I don't own Ice Age characters. Only Jerry, his mate and Milo are mine, though I give you full freedom to do with them whatever you want.
***
„I'm tellin'ya, we're safe here, baby!" a large stag with an impressive pair of antlers assured his doe as they grazed on a particularly rich patch on grass, growing among large rocks on the very end of the valley. "This is still a forbidden area for him."
"Aren't we pushing it a bit too close, Jerry?" the doe asked, anxiously turning her ears in all directions. "Just a few more steps and we're out! We, we really should go back…"
"Cool off, baby", the stag puffed his chest. "I am here, right? I'm telling ya that the saber won't as much as pluck a hair from our pelts while we're still within the boundaries. Enjoy the dinner and save your energy; you're gonna need it later" and he nudged her in her side affectionately.
"But…other predators might…I'd rather be closer to the village, to the mammoths-"
"The tiger left his marks all across the valley, and further. No saber will dare trespass that, and all other predators stay clear of sabers as much as we do. Trust me, baby-"
"Er…Jerry?"
"And even if any predator would dare coming here, ya think I'd let 'em harm you?"
"Jerry-"
"I mean, I have these antlers for a good reason, baby, it's not all about animal magnetism for ya females-"
"Jerry!"
"-I'd like ta see a hunter who'd be so stupid to piss me out; I'd just go right between 'em eyes and-"
"Jerry!"
"-I mean, what's bigger, my antlers, or those two little teeth he has? Size does matter, you know-"
But his words were spoken to thin air, since his likely-to-be-mate had sprinted away as fast as her long legs would carry her, wide eyed, dust raising behind her.
"No, no, wait! I didn't mean it that way…oh, crap…well…females. Riddle me that…" he sighed irritably and, knowing better than pursuing an unwilling mate, he turned back to the patch of grass. At least he still had dinner.
And he found himself facing a large, tawny-and-white feline face, long sabers and all, staring at him with unfamiliar yellowish- green eyes.
It took several seconds for realization to hit him; several seconds in which the hunter was staring at him with glassy, bloodshot eyes, and any mocking remark Jerry had saved for Diego got stopped short somewhere between his brain and his tongue.
"AAAAHHHH!!!!" he bleated, jumping back so vigorously that he lost footage, slipped and hit a large boulder with his back, while the large cat continued to stare; the deer sprang back to his hooves and, not bothering to wonder why he wasn't dead already, he ran away, towards the village, with speed that was bound to have him overrun his doe; "THAT'S NOT HIM!!! HELP! HEEEELP!!! RUN! MANNY!!! SABERS ATTACK!!!"
The saber looked after him. That stag would have made a great meal. But it no longer concerned Oscar. Those two didn't need to worry. It wasn't prey he was looking for now.
The big predator dragged himself further among the rocks, with unsteady, drunken, slow steps. His breathing was shallow, fast and maddeningly painful. The right side of his wide chest was giving him hell with every breath; try as he might, he couldn't breathe as shallow as his chest would have liked it. The fact that he was shaking with fever didn't help matters one bit; every bone in his body was aching, every muscle burning, his eyesight long gone all patchy and blurry, and he was only moving on driven by his considerable willpower. He couldn't rest here; he had this urge, as strong and demanding as his unquenchable thirst had been lately; the urge to find some secluded, quiet, dark and hidden place. That was the only thing that kept Oscar moving. To find a place dark and hidden. Yes. That was what he needed to find.
When flood had hit the lands, Oscar got separated from Zeke and Lenny. Trying not to drown, he'd held onto a large branch, but he could do nothing about the current of water carrying both him and his branch dangerously fast towards rocky cliffs. He hit the rock hard with his right chest and the branch slammed into him, making him- quite literally- stuck between a rock and a hard place. He didn't let go of the branch, but the searing pain he felt was strong enough for him to realize that this would be no ordinary bump. The blood he coughed up confirmed that.
The flood didn't last, but his problems had only just started.
The pain didn't subside -on the contrary; it only got worse with each passing day; it wouldn't let him breathe, let alone hunt. At first, there were plenty of carcasses of animals that weren't lucky enough to survive the flood for him to feed upon, but he wasn't the only scavenger around, and the food supply soon became short for him. And then the fever started to shake him, making his broken ribs feel like something was grinding his chest into shards, and in his bouts of agonizingly painful coughing, he no more came up only with blood, but with whitish-yellow pus as well. And the thirst was killing him. Puddles of water were everywhere, but it seemed that no amount of water could satisfy his raw, parched throat.
When he first started having hallucinations- namely, his dead mate flashing her toothy, white smile before him, and disappearing as soon as he'd blinked- he felt that the time came for him to move his butt away from the general audience. Especially from the three vultures that took an irritating habit of following his slow progress during the past couple of days.
Now he was crawling among the huge rocks, still followed by the vultures' ominous eyes, and searched for a place that would suit him, someplace he could lay himself down and rest without the nuisance of prying eyes and hungry beaks.
And he found it; a dark, narrow hole among the rocks, a nice, secluded place, just enough for him to crawl into, to lie on his injured side- it hurt less when he kept it at least partially immobilized between the ground and his own body weight- and to keep having hallucinations about his mate, their many cubs, their old pack…
He sighed, resting his too- warm head against the cool stone surface. Yes, this was a place dark and hidden enough; it would do.
The vultures settled themselves on a dry tree nearby. Silent and waiting.
