…
The Mysterious One couldn’t believe it; they’d actually gone in.
He peered out from around a rock- his latest hideout- and watched as the tail of the last dinosaur in the herd disappeared into the dense foliage. What were they thinking? There were all sorts of dangers in there, which would make his job of catching up to them a lot harder. He briefly wondered if they were trying to shake him off, then dismissed the notion. There was no way they knew he was following them. He’d been too careful. Still, he couldn’t be too sure. His best bet, he decided, risky as it was, was to follow them in.
He headed in the direction that the herd had gone, stepping into the trees himself. Now he couldn’t help but wonder which of the strange and new dangers which resided here the herd would encounter first. None or few, he hoped. He wanted them alive when he found them.
…
Fyn brushed through the dense, green vines and leaves, trying to find a path. Despite the ruin the Flying Rocks had caused, this place was obviously still strong. Definitely a strong habitat. Now, though, he began to feel uneasy. Despite the place’s definite lushness, perhaps even more so than the last time he and his friends had come here, things were very quiet. The usual chattering and shrill cries of small animals were absent. No sound but the occasional gust of wind was heard.
Fyn shivered. Littlefoot had been right to be spooked by this place. It was definitely working on his nerves now.
He led the herd through the trees to a small clearing and stopped. The rest of the herd followed his example.
“We’ll stop here,” Fyn said. “Once everyone’s settled in, I’ll go scout the area out, to make sure it’s safe.”
Fyn heard murmurs of agreement, but when he looked over at Littlefoot, he noticed an expression of surprise on his friend’s face, and it wasn’t a good one.
“Something the matter?” he asked.
“Well, yeah,” Littlefoot said, sounding a little miffed. “You never said you were going to go off on your own.”
“I just didn’t want to worry you,” Fyn said.
“Well it’s not working, because I am definitely worried, now. Can’t you take someone with you?”
“I’m afraid not,” Fyn said. “You’re in charge while I’m gone. If anything happens, get the herd out of here.”
Littlefoot “hmphed,” but walked over to where the herd was gathered and took charge. Before Fyn could leave, however, he glanced back and called out to him.
“You’d better be back here before the Bright Circle goes down!”
Fyn winked. “You can count on it!” Then, with a mischievous grin, he plunged into the trees, not looking back.
…
The forest seemed quite different from how Fyn remembered it. Granted, he realized, he hadn’t had much time to enjoy the scenery the last time he’d been around these parts. One tends to ignore such things when being attacked by a pack of Small Biters*. Still, he was certain things had changed. For one, the air was thick with moisture, due in part to the massive increase in plant life that had obviously occurred here. So much green surrounded him that most of the time, he couldn’t even see the Bright Circle. The ground was soggy, too, and he often found himself walking through some small, hidden marsh. Still, he hadn’t encountered any Sharpteeth yet, which was a definite plus.
Fyn stopped at another clearing and finally got a good look at the tall, eerie mountains for which this place was named. He’d head for the mountains’ base, he decided, and if he didn’t see anything that looked overly dangerous, he’d head back and declare the place safe and fit to stay in.
Fyn started ahead again, once more finding himself enveloped by the muggy, green world of the forest. He was not alone.
…
The Mysterious One couldn’t believe his eyes when Fyn ventured out on his own. What was he thinking? He briefly considered leaving him for... he didn’t even want to think about it. Instead, he simply decided that he still needed this Longneck, and opted to keep following him. The Longneck was heading for the base of the mountains- the lowlands. He thought this place was safe. Ha! Once he went down there, he would truly find out just how “safe” this place really was. The dangers of the lowlands were the stuff of nightmares. No one went down there alone and survived. In fact, it was the lowlands and its residents that played a role possibly surpassing that of the Flying Rocks in magnitude in driving the dinosaurs that once lived here away for good. He shuddered to think of what he might face down there, in the warm, damp dark. Nothing pleasant, he knew, that was for sure.
…
Just as the Mysterious One had predicted, it wasn’t long before Fyn had found himself in the lowlands. The transition into the mysterious region had been gradual, and he hadn’t even noticed where he was going until just now. All it had taken was one look around for Fyn to determine that he was in a place where he’d definitely never been before. Maybe the last time he’d come here, this place had been different, but now, he found himself in nothing more than a massive, tree-enshrouded swamp. Darkness enveloped him, the air was musty, and when he wasn’t wading through some sort of stagnant water, the ground was spongy underfoot. The silence was gone now, too. Fyn heard strange clicks and grunts, and the slimy slithering of some unknown creature as it slipped into the murky waters. This was most definitely not a friendly place.
He moved deeper in, hoping to find an end to the swamp, but luck was not on his side. The farther he went, the darker and more unfamiliar his surroundings became. He was beginning to feel that he was becoming lost. Several times he passed objects- a stump, perhaps, or an odd-looking boulder- which he could have sworn he’d seen before, but he had no way of knowing for sure.
Now, he was traversing the shoreline of a black, muddy pond, surrounded by drooping, slimy vines. Fyn glanced anxiously around. He had a bad feeling about this place, but he couldn’t tell why. He should have listened to Littlefoot and taken a buddy, but now, he realized, that option was no longer available. As he walked on, breathing a little faster now, eyes darting to and fro, he suddenly heard a faint noise in the trees nearby: a rustling, skittering sound. If it had been somewhat louder, Fyn would have thought it to be a pack of Small Biters, but this sound was barely perceptible, and sounded different slightly. He saw a small movement ahead- something orangeish-brown disappearing into a clump of vegetation. He blinked. What had he just seen?
Now he was very nervous, but he had to know what he was up against out here. Fyn slowly crept forward towards the bush, preparing to be jumped by some terrible creature. He leaned closer, readying himself to brush the leaves aside. He felt his back tingling, and dismissed it as fear. He’d have to control that out here if he was to keep his bearing.
In one quick movement, he brushed the foliage aside, and came face-to-face with... nothing.
“Huh?” Fyn said, perplexed. He could have sworn something had just entered this little hideaway. Perhaps he’d been wrong. As he stood up, the tingling sensation on his back started up again. Fyn shivered. The feeling tickled, as if someone was slowly moving a Spiny-Leaf branch up his back. He chuckled slightly, assuming he must have backed up into a tree of some sort, and walked away, but as he moved, the sensation became stronger, almost painfully so. Now it was simply an annoyance. Fyn reached forward with his tail to scratch his back. He positioned its tip over his back, expecting to feel his own skin. He did not. Instead, his tail contacted something smooth and segmented. To make matters worse, when he touched it, it moved. Fyn froze, slowly turning his head around to see just what was on his back. When he turned fully around, he saw his new “friend” for the first time. And it was not happy.
Perched on his upper back, clinging to his sail with its multiple, pointed legs, was a massive Groundcrawler**, about the length of one of his front legs.
“Aah!” Fyn shrieked, shaking the creature off and kicking it away. The Groundcrawler let out a shrill hiss and began to make wild, loud clicking noises. All around, the bushes began to rustle, and more clicks began to sound. Fyn was well aware of what was happening- he’d walked right into a trap.
A second humongous Groundcrawler dropped out of the forest canopy. Fyn saw it just in time and sidestepped out of the way. The creature hit the ground with a “thud,” and immediately sized up Fyn. Fyn tried moving, but more Groundcrawlers were on their way now, surrounding him. Desperate, he lashed out with his tail, sending most of the terrifying creatures flying. However, the one in front of him remained, and it reared up, turning its frightening length into height. Fyn saw a pair of fangs, glistening with venom in front of its small, dark mouth. He could be a meal for these things for a long time, and he knew they wouldn’t give up easily because of this. Bellowing, he charged, kicking the creature. At the same time, the giant Groundcrawler struck forward. As Fyn hit it, one of its fangs grazed his leg, scratching it. It wasn’t much of a wound, and Fyn didn’t even realize it was there until the venom began to take effect.
The pain was excruciating. It felt as if his leg was on fire. For now, however, all the pain did was aggravate Fyn even more. He whirled around wildly, stomping, kicking, hitting, but to no avail. The Groundcrawlers were regrouping, and continued attacking. Fyn, on the other hand, was growing tired. If something didn’t happen soon, this battle would be lost.
…
Ahead, the Mysterious One could hear the sounds of a struggle. Judging by the clicking sounds and their current location, he concluded that the Longneck was being attacked by none other than the lowlands’ resident nasties: the giant Groundcrawlers. He sighed and shook his head. This Longneck was making his mission much harder than it should have been. He headed towards the commotion, planning his next move. It was time for the big reveal. It would be here where his plan would either become a complete success or a total failure. Either way, the next few moments would be memorable.
…
Fyn shook off another Groundcrawler, and another. They were everywhere, it seemed, skittering over the ground, dropping out of trees, crawling out of bushes and tangled vines- no wonder the Highmountains’ latest dinosaur residents had fled. This place was dangerous.
Fyn was right in the middle of shaking an attacking Groundcrawler off of his leg when he heard a sound that chilled him to the very bones. A high-pitched roar, almost a shriek, suddenly sounded from out of the trees nearby. They began to shake, and Fyn felt the ground trembling. Something big was coming this way. The Groundcrawlers apparently noticed, too, because several of them began to retreat. Then the foliage burst outward as a massive creature charged through it and stopped, surveying the situation. From its posture to its size, and finally up to its gleaming, sharp teeth, there was no doubt in Fyn’s mind; he was staring down a Sharptooth.
*Compsognathus, with a slightly venomous bite, featured in
Among Friends.
**Giant prehistoric carnivorous Centipede.