True to his word, Guido had found Pangaea a stand of treesweet trees heavy with ripe yellow fruit. Pangaea, having not eaten all day, had eagerly clambered up one of the trunks, knocked down several tree sweets, and parachuted back down to the ground using his feathered wings. He was now furiously tearing into one of the juicy, pear-like fruits.
“Wow!” he exclaimed, “You guys don’t call these things ëtree sweets’ for nothing!”
Guido shrugged. “Well, uh...I’m glad you like them. I’ve tried them myself before, and I...I don’t like them that much.”
“It’s a matter of personal taste, I guess,” Pangaea said, taking another bite out of the tree sweet. The physical brain his mind inhabited in this form had apparently come equipped with some basic dinosaur instincts, and the appropriate wiring to control his Microraptor body, but Pangaea’s conscious thought processes had remained unchanged from those of his human incarnation, and that evidently included his personal dietary paradigms.
“Maybe I’ll eat something, too,” Guido said, as he began searching for crawlers.
It was then that Pangaea and Guido had heard Amy call to them, and looked to see her approaching.
“Oh! Hi, uh...Amy!” Pangaea called, waving. (He had a terrible memory for names, and it took him a moment to remember hers.) “Actually, we’re eating right now. Do you want to come join us?”
--------------------------------------------------
Screech licked his chops at Red Claw’s mention of a feast. “Sounds good to me,” he hissed, “Let’s go, Thud!”
