Hello, everyone.

We're back with another chapter. The endgame is near folks. It is the deep breath before the plunge and things are about to ramp up.

But for now, you'll have to wait until the next chapter...mwahaha.

In any case, a big shout out to all the people who have read, reviewed, and followed this story. It means a lot and I hope the soon to be ending is to your liking.

Anyway, on with the story!

Chapter 23. Madness in the Dark

"It is one thing to lose people you love. It is another to lose yourself. That is a greater loss." ― Donna Goddard, Waldmeer

"I do not like this, no, no, no."

The tyrannosaurus could barely hear the words of her friend as she whispered at Chomper's predatory form. In many ways their journey back to the valley was a reminder of what they had lost, and now risked never regaining. If they ended up killing the manipulated pack leader through their own efforts then they would have sealed their fate.

At least it would be one kill I would not regret.

Behind the purple sharptooth the bluffs of the Barrens had given way to the stark rocks and cliffs of the Flattened Peaks. In the confusing maze of rock and wind it almost appeared as if the peak of a mountain had been flattened out into a flat field. A flat field with jagged rocks anywhere one turned. But the nonsensical scenery around her was not what Cera had on her mind in that moment.

But then there was the issue that had been on her mind ever since their steady walk had begun earlier that day. The journey into the mountains had gone well enough, but there were two obvious absences.

Cera's glance in Chomper's direction said it all. Where were Littlefoot and Screech?

Their thoughts were interrupted as Thud signaled for them to halt. Red Claw had apparently decided this was the best place to settle for the time being. He had ensured they were well fed the previous day ("two swimmers were better than one" was a favorite saying of his) and now the final hours before the attack were upon them.

"We will rest here for the night," the brute said in his deep, guttural tone they were all now accustomed to.

He turned to face them all.

"I need not impress upon you the importance of the attack we are about to undertake. There are many leaf eating flyers beyond the rocks ahead. Stay out of sight, and keep quiet. If you must practice your hunting, go into the canyon below."

"Sir, with your permission, we must ask," Chomper was still careful to phrase the question so that Red Claw would not become suspicious. "One of our number is missing. Is Little Claw to miss our glorious hunt?"

The gigantic Tyrannosaurus seemed unperturbed by the inquiry, yet there was something of a smirk around his mouth when he answered.

"Little Claw is with Screech at the other side of the valley wall. They are scouting for possible weaknesses and threats before we commence our assault. Rest assured, they will both be participating in the hunt."

Chomper nodded respectfully as did the rest of his friends. It was never a good idea to ask Red Claw too many questions. Better to accept his judgement and discuss the issue privately.

"They must have gone very far, because the valley is quite far," Ruby noted before nodding as well. Her eyes fell upon the confusing maze of rocky outcroppings as if for emphasis. For all they knew they were walking in a recreation of a weird sleep stories. In none of their adventures had they transversed this strange place.

"We are actually closer than you think," Red Claw corrected them. "This is a place I used to frequent in my younger days when I often failed to penetrate the Valley. It is so barren, so no leaf eater bothers to venture here other than the occasional flyer. Which reminds me, fast runner…" his voice became low and dangerous. "You have tread well thus far, but my original threat remains. Should any of you stray from me or attempt to back out of this attack, you will be slaughtered first."

Ruby merely bowed her head as if in humble acquiescence to her fate as hostage. It was not lost on Cera, however, that Ruby kept herself well downwind of Red Claw's powerful sniffer. No reason to let him smell the obvious hatred there. As it was Cera had to be careful to hide her own.

Stay safe, Little Claw. Tomorrow Red Claw will breathe his last.

"Sir, should I show the others the hidden stream? They must be thirsty?"

Cera turned towards Thud's calm voice to discover the fastbiter doing the closest thing to a bow that she had seen in the predator. It was a curious change that one might expect in a fastbiter unsure of where he stood in the pack. It made her think of her old experiences in the valley, where the lower-ranked threehorns would show their value by acting purposeful while the higher-ranked members would show their value by how they showed their dominance.

She held back a snort. She knew that her father would not find that similarity between threehorns and sharpteeth to be a welcome discovery.

Regardless, Red Claw did not object to his lackey's request.

"Very well. I want all of you in top form. Take them to the stream, Thud."

The dark green raptor didn't waste any time in taking the rest of the pack down to the water. The stream wasn't terribly high or clear for that matter, but it would suffice for the time being. They also had more pressing concerns.

"I don't like this," Thud spoke grimly as the rest of the pack drank. "I smell treachery in the air."

"You mean besides our own," Cera joked.

"You get the idea," Thud replied. "I could sense everyone's anxiety during our travels today. Red Claw must have assumed it was pre-battle nerves. But the absence of Little Claw-"

"Littlefoot," Ducky corrected. They had gone back to their old leaf eater names since swearing off their desire to kill...in private at least.

"Yes, Littlefoot. My point is, he has not been seen since the Bright Circle set two nights ago. And on the eve of the attack he is still nowhere to be found. Nothing good can come from this."

"The last time Petrie swooped by he told me that he saw nothing," Chomper affirmed with concern before taking a drink from the stream to help maintain their excuse to converse, "Surely he had not found us out and decided to…"

The purple sharptooth's dark musings were interrupted by a series of claw click's from Spike's fastbiter form.

"I agree, Spike. I smelled no death on Red Claw. But perhaps Red Claw suspects something… and wants to make sure we and Littlefoot cannot work together." Thud affirmed. "The surest way to disrupt a plot is to split up the conspirators."

"There's no way to know for sure," said Cera. "It's possible he knows something. But why would he lead us this far just to kill us off? He's been planning this attack on the Valley for weeks."

There was silence for several moments before Ruby brought up a disturbing possibility.

"Maybe he wants to split us up, because he knows if we kill in the valley before we kill him, then we have no escape."

"That's possible," Thud mused. "But somehow I doubt that's his endgame. Take it from someone who knows, Red Claw has wanted to deal a blow to the Valley for years. He's never said why, but all those times we attempted to wreak havoc was no accident. If he says he wants to blood to flow in your home...he means it."

Silence met this newfound theory. But it didn't answer the ultimate question, which Ducky was kind enough to ask again.

"So, where is Littlefoot? I still do not like this, I do not."

"You said you smelled treachery, Thud. I was hoping you could enlighten us a little more," Cera stated gruffly.

"I have no idea where your 'companion' is," and the elder fast biter gave a slight wink which caused the tyrannosaurus to blush. "Smelling treachery is not the same thing as knowing exactly what it is. I'm afraid we'll just have wait and see and be alert at all times."

Cera acknowledged Thud, and for once she was able to hold her tongue, but her mind was just as potent as ever.

If something happens to Littlefoot, I don't care what form I stay in forever, I will kill everyone in sight until I know he's okay.

"Again! We won't get another chance once the enemy is here!"

"Yes, sir!"

The green longneck could only watched in subdued fascination as the threehorns continued their drills for the upcoming battle. Topps was again at the front of the line, giving orders, while the others carefully matched his movements and grunted orders. The result was a terrifyingly efficient line of horns, threatening anything that challenged it with certain death. Even Brakus was in the line, lingering in one of the less critical positions obviously on Topps's orders.

Shorty sighed as he turned away from the scene. In the end his mind refused to focus on the curious happenings of the valley, its battle plans and evacuation sites for the children. No, his mind was focused on something else entirely. It was focused on what was absent.

Namely himself.

"Urgh… this is so stupid! I should be out there helping! Not stuck with the younglings!"

As if to punctuate his irritation he whipped his tail through the air, striking a pinecone with expert accuracy. The resulting launch of the pinecone into the air was something reminiscent of a falling skyrock, but in reverse. If it ever came back down he never saw it.

"Shorty, why are you so mad?" a small voice asked.

"Wouldn't be the first time," a slightly more mature voice noted.

The green longneck closed his eyes for a moment before willing his tail to calm. Giving his herdmates a threatening tail whip would solve nothing right now.

"None of you understand what's at stake here. What's on the line for me, for Bron...for the herd."

A light green male longneck stepped forward before sending a pinecone sailing in the same direction Shorty had hurled one moments before. Salty had always been one to not be upstaged by Shorty. "Well we are trying to not be food for this Red Claw jerk, right? I think we know the stakes well enough."

"Well I'd say 'all due respect' but then I'd be lying," Shorty jabbed, flinging another pinecone farther than the other longneck boy ever could. "This isn't just another case of trying not to be food. It goes far beyond anything we've dealt with."

"I thought his brother was on our side…" another longneck's voice intersected, before Salty saved Shorty the trouble by sending a pinecone hurdling near Verta's head.

"That doesn't mean that he isn't at risk, Verta!" Salty groaned before facing Shorty once more, his face only slightly lightening with sympathy. "And you being told to stay behind pisses you off? Well join the herd, Shorty! How do you think we feel?"

Shorty gave a hollow laugh in response.

"Number one: your father isn't herd leader. Number two: your brother isn't a sharptooth. And let's get one thing straight. I'm more capable than any of you. I have more right to be on that battlefield than any dinosaur within this entire valley. It's my family after all!"

He flicked a pinecone so hard that it landed on top of one of the threehorns' frill.

"...whoops."

Whether the threehorn didn't notice the sudden addition or merely dared not leave the line, no obvious reaction was forthcoming in the formation in the distance beyond the hill. Nonetheless the entire spectacle was enough to silence the three youths long enough to calm down somewhat.

"I seem to remember a certain green asshole who took me in when no one else would. Do you happen to know where that longneck ran off to? Because to me he was family. A jerk, but family."

Shorty froze at that voice. Could this be the same Salty that had addressed him a moment ago? The same jerk that was fun to have in games, and a help when in need, but still a jerk? It was only when he turned his head to face the fellow sauropod that his eyes confirmed what his ears had suggested. For the briefest moment he saw sympathetic eyes.

And then Verta's pinecone hit him in the head. Well, he did kind of ask for that one.

Salty sighed in annoyance, "Verta, do you mind?"

Shorty chose the more tactful route.

"We'll swing by later," he said to the smaller longneck. "Salty and I have to talk."

Verta and the others seemed ready to protest when Salty's icy glare made them hastily comply with Shorty's suggestion. Two ticked off hotheads were too many to risk defying. It only took a few moments before the two sauropods were alone.

"You can't possibly understand what's at stake here, Salty. I know it seems insane to you, but this isn't your average leaf eater vs. sharptooth battle."

Salty merely stared at him, not giving any hint of backing down, "I get it, your brother is a tail-mucher now. But there is one thing you are forgetting."

The other longneck walked forward before slapping the pinecone that had struck Shorty earlier, sending it sailing into the air.

"Littlefoot. Little Claw. Whatever he is called now, isn't your only family. And though we barely tolerate your jerk ass, you are family. You stood beside us when no one else would. You stood with us until Bron stood with us."

Salty stopped when he was within a short distance from Shorty's face and slapped another pinecone at Shorty's feet before resuming his previous competitive pose. It would be enough to feign nonchalance for anyone watching from a distance, but it did not fool Shorty.

"Your shot."

The green brachiosaurus didn't say a word as he lined up his own pinecone, preparing to give it a good whack before asking a very potent question.

"Ever had a brother before, Salty?"

Salty proceeded to watch the rapidly disappearing pinecone before lining up another shot of his own. "I've always considered all of you brothers. Even that tail-brain, Verta."

A soft whack could be heard as he missed the shot.

"Salty, I know you're an orphan with no siblings. It was rhetorical question. We're all brothers here. But Littlefoot is different. He's actually my dad's blood child. He lost his wife to sharpteeth just like we've lost so many to them over the years. There's a bond there that goes beyond anything I've experienced before. I have to believe that he'll come back even though I'm scared he'll try to take a bite out of me. He's not a monster. He's not the kind of mindless eating machine we've encountered over the years."

Salty sighed as he considered his response.

"Shorty, in case you forgot we have dealt with one not crazy tail-biter before, that Chomper kid… but we have to hope they are on our side this time. Didn't that creepy flyer say that they are planning on helping us?"

Shorty nodded as he lifted a pine cone in the air with his tail and proceeded to smack it before it came back down to earth.

"Yes, apparently they have faked being with Red Claw the entire time in order to take him down. Sounds like a plan my brother would come up with."

Salty tilted his head slightly before tossing another pinecone which landed against Shorty's flank.

"Hey!"

Salty smiled cheekily, "But I am detecting a 'but' coming up."

"The only 'but' is the one I'll be kicking once Red Claw and his minions show up," the brachiosaurus said with some extra bravado. "But instead of preparing for combat I'm stuck watching the younglings."

Salty grimaced. "You mean the swimmers are watching us. It doesn't seem like they have faith in our skills."

As if to punctuate his point he sent a pinecone sailing over the threehorns in the distance.

Shorty scoffed.

"Swimmers can't even protect themselves much less us. So that's pretty much moot anyway. In any case, if Bron thinks he's keeping me out come battle time he's got another thing coming."

His counterpart grinned and cocked his head in a mixture of bravado and defiance. "Correction: if he thinks he can keep us out then he's got another thing coming."

"Salty, if he's not letting me be on the front lines what makes you think he'll let you?"

Salty merely rolled his eyes at his counterpart, "If he is busy with the battle and the swimmers are busy with the real younglings then who is going to stop us?"

Shorty looked beyond the horizon of the Valley walls, which had been a symbol of safety and security for everyone here for so long...no longer.

"I think the better question is who's going to stop Red Claw from killing us all?"

Despite Shorty's bravado, he couldn't help but give the distant horizon one last look. I've got to be strong here. I know Littlefoot will be. He is as stubborn as I am.

Madness was a multifaceted state of mind. It had a number of causes, but usually ended in a unanimous conclusion.

Littlefoot...Little Claw? He had forgotten which he was known by. He knew dinosaurs perished under many kinds of circumstances, but he had never known true hunger, true starvation until this moment.

It was indescribable. His stomach not only felt empty, but sickly. It was as if a hole was attempting to burn right through it, but could not due to the lack of nourishment. In essence, his body was beginning to consume itself.

As a longneck...he had been a longneck once… hadn't he? There were hungry times, but nothing compared to the weakness he felt now. The ravenous desire for anything in his jaws, for the glorious sensation of sustenance in his gullet. An affirmation through the loss of another life that his own would continue.

His stomach growled its protest once more. Its cries of pain had dissipated over the last few hours, now replaced with something else. Something almost primal. An odd sensation of weakness throughout his body, but also joined with an odd energy. He knew that he would do anything to get one more meal. He had to survive! Everything else was meaningless!

No, that's not the plan. That's not what this is about, he thought weakly to himself. We have to get rid of that monster...we have to...eat...NO!

Littlefoot shook his head furiously, trying to keep his wits about him. Ever since had been trapped in the cave, the primary goal had been to hold onto whatever sense of self and sanity he had left. The first few hours in the cave had just been boring, but lack of food and water had eventually lead him to where he was now...starving and without an end in sight. Besides the inevitable of course, if he did not eat.

"Damn, Red Claw!" he growled viciously. "Damn him! If I ever get out of here, I'll rip his fucking guts out and feast upon them! DO YOU HEAR ME?!"

The words echoed throughout the cave, bouncing harmlessly off the wall and out of existence. A futile gesture if there ever was one.

And then he was left with silence. The same silence that had greeted him for countless minutes and hours, as his body grew weaker and weaker. And the soothing, tempting voice became louder and louder. The little internal voice that told him to kill.

It was a voice that he was finding it harder to resist. Unlike the past, when there was a strong conscious that resisted any sort of unnecessary violence or escalation. But what did that matter when you were literally dying from the inside out? Lack of food had a way of making someone rearrange their priorities…

In an effort to combat the desperation he felt for a bloody carcass outside of the cave merely feet away, he tried to focus on other things. Faces of those who had gotten him through in the past.

Mother

Her kindly face and soft words called out to him. She had raised him and had continued to watch over him even after her death. The great circle of life did not erase the presence of those whose physical bodies were gone from the world. Littlefoot believed that with all his heart and soul.

Mother, please. I'm...I'm losing my mind in here. I'm not the same longneck anymore. I'm not even a longneck, period. I need you now more than ever.

Even in his hunger-addled mind the words came… the same words that had gotten him through trial and tribulations throughout his life.

Littlefoot, let your heart guide you, it whispers, so listen closely.

He closed his eyes and sucked in a few ragged breaths as his heart thundered in his ears. But despite his best efforts he could not feel the same serenity that had come before when he followed his mother's advice. The heart he now had was not the same longneck heart as before, and it was not whispering.

In fact, it was practically roaring. And what it was calling for is not something his mother would have approved of. The image of the kind, loving longneck slowly began to fade despite his best efforts. He knew that he had to focus on something else. Anything else. He could not let his body win this battle!

Closing his eyes again and growling in a mixture of frustration and rage, he allowed his mind to wander to the only other thing that could keep him grounded in his darkest moments.

His friends.

The first that came to mind was his girlfriend, Cera. Of course, they never would have gone out in their previous forms, but he thought of her nonetheless. He admired her spirit and stubbornness and always had. In times where he had been tempted to give up, she had knocked him back on his feet. She had been the companion he had needed during the adjustment days of being sharpteeth, the times where they had aided in the hunts for food, and the private moments...the ones where they had been the most vulnerable...together. He could see her now, as a threehorn holding her head up proudly, laughing and fluttering her eyelashes at him. It truly warmed his soul.

Then there was Petrie. He was not the same hapless, goofy flyer anymore, but that had never mattered in the first place. His timid nature overshadowed a subtle bravery that had always been there, but came to the surface during their time in the Mysterious Beyond. But Littlefoot did not envision him as a sharpbeak flyer, but as the happy, carefree dinosaur he had been before their curse...before being damned.

And then there was Spike. The ever-present spiketail had always been like a watchful guardian to his adopted sister. The same dinosaur who had convinced them all to take him along when he hatched in front of them. Though he was mute this never stopped him from being a loyal friend and companion on their many adventures. In many ways his change had been the hardest to compartmentalize, as the slow and easy-going spiketail had been replaced with a fast and agile fastbiter, which in a way kept his old form stand out in Littlefoot's mind.

And then there was the image of the aforementioned swimmer. Though she had grown into an adolescent even before their change into their new forms, she still had retained the youthful innocence of the small swimmer who always looked for the best in everyone. This was true even of Pterano, who had kidnapped her on that fateful day so long ago. Though she was a fish-catcher now, for some reason he found it easy to still imagine the youthful swimmer that used to be. It was only with dawning horror that he realized why.

He was salivating.

Envisioning his friends in their leaf eater form had had the effect of only making him hungrier. They appeared supple, soft, and...delicious.

With great effort, he let out a tremendous roar, if nothing else, to save him from himself. He could not give in to temptation, to baser instincts. He was not a monster and had sworn never to commit the act that would...deliver him a meal, to fill his stomach, to assert his dominance once more over his pack.

Swimmer meat always tastes good this time of year...NO!

Littlefoot focused all his energy on resisting the impulses that plagued his psyche, despite his stomach practically collapsing in on itself. But like a threehorn pushing a boulder up hill, even the laws of nature seemed hellbent on defying his intentions. He was fighting a losing battle and he knew it. Things could not keep on going like this. Either his body or his mind would eventually break.

And right now his body was winning.

Swimmer meat…

No one could see in the darkness of the cave, but at that moment, the former longneck's eyes flushed red.

Next chapter: battle!

~The Waso