaled. Of course not. They were longnecks.

"It's no secret that I have a bit of a temper," the sharpneck confessed. "Although I'd never take it out on another dinosaur, honest! Well, not anymore, at least ... unless that dinosaur is a bad sharptooth ... or a bad leafeater ..."

Dipla nodded uncomfortably. "Interesting. Anyway, it's been nice, but we've gotta repair our nest. It was damaged in a flash flood."

Dagara tilted her head. "That happened two days ago. I thought your herd already fixed the nests."

Dipla hesitated. "Well, yeah, but ours was damaged all over again."

"... Then what did you sleep in last night?" pressed Dagara.

"It happened this morning."

"And you didn't fix it before you left?"

"We only just found out about it, right Brack?"

"Mm hm," Brack nodded.

Dagara was not happy. This time she made no effort to hide it. She didn't expect other longnecks to lie so readily. It was a very unwelcome lesson in stereotyping.

"We know because our mother sent us an Earth Whisper," Dipla explained. "It's a longneck thing. You basically stomp on the ground to create very small earthshakes that send messages long distances. It's easy to miss if you don't know what to feel for."

Apparently they were forgetting that she was a longneck. Dagara decided to remind them by stomping on the ground, Earth Whispering a single word.

*( ( Liars ) )*

The briefly at a loss for words, the sibling stared with semi-petrified eyes.

"My dad taught me," Dagara explained. "Some threehorns are strong enough to make good Earth Whispers. He thought it'd come in handy when I'm big enough to use them."

Dipla quickly shook off the shock. "We're not- I mean- Our mom uses a unique Earth Whisper to call us! You wouldn't recognise it because ... you're not us. Let's go, Brack."

Dagara narrowed her eyes at Dipla. "If you keep trying to 'save' your brother from me, who's gonna save you?"

The sharpneck's eyes popped at her own question. Wow ... that was super dark. It was a good thing she'd only said that in her ... head. Why were they staring at her like that? Oh. No.

Dagara gave a nervous chuckle. "Um ... Will someone please tell me I didn't say that aloud?"

Brack gave her a glare. "Wish I could, but I can't. We're gonna go now."

"But you haven't eaten anything," she argued.

"We'll eat somewhere else," Dipla stated.

"Okay," Dagara stumbled. "I'll see you later, I guess. And sorry about the threat! I didn't mean to say it! It just sort of ... slipped out ..."

The longnecks ignored her as they hustled off.

Dagara wilted. Yet another social interaction gone horribly wrong. The least she could do was wait for them to get out of earshot ... or at least disappear into the greenery before she reacted. She had just enough self-control, right? Nope? Oh, who cared. They thought she was a monster. What difference did it make? Besides, they were jerks!

The longnecks broke into a run as they heard the sharpneck tearing into the berry tree.

Dagara dropped the berries among the fruit. Everything looked delicious, but her mind was elsewhere. Yes, the longnecks were being jerks, but maybe they weren't the biggest jerks in the equation. Why couldn't she accept a simple complement? Most dinosaurs thought 'pretty' was a good thing. Why did she have to go and threaten Dipla? That crossed the line! It wasn't like she woke up every day planning to be mean. Was it really that hard for a sharpneck to show a little grace?

For the first time, Dagara noticed ants beginning to eat her breakfast. It didn't bug her much (no pun intended). They had unwittingly volunteered as part of the meal.

The sharpneck was about to take a bite when the ground shook violently. Trees shifted. Flying nibblers took flight with panicked squawks. Dagara's heart pounded as she looked around, made note of the area least likely to suffer from a fallen tree and dashed for it. There, she huddled in a ball. Years ago, earthshakes seldom touched Hidden Valley. After The Great Earthshake, they became a semi-common occurrence. Here, they were uniquely terrifying because there was no telling which earthshake would finally bring the sunken valley down on itself.

As quickly as it began, it ended.

Dagara uncurled. No screaming, no crashing rocks. It didn't sound like the earthshake had done much damage to the valley, if any. Good. She breathed a 'thank you' to Whoever was up there. Now for breakfast.

Yet again, the sharpneck was interrupted when voices met her ears. Who could that be? Nobody really visited this area. There wasn't anything wrong with it so much as it was off the beaten path.

"Earthshakes happen all the time," declared a male. "Didn't scare me any more than those creepy crawlers. Speaking of which, I don't know why they're giving the hidden runners such a hard time. Most of them are barely bigger than us!"

"Maybe it's their numbers," suggested a female. "There sure were a lot of them. They sounded kinda scary, too."

"Good thing the hidden runners didn't let us get too close," another male stated with a smirk in his voice. "You would've ended up running, crying for your mommy!"

"Take that back!" demanded the female.

Dagara could hear the argument turning to a clash of horns.

Of course! It was them! Batta, Ring and Ram: a group of friends who wandered the valley seeking out adventure. Even The Dark Zone was fair game for their spelunking pleasure. Being a clique of three threehorns, they dubbed themselves the 'Nine Horn', although each had yet to grow more than a single horn on their nose.

Dagara looked in their direction, then down at her breakfast. After eating meat, she would always chew on a fragrant plant in order to nullify any trace of it on her breath. By the time she did that, chances were they would be gone. Dagara decided to forego breakfast. The ants could have it. She would eat later.

Before heading out to meet Nine Horn, the sharpneck gave her voice a tune up. She couldn't speak the same way she did with the longnecks. Threehorns wouldn't respect it, so she lowered her tone to something more natural.

"Hi, guys!" she called, testing her voice.

Aw boy. It sounded too much like a snarl. After a few more dry runs, she was satisfied with her voice and trotted out of the treeline with a hopefully friendship-inducing smile. She had to be careful, though. Too big a smile and they wouldn't take to it.

"Hi, guys!"

The trio of threehorn youngsters fell silent the moment she opened her mouth. One even rolled his eyes.

"Why are you talking like that?" asked the female.

Dagara's smile dropped. "Talking like what?"

"You sound angry," the girl clarified.

Dagara nervously pawed at a piece of grass, bending her neck to subtly remind them of her spikes. It wasn't a conscious threat so much as a defensive instinct. The moment she realised what she was doing, she smoothed them down again.

"I'm not angry. I think my voice is breaking."

"How old are you again?" asked one of the males.

"Way too young for this kind of thing," she stated with a laugh.

The threehorns glanced among themselves without so much as a chuckle. Dagara supposed it wasn't that funny, but why did they have to be so weird about it?

"Are you guys okay?" asked the sharpneck, attempting to address it directly.

"Why wouldn't we be okay?" asked the first male.

"For starters, you rolled your eyes when I showed up, Ram," she pointed out.

"How do you know my name?" asked Ram.

"We live in the same herd," she explained. "The other kids talk about you. You're kind of like an alpha, right?"

Ram smiled as he puffed his chest, flattered. "Yup, and these are my friends," he gestured the female, "Batta and-"

"-Ring," Dagara interrupted, gesturing the male with ring-shaped markings on his crest. "I know all your names."

Ram didn't look too pleased. "So you've been spying on us?"

One step forward, two steps back.

"As I said, we've been living in the same herd, like, forever," the sharpneck explained, trying to keep her irritation at bay. "Besides, you're 'Nine Horn'! You're kind of famous! I'm a pretty big fan."

They glanced at each other with smug smirks. "You know your stuff, sharpneck."

"It's 'Dagara', if you didn't know that already," she stated. "So, watcha playing?"

"'Hide and Find'," Ram replied. "Not 'it'! Count to one hundred!"

Before Dagara could respond, the threehorns had darted away. She smirked to herself. If they thought they could throw her off with some ridiculously high number, they had another thing coming. She wasn't going to count to one hundred. She would count to two hundred, and find them before noon, which was a tall order seeing as midday was just around the corner.

Turning away and closing her eyes, Dagara counted aloud: "One heartbeat ... two heartbeats ... three heartbeats."

Many of the dinosaurs had taught their young how to gauge time with surprising accuracy. Repeating 'heartbeat' after the number helped them slow down enough to better measure the unit of time. However, Dagara was throwing off her precision by counting more leisurely than she needed to, all for the sake of upping the challenge. When it grew tedious, she found herself upping the speed. Accuracy was a small price to pay for avoiding going stir crazy.

The moment she reached two hundred, her head snapped to the sky as she gauged the time of day by the Sun and was off like a shot. Twenty holding breaths 'till noon - no sweat.

The sharpneck sampled the air. They weren't upwind, at least not directly, but her exceptional sense of smell was enough to trace their tracks. She could do this!

"The SILVER ZONE! The earthshake revealed The SILVER ZONE!"

Dagara's gaze darted to the source of that sound: a flying nibbler speeding through the air. Usually, such creatures were incredibly articulate (almost annoyingly so), flaunting their extensive vocabulary for the sheer sake of showing off. Even when they had important news to share with the valley, they would find a way to slip unnecessarily big or obscure words into the brief bulletins they squawked on the fly. Not this one. He seemed shaken to the point of alarm as he broadcast his news bulletin over and over.

"Take heed, ye gobsmacked, lest this portent mark the imminent annihilation of us all!" he added in the distance.

She squeezed her eyes shut in annoyance. Never mind. Ignoring that last part, the sharpneck was intrigued. There were only three zones, weren't there? What was this about a fourth 'Silver Zone'? She supposed she'd find out soon enough, when the news was shared in detail.

Okay, time to get back to tracking that yummy threehorn smell.

Dagara's mind screeched to a full stop.

Did she actually just think that? Skipping breakfast was proving to be a horrible idea.

Nose to the ground, Dagara hurried after the youngsters. It seemed they had all moved in the same direction. Not a smart play. However, this was taking too long. Three minutes had passed and they were nowhere in sight. Wait a minute ... they left more than just a scent. They left footprints! Drawing from her unique slew of instincts, the sharpneck rapidly taught herself to discern the subtle signs of trodden grass and soil.

She raced along their trail as though nothing else mattered, jerking her nose to the ground when her eyes failed her. Noon was upon her, but it only brought a rush of tenacity. By her slightly subjective clock, she still had time! Failure was not an option!

They were just beyond the thick grass. Oh, this was going to be good!

The sharpneck prepared a 'boo!' but her breath died in her lungs when the threehorns' conversation reached her.

"I can't believe she fell for it!" Ring exclaimed. "She's probably halfway across the valley by now!"

"What'd I tell you?" was Ram's rhetorical question. "There's a reason why I'm Alpha."

"What if she tracks us?" asked Batta.

"Leafeaters don't 'track'," argued Ring.

"My dad says she's not a leafeater," Batta explained.

There was a lull. Dagara's blood ran cold.

"But ... we've seen her eat green food," Ring reasoned. "She's a longneck."

Batta shook her head. "No. She's a sharpneck. I heard she snacks on fish and creepy crawlers! She just does it when she thinks no one's watching."

"That. Is. Disgusting. Hidden runners are hidden runners. Leafeaters are leafeaters, but that thing?" Ring shuddered. "That's just wrong."

Dagara burst from the grass, no longer able to restrain her anger as she snarled: "Maybe I should snack on YOU!"

The stunned stares of the threehorns kick started her self control.

She shrank back. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. I would never-"

"It- it's okay," Ram interrupted, quickly finding his voice. "If we knew you were that ... special, we would have played something more fitting than a simple threehorn game."

Dagara raised an eyebrow. "Hide and Find isn't a specifically a threehorn ga-"

"How 'bout a friendly duel? Three on one," suggested Ram, gesturing his friends with his horn so that they surrounded her. "That sounds better, doesn't it?"

Honestly, that sounded like a stupid excuse to beat her up. Three to one wasn't even a 'duel'! Buuut ... she did enjoy fighting. If she won, perhaps they would like her. Threehorns respected strong fighters. As long as she kept her head on, she wouldn't be in any danger.

Ram charged. A split moment before his horn met her, she dodged, leaving him a tad bewildered. Much like her voice, Dagara's reflexes, musculature and tactical mind had developed faster than the threehorns'.

Dagara smiled and arched her neck so that her horns were on full display - a chilling sight. "Nice try, Three Horn."

Ram fumed. "My name is Ram!"

"I wasn't talking to you. I was talking to all of you," she chuckled. "You call yourselves 'Nine Horn', but combined you've only got three horns to show for it. I have twenty two."

With bellows of outrage, the threehorns rushed in all at once.

She crouched. Taking them simultaneously would be difficult, but there was another option. She had to time this right.

At the last second, Dagara sprang onto Ram's back and hopped off of it, leaving the threehorns to collide with each other.

The sharpneck smiled at the groaning heap of bullies. She was proud that she hadn't injured them, but the fight ended too quickly. No ... that wasn't a demerit. It gave her bragging rights! One sharpneck had taken down three threehorns in a single move, and she didn't even have to use her spikes!

Threehorns respected strength, but they did not take defeat well. They would be itching for a rematch, which promised many more battles in the future. In a convoluted way, it was as if she had actually made friends!

"Later, guys," Dagara dismissed, departing in high spirits. "It's been fun!"

She heard scampering footsteps.

Just as the sharpneck turned, Ram managed to bite her leg. Who even DID that kind of thing? Dagara shrieked in fury. She had an idea of how to get him off, but it would hurt him. A lot. Instead, Dagara tried to yank herself free before the others piled on top of her. After a brief struggle, she relaxed. It would have been sooo easy to just jerk her spikes back, but she resisted. The spikes were beginning to itch, though ...

Ram stepped in front of her, grinning as his cronies pinned her. "Since you liked that game so much, we're gonna play something else: 'Dunk Tag'!"

Fear flashed through Dagara's chest. "Th-That's a water game!"

"So?" asked Ram.

"I'm still learning to swim," she explained.

'Learning' was an overstatement. Her body density was greater than water, which made it nigh impossible to stay afloat.

Ram sneered. "We know, but we'll teach you, right guys?"

Ring snickered while Batta looked thoughtful.

"What if the grownups find out?" she asked.

"Do you see any grownups around here?" countered Ram.

Batta scanned the area. Someone could have been hiding in the treeline, but chances were slim.

"Grab her spikes. Let's go," Ram commanded.

"HEY! Jaws OFF!" Dagara protested. "This isn't fun anymore! STOP IT!"

"We stop when I say 'stop'," declared Ram.

With that, the threehorns began to drag her. She could smell water. There wasn't much time. Try as she did, there was no safe way to overpower them, and her spikes were itching like crazy. Finally, her self control snapped. Her eyes grew dark before she went limp.

The threehorns stopped, pondering the lack of struggling as they subconsciously loosened their grips. Her scales had turned fiery amber and orange, punctuated by pulsing red markings that ran along her side. It was the 'Battle Blush'.

"I think we broke her," Ring commented. "Yikes! What happened to her scale-? OW!"

Batta, Ring and Ram jumped back when they got a face full of sharp neck.

Dagara quietly rose to her feet as they roared their rage.  They weren't going to back down. Good.

"GET HER!" Ram exclaimed. "Ooof!"

The sharpneck had barrelled right into his side before clamping his crest with her spikes and flinging him into Ring.

"YAAAAH!" bellowed Batta, charging the sharpneck.

A paw to the face and Batta staggered back, shaking off the blow before rushing in again. Dagara darted clear and Batta smacked into Ram, who was attempting an ambush. She spun into Ring and her spikes colliding with his horn, lodging it between them. With a vicious roll, Dagara left him sprawled on his back while she sprang to her feet.

The threehorns recovered at roughly the same time. They had her surrounded.

"On three, guys!" Ram commanded. "One ... THREE!"

As they converged, Dagara whirled into a firestorm of tail strikes and spiked attacks. Any strategy the threehorns could formulate was lost in the frenzy. When it was over, they all lay in bundles of misery.

Ram began to get up, but Dagara held him still with a paw. He flinched. Everything hurt.

"Ow! You win!" he announced. "We're done! You win!"

Dagara grinned, allowing him to get a good look at her menacing teeth. "We stop when I say we stop!"

"That's ENOUGH!" barked a voice that was not to be questioned.

Dagara's blood ran cold as she got off of her victim.

"D-Dad?" she squeaked.

She could see the vessels popping in his forehead ... and his eyes ... and everywhere else, for that matter. Never had she seen Wartar that angry, and his rage seemed to fall on all of them like brimstone.

"Everyone! HOME!" he roared.

The aching Batta, Ring and Ram were sluggish to rise.

"NOW!" he thundered.

The youngsters scattered in every direction before making a mad rush for their respective nests.

For at least ten minutes, Wartar stood there fuming, allowing his wrath to ebb before he did something he would regret. He would organise a meet with the threehorns' parents and see if he could smoothe things over. Then, and only then, would he talk to Dagara. She would have ample time to cool down.

Once Wartar's rage had truly melted, he let his tail sag to the ground as his head hung.

"My poor Dagara ..." he muttered.

---

Under the evening Sun, Wartar marched to meet Batta, Ring and Ram's guardians. He was quite sure his mood could not get any worse, until an unwelcome voice met his ears.

"Hello, Alpha. This is a bad time, isn't it?" Unseen asked out of the blue, walking alongside him.

Wartar frowned at her. He never noticed the hidden runner until she was right next to him. Dagara seemed to catch wind of her more often than not before she chose to reveal herself.

"There's never a good time," he stated. "What do you want?"

The hidden runner looked tired, with feathers that splayed as though she'd picked a fight with a whirlwind. She hadn't even bothered to groom herself before talking to him. It must have been a long, hard day, not that Wartar was feeling particularly sympathetic.

"We've kept back most of the new crawlers," she informed. "They seem to calm down in the evening, but some have made it into The Green Zone. They have an unusual roar. You will know it when you hear it."

Wartar huffed. Just what he needed: more taxing news.

"I want the hidden runners to find their nest and put an end to this yesterday," Wartar commanded.

"We already tried to find their nest," Unseen stated. "We have not found it, but we might know which zone it is in."

"That's too vague," Wartar snapped. "They came from the caves, right? It would have to be The Dark Zone."

Unseen shook her head. "They are coming through The Dark Zone, but not from it. They seem to live beneath it."

He rolled his eyes. "Which would technically still be part of The Dark Zone."

"No," she disagreed before hesitating. "One of our flying nibblers found something new, but I am having a hard time finding the words in leafeater. My language is more descriptive. We can use it to make pictures with our voices, but I believe we have figured out a way around that."

Wartar blinked as Unseen began to, for want of a better word, dance. Colours pulsed across her scales, rapidly creating images. As she moved, the visual perspective moved and transitioned with her, as though her body were an ever-changing window to the unfolding scenes. At first Wartar wondered why she wouldn't just sit still and let the images form. He didn't need a performance. Then he realised that she wasn't simply displaying the images, but portraying them: swaying with the trees, quivering with the bushes and marching with the herds that appeared on her skin. Chirping like nibblers, hissing with the wind and grunting for the herds on her scales, her voice mimicked the valley's ambience almost as well as her skin.

"What do you see?" she asked.

"The Green Zone," he stated.

"Good."

Her dance of colours changed to greys as she embodied cliffs reaching for the blue sky; sparse ferns and waterways with figures of hidden runners going about their business. She trotted and wove as though navigating the tricky terrain of the canyons at the valley's edges.

"The Grey Zone," Wartar summarised.

Unseen nodded before her scales grew dark, punctuated by the figures of flying nibblers, fluttering between stalactites like bats. Her scales did more than change colour. They had limited bio-luminescent capabilities, which allowed her to pepper her skin with what could only represent the glowing fungus that lit the cave systems.

Wartar frowned as he identified The Dark Zone. Unseen's little show was beautifully mesmerising (not that he'd admit it), but he had seen these zones before. Just when Wartar was about to demand that she give some fresh information, her display changed to something ... truly alien: tunnels and chambers of smooth, silver surfaces illuminated by lights that definitely weren't fungus. Wartar knew a cave when he saw one. These were not caves. Their shapes were too perfect, geometric and ... were those moving forms he saw? Living things moved. Trees swayed. Water flowed. The moving objects he was witnessing were none of the above. She gave low whirrs as walls slid apart; powerful hums as the passages seemed to shift; steady throbs like a heartbeat emanating from the walls. Unseen accentuated the movement with a mechanical dance. Suddenly, scores of massive insectoids flooded the chamber on her scales.

"We call it The Silver Zone," Unseen explained. "The earthshake uncovered an entrance to this place and a nibbler was briefly trapped there. He barely escaped the creepy crawlers. Then something grabbed him ... without even touching him ... and it pushed him out into The Green Zone. The Silver Zone quickly covered itself so that we could not get back in."

Wartar paused, his expression unreadable.

"Is it possible that your flying nibbler was hit on the head and had a sleep story?" he asked.

"Sleep stories are based on things you already know about," Unseen argued. "There is no point of reference for what he saw down there."

"Hm," Wartar grunted. "Well, now you know where the crawlers are coming from. Find a way back down there and get rid of 'em by nightfall."

Unseen raised an eyebrow. "Sir, we are spread thin. That's a bad idea. If we succeed, we will have lost an important food source. More than that, if we fail, we will lose many hidden runners. The Silver Zone is beyond what we understand, and ... there are some things you just can't fight."

"I will not have those things in my valley," Wartar asserted. "Make it happen."

"No," Unseen answered simply.

His eyes burnt into her. She didn't flinch. For the first time, he noticed that she wasn't fidgeting under his glare. Maybe she was too tired, or maybe she was simply done fidgeting around him. Either way, he didn't like it.
"What. Did. You. Say?" the threehorn demanded in a slow, threatening tone.

This time, it was Unseen's turn to give an exhausted huff. "We have been fighting all day and are tired. We have some ideas of how to better keep back the crawlers, but the best we can do this evening is hunt them down in The Green Zone. If given no other choice, we will consider trying to visit The Silver Zone, but this isn't the time."

Wartar chuckled condescendingly. "The Green Zone, The Grey Zone, it makes no difference. If you want to live in our valley, you'll have to earn your keep. You're not even supposed to be here."

"But we are," she asserted, "and we're here to stay. You might not see it that way, but you are part of our pack now. We will do everything in our power to protect you, but we can only do what we can do. In the meantime, stop acting like a hatchling."

For a moment, Wartar couldn't even form an opinion of her behaviour. Timid Unseen had stood up to him ... and she considered them a 'pack'? After digesting that statement, he rose up at his full height and stared her down like the vermin he thought she was.

"For the better part of your life, your teeth have claimed countless leafeaters," he spat, "and you have the shameless, sick audacity to try to convince me that you think of us as a 'pack'?"

Unseen held his gaze before staring at the ground. "Sixteen thousand ... and ninety two."

Wartar was at a loss. "What?"

"You said my teeth claimed countless leafeaters," she explained, before shaking her head. "They weren't 'countless'. I counted them."

The threehorn grimaced in disgust. "You expect me to believe you'd remember a number like that?"

"Not just the number. I remember their faces ... their voices ... their smells ..."

"Their tastes," Wartar interjected.

Unseen gave a small nod. "Yes. After bringing down a leafeater, Silence made us all pause for ten holding breaths before eating. We called it 'The Moment'. In that time, we silently looked upon our prey, committing them to memory. Sometimes, we would try to figure out what kinds of lives they had, based on their smells, their features, and observations we made before ... taking them. Those 'observations' we made while hunting are how some of us first learned your tongue. I have felt many pains, but The Moment was the most painful thing I've ever done. Sometimes I felt hatred for what I am. Sometimes, I stopped eating. Maybe I always should have stopped. I don't know. Part of me was angry at my mother for making us suffer The Moment, but the older I got, the more I understood why we did it. I began to appreciate it."

"And why did you do it?" asked Wartar.

Unseen briefly squeezed her eyes shut. "Silence wanted us to understand that leafeaters were more than food. They had lives. They had hearts. They had hopes, loves, and families. In all the ways that mattered, they were just like us."

Wartar narrowed his eyes. "But that didn't stop you from taking that away from them."

Much to his surprise, he caught Unseen stifling a whimper.

"I know," she agreed soberly. "We'd been living like that for as long as we could remember. What other way was there to live? None of us had the courage to try something new, and even if we did, who was to say it would have worked? Then The Great Earthshake forced us into your valley," Unseen huffed a chuckle. "You may see it as a curse, but I think it's the best thing that ever happened to us. Now we know we can live a different way, and we will not turn back."

Wartar let her words sink in, but not too deeply. He was trying to keep them away from his heart, but his mind was turning them over every which way.

Unseen interrupted his thoughts as she began to leave. "Have a good evening, Alpha."

"Yeah, you too," he grunted gruffly.

---

Wartar reached a watering hole, on the banks of which were three very angry threehorns. Ignoring the pond, they fixed their glares on him. Only the fathers had come: that was a bad sign. Knowing that contentious conversations between threehorns often got physical, the other dinosaurs had deserted the area.

"Evening," grunted Wartar.

"Your sharpneck almost killed my son," snapped the oldest of the threehorns: Ring's grandfather, Lyder.

Wartar exhaled. He almost missed talking to Unseen.

"My daughter was defending herself," he asserted.

Ram's father, Buck, outright laughed. "And you believed her?"

"No. Saw it with my own eyes," Wartar explained. "I haven't spoken to her since the fight."

"Of course you haven't," deadpanned Com, Batta's father.

Wartar's glare lit into him. "Are you questioning my integrity?"

The threehorns exchanged glances in wordless communication.

"No," Lyder conceded. "You have been an honest and good leader, which is the only reason why we let you keep her."

"Hardly the only reason," Wartar spat. "I fought half the herd to keep her! I paid for her with my blood, and she is MINE!"

"But she's not OURS!" Com blurted. "My daughter doesn't have to treat her like she's one of us! We had a PACT! We promised not to talk about the horror stories, and you promised to deal with her if she BECAME a horror story!"

"My daughter is NOT a HORROR STORY!" boomed Wartar.

"Your daughter is gone," Lyder stated simply. "That creature cannot replace her."

Pain twisted Wartar's features. Buck looked about ready to fly at him, but backed down upon seeing the turmoil on their Alpha's face. No one had lost more than he had.

"She is a good girl ..." Wartar declared in a voice surprisingly small for his size. "She wouldn't be here if I didn't think that."

"We know," Lydar stated. "Just ... remember your promise if she's not."

"... I remember ..." yielded Wartar.

Without another word, the threehorns were on their way, leaving an anguished Wartar alone with his thoughts.

---

Dagara sat in her nest with a scowl fixed on her face. If she kept that up, she was pretty sure she would develop premature wrinkles, but it didn't matter. She was done smiling to make others feel comfortable. Who cared if they liked her? Smiling never made a difference anyway.

When she heard Wartar's footsteps approaching, she bit a stick from the nest and began to chew on it, more to make a point than anything else.

"Evening, Dagara," he greeted.

She ignored him.

The threehorn sighed. Her anger hadn't extinguished. It had solidified. Wartar gave a nearly inaudible sniff before noticing her odd choice of a snack.

"Um ... why are you eating a stick?" he asked.

Dagara gave an over-done, insincerely innocent smile. "Because, Daddy, being your sweet little munchkin, I went straight to the nest and stayed there like you ordered: without breakfast, without lunch, and I'd be hankering for dinner around now at any rate."

Wartar winced. "Sorry. Why'd you skip breakfast?"

She laughed humourlessly. "'Cause I was in a hurry to make friends! Don't worry. I'm done."

Wartar sat next to her. "Do you wanna grab a bite before ...?"

"Nope. Let's get this over with."

Ordinarily, Wartar might have given her an immediate babysitting for disrespect, but his wife would have warned him that that would only exacerbate the situation. He was the tough one. She was the empathetic one. It was hard thinking for both sides of the parental equation. Half the time, he was pretty sure he failed miserably. So ... what would she say in a situation like this? His mind came up with a reasonable answer.

"Batta, Ring and and Ram were being jerks," he stated.

She shrugged. "I know."

"But that doesn't mean you have to be a jerk back. You can do better."

"That's nice, but I'm done."

"Done what?" he asked.

"Trying," she answered. "I'm just ... done. If anyone's mean to me, I'm just gonna do whatever I feel like."

Wartar slowly nodded, letting her words settle. "You can't afford to think like that."

Dagara got up and glared him square in the eye, spikes raised. "And what if I do, hm? Are you gonna babysit me? That doesn't work, 'cause I'm not a threehorn. You can't reason with me 'cause I'm not like other longnecks, and you can't shove me in The Grey Zone because I'm not a fast biter. Give me one. Good. Reason why I shouldn't act like EXACTLY what I AM!?"

A flash of emotions crossed Wartar's face: anger, anguish, angst. It struck her intuition funny, but Dagara held fast her searing eyes. Suddenly, Wartar gave an answer she never expected.

"Because you're a sharpneck."

Dagara blinked out of her glare. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're a burning mountain; a ravaging storm; an earthshake without end," he elaborated. "Left unchecked, you will fight with everyone and everything in sight. You will destroy relationships, friends, foes and family. If you live long enough, you will lift your head and look around to find all your enemies are gone, but there's no one left to love ... and no one left who loves you."

Dagara's jaw went ajar as she felt her heart freeze. Not knowing what else to do, she stared at the ground before glancing at the sky. Whoever was up there had given her this life, and what a lousy gift it was.

"There is only one thing in this world that can stop you," he went on.

She raised her head to see him lift a paw and tap her chest.

"You," he declared. "Generation after generation, sharpnecks faced their fiery fighting spirit. They could hide it. They could direct it, but never truly tame it. They had to fight. It was their nature, but do you know what they did? Everywhere the sharpnecks went, they fought. They fought for friends, family, strangers, justice. In the Cold Times and famines, they fought back starvation, saving herds, always finding a way. They didn't even think before snatching victims from sharptooth jaws. In times of peace, they challenged the living conditions of those around them, working to create a better world. There was always something to fight. It was just a matter of finding the right battles."

Dagara's wide eyes wandered to the scars on his side. "So, what happened? You had to fight them, didn't you?"

Wartar looked back at his scars with saddened eyes. "That's what happens when a sharpneck chooses the wrong battles. Some let their fighting spirit consume them, believing sharpnecks should dominate other kinds instead of helping them. They were few, but the threehorns never forgave them. They allied with sharpteeth and launched a campaign against everything under The Bright Circle. I helped to stand against these rogues, but once the opportunity availed itself, the sharpteeth turned on their allies and attempted to wipe out every last sharpneck. As far as we know, only one hatchling survived. You. That's why you need to the strongest, wisest, most heroic you that you can be. When you fight, you fight for all the sharpnecks who ever lived, and all the sharpnecks who will never be born, but you know what?"

"What?" asked a dazed Dagara.

His lips lifted in a tender smile. "You can do it. Countless others have done it before you. You're stronger than you think."

Seconds passed as Dagara's unblinking eyes stared deep into his own. Tears congealed at their rims and she squeezed them shut, resting her forehead against his snout. Wartar closed his eyes and leaned into the moment. They didn't know how long they held that position, but finally Dagara's voice broke the silence.

"I think you should be nicer to Unseen and the hidden runners," she stated.

He frowned in surprise, but in retrospect he should have seen that coming at some point. "Can we talk about this tomorrow?"

Dagara thought for a moment. "Sure. I can wait."

Wartar groaned. "Fine. Let's get this over with."

"Like it or not, the hidden runners are stuck here," Dagara continued. "Believe it or not, we can actually enjoy them, if we let ourselves. Alright, if you wanna think from a completely selfish standpoint, the hidden runners are actually pretty dangerous. They're nice now, but who knows what would happen if we keep being mean to them?"

She actually had a point, but instead of admitting it Wartar gave her a weary look.

Dagara responded with a chipper smile. "I'm a sharpneck! It's my job to fight for stuff like this, remember?"

Wartar would have massaged his temple if he could reach it. What had he done?

"Do you have any idea how many leafeaters Unseen alone has eaten?" he asked. "You know what? Let's find out."

Dagara's eyes fluttered in confusion. "Okaaay ..."

"She's 25 Cold Times old, right?" asked Wartar.

"26," Dagara corrected.

"There we go. And she's been living here for 5 Cold Times."

"I think she came here around her hatching day too," Dagara stated.

Wartar nodded. "Perfect. That means she was almost exactly 21 when she came here. How many bright circles old would that make her?"

Dagara drew back. "You're asking me to multiply 21 by 365?"

He chuckled. "I thought you were good with numbers."

Dagara narrowed her eyes in competitive resolve and thought for a few seconds. "She's been alive for 7665 bright circles, give or take a few."

Wartar's eyes froze on her.

"You weren't expecting me to get it, were you?" she chuckled.

He returned the chuckle. "Always knew you were a clever girl. On average, a hidden runner can eat a good meal every 4 days, but that's the minimum requirement. Anything less is substandard."

Dagara crossed her eyes in thought. Wartar thought it was adorable.

"That's at least 1916 meals she's eaten," Dagara calculated.

"Hmm. By her count, it was 1692," Wartar commented.

Dagara's brow went up. "She counted them? But that's 224 leafeaters short! I mean, it's not unbelievably far off, but I think it's far enough that she would have felt it, like, a lot!"

"Which means a good deal of the time, she was starving herself," Wartar concluded.

"Maybe they just couldn't catch enough leafeaters," Dagara suggested.

"Trust me, they could," Wartar assured. "Back then, leafeaters were always coming to the valley, and like you said, the hidden runners are extremely dangerous."

"Hm," grunted Dagara. "Looks like you owe her an apology."

Wartar made a show of rolling his eyes as he got up. "I suppose so. Anyway, I gotta address the herd. Wanna tag along, eat something ..."

"Yes, please," she nodded.

"... and apologise to Nine Horn?" he added.

Her smile dropped. "Please. No."

Wartar smirked down at her. "I thought this was the kind of stuff you live for!"

Dagara dropped her head in defeat as she trudged out of the nest with a playfully exaggerated groan that seemed to go on for almost a minute. Wartar was surprised she could pack that much air in her tiny lungs.

---

"Alright, listen up!" Wartar announced for all the herd to hear. "We've got a new kind of crawler in The Green Zone! They are big and very aggressive! They don't eat meat, but they are after our green food and territory! Their roar is very distinct, so you will know it when you hear it! If possible, squish any you encounter! Stay close to the herd, or travel in groups of at least three adults! Children, do not wander! I'm lookin' at YOU, Nine Horn!"

Dagara heard a few snickers as she wolfed down grass behind Wartar. It wasn't the feast she'd prepared that morning, but the sharpneck had no complaints. She didn't need meat every day.

Chewing a path across the pasture, Dagara almost bumped into Batta and Ring. How inconveniently convenient.

They drew back at the sight of her, but put on bold faces nonetheless.

"Just try something, sharpneck!" dared Batta. "The whole herd's watching!"

Dagara almost laughed. They were trying so hard to overcompensate for the fact that she scared them! Then she rebuked herself as she noticed their bruises covered in herbal paste, chewed up by the adults. It was meant to aid their recovery after the big fight, but it smelled tasty. Apparently she was still pretty hungry.

She lowered her head in a genuinely apologetic posture. "Listen, I'm really, really sorry about this morning."

They exchanged surprised glances before giving her a dry look.

"We don't care," stated Ring.

"I don't care if you don't care," Dagara replied. "I'm still sorry."

"... Aaand we still don't care," Batta repeated, adding insult to injury with a fake smile.

Dagara looked around, rapidly redirecting her attention before she could get angry. "Hey, where's Ram?"

"He probably smelled you coming," Batta quipped.

"Oooh! Good one!" Ring exclaimed, bumping his horn against Batta's in their equivalent of a high five.

Dagara sighed. That actually hurt a bit. She shook it off and spotted Ram's mother, Doe, walking up to his nearby father, Buck ... and Ram was nowhere to be seen.

"He's not with his folks," she observed.

"Yeah, he managed to leave a while before you got here," Ring stated. "Lucky boy."

"I can't find Ram anywhere," reported a worried Doe, overheard by Dagara.

The sharpneck huffed with an eye roll. "He's probably off moping somewhere after the way I thrashed his tail. Wait ... did I just think that or say that out loud?"

She heard a grown threehorn storming up behind her.

"Take a wild guess!" guffawed Ring, rapidly stepping back alongside Batta.

Dagara turned to see an enraged Buck raising his paw. He looked about ready to step on her. The sharpneck dashed away as Wartar collided with him, reminding the threehorn why he was Alpha. The two giants locked horns. Everyone gave them some room as they thundered into one and other. As disruptive as it was, this behaviour was an accepted means of settling disputes in their culture.

"I'm sorry!" Dagara quickly amended. "I shouldn't have said that! It was insensitive!"

Buck managed a laugh amid the struggle. "You taught it to apologise? Neat trick!"

"'It', is my DAUGHTER!" Wartar roared.

Buck knew he was going to get trounced for that, but if he couldn't get to that horrible sharpneck, he could at least slight her. The herd took several more steps back as the fight escalated. At this rate, no one would find Ram before nightfall.

Dagara grumbled as an unwelcome idea formed in her mind. She knew Ram's scent. She could track him down, but why on Earth would she waste time doing something like that?

Dagara slipped away, nose to the ground as she reminded herself in a mumble: "You're a sharpneck. You're a sharpneck. You're a sharpneck. You're a sharpneck ..."

---

The light receded as the Sun began to set, dappling through the many trees and vines that lined a gully. Ram stood at the bottom of the gully, staring down at a patch of disturbed earth. He heard something picking its way down the slope and looked back.

"Guys?" he called.

"No, it's just me," Dagara replied, carefully navigating the tangle of vines and roots that infested the soil.

Ram stood his ground, but his voice trembled. "I'm not afraid of you!"

Dagara rolled her eyes. "Yeah, sure. Anyway, you don't have to be. Some of the big creepy crawlers ended up in The Green Zone."

"I know," Ram replied.

She paused before proceeding. "You should be with your folks. No one's supposed to be alone, especially kids."

Ram seemed set on ignoring her before raising the question: "Then why are you here?"

After giving that a second of thought, she chuckled in defeat. "Good point. Why don't we head back together ... or at a distance? You pick. Say, what are you looking at, anyway?"

"A hole in the ground, duh."

The sharpneck furrowed her brow at him as her spikes developed a slight itch. She honestly thought he'd have the common sense to be a little nicer by now. Oh well, threehorns would be threehorns. Dagara shifted her attention from him and his obnoxiousness before noticing strange, pointed footprints nearby. She sniffed them, rapidly sorting through the ambient scents. Ram had been eating sweet bubbles: probably an attempt to get over his defeat through comfort food. The fruity smell was a bit of a distraction. He was also covered in herbal paste, much like the others. Its delicious scent was yet another distraction. She rapidly pushed past the diverting aromas and identified an unfamiliar scent.

"Something smells odd," she commented.

"Probably your breath," Ram jibed.

Dagara knew for a fact that her breath smelled fine, but she refused to retort. The smell grew stronger as the footprints neared the hole. She stopped stone cold.

It smelled like some kind of bug.

"Ram, I think we should leave. Now," Dagara urged.

He flicked his tail, shooing her. "You can leave. I'm taking down that crawler and dragging it back to the herd."

She kept half her anxious gaze on the hole. "Look, I get it. You're trying to reclaim your honour after our fight, but here's the thing: I lost that fight. I lost my self control and my dignity, so there's nothing for me to rub in your face. Let's just get out of here."

Ram whipped around at the sharpneck. "SERIOUSLY, Dagara! Just LEA-"

Something erupted from the hole, unleashing a high-pitched chirp like that of a grasshopper, but loud enough to make their heads spin.

Before Dagara could get a good look at the thing, her reflexes took over and she threw herself into it, spikes first. The creature jerked to a halt, but it was strong. She felt her paws slipping under its strength.

"PAAPAAAA!" Ram shrieked.


Unseen jerked at the sound of the commotion. Another invader, and it had a victim. Not for long if she could help it.

The hidden runner exploded towards her best guess at the source of the noise.


"Okay, I yield," Buck announced, pinned on his back by Wartar's paw.

The Alpha snorted into his face before releasing him. Suddenly, the threehorns raised their heads upon hearing an enigmatic roar followed by Ram's scream.

Ram's parents rushed to their son's aid. Wartar was quick to their side, spot selecting members of his herd as he hurried.

"You two! COME WITH ME!"

"But where is he?" asked one of the chosen threehorns.

He had a point. Though they'd heard the noise, it was difficult to discern the exact direction. By the time they got there, it might have been too late.


"TANGLE GULLY!" Dagara shouted at the top of her lungs. "HELP! WE'RE IN TANGLE GULL-! Ah-!"

Her powerful voice was cut off as the creature threw her aside, surging towards a petrified Ram. She was back to her feet in an instant. Just as it reached him, Dagara bit its leg and yanked with all her might.

"GO!" she shouted between her teeth.

Why wasn't Ram going?! Past the creature's writhing body, Dagara noticed its claws wrapped around Ram. NO!

She yanked all the harder. It wouldn't budge! Releasing the creature, Dagara twisted through the air and landed on its end in a spiky body slam. The creature released him, spinning to face her. It didn't get far before she hammered its side with her hind legs, knocking it on its back. Much like a beetle, it flailed about in a failed attempt to get to its feet.

"Let's GO!" Dagara commanded, rushing for the gully's slope.

Ram hobbled after her ... way too slowly, barely using one of his hind legs.

Dagara's mind rapidly unravelled the situation. Why was he limping? His leg! It had bitten his leg! But why was it trying so hard to catch him? Giant crawlers didn't eat meat! The herbal paste! If it smelled good to her, it must have been irresistible to the bug!

Tears were in Ram's eyes when he tried and failed to climb the slope, grimacing in pain as he gave her a desperate look.

The bug flipped onto its feet. Finally, she got a good view of its features. With the form of a praying mantis and the robustness of a beetle, it was nearly twice their size!

Dagara could hear the adults' thundering footfalls. They would be there soon, but not soon enough. The crawler was charging. Luckily it wasn't the fastest thing it the world.

The sharpneck charged past Ram and slammed her horns into the crawler before treating it to a frenzy of spiked strikes. Claws raised, it shielded itself from her blitzing blows while snatching at her. She couldn't get past the armour, but it was beginning to back off. She was doing it!

Out of the blue, the crawler snared her in its claws, immediately gnawing at the spikes. She thrashed. She shoved, but it would not let go. Then Dagara winced as a sharp pain racked her neck. Its grip slipped, giving her the opportunity to force it back with a headbutt.

Shock and dread churned in her gut as she spotted a horn on the ground - one of her horns. Her thoughts raced.

This thing was taking her apart!

Dawning realisation crushed her will. She was losing! This might have been her first and last real fight for the sharpneck legacy! What good would she be if she perished now? She could run. She could grow up, and then she would be able to stand against something like this. Ram was a goner. Why did she have to let him take her with him?

"RAM!" bellowed the threehorn's father.

Dagara glanced back to see him charging into Tangle Gully, only for the vines and roots to ensnare him. Trees cracked as he forced his way through the greenery. The other threehorns tore through the vines more carefully, but even they were succumbing to the same fate.

They were here, but they would be too late. She was all Ram had, but she didn't even like the guy!

Raising her paw to split, Dagara caught sight of Ram's face. He could see that she was leaving, and she could see silent resignation in his eyes. He wasn't going to beg. He didn't expect her to help.

Dagara's decision gave way to a fresh wave of thoughts. What was she thinking? She'd grow up, squish the little challenges and run when something big came her way? Who cared if she liked the guy? She was here, she could fight, and if the sharpneck legacy died with her, it died on the shoulders of a worthy bearer!

The crawler crashed into Dagara, knocking her beside a crouching Ram. She raged to her feet and flung herself on top of him, legs anchored on either side just as it bore down on the youngsters. Wrenching, biting, prying, pushing, all it had to do was get through one, obstinate little sharpneck. She wasn't nearly strong enough to hold a candle to such a creature.

---

"You can do it," Wartar assured. "Countless others have done it before you. You're stronger than you think."

---

Her muscles locked. Even as she felt the crawler chewing and cracking through her horns, she didn't yield.

It briefly turned its attention to Buck, who had loudly snapped a tree trunk. She took the opportunity to shove her spikes into its face. The crawler drew back, quivering in outrage.

Dagara's muscles screamed with the slightest movement of her neck. Her bones ached no matter what she did, but her Battle Blush pulsed bright as an inferno. Her horns no longer itched. They were way past that. They only burned, and that burn flared through her body from head to toe like wildfire.

She stepped ahead of Ram, brandishing what was left of her spikes.

"If you want him ... you will have to BREAK ME!" she snarled.

Behind her, Ram gasped through a hanging jaw. Even the grownups briefly fell silent.

Of course, the crawler had no idea what she was saying, but it had a retort. Raising its hind legs, it rapidly rubbed them against its wings like a grasshopper, emitting a high-pitched chirp. It clasped its jagged claws in true praying mantis fashion and scraped them back and forth with great speed, resulting in a second layer of chirping. Together, the noises rang in their ears, splitting the air throughout the gully.

This creature had its own language, but Dagara quickly realised that she could speak it. This wasn't an argument. It was a shouting match!

Dagara took a deep breath. The wildfire concentrated in her chest, churning, raging, demanding to be released. Then she unleashed a sound repressed for as long as she could remember.

( ( SSKRRRRAAAAEEEEEEEEEE! ) )

Ram squeezed his ears.

The adults outright froze in their tracks.

The crawler's chirp was quickly devoured by the spine-chilling roar that was Dagara's. Her pitch and power escalated by the second and soon, there was nothing left but the sharpneck's voice.

Dagara's roar crescendo before it ebbed like receding thunder. Panting, the sharpneck seared a glare into her enemy.

The crawler took a step back, its antennae twitching in uncertainty. Then it raised its claws and lunged towards her.

Unseen pounced out of thin air, slamming into the crawler's side and making quick work of it with her jaws and claws.

Dagara blinked a few times, having difficulty coming to grips with this. It was over? Just like that? Unseen made it look so easy!

The hidden runner was breathless. "Are you ... okay ... young ones?"

Ram only stared in a daze.

Dagara lowered her spikes. "Uh huh ... Are you sure it's ...?"

Unseen allowed herself a chuckle. "Yes ... I have fought many of these today ... I know how to bring them down."

The sharpneck slowly nodded. She appreciated, adored and (slightly) feared the hidden runner.

Unseen's eyes settled on Dagara's damaged spikes. "Does it hurt?"

Dagara shrugged as her mind returned to the sensation. "I think it feels like how it looks."

The hidden runner winced in empathy.

Responding with a weak smile, Dagara wobbled on her legs. The exertion of the fight combined with the meals she'd missed throughout the day was catching up with her. She took a moment to steady herself before lowering her lethargic eyes to the scattered spikes broken off in the battle. She'd lost even more than she'd realised. Dagara gave a sad sigh before beginning to collect the spikes with her mouth. This simple task was a battle in itself, but she finished quickly. Setting her eyes on the gully's slope, she moved to climb it before tottering on spaghetti muscles.

"You don't need to walk," Unseen assured. "I'll take care of everything. You did well, Dagara."

The sharpneck thanked Unseen with another drowsy smile before crouching into a restful position.

Ram's mystified eyes were fixed on Dagara when Unseen's gentle jaws lifted him off the ground.

"Hey! Lemme go!" he squirmed.

Unseen smirked in amusement before speaking through her teeth. "Isn't your leg injured?"

"... Yes ..." he admitted.

"Wouldn't you like me to carry you to your parents?" she pressed.

" ... Okay ..." he agreed.

A few steps later, Unseen plopped the youngster between Buck's horns. The adult didn't seem to notice at first. Staring at the sharpneck, his utterly bewildered expression matched his son's. Then he noticed the weight on his forehead.

"Huh? What's this?" asked the threehorn.

Unseen twittered a snicker. "It's your son."

"Oh ..." he replied.

The threehorn turned to leave, neglecting to thank Unseen. Threehorns weren't in the habit of showing hidden runners courtesy. Why start now?

Scarcely noticing the disrespect, Unseen retraced her steps and carried Dagara out of the gully, placing her on Wartar's head once he emerged from the gully himself. Careful not to prick the threehorn with her leftover spikes, Dagara hooked her neck over his horn to avoid falling off.

Her job done, Unseen took off across the grassland.

"Where are you going?" asked Wartar.

Unseen halted before turning back to him. "Must track the other crawlers. There are more."

The threehorn gave her a solemn nod. "You deserve our respect. More than I've given you. More than I can give you."

The hidden runner's eyes fluttered in shock before she beamed and lowered herself in a gesture of returned respect.

"Thank you, Alpha."

She was surprised to see Wartar lower himself the same way.

"Thank you, Unseen."

Without another word, the hidden runner sprinted into the twilight, beaming to herself. This time, she didn't bother disappearing.

Wartar turned and headed for home while Dagara smiled around the spikes between her teeth. Another victory in one evening.

"You did good, Dagara," Wartar commended with unprecedented warmth. "I'm sorry about your horns. Um ... why did you pick them back up?"

She was hoping she could somehow reattach them, but didn't answer for fear of dropping them. Wartar looked up at her and realised her reason for silence.

The threehorn chuckled reassuringly. "They grow back, you know."

Dagara dropped the horns as she perked up with a jerk, accidentally jabbing him with her spikes.

"Really?" she asked. "How long does it take?"

Wartar ignored the slight pain as he thought for a second. "Hm, about ... twenty bright circles, at least."

She went into shock. "TWENTY DAYS?! That's, like, FOREVER!"

Wartar narrowed his eyes in a semi-stern look. "Just be glad they grow back at all. Some dinosaurs aren't that lucky, and it takes a threehorn much, much longer."

Dagara thought about that for a moment before nodding, interrupted by a big yawn. Watching the stars twinkle into view, her eyelids slid shut and that was the last she saw of the commencing night.

The next morning ...

( ( SKRRRAAAEEEE! ) )

Wartar sprang to his feet, ready for battle, only to see a bubbly Dagara bouncing about the nest. One look and he was fairly certain this was a sleep story. Dagara never acted like this. The threehorn settled into the nest once again, hoping to wake up outside of dreamland next time.

"Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!" Dagara chirped, bouncing up to his face.

Now he was sure it was a sleep story. She never called him 'Daddy' unless she was being sarcastic ... or trying to get on his good side.

"Be gone, sleep story," he grunted.

"Wha-? I'm not a sleep story!" she insisted.

"Mm hm, I believe you," he agreed without agreeing before dozing off.

( ( SKRRRAAAAAEEEEEEE! ) ) she roared all the louder.

Wartar nearly jumped out of his scales. This was not a dream! Though their nest stood a short distance from the rest of the herd, many of the threehorns were beginning to stare. Even from a little sharpneck, that sound was the very manifestation of terror.

Dagara continued to bounce. "I didn't even know I could make that noise! It felt so GUUUUUD! It was literally the SCARIEST thing I've ever heard! Even the crawler was scared!" She gasped as the revelation hit her. "Y-you were scared TOO! SQUEEEEE!"

The sharpneck did a happy dance as she squealed uncontrollably.

Wartar chortled. It was refreshing to see his daughter this happy.

"Okay, yes, you scared me," he admitted. "But you might want to use that roar sparingly. It's not exactly herd-friendly."

She tilted her head before noticing the other threehorns staring. Some of the hatchlings looked utterly petrified.

"It scares threehorns?" she slowly asked in shock. "Not just you? It can scare, like, an entire herd?"

He nodded slightly uncomfortably.

A smile spread across her lips as she bounded into the air. "That is SO COOOL!"

"Dagara," he warned.

She caught herself. "Oh, right. I will be very careful to only roar when nobody's around ... or when it's appropriate ... or at least not all the time ..."

Wartar sighed. She was a sharpneck, after all. He supposed he shouldn't stifle her. That wouldn't stop him from monitoring her behaviour and intervening if necessary, of course.

"That's good enough for me," Wartar conceded. "After yesterday, you deserve a little wriggle room. I'm so proud of you."

He startled slightly when she flew into his muzzle in a hug and a nuzzle. Her fiery amber eyes had turned to honey.

"I love you, Daddy."

Wartar momentarily froze. She sounded just like a certain threehorn around her age. He saw that threehorn every day, only in his bittersweet memories ... but she wasn't that threehorn, and he didn't want her to be. She was wonderful and beautiful and priceless in her own way. She didn't have to be a threehorn. She was his Dagara.

The threehorn soaked in her affection and returned it with a nuzzle of his own. "I love you too, Sweet Bubble."

The moment seemed to last forever ... until Wartar began to snore.

"Daddy, you're getting old!" giggled Dagara.

"Hm? What's that?" asked the threehorn before yawning. "I think I'll sleep in again, but you can leave the nest if you want."

Dagara squealed yet again as she practically flew out of the nest, only to trip on an invisible object ... which yelped.

Confused beyond all reason, the sharpneck looked back to see a young hidden runner toppled on his head. She instantly recognised him.

"Vanish! I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed, before cooing a sharptooth greeting and apology.

The hidden runner squirmed onto his feet and looked up at her in shame and shyness.

"N-no. I yam so-rree," he struggled.

His gurgling growl of a voice wouldn't pass as a leafeater to save a life. It was cute, though. Dagara had to admit that.

Vanish cleared his throat, attempting to better articulate himself. "I didant want to bee yor fren becus I was worreed what hiden runerrs wud think of me. I folowed you last day, wanting to apolojise. I was too shy ... and yoo seemed too angrry too talk too."

Dagara nodded. "Yeah, I was pretty angry. Sorry."

"Yoo get angrry, but yoo are also nise and brrave and strong!" he paused to chirrup in excitement. "I saw wat yoo did last evening! Yoo arr herro!"

The sharpneck shrank back in embarrassment as she felt her Adora Blush coming on. Luckily, Vanish had darted into a bush before he could see it. His protruding tail wiggled in excitement as he dragged out an upside down horseshoe crab, minced and decked with a host of goodies.

Dagara's mouth was ajar. This was the breakfast she had never gotten to eat! How was it still fresh? It took a split second for her to realise that it wasn't her breakfast, but rather a replica. Lacking her spikes and strength, Vanish hadn't chopped and mixed the food quite as cleanly as she would have, but he'd done a close enough job to confuse her at first glance. There was one notable difference: a dragonfly on the top, much like the one she had given him as a friendship offering.

After yanking the meal right in front of her, Vanish eagerly looked between it and the sharpneck. If he wagged his tail any faster, she was pretty sure he would lift off the ground.

At first, Dagara was at a loss for words. "Vanish, this is ... thank you! I love it!"

Vanish yipped much like a puppy before plopping down and waiting for her to eat, even as the first signs of drool appeared on his tiny jaws.

"You know what? Why don't we share?" she offered.

He chirped in confusion. "Iss it too much?"

"Not really, but I want my new friend to have some," she explained.

Vanish dashed over to her and gave a soft headbutt (took her a moment to read it as affection) before munching on a crab leg.

Dagara dug in. Wow! It was delicious! He'd been paying close attention to her culinary process! She couldn't do a much better job herself! For a moment, the sharpneck realised that she was eating meat within view of the herd. Well, not quite 'within view'. She was behind the nest. Most of the threehorns wouldn't see her, but so what if they did? She was what she was, and what she was was awesome! Maybe 'Whoever was up there' hadn't given her such a bad life after all, but it was up to her to make the best of it.

"Wat made yoo save Ram, aneeyway?" Vanish suddenly asked. "Yoo were gowing too run, and he was meen. Why did yoo hewp?"

"Because it was right thing to do," she replied. "Because I'm strong enough to help others, even when I don't feel like it. Because ... well ..."

The answer was getting away from her, so Dagara decided to sum it up in one, all-encompassing statement.

"Because I'm a sharpneck!"

---

Aaand that concludes our first taste of Dagara. She turned out more relatable than I expected ... although her struggles are rather caricaturised compared to what I think most humans would go through.

Can you identify any of the references in this chapter? Do you have any theories about the valleys? Hunches about the sharpnecks? What do you think The Silver Zone could be? What will happen when Dagara meets Littlefoot and his friends?

The hidden runner/utahraptor Unseen originally appeared as the main character of my other story, Jurassic Park: The Unseen Element. Her mother, Silence (briefly mentioned as the hidden runner alpha), is a supporting character there as well. The two versions of Unseen might appear to have different personalities, but if you look closely enough you might find that they are actually pretty similar. The variations have more to do with the fact that they are reacting to different situations in considerably different worlds. There's also the fact that the Jurassic Park Unseen's personality evolves a bit every time she sheds her skin (long story).  Come to think of it, this Unseen may evolve after shedding too, but there's no telling how many times she has shed over the years in the War Before Time universe, which would make her character arc somewhat out of sync with the Jurassic Park version.  You know what?  This paragraph kind of turned into a big ball of wibbly wobbly stuff, so lets just move on.

Check out my fanfiction account https://www.fanfiction.net/u/4665894/The-Mr-E for more Dagara oneshots, War Before Time tales and more of Unseen in Jurassic Park: The Unseen Element!(verysubtlesubliminalattempttomakeyoureadthatlaststoryifyou'reoldenoughtohandletheviolence).

Thanks for reading!