Chapter: 7
Copyright: © characters and places by United Pictures; © Plot and OC by me
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His sister let go of the grey leg, roaring something to their father. The older Sharptooth barely ducked in time, diving under the neck of the Longneck, putting her body between him and his attacker.
Grandpa Longneck growled at him as he moved past his mate. Grandma staggered when her hind-leg was no longer able to support her weight from the deep wounds his sister had dealt her.
Chomper was watching from behind some trees, as of yet unnoticed by any of the dinosaurs. His finger-claws were driving themselves deep into the bark of the tree, his red eyes wide in fear.
His father stepped back, snarling at the old Longneck. His sister flanked him, her pale skin-color a stark contrast in the dark forest, unlike the dark-green of their father, which very nearly faded into the surrounding gloom.
From deeper in the valley came the calls of other dinosaurs which had heard the fight. He ducked as they came into view, sneaking away from them softly. He sighed in relief when he saw Littlefoot and Shorty with their father. Bron was one of those Rec would be very reluctant to challenge if it could be averted. He just hoped he didn’t want the two Longnecks dead that badly.
“I must apologize, Longneck.” His father’s deep growls echoed in the silence. “I was out of line.”
“No, really?” She snarled back. “Damnit Rec, why did you even do that?”
“You had to fight me.” He answered, looking at the new arrivals as he did so. “Otherwise the Threehorn might accuse you of helping me. I will leave, for now…”
He turned to leave, eyes fastened on the near-black Threehorn looking at him with an indescribable emotion in his eyes. Or perhaps it were so many Chomper could not decipher even one of them. Was that fear he saw flash for a moment when the Leaf-eater’s eyes fell on the blood marring his sister’s lower jaw?
“Daddy, they killed Tria!” Cera’s voice broke the silence. Chomper noticed with a shock that she was standing with Littlefoot and Shorty, no doubt having questioned them about what happened here.
Even the two Sharpteeth stopped in their tracks and despite not knowing what she had said, still realized the meaning behind her words very much.
“Run.” Rec told his daughter, turning to face the Valley-residents once more. She obeyed reluctantly, running up the hillside at full speed.
On the face of Mr. Threehorn emotions raged as he regarded the Sharptooth that had remained, but all those evaporated in the wake of only one: rage.
Chomper gasped as his father just barely managed to avoid the sharp horns of the charging Threehorn. Rec rammed his head into the Threehorn’s side, throwing him out of balance just enough to put some distance between them.
Grandma had been out for blood, but her friendship had reined her in some. Cera’s father did not have any such qualms and he was out to kill.
The young Sharptooth noted with worry and horror that he was dangerously close to getting what he wanted. Rec did so too, but to get away he needed to turn his back on the enraged Threehorn: it would be a fatal mistake.
If his father wanted to get out of this alive, he’d need a distraction and a bloody good one at that. Chomper glanced over to the old Longneck, but Grandma was in no state to help, even if she wanted to. Blood ran down where the Sharpteeth had bitten her and no doubt she was in pain as Bron helped her support herself on three legs, the fourth barely touching the ground.
For a moment Chomper was at war with himself, at least until a horn actually nicked his father’s side. Then he made a decision he might very well regret once all of this was over.
He snuck down the mountain, everyone too engrossed by the fight to notice the prowling predator. Chomper sighed, sneaking behind the herd to where the young ones – his friends – were. Cera was being consoled by the others, her pride and haughty nature forgotten as she sobbed softly. Where was Tricia?
He sniffed the air, still unnoticed. She was here somewhere. He peeked around, his keen senses focused on finding the pink hatchling. There!
He took a deep and shuddering breath, steeling himself for what he was about to do. His friends would never forgive him, but he needed to save his father. He shot forward silently, jaws opened wide.
Tricia saw him too late, just as her mother had done with his father. He bit down, willing his ears not to hear her screams. It was no use, they resounded in the night-air, reaching everyone even remotely near.
He faintly heard the voices of his friends, but he could not understand them. His attention was focused on Tricia’s father as well as his own. Rec used the opportunity his son had given him and ran. At full speed, the Threehorn was no match for him.
They looked at each other, the fully grown Threehorn-father and the half-grown Sharptooth-son. The eyes of one were filled with rage, burning with it. The eyes of the other only held resignation for a fate he had dealt himself.
His father gone, Chomper put the hatchling down, resting his foot on her so she wouldn’t get away, before rising to his full height again. “I blame you for what happened here tonight.” He evenly and clearly stated, never once breaking eye-contact with the father of the little girl under his foot. “I blame you for the deeds of my family. And I blame you for my own.”
He turned and ran then, weaving through the bushes and trees to an alternate exit of the Valley. As he did so tears ran down his face, the taste of fresh Threehorn-blood still on his lips. He would never be able to eat Threehorn again without remembering this… treachery… to his friends.
