I have a question: let's decide: does our story take place during, long before or long after, o not-so long before or not-so-long-after events of original LBT? thx

Personally I think we should set it after, though I also feel our connection to the series should be minimal. If the reader can't decide where in the timeline we're set, I think that's a good thing. Keeps us from being tied down by established canon

How, just how, did I forget to review this? I have no answer, but I feel you should know why your prompt response tied for first place last month. Aw, who am I kidding? I want to review this anyway! With that being said, let's dive in!

What strikes me as particularly strong in this story is the pacing and characterization. Both Guido and later on Mr. Thicknose, feel like they were pulled straight from the series in how they speak, think, and act, and seeing them interact was a real treat. I'd never have guessed it, but the two make for a great duo. The story flows well, too, never lingering where it shouldn't, and staying reasonably fast-paced without being overly quick. It maintained my interest from start to finish, which works well with its shorter length.

If I had to nitpick, which I should, I would suggest working on your descriptive sentences. As an example, "it sure was taking a while" sounds more like a paraphrase of something a character would say. Try to avoid conversation filler words like "sure" when progressing a scene, and instead try for other methods of portraying the march of time. Perhaps "time seemed to drag on as he waited" or something similar. Additionally, you'll want to avoid using "..." to express silence. It works, but it's generally not as useful as written description.

Still, these are minor things, which don't detract from the value of this story in any noticeable way to me. This was a charming story to read, with great characters and dialogue, as well as presenting a unique take on the prompt itself. Very well done here! And I'm sorry it took me so long to post a review. Like I said, I read this immediately, but for some reason completely forgot to post.

Hello everyone! I'm back with my last prompt response for Season 1 of the GoF forums' Fanfiction prompt challenge. This month, Rhombus and I found ourselves declaring a tie between two writers, Darkwolf91 and LBTlover247. To settle the matter of how to divide up the prompts, we had each author pose their own unique prompt, and then flipped a coin. I got Darkwolf's prompt, while Rombus got LBTlover's. Darkwolf's prompt is as follows:

One of the gang loses respect for somebody they care about deeply. What was the incident that caused this, and how do they deal with it?

I've got more to say about this, but I'll save it for after the story. Until then, I'm gonna shut my mouth and let you read through this tale of family, the breaking of bonds, and the loyalty of friends.

Strength

For the first time in many long, dry months, skywater came to the Great Valley once more.

It started off with the greying of the clouds. Those who still bothered to watch the skies were rewarded when they saw the white, puffy clouds darken, but many only remained skeptical. The skies had been grey before, with little to show for it afterward, and no one was interested in garnering false hope. Then, the first sprinkles came, barely more than a mist. Little droplets of water fell from the sky in pale, white sheets. In the previous weeks, the air was so dry and clear that one could easily see from one side of the Valley to the other, but now, as water began to fall in a steadily-increasing drizzle, distant objects became less clear, shrouded by the misty veil. Children ran around with open mouths, catching whatever water they could, and for the most part, the adults let them carry on with their games.

Most of them, however, remained doubtful.

"It will pass," some said.

"A drizzle won't revive the soil," others warned.

But despite their words, the skywater continued to fall, in defiance of the hot, dry season that had plagued the Valley for so many months before.

Beyond the protective walls of the Great Valley, a young female Threehorn stood beneath a thick canopy of leaves and branches, working away tirelessly at the trunk of a tall tree. Every so often, she would back up, and then charge forward, ramming herself into its unyielding trunk. The tree would creak and crack, but despite her best efforts, it stood fast. Between hits, she buried her smaller nose horn into the wound she had created in its bark, digging at the lighter wood within in an attempt to weaken it. Once satisfied, she would back up, and then the whole process would start over again. This had been her routine for the past few weeks, and while it was exhausting, she hardly felt the sting of fatigue. There was simply no time for it.

But as the sound of skywater changed from a soft hiss to a steady patter, she stopped what she was doing and turned her head skyward. Droplets of water fell from the leaves above her as they gathered, and she blinked as they cascaded down into the forest below, where she stood. She hadn't paid much heed before. The Valley had experienced mist already during its dry-times, and it never amounted to much once the clouds had cleared, but this- this was different. The sky was darker, the clouds fuller, the fall of skywater heavier and louder, and as she regarded the sky above with a marked interest, she allowed herself to think the one thought she hadn't dared to think since the greens of the valley had turned to yellows and sickly browns.

Is this the end of our suffering? Are we going to make it after all?

It was a question she had avoided every time the skies became cloudy and grey, because to embrace it was to embrace false hope. Until now, the skywater had always been short-lived, thin, and misty, but what she was seeing now was different. Her heart beat a little quicker as she noted the change in the sound of the skywater. Even as it fell, she could hear it growing louder. The ground beneath her feet was soaked, even becoming slippery in places, and though common sense warned against it, it was hard not for her to feel a little hopeful.

Or, at the very least, inspired.

With a renewed sense of purpose, the Threehorn charged forward again, taking care to keep her horns well clear of the impact site. One of the males had lost a horn like that last week. It had snapped off with a sound like a breaking stick, only much louder and far more gut-wrenching. The Threehorn had survived, despite losing a fair amount of blood, but his mishap had been a lesson for everyone. So, as she approached the tree, the female twisted her body to the side, impacting it with her shoulder. The hit still hurt, but it was better than losing a horn. This time, she felt the trunk give, letting out a loud splintering sound that grew louder the longer it went on. She stepped back, away from the swaying cracking wood, and observed her handiwork.

The tree wobbled for a moment, balancing on its shredded stump, but it could only balance for so long. As its trunk frayed under its own weight, the mighty giant swayed one more time, and then came crashing down to earth in a tremendous flurry of mud, leaves, and dirt. The Threehorn beamed at her fallen foe.

"Hee," she said through her grinning teeth as she looked on in pride, uttering an old expression from her childhood that she had never quite been able to get rid of. Satisfied with her handiwork, she closed her eyes before plunging her shielded head into the tree's branches. It was heavy, almost as resistant to moving as it had been to falling, but she'd dealt with plenty of heavy trees already, and this one was no exception. Grunting, she began to push against the ground, the leaves rasping against the dirt serving as proof enough that she was making forward progress. Spurred on further by the cool water falling on her back, she pushed harder, and as the trunk of the tree began to move, she fell back into her rhythm: one step at a time, even paces, never let up. She was already visualizing her way back; she stood at the bottom of a shallow hill in one of the many groves just outside of the Great Valley, and that hill was all that remained between her and whoever was going to start the arduous process of taking her tree back to the Valley. Normally, this was a two dinosaur job, but lately, more and more of her helpers were feeling the effects of the drought. Just today, three more of them had remained in the Valley, sick: one Longneck and two Spiketails. It was the most they'd ever lost at one time, but she wasn't about to let productivity suffer too much, so she insisted she could move her logs alone.

As she felt the ground shift upward beneath her feet, she allowed herself to stop, raising her head from the leaves in order to ensure she was still on course. On her left, not far away, a Spiketail and a Threehorn were busy with their own log, pushing it up towards the gaggle of able-bodied dinosaurs at the top of the hill: their relief. Taking a deep breath, the yellow Threehorn set her head back down, making sure her horns were locked into the branches, and started to follow them. Starting up again was immensely difficult, especially alone, but it wasn't long before she had her rhythm going again, and in no time at all, she was moving steadily up the hill. It was only when she heard the sudden cry of surprise beside her that she realized she'd overtaken the other two dinosaurs.

"Look!" one of them groaned, "she's passed us! Come on, let's move it!"

"Wait, I don't know if I- oh!"

The female looked up just as the Threehorn, the one with his head in the branches like her, started to slip in the muddy ground. The tree pressed against her, trying to slide her back down the hill, but the yellow Threehorn dug in, fighting it as she stood and watched the others. The Spiketail had managed to surge ahead with his sudden burst of inspiration, tipping their tree diagonally and leaving his partner, and the top of the tree, farther down the hill. His partner, who had only just lifted himself free to see where he was going, was desperately scrambling for purchase on the slippery ground.

"Easy there!" she called down to him, and immediately both dinosaurs fell silent.

"Take it slow, one foot at a time. This isn't a race. Getting that tree to the others is more important than some dumb competition. Tors?"

The Threehorn looked up at her at the mention of his name.

"Don't be afraid to stop if you have to. This ground's getting slippery fast, and if you need to stop and replant yourself, I'd rather you do that than fall down the hill. And Weru?"

This time it was the Spiketail's turn to be addressed.

"Please, for all of our sakes, don't try to be a hero. Stick with your buddy and get up the hill together."

The Spiketail nodded and muttered a hushed apology to his partner. The Threehorn smiled at them.

"Good. Remember, dig in when you need to, and find a rhythm. You'll be at the top in no time as long as you two work together."

She turned back to her own tree just in time to see her smeared tracks in the mud. She'd descended almost half a tail-length while she'd spoken with the others, and the ground underfoot was only getting wetter. Groaning, she closed her eyes and repositioned herself, digging her feet in as tightly as she could manage.

"Okay, you stupid pile of sticks, let's go!" she growled, charging forward. As she pushed off, her feet lost grip almost immediately. Her heart leapt into her throat, and it was only due to her fast reaction that she caught herself and managed to stay upright. Any slower, and the tree might have run her back down the hill. She stood frozen in place, pushing against the tree that threatened to bring her crashing back down the hill at any moment. Skywater dripped down her face as she considered her options. She had to find a new foothold, but if she couldn't do that, she'd have no choice but to let the tree fall, and that would mean starting the climb all over again and wasting precious time. Carefully, she began poking around with her feet, looking for a spot in the mud, a rock perhaps, anything she could brace herself with to get her moving again.

And then, inexplicably, the log began to move on its own.

"Come on, Cera," a familiar voice spoke from nearby, "I've got your back."

The Threehorn's eyes snapped open just in time to see a towering, light brown Longneck bracing himself against the trunk of the tree. Longnecks weren't particularly good tree-pushers, but she knew that wouldn't dissuade this one in particular. Littlefoot wasn't exactly one to give up.

It was odd to see her friend here. Most days he was running back and forth between the Mysterious Beyond and the Valley, making sure the trees were headed in the right direction, and ensuring everything was going according to plan. He'd left her in charge of overseeing the gathering of trees so that he could cover as much ground as possible. There was a great deal of distance between this grove and the Valley, and stopping to check up on the tree-gatherers would eat into his time. Why he'd chosen to do so today, she had no idea, but right now, she let it go. As much as she hated to admit it, she needed all the help she could get. Not to be outdone by her friend, Cera dug her feet in and pushed, taking advantage of the brief respite Littlefoot's aid had provided for her. She established her pace quickly, locking her horns in tightly and matching Littlefoot's own halted, lopsided stride as he sidestepped up the hill. With the two of them working, they once more passed the Threehorn and Spiketail, and before long, their tree was on level ground again.

With the weight of her burden gone, taken by a fresh-faced, eager young Threehorn, Cera collapsed to the ground, relishing the cool touch of the wet grass and skywater upon her skin. Littlefoot looked down at her cooly. It was a reassuring look, but it was easy to see that his stoic expression was a poor mask for the emotional turmoil he was dealing with on a daily basis.

Fighting the dry-times was a much more personal endeavor for Littlefoot. When skywater became scarce and the grass began to die, grazers like Cera and her family found themselves running out of food. The Valley's trees were still relatively green, so most tree-feeders had no trouble keeping themselves nourished, but as squabbles began to erupt among the grazers, the Valley's elders knew something had to change.

That change came as a suggestion from none other than Littlefoot's grandmother, his only relative left in the Valley. She proposed that the tree-feeders do their part to provide for the grazers, knocking down trees, stripping branches, and allowing them to eat the fresh food that they enjoyed on a daily basis. It was a noble, selfless idea, and most of the Valley was quick to adopt it. Much to everyone's delight, the plan seemed perfect.

But as the skies remained clear and the trees of the Valley became bare and scarcer, unease grew again. Littlefoot's grandmother continued to give more than her share of food to whomever needed it the most, but other Longnecks began to pull away. A rift was opening yet again, and with no solution in sight, it seemed the Valley was about to lapse back into conflict.

And then, one warm night, something happened that changed everything. On that night, Littlefoot's grandmother fell asleep peacefully next to her grandson, and never woke up again.

Some said she'd given so much of her own food that she was unable to nourish herself, others suggested that the heat had gotten to her in her old age, but for whatever the reason, something changed inside Littlefoot that day. The passing of his grandmother had left a void in the Valley's leadership. Unchallenged, he stepped into fill it, and immediately came up with a plan to put the Valley back on its feet. The able-bodied would venture outside the protective walls of the Valley, and bring back whatever green food they could find to ensure the Valley survived its particularly harsh dry-time. It was a strange idea, one that, to Cera's knowledge, no herd had ever tried before, but to her surprise, it was exactly what the Valley needed. Before long, she was at his side. Together, they worked tirelessly to ensure that a constant supply of food was provided for those who needed it, and once Littlefoot was able to divide his tasks between the two of them, it seemed that hope might not yet be lost. With Petrie running messages, Ducky and Spike coordinating where food should go in the Valley, and their Mysterious Beyond allies, Ruby and Chomper, keeping the canyons between them and the Great Valley safe, the dry-times seemed to weigh a little less heavily on everyone's shoulders.

Everyone, it seemed, except Littlefoot.

She hadn't seen him shed a tear in the wake of his grandparents' passing, but neither was he as talkative as he once was, either. He was setting his grief to the side, choosing to deal with it later rather than let it interfere with his duties. But the impact of the tragic event could not be entirely ignored, so he worked to forget the hurt. That, she reasoned, was why he could no longer bring himself to smile, even as the relieving skywater came pouring down from the sky, a symbol of hope and future prosperity.

"So, do you think this is it?" Cera said, nodding up towards the sky, "do you think the Valley's going to make it?"

Littlefoot turned his own eyes skyward, following Cera's gaze, and for a moment, looking up at the tall Longneck silhouetted by the life-giving grey sky, Cera realized just how grown-up he looked. It seemed only yesterday that she and her friends were younglings, bouncing around the unexplored regions of the Valley and beyond without so much as a single care. In truth, she realized, they were still doing those things. Only this time, they were allowed to do them, and there was a great deal less bouncing.

"You know what I say every time we get a drizzle of skywater," Littlefoot said, his voice low, almost blending with the sound of the pattering water, "this could stop at any moment, and we'd be right back to where we were yesterday. Even so…" he turned back to Cera, and for a brief moment, she thought she saw the sparkle of a tear in his eye. The corners of his mouth were turned up slightly. It wasn't really a smile, but it was the closest he'd come in a long while.

"Even so, I can't help but feel good about this one."

Cera nodded. "You feel it too, then. There are a lot of dark clouds up there. If this keeps up, we could have skywater for days if we're fortunate enough."

"Well, let's not count our eggs before they hatch," Littlefoot pointed out softly, "even if this does last for a while, it'll be a few days before the grass starts to grow back again. The grazers will still have to eat the greenfood we bring back, which means we've got a few more days of this ahead of us-" he gestured towards the fallen trees being pushed back to the Valley.

"Well, I have a feeling we'll all be pulling our weight knowing that this is finally over,"

Littlefoot nodded. "I think so too."

From the look on his face, Cera could tell that there was more he wanted to say, but she could also tell that he was holding back, whether out of fear or sadness, she could not say.

"So what's the part you're not telling me?" she asked finally, "why are you here?"

Littlefoot let out a deep sigh. "Well, apparently the elders have made a decision."

The moment the words left his mouth, Cera knew exactly what he was referring to. . Littlefoot had never formally accepted his leadership role, and the death of his grandmother left the Valley in need of a new speaker, one to represent them, a sort of "leader" in a sense. It was no secret to either Cera or Littlefoot that they were both being considered to fill the gap. Both of them had experience beyond the wall, both were capable leaders in their own right, and both had proven instrumental in putting the Valley on the road to recovery. They were opponents, vying for the same position in the Valley's leadership, and yet neither of them felt a sense of rivalry. There were much greater things at stake than a simple position in the circle of elders. Their competitive spirit was nonexistent, squashed beneath the weight of responsibility and necessity. Right now, with so many lives on the line, the last thing they needed was a rivalry.

But now, with the return of skywater to the Valley and the revelation that the elders had apparently made up their minds, came the realization that they were opponents again. Cera hated it. She didn't want to see Littlefoot as an enemy, not after all they'd been through, and judging by his own downtrodden expression, he didn't want to see her as one, either.

"Listen, Cera," Littlefoot said, and when he spoke she could tell he was already beginning to choke up. The dam holding back his emotions was already beginning to crack, "whatever they say, whoever they choose…"

"I know," she answered him, smiling warmly up at the Longneck, "I'll never stop being your friend. We've been through too much to let a little title get between us."

Littlefoot nodded. "I'm glad you see it that way, too."

His mouth quivered as he looked down at the Threehorn, and Cera could already see more tears forming at the corners of his eyes. He blinked, turning away to look up at the sky again, but he wasn't fast enough to hide the the new streams pouring down the side of his face, mingling with the skywater. Cera watched, him, trying to stay strong, to remain as stoic as she'd always strived to be. Threehorns didn't cry, but seeing Littlefoot try to hide his own sorrow and relief was becoming a challenge too difficult even for her.

Screw it.

Cera couldn't help it. She could already feel her own eyes beginning to water, and watching as her friend finally confronted the feelings he'd held back for so long, she at last allowed herself to drop her own toughened facade.

"Come here, big guy," she whispered, fighting the lump that was rising in her own throat. Slowly, hesitantly, the Longneck turned back down the Threehorn. Their eyes met, and for just a flicker of a moment, Littlefoot actually smiled. He brought his long neck down until his head was resting against her own. To some herds, this was an expression of love, but between the Longneck and the Threehorn as they stood drenched beneath the grey sky, it meant something else. It was the mark of a bond, of a friendship more powerful than any herd relationship, and as their faces brushed against one another, the tears of both dinosaurs flowed freely. They wept together, and together they felt the weight of the world lift, if only a little.

"It's over, Littlefoot," Cera sobbed quietly, no longer able to hide her tears of joy, "the skywater is here, and I just know it's here to stay. We did it."

She felt the Longneck nod.

"I… I miss her so much, Cera."

Cera couldn't even begin to imagine herself in Littlefoot's position. He'd lost a mother, his Grandfather, and now his Grandmother, all of whom he'd known and loved while they were still alive. Her only remaining blood relative was her father, but as she'd never really known her mother or grandparents, she couldn't even begin to imagine how hard this was for Littlefoot.

"I know you do. But she's up there in the stars somewhere, watching. And I guarantee she's proud of you today."

"Proud of all of us," Littlefoot agreed. "Thank you, Cera. You've been right there for me throughout this whole mess. Without you, I would've… I don't even know."

"Save it," Cera said, laughing softly, "that's what I'm here for, you know that. And regardless of what those elders say, that's never going to change."

Finally, the friends parted, each taking a moment to compose themselves. It wouldn't do either of them any favors to show up in front of the elders as a pair of blabbering messes. Cera drew in a long, deep breath as Littlefoot sniffed back the last of his tears.

"Ready?" she said, looking solemnly up at the Longneck. Littlefoot nodded.

"Let's do this."

…

The elders, or at the very least those who were not too weak to attend, were already gathered around the meeting circle when Littlefoot and Cera arrived. Both young dinosaurs were pleased to see that the fall of skywater had only increased since it began. The meeting circle was a soggy mess, but no one seemed to care. In fact, despite the solemnity of the occasion, there was an obvious undercurrent of excitement among those who were gathered.

"Littlefoot, Cera, please step forward."

The voice was none other than that of Petrie's mother. The regal flyer stood poised atop a stone at the opposite end of the circle, her wings folded neatly despite being positively drenched. Since the death of Littlefoot's grandmother, she'd taken it upon herself to be the voice of the elders until a successor was chosen, and now that day had arrived.

Heeding her call, Littlefoot and Cera both stepped into the middle of the stone ring. It was then that Cera saw a familiar group of dinosaurs among the crowd: a light green Swimmer, a darker green Spiketail, and huddled atop them, trying to keep his wings out of the water, sat a brown Flyer. Ducky, Spike, and Petrie. It seemed even their friends had turned up for this moment.

"As you both know, it is the duty of the circle of elders to choose the Great Valley's next Speaker. We mourn the loss of Tapa, grandmother to Littlefoot, but now we must choose who will take her place in our circle."

Cera and Littlefoot shared an anxious glance.

"We have watched you two carefully, observed how you conducted yourselves under the stress of handling the Valley's current crisis. If any good can be gained from this tragic event, it is that we were able to see firsthand how you dealt with a disaster. Both you and your friends have all done more than anyone to pull the Great Valley through these troubled times…"

Here comes the "but," Cera thought.

"But when it came to displaying true leadership potential, it was Littlefoot who grabbed our attention almost immediately. Littlefoot devised the plan that would save our Valley, and tide us over until the skywater returned. Littlefoot was able to set aside the most personal of tragedies in order to uphold the greater good. His intellect, efficiency, and dedication has set an example for us all, and so, with a nearly unanimous decision-"

Nearly unanimous? Cera wrinkled her brow. As disappointed as she admittedly felt, she wasn't particularly surprised. Even she had to admit that Littlefoot's leadership skills had far surpassed her own in the last few months, something that should have been obvious to everyone. So who had voted against him? Who among the Valley was so supportive of her that they were willing to overlook Littlefoot's own accomplishments?

Then she saw her father, glaring pointedly at the brown Longneck beside her from across the circle, just beside Petrie's mother.

Oh no.

"-we of the circle choose Littlefoot as the Great Valley's newest speaker."

Turning to Cera, she added, "Cera, your contributions will not be forgotten either, and neither will those of your friends. Without you five, sometimes I wonder if this place would even still be standing to this day. You might not be the new Speaker, but our hearts stand with you just as much as they stand with Littlefoot."

Cera nodded, "thank you."

"Now, you may return to the circle. I see your friends are probably eager to speak with you. Littlefoot, will you grace us with a few words before we disperse?"

Littlefoot gulped, looking down anxiously at Cera. Despite the pang of defeat, she shot him a friendly wink.

"You've got this, Littlefoot. I'll be waiting when you're done."

The Longneck gave her a curt nod, breathed in deeply, and then began as Cera made her way back to where her friends were waiting.

"I guess the proper way to start is by saying thank you to all of you. Thank you for welcoming me into your circle, but more than that, thank you for doing your part. The Great Valley has had to count on each and every one of its denizens during these troubled times…"

"Congratulations, Cera!" Ducky whispered as the yellow Threehorn tucked herself in next to Spike.

"Hmm hmm," Spike agreed, nodding.

"Huh?" Cera said, perplexed, "what for? Littlefoot got the position."

"Yes, but you make it this far," Petrie pointed out, "that mean you good leader too."

Cera shrugged. "I suppose. But you don't have to coat it in tree sweets for me. I lost fair and square, and Littlefoot deserves to be here today."

Ducky raised an eyebrow. "That does not sound like the Cera I know. It does not."

"Huh," Cera chuckled drily, "that Cera left the Great Valley after the dry-times came. She'll be back eventually, I'm sure, but there's no place for her here right now. Today, what matters is that we stand by Littlefoot and help him, and if that means accepting defeat-" she clenched her teeth. The "d" word was not a word most Threehorns were proud of saying, "-then I'll accept it. Littlefoot's going to need us now more than ever, and we have a responsibility as his friends to be there for him. Right?"

Impressed with the yellow Threehorn's mature conclusion, the three friends nodded.

"There's a lot that still needs to be done," Littlefoot finished as his eyes swept over the crowd around him, "there are wounds to heal, friendships to mend, and feeding grounds to reclaim, but we can do it- we will do it- together. My grandmother is smiling down at us today, and while I may not be her, I hope that with your support, I can be half the leader she and my grandfather were."

"Humph! Unlikely."

The rough bark of her father's voice caused Cera to jump. Topps had taken a step closer to the center, standing apart from those around him as he faced Littlefoot.

"I opposed you in the elder's decision, Longneck, and I stand by my convictions," he said, staring defiantly up at Littlefoot. The Longneck seemed surprised, but despite Topps' harsh words, he stood his ground as the Threehorn berated him.

"You might have pulled our Valley through these dry-times, but that does not make you the leader we need. Look back! Look at where listening to Longnecks has gotten us time and time again! Every time we're faced with a new disaster, the Longnecks have always advised caution, and every time we listen to them. Not once have we sought the problem out immediately and confronted it head on. Why? Because that's the Threehorn approach, and everyone in this Valley is too damn soft to realize that it works!"

"Mr. Threehorn," Littlefoot countered, "I'm not opposed to changing the way we do things around here. If you can just calm down, maybe we can talk, and-"

"Calm down?!" Topps roared, planting his foot into the ground in a gesture of defiance, "listen here, Longneck. If you had acted immediately when the dry-times came instead of sitting back and waiting for things to get worse, maybe those of us who had died would still be here!"

Littlefoot's eyes widened. Topps hadn't explicitly mentioned his grandparents, but Cera could tell he'd implied it. She could see him shaking slightly, looking down at her father in disbelief.

Come on, dad, she thought, give him a break already.

But Topps seemed to have no such intention as he entered the circle and turned to address the rest of the elders.

"And you, all of you- you're just as sad. You're all so afraid of change that you were unwilling to take a chance. You were afraid to put your trust in my daughter instead of this Longneck. Why? Because she's a Threehorn? My Cera is twice the leader Littlefoot is. Maybe you'll start to understand that while you watch our Great Valley continue to crumble beneath our feet!"

He whipped around back to Littlefoot, his eyes burning, his nostrils flared.

"My daughter did just as much as you did during the dry-times. You think losing a family member is tough? Some of us lost more than that. I watched an entire family of Threehorns die starving while you tree-feeders sat back and wallowed in your ignorance. I don't care if we're free now. The next time something like this happens, I know I won't be able to count on you."

Cera had had enough. She leapt forward, pushing herself through the crowd of dinosaurs until she was standing between Littlefoot and her father. She faced the old Threehorn down, horns bared and eyes narrowed. A look of surprised disappointment crossed her father's face.

"Cera, stand aside," he ordered gruffly.

"No!" Cera snarled, "how can you say these things, Dad? Littlefoot might not have lost as much as others, but he still lost someone! That's more than you can say!"

Topps took a step back, surprised by his daughter's harsh rebuttal, but Cera wasn't finished yet.

"You blame him for failing to help the Valley in time, but if it wasn't for Littlefoot acting when he did, many more would have died. Would you have come up with the tree-moving plan on your own? I know I wouldn't have. You're blaming him for things that haven't even happened yet. How do you know he won't be a good leader?"

"How can you stand there and make excuses for that Longneck?!" Topps shot back, deflecting the question.

"Because he's my friend, and he deserves a chance!"

"He's your opponent!"

"So that's what this is about?" Cera spat, "this is all some hatchling's tantrum because I didn't win? Get over yourself, Dad."

Her last words were spoken in a hushed tone, and they seemed to pierce right through the old Threehorn. The rest of the circle had fallen silent, transfixed by the unexpected clash of voices that had just taken place. Topps took a moment to compose himself before matching his daughter's tone.

"Fine. If that's how everyone in this Valley sees it, then I'll back down, but know this-" he glared up at Littlefoot "-you may be Speaker, but you are not my Speaker. This Valley needs strength in its leadership, not more of the same. I speak for my herd when I say that your words will fall upon deaf ears." He turned his glare down to his daughter. "All of my herd."

And then he was gone, turning his back on his daughter and her Longneck friend as he pushed his way silently through the circle, leaving the congregation in stunned, uneasy silence as the sound of skywater droned on.

…

For Cera, everything afterward passed by in a blur. The meeting was over, but a few elders came by to congratulate Littlefoot, offer their own advice, or to reassure him (albeit somewhat uncertainly) after Topps' outburst. Some of them spoke to her as well, and for her part, Cera was able to respond to them, but her mind was elsewhere, trapped beneath layers of anger, confusion, and frustration. It wasn't right. Littlefoot had earned his title fairly, just as anyone else in the elders' circle had. For her own father to deny him was a sharp blow to the gut. She knew her father had never seen eye to eye with Longnecks, but this blatant insubordination was dangerous. It was difficult to determine how Littlefoot felt through his conversations with the other elders, but while he seemed to have an understanding of how serious her father was, he didn't seem to grasp just how bad the outcome of Topps' declaration could be.

There was one solution, and only one solution, that she could see. She'd have to meet with her father and handle the situation as quickly as possible. Doubtless Littlefoot wouldn't want that. He'd probably see it as unnecessarily poking the Buzzers' nest, but he also didn't know Topps as well as she did. He couldn't sit on this situation and wait for it to get better. Topps would be waiting for that, and every day Littlefoot ignored him, his points would become more valid. She needed to handle this now.

So she waited for the opportunity to speak with him again, watching as the elders' numbers thinned, gradually tapering off to the last four dinosaurs to speak with him. Cera's friends remained too, patiently waiting with Cera for their chance to have a few words with their new speaker. But as the day went on, and midday turned to late afternoon, they finally approached Cera. Ducky was the first to speak.

"Cera, we should go eat. We should. It is getting late, and Littlefoot will probably be hungry when he is done."

Cera sighed, hanging her head and doing her best to breathe out the pent-up aggression she'd been storing since earlier.

"I guess we should. Why don't you go on ahead? I need to speak to Littlefoot alone."

Ducky grew concerned. There was still an undercurrent of anger in Cera's tone, one that despite her best efforts, she was unable to hide.

"Is it your dad?" she asked hesitantly, hoping she wasn't about to be on the receiving end of one of Cera's verbal attacks.

The yellow Threehorn snorted, kicking at the ground. It was all the answer Ducky needed.

"Maybe he just being his usual self," Petrie offered, alighting on Cera's back. She winced as his prickly claws touched down on her skin, and shook her head at him.

"No. I know his usual self, and this isn't something he'll get over in the near future. Littlefoot needs to know that." Trying her best to conjure up a smile for her friends, she added, "look, we'll be right behind you. It won't take me long to get my point across, I'm sure. But you three look hungry. There's no reason you should have to wait to dig in. Stars know you've all earned it."

As if to answer her statement, Spike's stomach let out a loud, rumbling growl, and Cera chuckled in spite of the situation.

"See? Spike agrees."

But Ducky looked unconvinced.

"I do not want you to be angry at your dad, Cera. No, no, no."

Cera narrowed her eyes. "It's a bit late for that, Ducky. He lost any respect I had for him the moment he refused to listen to Littlefoot. I have to confront him. I have to make him..." she trailed off. She'd already revealed more than she intended. Surprisingly, now that she had some inkling of Cera's plan, Ducky only nodded. Perhaps it was her understanding of Cera's kind, one that she'd developed over the years as her friend, that allowed her to empathize with Cera's way of thinking. No matter the reason, she finally gave in.

"We will see you later then, Cera."

"Like I said," she said, trying her best to sound reassuring, "I'll be right behind you."

And then they, too, were gone, and before long, only she and Littlefoot stood in the middle of the meeting circle, their backs to one another, silhouetted by sheets of falling skywater. In the distance, thunder rumbled through the mountains. Apparently the skywater had brought with it a storm. To Cera, it felt appropriate. For a moment, the two stood in silence, still processing what had taken place, and when the silence was finally broken, Cera was the first to speak.

"Littlefoot, I'm sorry," she began, her head cast down, "my father- I- I don't even know where to begin. That stuck-up, arrogant-"

"Cera, stop," Littlefoot silenced her, turning his neck around so that he could see her, "you can't control how your father feels about me. He's proud of you, really proud of you. He thinks you should have won, and I don't hold that against him. I heard you talking to Ducky a little while ago, and I think she's right. I don't want you to do anything that'll drive you two farther apart."

Cera's brow furrowed as she looked up to Littlefoot in disbelief.

"You heard us?"

The Longneck nodded. "After hearing 'good luck, we're all counting on you' for the tenth time, I sort of stopped paying attention. And I'm glad I did. The last thing we need to do right now is fight your father."

"I didn't say that-"

"But you were thinking it. I've known you for too long not to know better." Littlefoot's gaze dared her to say otherwise and, for a moment, Cera's old, pre-dry-times self re-emerged, wanting nothing more than to yell at her friend like old times. But then she saw the skywater and the brown vegetation around them, and her shoulders sank. She didn't have the spirit for that yet.

"Alright, you've got me. I was going to find my dad and try to change his mind."

"So you're going to argue with him."

Cera's eyes narrowed. "I'm not going to try to start something, but if it comes to it, yes I will." In truth, she'd been planning to argue from the start, but Littlefoot didn't need to know that. He was too opposed to her plan as it was.

"Then do me a favor and don't," Littlefoot sighed, turning fully to face Cera with as most sincere an expression as he could muster, "the skywater-times are for healing, not for opening more rifts between us. You need to try to understand him-"

"Oh I understand him perfectly," Cera spat, "I know that he lives every day like he's still out there in the Mysterious Beyond, leading his herd towards the Great Valley. I know that he still can't see us all as part of one big herd here. I understand my father very well, Littlefoot." She added, with a hint of venom, "better than you do."

Littlefoot flinched, surprised at the sheer volume of hatred in Cera's tone. On the one claw, it was nice to see that she was willing to stand by him, but on the other, letting her go off on her quest to antagonize her father, he felt, was only going to cause more trouble in the long run. He had to make her see eye to eye.

"Cera, listen to me," he pleaded, "let me handle this. If I can sort this out, maybe it'll help your father to gain some confidence in me."

"Don't you get it?!" Cera hissed, whirling around to face Littlefoot, "my father has no confidence to gain!"

"If we just let this calm down over the next few days, keep bringing in trees-"

"No!" Cera barked suddenly. Hurt flashed across Littlefoot's face briefly, and she felt a moment of regret, but she had to go on, for Littlefoot's sake.

"Littlefoot, if my dad were anyone else, I would agree with you, but that's not how Threehorns think. If you leave him alone, his grudge will only grow stronger. The ones he's already convinced? They'll be watching for you to do nothing. The more you ignore them, the more they're convinced that my dad is right, and for all I hold against him now, I'll give him this. He's right about one thing: you could stand to be a little more proactive, think like a Threehorn, that sort of thing. So if this new responsibility matters to you, if you really want to prevent a rift, you'll let me handle this myself."

Their eyes met. Cera saw a budding leader, one faced with the first of many difficult decisions. It wouldn't be the hardest one he'd ever have to make, but she knew it weighed heavily on him nonetheless.

Littlefoot saw only a concerned friend. Not a beaten opponent, not one jealous of his new stature, just a concerned friend who truly believed her way was the best way for him to succeed. His mind screamed at him, urging him to keep her out of the fight. Before today, he would have insisted on it, but after hearing Cera's side, after watching her grow under the care of her father and the rest of her fellow Threehorns, he knew what the right decision to make was.

"Go," he said quietly, "you're right. I can't afford not to listen and learn. If you honestly think this is the best way, then I won't stop you. But please, be careful okay? I just don't want to see you end up at each other's throats."

Despite her anger, Cera managed to muster up a smile, and winked at her friend before turning to leave.

"He's my dad, not some Sharptooth, Littlefoot. What's the worst that can happen?"

Nevertheless, she was long gone before he had the chance to answer her.

I'm afraid not. I've combed the horizon with nary a Sovereign in sight.

But hark! Is that a Ducky123 I see?

[[Content Warning]]
Graphic and disturbing depictions of hunting and Sharptooth-related violence within.

A pack of five young Allosaurs pursues their quarry as they make the final hunt that will grant them adulthood in a mysterious pride, the Pride of Stone. Unbeknownst to them, one of their ranks knows a great deal more about the pride then he lets on, and he has his own plans...

Hearts of Stone

With a new herd and a new chance at life, Zaura must bring herself back to reality, while coping with the nightmarish murk of her fragmented memories. Meanwhile, Kotres prepares to move his herd out, and the concealed Sharpteeth must make a decision.

New Management

The hour has arrived. With Zaura missing and little time to spare, Fyn and the others must finally cross the river, and meet the elders' machinations head-on.

The Crossing

Alright, I've been doing some developing on my own time now, and I'm ready to post one of two characters I may play. Basically, whichever of these characters I choose will depend on what other people end up finalizing. I will post my second character idea, the Flyer, later, when his development is complete. This guy was an interesting one for me, as I set out from the start to create a highly flawed character, someone who could add an abrasive element to our little group.

Species: Ouranosaurus

Sex: Male

Coloration: Primarily a reddish brown "clay" color with a yellow sail, yellow dorsal stripe, and yellow, black and white markings around the face, snout, and belly.

Stance: Dual (both bipedal and quadrupedal)

Age: Nine

Name: Orsur

Backstory: Orsur lived with his family farther inland when the Great Wave came. While his feeding grounds were virtually untouched by the disaster, they did not stay that way for long. In the wake of the disaster came hundreds if not thousands of displaced dinosaurs, and while many of them were simply peaceful herds looking for refuge, Orsus's encounter was not so lucky. When a herd of Spikethumbs (Iguanadon) moved in towards their feeding grounds, Orsur's family welcomed them openly, but their hospitality was not met in kind. Perhaps unaccustomed to the ways of the inland grazers, the Spikethumbs contested the Sailbeaks (Ouranosaurus) for their territory. Their immediate, brutal assault split the herds apart, and it was during one of these surprise skirmishes that Orsur was separated from his family. He would later come to learn that his father had been killed defending his mother and siblings while they fled. Orsur yearns for the day he can return to the feeding grounds and retake the lands he believe belong to his kind, but that day is many years away, and for now, he must try to survive, wandering alone as he struggles to survive each new day.

Personality: Orsur is quick to anger, and more likely to approach a situation based on gut feeling rather than strategy. This has nearly gotten him killed on several occasions, and it is an attitude which only became present within him after his herd's displacement. Due to the influence of the Spikethumbs' actions, Orsur is at best distrustful and at worst spiteful towards those who have sought refuge inland after the Great Wave. He has little faith in anyone, save for other Sailbeaks, and his abrasive nature has kept him isolated from other wanderers.

I've been mulling over a few character options as of late. It sounds like Flyers will be a very popular character choice, so my Flyer characters are currently on the backburner. This leaves a few other options for me. I am currently developing a few characters, namely a Stygimoloch, Kentrosaurus, and Segnosaurus. That being said, in response to Sovereign's post, I could be convinced to be a swimmer, depending on the species. The "wow" factor plays a pretty big role in what sort of character I choose, and there are certainly a few interesting species of hadrosaurs out there.

To provide two examples of swimmers I'm fond of, I'd probably have to go with Charonosaurus and Ouranosaurus (which admittedly is not a hadrosaur, but is a dinosaur I could see living around large bodies of water).

But don't let that affect your choices. I'm certainly open to the possibility of being a sibling, and if the idea really does grow on me, as it may, then I'm willing to adapt.

And as mentioned before, all my characters, no matter who I go with, are expendable  

PS: Anybody planning to kill off their characters during the journey? Might add some spice to the RP, maybe close to the end?
 

Ducky... you tempt me  :

A few points from me:

-With regards to the event that brings them together, there are a few options we could address that were not addressed in the films. Firstly, there's the possibility of having a tsunami. The widespread devastation could account for many displaced dinosaurs searching for a new place to live. Next up, disease or any other sort of event that would require herds to part ways with some of their members. Nothing breaks up an organized unit faster than distrust and fear, so anything that breeds these things between herds would easily break them up. Heck, even overpopulation could result in some kids getting kicked out on their own. Then we come to predation. This one's not quite as plausible, but there is a chance that a particularly nasty group of Sharpteeth could cause the breakup of several herds in their territory. Finally, here's another, perhaps more hopeful option. What if the kids are simply chasing a legend? Now, this is similar in concept to the premise of the first film, but bear with me. Something that's always touched upon in the series is the cynicism of adults versus the innocence of childhood. If a group of youngsters was convinced something amazing was out there, it could make sense for them to want to seek it out. It puts a different feel on the whole story, and adds a feeling of hopefulness to contrast the darkness.

-What's the max age for a character? I'd considered doing a Kentrosaurus for a while, but I then realized that they'd basically be a Spike lookalike if said character had to be as young as the Gang. If we're shooting for that age range, then I'll have no problem reconsidering my character choice.

-We can be very creative with Sharpteeth here. I like where you're going, bringing new characters to the table, and that should extend to predators, too. And as Land Before Time is completely anachronistic with its character choices, we have a lot of carnivores to choose from. I'd love to see Carnotaurus (though it's already been featured in the series), Ceratosaurus, Charcharodontosaurus (maybe as a big bad, the jaws on that thing are TERRIFYING), Dromaeosaurus, etc. I mean, even some Flyers have the potential to be lethal to young dinosaurs. Our options should remain open here.

-If no one else is considering it, I'm actually really thinking about doing a Flyer, now that I think about it.

-We should consider setting this somewhere vastly different than the setting of the show, just to spice things up a touch. The show takes place in the Valley, obviously, but its setting outside of it is usually rather drab and "desert-y." Why not set this up north? Or perhaps on the coast somewhere? Thick rainforest is a cool option, too!