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OOC: I am so, SO sorry for not posting in here sooner.
I originally delayed posting this to give FlipperBoidSkua a chance to post first, but with my sporadic activity on the GOF, I haven’t been keeping track of this RP as well as I should have. This entry was difficult for me to write, so sorry if it is awkward in any way.
)
Pangaea’s heart had performed a remarkable impression of a terminally malfunctioning elevator the instant he heard the familiar blaring voice of Mr. Threehorn. He had been so close to smoothing over the egg stealer situation with Rebecca, when the two worst possible dinosaurs had stumbled across the scene: the grown-up who was least likely to show the egg stealers any mercy, and the youngster who had nearly been killed by them the last time they were here.
Apparently it doesn’t matter if I’m in a completely different time period in a completely different universe in a completely different body; Murphy’s law still finds me, he thought sourly.
Panicking, Pangaea had frozen up, unsure of what to say or how to act to avert the catastrophe he had seen coming. To his immense gratitude, however, Littlefoot himself had intervened (Pangaea marveled at the young longneck’s capacity for forgiveness). Not only had he successfully stopped Mr. Threehorn from attacking the egg stealers outright, but it appeared that he had succeeded in swaying him to agree to simply escort the egg stealers out of the valley.
Unfortunately, Murphy’s law was still at large, and apparently adamant about not letting Pangaea get off that easy. Even though both egg stealers had been visibly alarmed by Mr. Threehorn’s arrival, the sight of Littlefoot apparently sparked enough vengeful rage within Ozzy to temporarily enfog any thoughts of fear or self-preservation (or, for that matter, sensibility). “Wait a minute,” Ozzy began, glowering at Littlefoot, “you’re the little twig-teether who cost us our lunch and nearly our lives the last time we were here!” He moved as if to take a threatening step towards Littlefoot. “Why, I oughta…”
A red blur raced out in front of him. “DON’T. YOU. DARE!” Pangaea screeched at the top of his lungs. Ozzy drew back in surprise, clearly not expecting such an outburst from the little red featherball.
Pangaea continued in a voice that was lower, but still unrelentingly stern. “Whether I’m involved or not, you aren’t going anywhere in one piece if you don’t treat the dinosaurs in this valley with respect. That means don’t insult them, attack them, threaten them, lose your temper, or try to get away. And you certainly won’t be making things any better for yourself by holding a petty grudge over some stupid ancient misunderstanding whichóif I may speak franklyówas entirely your own fault! You stole an egg from one of his friends’ families, they defended it just like any other parent or older sibling would, and you tried to kill them just for taking your lunch. The fact that you failed is the only reason you’ve been getting as much compassion as you have. So if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay put, be polite, and maybe even think about apologizing.”
Ozzy appeared every bit as flabbergasted as Pangaea would have expected after such an admonishment, and the red glider braced himself for an indignant response from the temperamental egg stealer. But before Ozzy could so much as formulate a syllable, Strutówho, in contrast to his brother, had appeared completely and consistently terrified from the first moment Mr. Threehorn entered the sceneóspoke up. Cringing as if anticipating a blow, his eyelids squeezed shut and his fists clenched close to his body, he cried out, “I’m sorry for suggesting to throw you off the Great Wall!” He proceeded to collapse face-first to the ground, planting his beak in the soil.
Pangaea’s bamboozled stare lingered on the fallen egg stealer for several seconds. At some point his eye twitched. He wasn’t sure whether Strut had fainted, or was just being overly dramatic. Either way, his apology had sounded surprisingly sincere.
“Uh…very good, Strut,” Pangaea finally said, managing an approvingóif strainedósmile. He turned to Ozzy, who looked equally bewildered. “See? Why can’t you be more like that?”
Ozzy shot a chilling glare at Pangaea, but in the face of the circumstances, he grudgingly relented. “Fine,” he snarled. With overwhelming reluctance, Ozzy turned in Littlefoot’s direction, his gaze fixed on what must have been a remarkably interesting pebble on the ground, and muttered an almost imperceptible apology. “
[size0]I’m sorry.”
“C’mon, you can do better than that,” Pangaea chided, elbowing Ozzy’s ankle.
Grumbling something probably unrepeatable under his breath, Ozzy’s eyes shifted briefly upward, making contact with Littlefoot’s for a split second. “
I’m sorry,” he growled through a gritted beak.
Guess that’ll have to do, Pangaea thought. He brought his hands together and interwove his fingers, fidgeting them as he was apt to do when nervous or contemplative. “Um…okay, if we’re all good now, there’s a couple more quick things I wanted to do before we started on our way. Guido, could you find me some big, long, narrow leavesóthe kind you could wrap around somethingóand bring them to me, please?”
“Uh, sure,” Guido responded compliantly, sounding a bit puzzled at the odd request. He immediately scurried up a nearby tree, and quickly located a plant with leaves matching Pangaea’s specifications.
“Thanks,” Pangaea called after Guido. Now he turned to Sparky. “Um, Sparky, when Guido gets back with the leaves, do you suppose you could poke some holes in a tree trunk with those claws of yours and get me some sap?”
