I guess it's been a while since you've seen much new writing from me, hasn't it? Sorry, but as I've tried to smooth out some things in Herd Animals and Pack Hunters, I've realized my drive to write that story has faded over the years. It felt like the best story ever when I finished the first draft five years ago, but now I think if I'm going to put time into writing, there are other things I'd rather work on. So yeah, that story is going on hiatus, maybe permanently.
As for this story, you can probably guess from the title who it's about. 
Back when the "Hidden" prompt was still going on months ago, I decided I was going to write an origin story for our favorite egg stealers, but I didn't finish enough of it in time to submit. Not sure why I waited so long to post what I had (guess I just forgot about it) but here it is so far!
Chapter 1: I Become an Egghead“He doesn’t like me much, does he?”
I wasn’t sure why I was even asking Mum this, as if there was any question. The answer had been obvious for years, I’d just been too afraid to say it out loud. I guess I was holding out in the hopes that the problem would smooth itself out eventually. But I’d been around for ten cold times now, and I suppose reaching double digits had finally made reality hit me like a flying rock.
Mum smiled at me, but her yellow eyes, the ones I’d inherited, had pity in them. I lowered my gaze towards the ground, knowing she was just thinking up some way to avoid a direct answer.
“Strut, honey, your brother is just…stubborn,” she finally said. She must have thought saying it in these words, in such a gentle tone, would soften the reality of it. “It isn’t your fault.” She opened her arms, offering me a hug.
I didn’t hesitate to walk into her embrace. I know what you’re thinking: I was being a baby, letting my mom hug me at that age. But it didn’t matter, anyway. Like so many peaceful moments, it didn’t last long.
“Look at the little hatchling,” sneered a mocking voice from nearby, “getting his hug from Mummy.”
I went tense in response to the familiar voice, an automatic reflex I’d developed early on in my life, and I wriggled away from Mum, leaving her looking flustered.
Mum lifted her head towards Ozzy, her face sharp with disapproval as my older brother glared at her from the bushes nearby. “Ozzy—”
“Not now, Mum,” Ozzy cut across her, rolling his eyes. This was pretty much as pleasant as his interactions with her ever got.
“I’ve got to gather the others. This evening, we raid a threehorn’s nest…mmm!” He couldn’t even say this without licking his lips.
“Ozzy, you know I don’t approve of you hanging around with that bunch of hooligans!” Mum shot back. Of course, Ozzy snorted and scampered away before she’d even finished her sentence. I wasn’t sure why she even bothered.
Now that my brother was gone, I curled against the ground. “See,” I mumbled, “I told you.”
I felt Mum pat the top of my head. “Don’t worry,” she cooed. Her tone grew sterner as she added, “I’ll just have to have a talk with him once he returns home.” The way she said talk made it obvious she really meant lecture or scolding.
There was no point, though. All the scolding in the world couldn’t change Ozzy’s attitude. Besides, every time Mum scolded him, he knew I’d been talking to her, and it only made him hate me more. My relationship with Ozzy had been this rough for as long as I could remember. Maybe I should have gotten used to it by now, but…well, I wasn’t. Was some acceptance from my brother really so much to ask for? I’d encountered other folks who got on with their siblings just fine. All I wanted was a chance to be on Ozzy’s side rather than on the receiving end of his attitude.
While my brother was off sneaking around somewhere, Mum, Dad, and I settled down for dinner without him. Mum had grown tired of waiting on him to return from his raids each evening, so she sat his portion of the meal in his sleeping place for when he returned.
Dinner was the same main course we had every night…eggs.
I’d never thought much before about how similar my relationship with eggs was to my relationship with Ozzy, but it really was. At best, we were indifferent to each other, at worst, they made my stomach churn. And when it came to this evening’s dinner, it was more like that second one. I don’t know what kind of eggs they were, but they weren’t quite agreeing with me. I could feel myself making an odd face as I forced the last gulp down. As I was wondering whether these eggs were duckbill or domehead, neither of which were flavors I cared for, Dad spoke.
“You okay?”
Realizing my disgust must have been showing, I cleared my throat as the egg slid down. “F-Fine,” I said, smiling quickly.
I didn’t plan to tell my family I didn’t like eggs much. I figured one kid with diet issues must’ve been enough for them to deal with as it was. Besides, it wasn’t like there was anything else I could eat, anyway.
“Why does Ozzy love eating eggs so much, anyway?” I asked Mum and Dad.
“I don’t know.” Dad shook his head. “He’s always been obsessed with them.”
“Ever since he was born,” sighed Mum. “It’s an…issue.”
“Remember how I saw him eyeing Strut’s egg when he was little?” Dad said to Mum with a little cringe. “I still wonder if he would’ve—well—I’m just glad I got there right then.”
“You mean he—” Breaking off, I could feel goosebumps scampering up my arms. Trying not to picture that moment in my head, I did what I could to move the conversation along. “Well, uh, anyway, do other claw-hands eat as much as Ozzy?”
“No, certainly not,” answered Dad. “I’m afraid he’ll be as wide as a spiketail in no time if he keeps this up.”
“You think that could happen?” A bizarre combination of my brother and a spiketail popped into my head. “Ew…”
“Well, I don’t know how we’ll regulate his diet anymore,” Mum sighed. “What with him raiding countless nests with that group of hooligans.”
“The Eggheads?” said Dad.
“Yes,” Mum confirmed. “Ridiculous name,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes slightly. “I don’t like them, none of them. Most of them are from that group of kids who used to run around causing trouble—what were their names…”
“Austin, Richie, Ruthie, and Truman,” I piped up, knowing exactly who she was talking about.
“How did you know that so quickly?” Mom worriedly inquired. “You haven’t been hanging around them, have you?”
“No,” I blurted, quickly shaking my head. “But one time, I was watching a hopper by the watering hole, and they came over and pushed me in. When I was little.”
“Oh…why didn’t you tell us?” cooed Mum, immediately sympathetic.
“Well, I was kind of embarrassed,” I admitted. Not knowing how to swim, I’d made rather a fool of myself, splashing around and crying until an old longneck who was taking a drink nearby helped me out. To tell the truth, I was still feeling a little embarrassed now, the way Mum sounded ready to start fussing over me for some incident that happened back when I was a hatchling.
“Those kids are still around here?” Dad interjected. “I thought their families left a few cold times ago.”
“No,” answered Mum, “They’re still around, but I think they’ve just settled down as they grew up—or at least, they’ve learned to hide their mischief better.”
Dad nodded, understanding. “Got smarter.” He thought for a moment, then let out a breath. “If I didn’t like the sound of Ozzy’s friends before, knowing most of them are from that bunch makes me even more wary.”
“I know,” said Mum. “I hope nothing happens to him…”
“What could possibly happen to Ozzy?” I blurted, baffled by the thought that my arrogant brother could ever run into any predicament he wouldn’t be able to rebel his way out of. “This whole thing was his idea.”
Dad shrugged. “Strut might have a point.”
Mum nervously tried to smile. “I hope so.”
“Alright, Ozzy, Ozzy, Ozzy—enough,” Dad chuckled. “What’s new with Strut?” he asked, looking towards me. “How was your walk today?”
“Uh…” I stopped to think of what had been interesting.
I’d gotten into the habit of talking walks by myself a long time ago. As a little kid, I’d first started doing it because there wasn’t anyone around to play with. Now that I say that out loud, I guess it makes me sound pretty lonely, and maybe I kind of was, with no other kids my age living nearby, but that wasn’t why I kept taking the walks—I made a habit of it because I enjoyed them. There was something relaxing about just being alone, nothing but me and the grass and trees. It was amazing what you could come across sometimes by just being quiet and still and observing everything—which brought me to the highlight of today’s walk.
“I found an odd flower today,” I reported.
“Odd how?” Dad asked, curious.
“It smelled really strong,” I said, “and it was pretty big, too! With orange stripes going down the middle.”
“It’s too bad you didn’t bring it back home with you,” said Mum. “I would’ve liked to see it.”
“Well, it didn’t last long,” I laughed. “I only got to look at it for a moment before a big clubtail came over and gobbled it up!”
Dad laughed. “Leaf-eaters…that’s what they do.”
“Isn’t it funny what someone else can consider food?” said Mum, shaking her head in befuddlement. “I especially always thought the notion of green food was disgusting. My sister used to tease me with that when I was a hatchling—goodness, sometimes she’d chase me with those leafy things until I gagged!”
“Yeah,” I agreed, starting to smile. “Green food? Green is the color folks say you are when you feel sick!” I chuckled. “Green isn’t anything I’d want to eat!”
That pretty much concluded dinner, and either Ozzy was out longer than usual that night, or I was extra sleepy. I curled up in my sleeping spot and drifted off before my brother came back.
Somehow, though, it didn’t seem like very long before I was woken by Ozzy shouting. I rolled over in drowsiness, mumbling a little as whatever dreams I’d been having disappeared. (Something about wrestling a giant red tree star? Never mind, it doesn’t matter.) Was it morning already? No, it wasn’t, I saw when I opened my eyes and was greeted by the Night Circle.
After it took my brain another moment to wake up, I put the pieces together: Ozzy must have only just came back from his Egghead raid. As I listened a little more, I heard Dad’s voice alongside his now and then, though Ozzy’s was louder by far, and it sounded like they were arguing for some reason. With my eyes closed again, I listened for a bit, but I couldn’t really hear much of anything they said very clearly. In fact, their voices stopped soon after, and in another minute, I could hear Dad coming back to his sleeping spot nearby. Even though my eyes were still shut, I could tell it was him by the way he tended to sort of shuffle through the grass.
“Mmh…” I stifled a yawn as I sat up. “Hey, Dad?”
“What?” Dad muttered. “Strut, go back to sleep.”
No way I could sleep before I knew what was going on. “What’s the matter?” I asked.
“Oh…” Dad sighed, “I had to go hunt down your brother. I’ll tell you the rest in the morning…” He yawned. “Goodnight.”
I yawned, too. Ever notice how hard it is to not do that after somebody else does? “Night, Dad.”
I lay there for a bit longer before I was jolted out of my rest by a sudden realization: I had never heard Ozzy come back to sleep.
For a moment, I tried not to care, but I was kidding myself. What if he’d gone out again? I at least had to check so I could warn my parents. I quickly snapped into a sitting position, recovered from a moment of wooziness from sitting up too quickly, and gazed all around the area. Still, I couldn’t see Ozzy anywhere.
Careful not to disturb Dad, who was already snoring, I got out of my sleeping spot and tiptoed towards the trees in the hopes of finding my brother. It would be just like him to do something as rash as going off into the woods at night.
Wait a moment, now I was going off into the woods at night. What was the matter with me?
I pushed that thought aside as I crept into the foliage. It turns out the woods at night are scary, very scary. And awfully dark. I couldn’t help wondering if every rustle I heard in the bushes was a sharptooth…and that, naturally, was when I heard the low growl!
“AAAHH!” I yelped, nearly jumping out of my skin. I never said I was brave, but really, who wouldn’t have reacted the same way? The next thing I knew, someone’s hand was clamped over my mouth. I nearly passed out, but then the someone spoke, and I had never been so relieved to hear my brother berating me.
“Rrrrrgh…” Ozzy growled again. “What are you doing out here? I’m sure Mum sent you, didn’t she? I don’t need some lily-livered fool attracting sharpteeth—take your screaming mouth back to the nest and leave me alone!”
“No,” I panted as Ozzy pushed me away, “Mum didn’t send me, I wanted to make sure you were alright! What’s the matter?”
“What’s the matter??” Ozzy grumbled furiously. “Mike left! His family is moving! Now I’m short one Egghead!” Fuming, he snorted, “I could’ve stopped him—if Dad hadn’t stopped me, I could’ve chased him down!”
“Oh…” I muttered. “Well…it’s only one less dinosaur. How bad can that be?” Honestly, I don’t know why I always wasted time trying to be optimistic around Ozzy, but I did. Maybe I was hoping it would somehow rub off eventually.
That was when Ozzy narrowed his eyes at me. It wasn’t the typical glare he liked to give me, though. It was more like he was surveying me, thinking about something.
“Hmm,” he muttered. “Maybe you could…”
I frowned. “What?”
He quickly shook his head. “Never mind.”
That was when it hit me like an earthshake. Ozzy was thinking about making me his new Egghead!
I knew there were a million unpleasant emotions I should have felt. Horrified at the idea of getting mixed up in all my brother’s trouble, disgusted that he thought I’d stoop to that level…
But instead, I was almost…flattered! It wasn’t every day my brother invited me to join in on anything he did. In fact, it usually wasn’t any day!
“Y-You want me to be an Egghead?” I blurted.
“No, it would never work,” Ozzy snorted, turning away.
“I’ll do it,” I begged. “It could work—it would work!” When Ozzy didn’t answer, I added, “Please, let me do it!”
Ozzy looked a little startled as he stared back at me. I suppose he must’ve been caught off guard by how enthusiastic I was, and I couldn’t blame him, because so was I.
In a fit of bravery, I stared my brother right in the face. “If I don’t do it, nobody else is going to,” I said firmly. “There are no other kids around here who would even think about it.”
Ozzy responded with an unconcerned shrug. “Then we’ll make them do it.”
“Oh, yeah? And you think they’ll do a good job for you, after you force them into it?” I challenged. I could tell his certainty faltered when he didn’t have a smug reply for me. “Come on, Ozzy, I want to do this!” I argued. “At least give me a chance.”
It felt like a long stretch of silence as I awaited his answer, my anticipation building.
Ozzy finally sighed. “Fine,” he said.
My face must’ve lit up as a rush of energy seemed to explode through my insides. “Oh, thank you—thank you!” I gasped. My newly-appointed Egghead self nearly hugged Ozzy out of excitement, but it was lucky I held back, or my brother probably would’ve changed his mind.
“Longneck eggs. Tomorrow afternoon,” Ozzy sternly commanded, never one to be touchy-feely. “Be ready. And do exactly as you’re told.”
I nodded eagerly like a hatchling about to be fed. “I will!” Figuring I should leave the conversation at that before Ozzy had the chance to rethink things, I dashed back towards the nest, buzzing with exhilaration.
Mum and Dad were still asleep as I curled up in my spot nearby, and Ozzy, apparently done brooding, came to his own sleeping place soon after. But I was sure I was the last one asleep as I spent a while grinning to myself, unexpectedly thrilled at the prospect of some wild shenanigans alongside my brother and his gang.
