What's up guys?

Time for another chapter of the story. This one is comparatively short as opposed to most of the ones we've published so far and future chapters. But as always, it serves its purpose well. Sometimes, short and sweet is the best way to emphasize a point.

Not much else to comment. Thank you to all who are still keeping an interest in this fic, Rhombus and I are hoping that by the end, it will definitely stand on its own.

When we last left off, the gang were going through the uncomfortable process of eating unhatched eggs, the parents were prevented from looking for their children by a vicious raptor pack, and Rinkus and Sierra were up to no good.

Enjoy! And as always, leave a review to let us know what you think!

Chapter 11. A Wonderful, Awful Idea

"Most of the bad guys in the real world don't know that they are bad guys. You don't get a flashing warning sign that you're about to damn yourself. It sneaks up on you when you aren't looking." -Jim Butcher

"They are our children!"

"And what if they are alive? If they turned into sharpteeth then that means a curse… or a sickness."

Concerned mutterings rang out from the assembled multitude as the parents tried to talk sense into them, but the dinosaurs were far beyond reason at this point.

"If the kids have the sharptooth sickness, then maybe they have it!"

"Yeah!"

Bron tried to calm them. "Now wait one momen…"

"We should chase them out before…"

"If they had the sickness then they would have already changed… but we can't have them going off and catching it."

"You all are the biggest bunch of fools I ever saw," growled Topps. "'Sharptooth sickness' what a load of nonsense. There's no such thing."

"Then a curse then?" A domehead retorted. "Your children being so much like sharpteeth that the Bright Circle decided to right what was wrong? In any case your children should be left to their fate."

"How dare you!" Grandpa Longneck exclaimed in a rare show of anger. "After all that our children have done for us…"

The murmuring of the crowd grew louder. The sudden impulse to chase out the sickness had decipated, but the fear of it remained.

"Our children are neither sick nor cursed," Susa Duckbill said emphatically. "Grandpa Longneck is right. After all they've done for our community, you would so willingly toss them aside?"

"But we have our own children to be concerned about!" A swimmer exclaimed.

"We thought that you all were upset and that the little ones were dead… but if they were those sharpteeth then we have to think about those who can still be saved." A threehorn female gulped nervously. "We don't want to lose any more children to whatever this is!"

"Yeah! Sickness or curse, we don't want this to spread!" A domehead agreed.

The roars and grunts of agreements from the other residents were deafening as the valley grew to a consensus in mere seconds. It was at that moment that the parents knew that they had lost the argument.

"Will you not let us go after our own?" Bron asked. "Sharpteeth or not, they are our children. My herd is not bound to these lands."

A male spiketail stepped forward.

"Do as you wish, longneck. But they cannot," he indicated the rest of the parents. "Whatever is going on, it is simply too dangerous for them to venture out into the beyond and endanger the rest of us."

Bron looked back at the other parents as he felt his spirits fall. For he knew that he could not risk his entire herd, and all of their children, for the sake of his son. In any event if he did so he knew that his herd would be denied the valley, and with it a badly needed sanctuary on the long migrations. If they were concerned about any 'sickness' or 'curse' then they would not let longnecks bring it upon the valley either.

He would have to play the long game. But would Littlefoot have that much time?

"Do not try to look for your sharpteeth children again," the Spiketail warned. The rest of the valley nodded in agreement.

And with that, the meeting was adjourned.

"What would you do, son? In my place?"

Bron did not expect an answer as he spoke at the uncaring Bright Circle. From how the others had described it the luminous orb had done this to his son, and it showed no interest in remedying its mistake.

But what about his mistake? If he made another attempt he would be risking his most important herdmates yet again, and with them, the herd. Could he really risk several children for the sake of a few? No… no his son would not want that.

But the alternative was so horrible: to again abandon his son to the winds of fate. This time he doubted that those winds would bring them together again.

But what other options do I have? I could wait until the herd goes back that direction and look for him… but that would delay us in Redclaw's lands. I could try to get help from flyers elsewhere, but what could entice them to help?

The longneck sighed as he stomped on a bush in frustration. One of the three tests of a potential future leader was the test of judgement. He wished that his judgement could offer him anything now. Because from what he could see he was nearly out of options.

Then a voice was heard behind him.

"Dad, everything okay?" Shorty asked.

He knew of course, his adopted father was anything but, however, it was better than doing nothing at all.

"No… no, it is not." Bron said simply as he looked down at his adopted son. He knew that Shorty had no patience for comforting lies, and Bron would not insult him by offering one. "Littlefoot and his friends are all alone out there, and I have no idea what to do."

"I've had a few adventures with Littlefoot before. I think they can handle being out there," Shorty tried to offer. He was never all that good at consolation. "I'm convinced it was him, though. He saved Argent. And when I looked back and saw that sharptooth, he had the exact same eyes."

Bron closed his eyes for a moment before nodding. As he looked back at the Bright Circle, however, he muttered darkly. "If he is going to survive as a sharptooth he can't keep on saving his food." He nearly spat the word as he tried to control his emotions. The thought of his son being the same kind that had killed his beloved wife filled him with disgust and despair.

"I try not to think about that either," Shorty admitted. "But you said yourself, he's still Littlefoot. Can't we go find him again?"

Bron was silent for a moment as he confronted how to explain the situation to Shorty. In the end he decided to lead the longneck there mentally.

"And if we go seek him out what will the valley say about our herd coming back to the valley? Keep in mind, Shorty, that they seem to think that they can 'catch' the 'curse'."

"So what? Even if they kick us out, what're they gonna do to us? I've seen Genners take down way tougher dinosaurs than them. Besides, it's better than sitting around here on our tails all day."

"And how many of the herd would we lose in the process of forcing our way in? And if we could not come back here then we would have to go the long way to Haven Valley… how many of our friends do you think would fall in that journey?" Bron noted sadly. "Think, Shorty. Remember, you must not think rashly when it comes to life and death."

Shorty looked down at the admonishment. He would never openly admit it, but there were times he wished he had more of Littlefoot's natural keenness for difficult situations. A great fighter he was, and also clever at times, but his leadership skills were still lacking.

And if Bron didn't know what to do, how would he know what to do?

"Dad, we have to figure something out. I know you, you don't give up that easy."

Bron nodded. "That is what I am pondering, Shorty. We have to be able to help them somehow… even if we can't go to them." He shook his head sadly. "Somehow I think they could find a way if they were here. They always seem to find a way out of trouble."

"They do, don't they?" Shorty agreed. "Although I'm not sure we'd be able to communicate with them very well, since sharpteeth usually can't talk, haha."

Bron sighed. "I don't know if I could bear to see him like that."

"It...well yeah that would be frightening. But we're going to have to when we see them again."

Bron could only stare once more at the radiant Bright Circle, its warm light appearing to mock the dark times that they now found themselves. 'If' we see them again…

"Be gone, flyers! Take your piece of flesh and go!"

Rinkus and Sierra, visibly shook at the terrifying sharptooth's roar. Without a second's hesitation, they each scooped up a chunk of meat from the corpse of the swimmer that lay before them, and took off, making all haste to prevent themselves from becoming meals themselves.

As the two flyers scrambled into the sky, the massive Tyrannosaurus was left with curious thoughts. What the flyers had described was completely impossible, the ramblings of a fool or an idiot. Though his sniffer found no hint of falseness on them, part of his mind still insisted that the flyers must have gotten into some bad fish. That their words had to have been based upon some hallucination of some kind.

But he had not smelled madness on them either… and their eyes were clear of the signs.

What then was there to do? He had sought to eliminate these pests, the brats of the valley, for years now with no success. To hear that they were now of his own kind left him with a degree of uncertainty he was not used to. It was not due to lack of bloodlust or kindness on his part, he had no quarrel with eliminating other sharpteeth if they crossed him, just to send a warning as to what would happen if they did. But if those two buzzards were telling the truth...then this would require a great deal of contemplation. The thought of just killing them was a tempting prospect certainly. After all, they had defied him far too many times to get away with it now. The stain on his reputation as the most fearsome sharptooth in the dinosaur world depended on it. And yet, there was still hesitation.

I must investigate as to whether this is true. Only then can I eliminate them.

He was about to summon his raptor minions, when an idea popped into his head. An awful idea. Slowly, a feral grin spread across the T-Rex's face as his wonderful, awful scheme took shape.

Hmmm...then again, perhaps these brats can be useful to me.

"Screech! Thud!" he roared loudly. "Come at once!"

The two fastbiters were true to their kind's name as they sprinted into the clearing. Both wore unreadable expressions as they shifted their weight from foot to foot, obviously making themselves ready for a hunt.

Red Claw grinned.

"I have a task for you two. We have work to do."

Like I said, pretty short. But if you can hear ominous music in the background, that's because shit just got real now that public enemy number one is getting involved.

Stay tuned, because the stakes aren't getting any lower.

~The Wasp