Good evening, everyone! This is my offering for Sovereign's (Keijo6) special prompt from winning last month's Gang of Five prompt challenge. As a special bonus, both Fyn (Nimbus) and I have made interconnected tales for this challenge, so if you enjoy this tale I invite you to enjoy reading Cera's take on the same story in Perspectives: Cera. The prompt we are responding to is:

"Do a story about one of the members of the Gang living their lives before the Great Earthshake. It can be a lesson, a normal day or a little adventure but the story should be from a perspective of one of the Five dealing with the challenges of the Great Migration."

Perspectives - Littlefoot

"Threehorns never play with longnecks!"

Despite his befuddlement at the sudden aggression from his new friend and her intimidating father, he did not resist as his mother begin to lift him by the tail. Within moments he saw the ground fall below him as the larger sauropod took him skyward, out of harm's way. From his vantage point, dangling from her mouth, he did not see the knowing glance between the two parents, or the threehorns begin to walk away in parting, but as soon as he was placed on his mother's back he made his thoughts known.

"Mother, what's a long-neck?"

It was not the most obvious starting point, and it really wasn't his major concern, but for some reason the mentioning of a "longneck" caught his attention. Maybe if the threehorn couldn't play with him then this mysterious "longneck" would be welcome to play?

"Why, that's what we are, dear."

"Oh."

In his five short years of life he had mainly kept to his herd, just him, his mother, and his grandparents. He had never considered that all of these odd dinosaurs they told him about or seen from afar might have given his kind a name. Though, the more he thought about it, the name did make sense. They did have rather long necks, compared to the short-necks. His thoughts trailed off after a few seconds before another question entered his mind. A question which more closely reflected his angst.

"Well, why can't I play with that threehorn?" He laughed as he recalled the Threehorn's antics, "We were having fun!"

"We all keep to our own kind- The three-horns, the spiketails, the swimmers, the fliers. We never do anything together."

Despite his youth, Littlefoot knew a deflection when he heard one. His mother had given him a "what" answer, but she did not answer the "why". Maybe she didn't hear him?

'Why?"

"Well, because we're different," came her unsatisfactory answer, "It's always been that way."

She did not mishear, that much was obvious; clearly she simply didn't want to answer. This would not dissuade the little longneck, however.

"Well, why?"

She laughed, "Oh, don't worry so much. When we reach the Great Valley, there will be many, many longnecks for you to play with."

Littlefoot sighed. Regardless of why the different herds were separate, it would be nice to play with others of his kind. Longnecks, he reminded himself in his mind, that is what the others call us.

"I wish we were there now."

His mother's voice almost seemed far-away as she answered, "It's a long way-Past the rock that looks like a long-neck, the mountains that burn. Still a long way, but we'll get there."

Littlefoot could only hope that she was right.

The little longneck twitched as the unwelcome light of the Bright Circle appeared through the clouds, making his previously cool resting spot rapidly rise in temperature. This was not what made him open his eyes, however.

"Mother…"

Littlefoot's eyes opened groggily as he noticed the lack of warm flash underneath his body. In its place was the familiar sting of the scorched ground. It was only when he heard his mother's thunderous snore to his side that he relaxed.

"Looks like someone just woke up from a nap."

Littlefoot turned towards the familiar kind voice of his grandfather. His words had come across as a whisper, but had echoed like a distant thunderstorm. The little longneck prepared to speak when the sudden snore of his mother again alerted him to the fact that she was slumbering. As a result he slowly walked to his grandfather as his mother and grandmother slept peacefully.

"Grandpa? Are we staying here?" Littlefoot looked around, "And where is here?"

This earned a hearty chuckle from the elder longneck as he looked out in the distance with his massive neck.

"We might stay here for the night, Littlefoot, but we are not staying here. As for where this is… well it is still the Mysterious Beyond, but at least there is a stream here."

"A stream?!" Littlefoot exclaimed until his grandmother's snore again alerted him to the fact that his elders were sleeping. His next words were quieter, "I am thirsty…"

As the little longneck felt the inside of his dry mouth with his tongue he could remember just how long ago it has been since he had a proper drink.

The elderly longneck nodded as he looked towards the stream, "We figured as much, little one. Perhaps you could get a drink and go play while your mother sleeps... just don't go too far. My neck has limits, you know?" Grandpa Longneck chuckled at his own joke.

This sounded like a perfectly sensible idea to the young longneck, "Great! Maybe I can find a new friend again, like that threehorn!"

As Littlefoot prepared to bound off he did not notice as his grandfather's expression became one of concern. Taking one more look to make sure that his mate was soundly asleep, he spoke to his grandson once more.

"Littlefoot?"

The little longneck stopped. He knew that voice… that was the voice that usually came before him being corrected about something. But what could he have done wrong here? Reluctantly he turned around.

"Yes, Grandpa?"

The elder sighed. To explain to a child how things should be, and to explain how they actually are, were two totally different things.

"Let me tell you a story."

Parched mouth or not, Littlefoot needed no further prompting once the subject of a story was brought up. The stories that his grandparents often told about life when they were his age were always engrossing. To hear about lands lush with green, and many longnecks everywhere… it was like something out of a good sleep story. As it was the little longneck had never seen another child of his kind ever since he had been hatched.

In fact, Cera had been one of the few children of another kind he had ever seen.

Seeing that he had the little sauropod's attention, Grandpa Longneck began his tale, "It all began back before the Mountains darkened the sky, before the streams dried and the herds thinned, before the time of changes, and before I met my Time of Great Growing; back when I was around your age, still a small youngling…"

Littlefoot listened, mesmerized. It was still hard for him to believe that his mother and his grandparents could have been anything else but the wise, massive sauropods that he saw today. But if they said that they had been his age once then that must have been true…

"Back in those days I was part of a small herd, though by no means as small as ours," he laughed but it was a subdued laugh, "and we resided in a small valley in the shadows of the Four Mountains. It was there that I and my siblings were hatched. Though my poor mother sometimes had difficulty watching us all. As we have found with you, sometimes watching one child can be a lot to handle…"

His grandfather nuzzled him, as Littlefoot laughed.

"…but to watch twelve little ones was a monumental task for even the best of mothers. And your Great-Grandmother was certainly among the best. Because of her seven of us made it to our Time of Great Growing, four of us sadly falling to the coughing sickness."

Littlefoot looked down at this. He remembered vaguely his experience with the coughing sickness, and how he had felt so warm even though it was in the middle of a Cold Time. The days stretched on like an endless sleep story… until suddenly he began to recover. Though concept of death was still foreign to his personal experience, Littlefoot had begun to realize how close he had come. It seemed that his grandfather's siblings were not so lucky.

"But it is the one that did not fall to the sickness that I want to tell you about today, little one. Because what happened to him is something that I want you to make sure that you avoid."

Littlefoot was now quite curious, "What happened?"

His grandfather raised his neck further, as if he were looking at something in the distance. As if he were looking for a lost friend that was just out of sight.

"Gatus was like me in many ways at that age. A playful boy, but also quite a source of trouble when it came to being back at the nest in time for sleep. He would often lead us on adventures in those young days… from trying to find tinysauruses that supposedly existed in the mountains, to trying to find sweet bubbles by the streams. Many of my earliest memories involve him in some way. But, sadly, he never learned the lesson that the rest of us learned before it was too late. That was because he was the one who forced us to learn that hard lesson."

"It all began one fine morning, before the Bright Circle had even risen. I felt Gatus nudge my side…"

"Hmmm… What is it Gatus, the Bright Circle is still asleep and I think it has a good idea."

The playful brown longneck rolled his eyes, "Oh don't be lazy-neck, Baku! I saw it again."

By this time Baku was quite ready to return to his slumber, even faking a snore in the hopes that Gatus would take the hint. As soon as he felt a small tail cover his nostrils playfully, he gave up his attempt. As soon as Gatus put his mind up to something there was little that could dissuade him.

"Saw what?" Baku groaned as he forced himself off, shaking the morning dew off of his extremities.

"The all-necks!" Gatus beamed, "Which means that someone owes me their share of the sweet bubbles today…"

Baku glared at his brother, "And you think I am going to take your word for it? Show me these supposed all-necks, Gatus."

The elderly longneck shook his head, "But much to my amazement the all-necks, as we children called them then, were right where Gatus had indicated. Several small belly-sliders, as they are actually called, slithered on the bare rocks in the shadows of the Four Mountains. I was quite prepared to concede my sweet bubbles, but Gatus just couldn't let it stop there. This was something new… something exciting… he just had to find out more…"

"I don't think that they can talk."

As if in response to Gatus's observation, the larger of the belly sliders began to raise its head skyward, its imposing body now becoming visible. Even Gatus could not mistake this for something other than a threat display.

He reared back just in time to avoid any further escalation as the belly slider hissed at him.

"Well good job, Gatus. I don't know what it just said, but I don't think it is happy with you."

Gatus smirked at his brother, "Oh you are just bitter because you lost our bet! But I wonder why Momma never really told us about these."

Baku shrugged with his neck, "Maybe she has never seen them before?"

Gatus rolled his eyes as he looked back at his brother, momentarily taking his eyes off of the snakes, "Oh come on, Mom has seen everything! I am sure that…"

What happened next would forever be etched into Grandpa Longneck's mind even though it only took a few seconds. Unknown to the small sauropods, the belly sliders they could see where only the juveniles of a much larger snake. In the end Gatus never saw the large snake in the trees until it was too late. In one swift motion it fell from the tree and wrapped itself around the small sauropod, preventing him from even letting out more than a panicked squeak. Within moments his brother's eyes bulged as he was slowly suffocated by the massive predator. The frightened stare of his brother as his life left him was something that would forever remain in the small sauropod's mind.

The time of adventures had come to an end.

Grandpa Longneck shivered. He had avoided giving his small grandson any of the gruesome details in his retelling, but that did not stop the memories from playing in his mind.

"Later, once we had mourned brave Gatus, our mother explained to us what those were. They were belly sliders, and though they often looked harmless and were quite small, some could act like sharpteeth when it came to younglings. This was where Gatus's bravery and curiosity had led, and we all learned a hard lesson that day: A longneck does not need to be afraid of everything, but he does need to be cautious; never greet a new situation until you learn more about it."

To say that Littlefoot was shocked into silence would be an understatement. He had only seen a belly slider once, and had wondered why his grandparents had quickly stomped on it before it could get closer to him. Now he knew the answer. Sometimes danger came from even the least likely places.

"This is why we want you to be careful about playing with other kinds, Littlefoot. You are still young and learning, but sometimes life does not give us time to learn all of the lessons that we need. This is why we have parents and grandparents who can help us learn these things. Do you understand?"

Littlefoot nodded. "But… the threehorn did not seem like a belly slider. She had more than just a neck. Her dad was scary though."

Grandpa Longneck could only chuckle at his grandson's innocence. He still had much to learn about the ways of the world and his experienced would harden his mind, but he knew that his grandson's heart was pure.

"Well, just remember to let us know if you see any others, okay? It is better to watch from afar than to put yourself in potential danger," Grandpa Longneck asked before his grandson nodded in agreement, "But I think a certain little longneck might want to get a drink of water and play before his mother wakes up… we have a long journey ahead of us."

Littlefoot needed no further prompting as he bounded off towards the steam. It was as if the horrors of the story had not even reached his awareness. For some reason this made the elder smile.

He had no idea how wrong he was.

"A longneck does not need to be afraid of everything, but he does need to be cautious; never greet a new situation until you learn more about it."

His grandfather's voice echoed in the longneck's head as he sniffed around the dried bushes, looking for anything to do. He would have loved to play with that threehorn, but his elder's wise words did more than even his mother's to instill a sense of caution. But, as was common with the mind of a young child, mischief soon made itself known in the form of a question.

I can't play with her, but maybe I can watch her? After all, Grandpa said that I should learn more about stuff before I see stuff.

The longneck's face turned from one of speculation to one of determination. Yes… that was exactly what he was going to do.

Placing his head towards the ground in the best attempt at hiding his body that he could muster, he proceeded into the bushes, seeing if he could find the mysterious threehorn once more.

As he scurried through the bushes, or rather, what was left of their desiccated husks, he allowed his thoughts to turn to the threehorn once more. She certainly acted tough, but Littlefoot could sense that she was a kid like him. How threatening could she be?

But that was when a terrifying thought came to him: the snake in his Grandpa's story appeared friendly as well. But that did not save his childhood friend…

Littlefoot did not realize that he had hunkered down even further until his neck nearly collided with a small rock. It was only then that he decided to stick his head out of the bushes in order to see if he could find a sign of the elusive threehorn. What greeted his eyes instead was something no less interesting.

Water!

He rose from his hiding spot and proceeded to run towards the small stream, before suddenly skidding to a halt, remembering his self-imposed mission. He could not find the threehorn if she found him first… and what could happen to him if that happened?

Against his will he forced himself back into the bushes, deciding to follow the stream. Perhaps the threehorn would have the same idea as him and drink without looking first? If so then he could do his watching, just like his Grandpa had said.

Littlefoot did not let the fact that his Grandfather had said nothing specifically about spying on threehorns dissuade him from his reasoning. How else was he supposed to learn about threehorns except by watching them?

He kept his body flush with the dessicated bushes until he heard something in the distance. Something that sounded like an agitated sigh.

He hunkered down. He had found her.

He peered over the dried remains of a bush as he took a good look at the yellow threehorn. This was not the prideful spitfire that he had seen on display earlier on this day, but rather a brooding collection of horns and angst. How could something change so profoundly.

Just like the snake...

"It's not fair!"

Littlefoot fought against every instinct as the threehorn called out in rage and kicked a pebble into the water, causing a minor splash before sinking out of sight. This was true anger. Littlefoot had never really seen this before, and as such it both excited and terrified him. Moving his neck to catch a better view, he finally decided to step out into the tall grass, using their mighty stalks as his hiding place. It was right then that the threehorn turned around.

Littlefoot's heart skipped a beat. Had she seen him?

He didn't have to wait long for his answer as the threehorn reared back and began to paw at the ground, trying her best to look intimidating.

"Show yourself!"

Littlefoot hesitated, for a moment unsure of what to do. Should he run? Should he obey the threehorn's command? It was only with reluctance that he stepped through the grass, his face an impassive mask.

"You…" the threehorn whispered, grating her teeth together. In that moment Littlefoot wondered if he had made the wrong decision. What if this threehorn was like the snake, appearing to be friendly one moment and then vicious the next?

"I thought I told you- Threehorns never play with Longnecks! Go back to your own kind before I… before I…." Cera sighed, pawing weakly at the ground. "Just go away."

Now this was not like the snake in Grandpa's story. Behind this anger was something else… something the small longneck couldn't quite place. As a result he stayed where he was, looking at her with concern.

"Are you alright?"

"No!" Cera barked, "and I won't be alright until you're long gone! My daddy warned me about you. I know what you are. I know what you can do." She lowered her head, presenting her single horn to Littlefoot in an aggressive display. "But if you think you can hurt me, I'd like to see you try."

Littlefoot looked at the threehorn with a befuddled expression, for a moment not thinking that he had heard her correctly. This only lasted a few seconds, however, before the reality of the words set in and he reacted the only way that he could.

He laughed.

As he laughed at the absurdity of the threehorn's paranoia, he did not notice the hint of fear on her features. The uncertainty about how to proceed… about his intentions.

"I know what you're doing!" Cera yelled, her voice noticeably shaking, "and it's not working! I won't fall for your tricks."

It was the shaking voice that alerted Littlefoot that something was off. There was real fear here. Though, the longneck deduced, the threehorn probably would never admit it.

"How could I hurt you? You're the one with a horn sticking out of your face," Littlefoot struggled to bring his giggles under control, "I just have this long neck."

As if to demonstrate he tilted his head at an odd angle, as if he were looking at her while facing the other direction, and then stuck out his tongue in a poor replication of her antics earlier when he had been carried away by his mother. Though any onlooker would agree that Littlefoot couldn't scare a stingless buzzer.

"Well you're right about that. I am the one with the horn. Maybe you should be scared of me," she puffed, "my daddy told me my horn is the sharpest out of all the kids in my herd, you know." As she said this, she tried moving her head around to follow the Longneck's strange contortions to absolutely no avail.

Littlefoot actually felt relieved to see some of the prideful arrogance back in the threehorn. It was so different than the melancholy that was there before. But then again the words of his Grandpa echoed in his mind: beware of things that do not appear to be what they are. The threehorn had acted all scared, and now was acting confident and poised. Could it have been an act? Just like the snake?

He maintained his distance, merely giving her a smile. Cera returned the gesture with something that could only be described as a half-grimace.

"Now tell me why you're following me. Don't make me show you just how sharp my horn is." There was less anger in her voice now, but the threat was still clear.

Littlefoot forced himself to stand tall, but he could not hide a slight tremble in his neck, "I-I was just watching. My Grandpa said I should look at things before meeting them."

"Watching me, huh? Yeah, right. My daddy said that I shouldn't trust anyone. Not even a little longneck like you." The threehorn's eyes went wide for a moment, as if she had come to some realization, "and you shouldn't have snuck up on me like that. It's not nice."

Littlefoot considered this for a few moments. The threehorn did have a point. What would he have done if he thought something was staring at him in the bushes?

"Well… um…" he began, trying to think of how to explain himself. He eventually decided to walk on over to the stream, "Well… I was just going to get a drink before I saw you along."

He took a deep drink from the stream as if to punctuate his point.

The threehorn did not respond immediately, keeping her distance from the longneck. When she finally did speak her voice sounded more resigned than accusatory.

"Fine. So get your drink and move along. We're not supposed to be talking to each other, remember?"

Upon again hearing the threehorn's bossy demeanor, he couldn't help but feel challenged in some way. As if the threehorn and him were playing a game where getting the last word in would be a loss.

Littlefoot couldn't help himself. Upon hearing the arrogant response of the threehorn, he raised his tail into the air and hit a pebble with all of his might, sending it skipping twice before it sank into the water.

His only reply to her words was to give her a cheeky smile. That is how you skip a stone, threehorn!

Littlefoot resisted the urge to laugh as the threehorn looked at him in shock, "How did you do that?"

Littlefoot shrugged, a playful glint in his eyes, "I thought we weren't supposed to talk to one another, remember?"

Cera turned up her nose with a resounding "hmph."

"I'm not talking to you. I'm…" she paused, as if looking for the right words, "I'm talking beside you… to... the stream. You know. Just wondering aloud."

Littlefoot laughed at the threehorn's obvious attempt to go around her father's rules. It was so transparent as if to invite mockery. In response he pretended to talk to his own reflection in the stream.

"What do you think, Reflection? Should we tell her how we beat her at skipping the rock?"

He could not see the threehorn's reaction, but he did hear her response.

"What kind of a dummy talks to his own reflection! Just tell me how you skipped the rock!"

The threehorn stopped, quickly shutting her mouth as both dinosaurs made eye contact. Littlefoot could only smile as he had won this round. Taking his time, he walked over to a nearby rock, being careful to maintain his distance as per his self-imposed rule. Then raising his tail again, he spoke.

"You have to hit it with the tip," he then whipped his tail as he had done before, sending the stone skipping clear across to the other end of the stream. Upon seeing his feat, he gave Cera an encouraging smile.

Your turn.

Littlefoot could only watch with amusement as the threehorn tried to find a suitable rock while at the same time not taking her eyes off of the longneck. It was as if she were searching for food but had to also keep an eye on some sharptooth in the distance. It would not be for many seasons that he would truly understand why that felt so very wrong. Eventually, however she found a somewhat smooth rock, a bit jagged on one end. As she moved it into position she raised her tail and, only for a moment, kept her attention on the rock as she struck it.

And then her eyes snapped back to him.

Littlefoot was not looking at the threehorn at the moment, however, as he watched the stone skip on the water before falling into its murky depths.

"Nice!" Littlefoot praised as he sized up another pebble. This was a lot more fun with someone else to compete with. Though as soon as he heard her response…

"Hey, that's pretty neat! I bet that's farther than anyone else has ever skipped a rock."

…he did have to avoid rolling his eyes. After all, he had a better response than words for that. Slapping his tail against a particularly smooth stone, he sent it sailing across the water, going in front of the threehorn as it did so. Now it was Littlefoot's turn to taunt her.

"Whatever," the threehorn scoffed, "you're just lucky." She set up her first stone from her small pile and smacked it. The rock wobbled before sinking, having not skipped even once.

Luckily for her, however, the longneck was no longer watching her attempt as he attempted to up the ante and strike an even larger stone into the stream. Such a heavier weight would require more force, and as such he raised his tail and prepared himself to strike the stone with all of his might. With a final deep breath he prepared himself for the impact…

Only to feel himself collapse onto the ground, his hindquarters stinging fiercely. The longneck had missed his target and fallen over. He had taunted the threehorn and now gravity had taunted him.

The laughter of the threehorn was contagious, despite also being infuriating. The entire situation was so absurd that Littlefoot couldn't help but to laugh, not matter whatever damage his sense of pride might have taken. Within moments both dinosaurs were on the ground, laughing hysterically at the spectacle.

It was a few moments later that the threehorn returned to her pile of stones and began to speak again.

"You know, you're not what my daddy said you'd be like."

Littlefoot ignored the stinging sensation in his flank as he sized up another pebble, seeking to redeem himself. "What did your dad say I was like?"

"He said Longnecks were stuck-up, untrustworthy know-it-alls. But you don't seem like that. Not right now, anyway."

Littlefoot nodded at her words as he hit another pebble, sending it skipping twice. Based upon her reactions thus far it did not surprise him that she had some odd views on longnecks. "And you don't seem like the belly slider in my Grandpa's story."

"Belly Slider?" The threehorn looked insulted by this insinuation. "Of course I'm not like a belly slider. What a dumb thing to say."

Littlefoot felt compelled to explain, "Well… his friends tried to play with it and… um… he got eaten."

"Oh," the threehorn seemed stunned for a moment, "So you thought… you thought I was someone that looked nice, but wasn't nice inside. I think I get it. My daddy… My daddy actually said something like that to me, too."

Littlefoot stopped looking for more stones as he focused all of his attention on the threehorn. She was acting strange, like she had when he had first began to watch her… but now he knew why she was acting this way.

That was why he didn't mind that she was only a few body-lengths away. As she realized it, Cera tensed.

But would he be okay with her being any closer? His mother had told him that each kind kept to themselves. And mother had never been wrong before…

Without thinking about it Littlefoot expanded the distance between himself and the threehorn ever so slightly. Seeing this, the Threehorn relaxed again.

That was when a familiar booming voice made itself known.

"Cera? Cera! It's time to come back."

The threehorn seemed torn for a moment, as if pulled between her duties and her wants. Littlefoot could see that it looked similar to the distress she was under when he first saw her, but now it had a different context. When she finally did speak her voice sounded resigned.

"I should go," she said quietly, "that's my daddy calling."

Littlefoot felt a pang of disappointment at this, but also a sense of resolution. If what his mother and grandfather had said was true, then perhaps this was for the best? He forced a smile on his face as she gave her a nod, reminiscent of the respectful nod his mother and the threehorn had shared earlier in the day.

"So the name's Cera?"

The threehorn nodded affirmatively.

"Yeah. How about you?"

"Littlefoot," he answered simply, keeping his gaze upon her.

"Littlefoot…" her voice trailed off as she nodded. "That's a nice name. I-"

"Cera!"

Littlefoot watched as the threehorn, Cera, looked out in the direction where her father's voice had echoed. In an instant her somewhat passive demeanor changed into the assertive threehorn that he had seen before. The time for them to merely be children had again passed; now it was time to again be of different herds, different paths.

"It was nice to meet you, Littlefoot, and I hope you and your herd finds what they're looking for," the threehorn paused for a moment, a second of uncertainty passing through her features, "but I think we should stay with our own kind. It's what our parents would want."

Littlefoot frowned at this but nodded nonetheless, trying to ignore the feeling of utter wrongness washing over him, "I hope that you find what you are looking for too. Goodbye, Cera."

The longneck watched the threehorn disappear from view for several moments as her presence left his sight and hearing. In the end he was left alone with the grass and stones all around him, an endless area of play for one. The only child of his herd. As he prepared to turn back towards his herd once more, he shivered at the previously unknown feeling of loss.

He hoped that was a feeling that he would never have to feel again.