Gone Fishin'

Carmas was nothing if not thorough.

In the time between their meeting with the Elders and the Bright Circle's fall below the horizon, he'd shown them the extent of their territory, covering all the areas they'd need to fulfill their basic necessities, where to find both himself and Masur should they need assistance, where the water was safe (basically the lake and a few small streams), and even shared with them a little of his own knowledge about the members of his herd. As Fyn was quickly beginning to learn, gossip wasn't exclusive to his herd back home, and as the group made their way towards a little hill in the trees, he'd felt he had heard enough about so-and-so's ailments, or some-such's affair with whoever to last him a lifetime. Or maybe even a few.

But what interested him as he tuned out Carmas's story about one of the herd's more foolish members getting stuck in a muddy ditch was the deputy's skepticism. One constant throughout all of his tales was his lack of an attempt to hide his own disdain, whatever form it might take. Someone with his mindset might be able to view their situation from a more objective point of view. In other words, a skeptic like him could be useful.

"And with that out of the way, this is where you'll be staying tonight."

Fyn was so lost in his own thoughts that he almost crashed into the back of Carmas. He heard a "whoa!" from Cura, still perched atop his neck, as he steadied himself. Carmas seemed not to notice, and as Fyn blinked his eyes, it soon became obvious as to why. From the side they'd approached it, the hill looked like nothing more than an ordinary hill, but things were different on the other side. Its opposite end was scooped out, as if some giant grazing Leaf Eater had taken a chunk out of it, and below that was a pool of water, as clear as the Big Water back home. It wasn't too deep, but it seemed deep enough to wallow in. It was the perfect spot to clean up. Plenty of lush trees and bushes also dotted the spot. It was, for all intents and purposes, a little slice of paradise, something Fyn hadn't seen the equal of since their arrival.

"Wow," he heard Zaura breathe, and he found himself agreeing with her. The beauty of the place was unrivaled. And yet something about it nagged at him, demanding that he ask a question of their new guide. Trusting this feeling, Fyn spoke to Carmas.

"It's really quite magnificent, but why do we get to stay here? We're just passing through."

Carmas uttered a dry, bitter laugh, not at all the sort of response Fyn was expecting.

"Because you're the new Champion. The Champion is always granted the finest accommodations in our place. I don't think I need to tell you why."

He certainly didn't. The risk of what he had volunteered for was still a largely unresolved concern for Fyn. That was why he was banking on Carmas's skepticism. If he was willing to look past tradition and help them out, perhaps he stood a chance of surviving the upcoming ordeal.

But now was not the time to pose such a question to their new acquaintance. Asking him about his loyalties now, after they'd just met, could very well warrant a swift departure from his territory, and while that wouldn't mean much for Fyn and his gang, it'd mean the continued slaughter of Cura's herd, and that wasn't something Fyn planned to tolerate.

Carmas had moved on and was busy picking something from one of the trees by the pool with his teeth. With a thin "snap," he brought his neck back with a branch, laden with flowers in his mouth. Casually, he strode over to Zaura, placing the flowers at her feet. Zaura looked confused, and Fyn winced, waiting for her to bash the deputy to the ground with a well-placed tailstrike, but the attack never came. She just stared down at the flowers, dumbfounded.

"And if you ever need me for anything, do not hesitate to ask. You can find me by the waterside all day and most nights. Good night, Farwalkers."

And with a wink in Zaura's direction, he slunk off into the trees, a sway in his tail that Fyn had definitely not seen on their way to the pond. Zaura merely watched him go, too speechless to say anything. The Longneck had been so direct in his actions, she'd had no time to react. Fyn, on the other claw, shivered as he disappeared from sight. An ally he might be, but he'd be watching Carmas. The laying of flowers at his sister's feet was anything but innocent, and if he-

He caught himself mid-thought. What was he doing? He remembered his time in the Grove, urging Zaura to find a mate as their father requested, watching day after day as she turned down every suitor. Now some stranger wanted to get to know her, and he was all set to break up the act? No, he decided, if this was his sister's first step into a relationship, then so be it. He'd support her.

Or, at the very least, he'd watch helplessly as his own sister got a mate before he did.

"You didn't hit him," he remarked, returning once more to the present. Thankfully, Carmas was far out of earshot by now. Zaura looked down at the flowers, sniffed at them, then brought up her foot and gave them a little nudge, rolling them into the grass.

"You wouldn't have wanted me to," she replied- an assertion that seemed fair enough to Fyn. She didn't seem particularly attached to Carmas or the flowers, but he supposed that could be chalked up to that part of female behavior that he and most other males could not hope to comprehend. Maybe she was playing indifferent, maybe she meant it. Who really knew?

Fyn heard a splash and turned around with his sister to see Sol wading into the pool, peering down into its blue depths.

"Hey, snaggle-snout, watcha up to?"

Fyn felt himself sigh in relief. That was more like the Zaura he knew. While the other two talked, he lowered his neck down, letting Cura step off and onto the solid ground.

"Lookin' for Scaly Swimmers. Why else would I be in here?"

Zaura groaned. "You're gonna get the water all muddy before we get the chance to bathe! And besides- I doubt you'd find any Scaly Swimmers in here anyway!"

Sol held up a claw to silence her, sniffing around, peering into the water, and even going as far as to lower his snout in for a few moments. Zaura stood on the shore, tapping her foot as she waited, and when Sol brought his head up, she scowled at him.

"Welp, whaddaya know? No Scaly Swimmers in here," he exclaimed with an utterly sheepish grin. There was a moment of silence, and then with a tremendous roar, Zaura lunged forward, tackling the Sharptooth as she dove straight into the water. Cura giggled with delight at the antics of the two older dinosaurs, and the once unblemished surface of the water turned into a froth as the two wrestled one another. Fyn simply sat down beside Cura to watch. There would be no separating the two now, which was fine by him. He wanted to talk to their newest friend.

"So, do you have anywhere to, you know… go tonight? Somewhere you want to sleep?"

Cura shook her head, staring up at Fyn. He'd never noticed it before, but her eyes were powerful- a deep blue that seemed to command respect, despite her young age. He found himself having to look away every now and then. Those were the eyes of a born leader, and he'd defend that notion against anyone who challenged it.

"I slept here last. If it's okay, I'd like to stay here with you guys. You all seem nice, and-" she stopped, craning her neck to indicate to Fyn that she wanted to tell him something in private. Obliging, Fyn let his own neck drop until he was at eye level with the little dinosaur.

"-and the others kind of scare me. Especially the Elders. I don't want to go back to the shore ever again!"

Her words cut Fyn to the bone, reminding him of the horrors she'd only recently lived through. But something about her tone seemed… off. As if she was putting on a facade- had deliberately chosen words to make her sound more childish. For the moment, he chose to dismiss it, deciding that this was probably due to the trauma she'd experienced, but he wasn't entirely sure. After all, she'd been perfectly happy earlier. He suspected there might very well be more to this little Longneck than meets the eye.

And what better way to keep an eye on her than to have her around? He nodded at the young Longneck.

"Of course, Cura. You're under our care now, as long as we're here." The reality of what he promised was not lost on him. Taking Cura under their care, however temporary the situation was, would require some changes on their part. After all, she was an impressionable young Longneck, not a rowdy adult. They'd need to hold meetings regarding sensitive information in private, cut back on the playfighting lest she get hurt, and- probably the most difficult task for Zaura out of all of them- cut back on the swearing and dirty jokes- things that had pretty much gotten them through the outskirts of the Scar up until now.

So it'll pretty much be just like old times. Like old times… with a kid.

"Thank you so much!" Cura squealed, nuzzling Fyn's foot. The larger Longneck started to draw back, but fought the urge, letting his foot stay in place. She needed companionship more than anything right now, personal space be damned. Besides, if- stars forbid- he ever became a father one day, this was something he'd have to get used to.

The gurgling of the little one's stomach sent Cura scurrying towards a juicy patch of bright-green foliage for an evening snack. She thanked Fyn again before plunging her face into the greenery amidst the chomping and smacking sounds of a hungry Longneck. Fyn smiled to himself.

"Polite and self-sufficient," he muttered, "I think we could all learn a little from Cura."

And, leaving Zaura and Sol to their childish splashing, Fyn found a suitable tree, sized it up in one quick glance (most who knew Fyn said he had an eye for good vegetation) and set to work stripping a branch of his own for dinner.

"So what do you think is in that river?"

The question came from Zaura, who had perched herself atop the hill overlooking the pool. Fyn and Sol were in the water, Fyn cleaning himself and Sol doing, as Zaura put it, "Sol things." Right now he was almost completely submerged, with only his head and spines protruding from the water's surface. The Sharptooth looked more blissful now than Fyn had ever seen him before. He was finally back in his element.

From the shore, Cura opened her mouth to speak, but Fyn answered first.

"Hold on, Cura. We're not saying we don't believe you about the stars-"

"I don't," Zaura interjected, blunt as ever.

"-but we need to consider all of our options. Rivers don't tear dinosaurs apart. There's something in there. Could be sharp rocks, or maybe… some kind of plant? I don't know, are you sure it isn't a Sharptooth?'

They'd been over this one before, but Cura repeated herself anyway.

"I don't think so. We would have seen it if it was."

"She makes a good point," Sol mumbled, his voice warped by the bubbles from his mouth as he spoke from underwater. "If it was, say, a Bellydragger, they have to come up to breathe. Someone would definitely have spotted it by now."

Annoyed, Zaura squinted down at the Longclaw. "Can you get your head out of the water and hold a normal conversation with us?"

"No," Sol smirked, sinking down even lower.

"Well whatever it is, we need to find out," Fyn concluded, submerging his head beneath the water and bringing it back up, feeling the cool wetness wash away the dust accumulated over a few months' travel. It had been so long since he'd had a good soak, Fyn had almost forgotten what being clean actually felt like.

A muffled burble issued from Sol's mouth, and Fyn frowned slightly, beginning to see Zaura's own frustration.

"Sol, we can't hear you. Care to stop lounging for a moment or so?"

Sol gave an overly dramatic sigh before breaching the surface, leaping with a graceful twist before falling onto his back, sending a spray of water crashing into Fyn. Some of it hit the shore, much to Cura's surprise and delight. The drops that flecked Zaura's snout were met with a far less forgiving audience as she snarled.

"I said, I'd be happy to check it out for you tomorrow," Sol offered, shaking his head violently. Even more water spray erupted from his neck and jowls as the large creature shook himself dry. Zaura looked about ready to kill someone.

"That is, if you don't mind."

Fyn smiled in spite of himself. If there was one thing he could say about Sol, it was that the guy was dependable. No matter how many times on their journey he and Zaura had felt like he abandoned them, the Longclaw always pulled through. Lately, he'd just learned to accept Sol's carefree way of going about things. Zaura had yet to do the same, but Fyn was starting to believe this was less because she didn't trust him, and more because she actually cared about his well-being. And for that, he was proud of her.

"Just don't get yourself killed," he replied, shaking his own neck free of water before stepping out of the pool. Sol nodded before glancing over at Zaura. She was still there, towering over him the way a disapproving mother might look down at her misbehaving hatchlings. He dipped a claw into the water, as if to flick it in her direction. Zaura's resulting expression practically screamed "just try it," staying his claw for the moment, though he did not withdraw it. \

"Let's just say this isn't something the stars did," Zaura said, her eyes never leaving Sol, "how could a whole herd be tricked into believing in something that doesn't exist?"

"But it does exist!" Cura spoke up, "it's already killed-"

Fyn hurried over to the little Longneck, shushing her. "I'm sorry, Cura," he whispered, "Zaura didn't mean to bring that up. We have some grown-up things to discuss right now; would you like to pick a place to sleep while we do that?"

Cura said nothing, but she nodded an affirmative before retreating into the trees. Fyn returned to the others, carrying on in a softer voice.

"How could a whole herd be tricked, you say? Zaura, I'm surprised you of all dinosaurs would need to ask a question like that. Remember the Grove? Garas had convinced everyone that leaving it for the Mysterious Beyond would be suicide. Yet here we are, almost a year later, with the Great Valley almost on the horizon. If the whole herd had moved out at once, who knows where we might have gone! But we didn't, because we were scared. Now look at these dinosaurs. They're scared that if they break from tradition, the stars will punish them. The stars. Our own ancestors. I can't think of a fate more final than that. Think about it- would you defy something you grew up believing to be true?"

"Well we're here, and not in the grove anymore, aren't we?"

Fyn chuckled to himself. Maybe his point had made it across, maybe it hadn't, but Zaura's was a good enough point by itself. Then again, she was special. Not a lot of dinosaurs were lucky enough to have family like her.

"Yeah, I guess you're right."

He heard a soft splash behind him and Fyn whirled around just in time to see a few drops of water from Sol's outstretched claw go splashing onto Zaura's face. The consequences were immediate and severe. Zaura let out a dreadful howl before sliding straight off the hill and on top of Sol, tackling him into the pond. The resulting splash nearly drenched Fyn, and brought Cura running back into the clearing to see what had happened. She arrived just in time to see two full-grown dinosaurs, one Sharptooth and one Leaf Eater, grappling in the pond.

"Is this how grown-ups where you come from talk to each other?" she whispered in a conspiratorially low voice.

Fyn lost it, collapsing onto the ground in a guffawing heap, leaving a completely confused Cura staring on at the antics of the three "mature" dinosaurs.

Eventually, as night fell, the three fell asleep, guarding Cura from any potential threats by forming a triangle around her with their bodies. It wouldn't deter any intelligent predators, but it was better than nothing- something they'd all agreed upon before setting off to sleep.

Of course, not all of the dinosaurs were asleep. Sol had been biding his time, waiting patiently to hear the snores of the others that indicated they were all deeply asleep. He hadn't forgotten his promise to himself, and Rear's scent was easy to detect. She wasn't making any effort to hide herself from him; she apparently wanted this meeting as much as he did.

As quietly as he could manage, Sol pushed himself off the ground, digging his claws in so as not to slip, and make any unnecessary noise. When he was fully on his feet, he looked over at the three sleeping Longnecks. Satisfied that they wouldn't be waking up anytime soon, he put a confident foot forward-

-and immediately brought it down onto a sharp stick. The piece of wood snapped, and Sol clamped his jaws, trapping in a soft whimper as he bit down on the inside of his mouth. Zaura stirred, but otherwise, none of the others moved. Vowing to take extra caution, Sol moved out, now a little more observant of what was in front of him.

Zaura watched the Longclaw go, moving only her head so as not to make a sound. The snapping of the stick had woken her from an already light slumber, and naturally she'd wanted to know what caused the noise that woke her up. She was relieved but curious to see that it was Sol, and not some unfamiliar Sharptooth invading their resting place. It wasn't abnormal to see the Sharptooth stalking around sometimes, but something about the way he moved interested her. Normally if he wandered off for some midnight fishing or to relieve himself, Sol didn't move that quietly. He wasn't exactly considerate when it came to letting others rest. Watching him stealthily creep away was like watching an entirely different dinosaur.

Somewhat intrigued, Zaura decided to watch as he vanished into the trees, and wait for him to come back. This strange new behavior was something worth getting to the bottom of.

Sol met Rear in a clearing, flooded in the pure, white light of the Night Circle. He couldn't see her, but he could tell by the strength of her scent that she was close. He took a moment to get a feel for his surroundings. He was surrounded on all sides by trees, the ground here was rough and pebbly, and just beside him was a cluster of bushes, big enough to hide a Fast Biter. He had her.

"Alright, Rear. You can come out. I won't attack."

The bushes parted, and a slender snout poked out, the first part of Rear that Sol had ever laid eyes upon.

"Are you sure you want me to do this, Sol? Would it not be better to go on pretending you don't know who I am?"

Her question set Sol's heart racing, but he gulped, swallowing his apprehension. He knew who she was, and what she'd done. But without an actual, physical creature to see, some of that reality could be ignored. He wouldn't be able to live in ignorance anymore if he said yes.

But, then again, he'd made peace with that decision a long time ago.

"I stand by my own request. Come out, Rear. I want to see you for who you really are."

A claw appeared, hesitantly protruded through the brush. Gingerly it pulled away the foliage, revealing a long, thin head, atop which sat a yellow plume of feathers. The eyes beneath those feathers sparkled with an orange-green light. Sol remembered those lights- he'd seen them during their rescue of Lyko in the Forest of Sand. But he wasn't afraid of them this time. He stood his ground, holding his breath as Rear revealed the rest of herself for the first time to Sol.

She was tall for a Fast Biter, standing straight up, she might have even reached Sol's shoulders, but she had a lightly built frame. She and her kind were built for speed rather than force, and it showed, from her unusually short arms to the long, rigid tail. Their defeat in the Forest made much more sense now; none of the Fast Biters had been built for sustained, close range encounters. She was a chaser, not a fighter.

Her mottled brown and tan skin explained her uncanny ability to remain hidden, despite the environment. Its patterns were disruptive enough that, even if she did not match her surroundings, her actual form could easily be disrupted. For those without a sense of smell, there would be no telling what sort of dinosaur she was until she was already upon them.

He remembered this one. He remembered fighting specifically with her. Oh how times had changed.

"Well, here I am," she proclaimed, spreading her arms wide in a gesture of peace.

"Yes, there you are," Sol echoed, "my mentor for the last few months, and a Fast Biter. I… to be perfectly honest, I can't say I'm all that surprised."

"Oh?" Rear purred, putting her arms down and casually sniffing at the night air, "and why is that?"

"Because it wouldn't have made any sense for some other Sharptooth to be following our herd. Like it or not, you have a connection to us. I had a funny feeling we wouldn't be seeing the last of you."

Rear bobbed her head, secretly grateful that Sol had handled their first real introduction so professionally. When she came here tonight, she was half-expecting to have to fight the Longclaw. This was an outcome she could only have wished for.

Both dinosaur stood in an awkward silence, trying to figure out what to say to the other. Things were different now that Sol knew that his teacher wasn't an all-powerful entity. He was free to listen, or not listen, as he chose. That put Rear in a strange position. She still felt an obligation to Fyn's herd, but as for Sol- would he ever listen to her again now that he knew the truth?

"So, our lessons," Rear chittered, tapping her claws together, "what will you do now? Would you still choose to listen to me, or has my identity deterred you?"

Sol was ready for this question. It was one he'd grappled with ever since he'd learned of Rear's true identity. He knew the things she'd done, but hearing her story had helped him realize that there was more to her tale than first appeared. Putting himself in her position, he wasn't sure he would have done anything different. After all, her pack may as well have been her family. But the things she'd taught him, the knowledge he'd gained, all of that convinced him that the Sharptooth was trying to turn over a new leaf. She could have easily left him to starve- or worse, succumb to his blood-trance- in High Haven, but she didn't. That, to him, was the mark of someone who cared, and no matter how bloody the past was, it was the future that he thought of.

"Of course I'll continue to listen to you," he said, shuffling awkwardly as he tried to think of something else to say. One other advantage of only having a voice to talk to was that things like small talk had been unnecessary. He hadn't had any need to ask the voice anything other than what directly pertained to him- that was the entire point of Still's presence: to help him. With Still- or Rear- now clearly a physical creature, doing so would only seem selfish, and after everything she'd been through, Sol wasn't even sure he wanted to put more undue stress upon her. And then there was the issue of everything he owed her. She'd given him so much, and he'd provided nothing in return-

Although…

Sol clicked his claws together, popping up with a suddenness that startled the Fast Biter.

"Rear, would you like to take a walk with me?"

The Fast Biter sniffed one more time at the air. She couldn't scent anything nearby. As long as Sol kept relatively close to here, she didn't see a problem with it. And besides- meeting Sol in person was somewhat exciting. She wouldn't admit it, but having the chance to talk to a different Sharptooth was actually quite fascinating.

"Lead on, Longclaw!" she answered, with a series of happy clicks.

Sol led the two of them to the lake's edge. He could see the silhouettes of sleeping dinosaurs on the river's shore, but they were far away; the chance of disturbing any of them was slim to none; likewise, it was doubtful any of them would see them- or care- if they were to wake up. Sharpteeth roamed these lands from time to time. Two more would hardly be cause for concern, especially if they kept to themselves.

Light from the night sky cast a brilliant sheen on the lake's polished surface, broken only by tiny ripples and the occasional splash from a Scaly Swimmer rising from its depths to snatch at a passing Buzzer. Sol waded out into the water until it was up to his knees. Then, he turned to Rear.

"Rear, you've taught me a lot about myself over the last few months, and I could never find a way to repay you. Now, if you would permit me, I'd like to impart some of my own wisdom to you, in exchange."

Rear put a claw to her heart and smiled warmly at the Longclaw. Sure, he was being a bit melodramatic, and sure she had a fairly good idea of exactly what wisdom he was talking about, but it felt good for the teacher to humor the student, for once.

"Alright," she clicked, "what did you have in mind?"

As if she didn't know.

The Longclaw's eyes lit up as his mouth stretched up in a toothy grin. "Fishing!"

Of course it was. Not that Rear minded. It was a pretty useful skill, provided she ever found herself in a situation where Scaly Swimmers were the only food source around. Which, she decided, would probably never happen. It also tied in nicely with the lesson she had planned for Sol. Fishing couldn't be all that hard. She'd have plenty of time to get her point across while she was doing it.

"I think that would be splendid, Sol."

Rear stuck a toe claw into the lake, but instantly withdrew it at the shock of the cold water. She hissed; Sol hadn't told her anything about the temperature. Hearing her exclamation of disgust, the Longclaw turned around yet again to see his mentor stuck on the shore, looking down at the water with enough disdain to very nearly set it ablaze.

"Er, water's cold, by the way. I find it easiest to just wade in as fast as you can."

Now he tells me.

She glared down at the rippling surface, apprehensive of feeling the cold again. Looking out at Sol, waiting patiently for her to take her first steps, she was reminded of the first time she brought him a kill. After taking down a Lightfoot, pushing it halfway up a mountain, and then throwing it at him, he'd almost turned it down. But he ate it eventually. If Sol ate the Lightfoot, then what challenge would a little water pose to her? She'd been through worse.

This time, instead of putting a toe in, she forced her entire foot down with a splash that tickled her underbelly with ice-cold droplets. The shock almost forced her to jump out again, but she used that flight response to jerk her other foot off the ground and into the water instead. The Fast Biter pushed her way through the water, gritting her teeth against the cold as she waded. All the while, Sol watched on, proudly. Fishing, it seemed, wasn't going to be so easy after all.

"Not so bad once you're used to it, right?" he quipped. Even as he said it, he knew she did not share that particular sentiment. He could hear her teeth chattering already.

"Right, well we'll need to wait. The Scaly Swimmers were probably disturbed by all the splashing."

Sorry about that," Rear chattered, clutching her arms together to try to minimize her shivering. Sol was surprised by the genuine apology. After all the snark duels he'd shared with Zaura, hearing someone come right out and say they were sorry felt kind of strange. That wasn't to say Zaura wasn't apologetic; he'd simply accepted that her way involved working for that apology. Rear, in contrast, was more… sincere? No, that wasn't the right word. Straightforward was probably more like it. Maybe that came from her Sharptooth upbringing.

Sol lowered his snout down into the water, opening his mouth to a thin crack. His senses were far less acute than Rear's on land, but here in the water, he was finally in his element. There were plenty of Scaly Swimmers to be had; he could hear them, taste them. The plethora of new Scaly Swimmers here was enough to get his mouth watering. That strange scent from earlier was there too, but he put it aside for now.

"Do… do I have to do that?" Rear asked timidly. Sol brought his snout out of the water, leaving barely a ripple. It was something he'd practiced most of his life, to near-perfection. When it came to fishing, silence and slow movement was everything. That and timing, of course.

"No," he whispered, "you'd probably end up with a snout full of water if you tried. All I'm doing is making sure we're not wasting our time in this spot, and from what I can gather, we're not."

"You can smell underwater?" Rear was, to put it mildly, amazed. It hadn't occurred to her that Sol didn't actually sniff anything underwater. From where she was standing, it looked like he'd been breathing in water for the last few moments. Sol tilted his head in confusion before realizing this. When he did, he began to chuckle. This confused Rear even more.

"I don't use my sniffer underwater," Sol explained, "I use my ears, my eyes, sometimes even my tongue. By listening to what they tell me, I can figure out where the Scaly Swimmers are. In a way, I guess, it's a lot like the same way you use your sniffer on land. Anyway, now comes the easy part. We just have to stand still and wait."

Stand still and wait. Easy. Rear could do that. And Sol was right: the cold really wasn't that bad, given enough time to get used to it. And now, standing with nothing else to do, perhaps she could catch up on the herd's latest dealings.

"So, it looked to me like Fyn was negotiating with the local leader," she whispered, trying to stand as still as possible.

Still. Hah. That's a good one.

"Yup. We'll be staying here a little while." The Longclaw's eyes never left the water, and she could see his claw lazily tracing a faint pattern in its surface. Rear nodded.

"And what's the reason for this stop?"

"You sure you want to know?"

Rear shrugged. "Is there any reason I wouldn't want to know?'

"Good point." Sol began to stir one of his large claws lazily around in the water, back and forth, back and forth, in a hypnotic pattern. Rear felt herself mesmerized by the twirling appendage, and the little ripples it cast out. The purpose of Sol's actions were unclear to her; she had no way of knowing he was attempting to lure in prey. But she knew that whatever he was doing was probably important, and opted to stand back and watch.

"Well, from the way I gather, something's not right here. Ever get a bad feeling about a place?'

Rear nodded. She had. Many times, in fact. She'd had that feeling before heading into the sandstorm that ultimately destroyed her pack. Sometimes she'd even feel it coming back to the Bonefields, where countless eyes would be watching, judging her on her latest hunt.

"Well, let's just say I've got that feeling about this place. And I think the others do too. You see, they've got this tradition called 'the Crossing,' where they try to test their worth by crossing the river-"

"Crossing a river?" Rear snorted. "That's absurd. A river like this would be no trouble at all, even for-"

"But that's not all. Since the first crossing, no one's survived it. Something attacks them, tears them apart. Something in the water."

And they say Sharpteeth are the cruel ones. Rear looked down at the water covering her legs and feet and suddenly felt a shiver of fear course through her. She'd always tried to maintain a detachment from the potential horrors of what lay beneath the surface of most bodies of water, but every once in awhile, she let her mind wander. There was no telling what was down there. Perhaps something was slithering around her feet even-

She snapped herself out of it. Sol knew the water better than anyone she knew. If he was here now, then it was safe. She just had to trust him, as he'd trusted her for the duration of the journey.

"But the thing is- no one's seen this thing. The Elders- the dinosaurs across the river- say it's the stars punishing them for being unworthy. We're not so sure."

"And they can't just go somewhere else?"

"Well that's just it. They can. But they're so muddled up with their own beliefs that they don't dare to. So the whole cycle continues. More and more dinosaurs die, and eventually, there'll be no one on this side of the river left."

Sol's head snapped to the right, where Rear could see a dark, squirming shape moving through the water slowly. Her mind raced with the possibilities of what it might be. After Sol's description of what was happening in the river, she wasn't about to take her chances. But Sol was unafraid. As his head moved, the shape stopped, and Sol froze, moving nothing but his eyes. The shape started to creep closer.

"Look around you," Sol muttered, tracking his target, "they're coming back."

Rear tilted her head in the opposite direction of Sol's prey, in an attempt to spot something on her own.

"With your eyes. Look with your eyes," Sol whispered. Rear froze, just as Sol had, moving only her eyes as she tried to pinpoint any sign of movement.

There. About two tail-lengths on her left, moving slowly. It wasn't headed for her, at least not directly, but it was swimming into shallower water, towards the shore. Rear began to divide the problem up as she would a hunt, an area she was more comfortable with.

She couldn't strike from here. The Scaly Swimmer would have ample time to get away. In a few moments, though, it would be in the shallows. It could only swim so far in the shore's direction, so if instead of striking directly at the creature, she moved to cut off its retreat-

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sol's Scaly Swimmer circling around his legs, and marveled at the young Sharptooth's patience. She could see his eyes shift from his target to hers, and knew that her efforts were being watched, and calculated.

"Same time," he whispered hoarsely through gritted teeth. But Rear wasn't ready yet. Her Scaly Swimmer was still too far out.

Come on, she thought, I don't normally say this, but these things truly are nature's idiots. Move already!

Sol's quarry was beginning to lose interest. Satisfied with its exploration of his stocky legs, it began to swim back out to the lake. Sol followed it slowly, leaning forward as it swam.

"Just get it!" Rear hissed, "I can try again."

"Wait."

Exasperated, Rear focused back on her own target. It stopped to skirt a cluster of underwater plants, then began to pursue a school of minnows towards the shore. This was her chance.

"Now!"

Rear lunged. The sudden splash sent the Scaly Swimmer shooting towards the shore. She did not pursue it. Instead, she followed her plan, cutting off its retreat. Beside her she heard a whooshing sound, followed by a faint "schluck." Sol had already claimed his meal. The Scaly Swimmer began to dart back and forth, confused. Rear watched it, waiting as she tried to predict its movements. As it turned to come back around for another escape attempt, she pounced.

The Fast Biter's momentum carried her forward, directly into the creature. For half an instant, she felt something slimy and scaly between her jaws, and clamped down. But the force with which she hit the Scaly Swimmer sent it sliding out of her grasp, back up into the air. Not to be so easily defeated, Rear scrabbled for a foothold, leaping from the water into the air after the Scaly Swimmer. Her jaws closed down once more on soft, slippery flesh, and- feeling her prey begin to slip away again, she tossed her head to the side, sending the Scaly Swimmer flying towards the shore. As soon as it hit the sand, Rear fell upon it, panting, and clamped her jaws tightly around its body, holding on with a claw for good measure. When she turned around, she saw Sol watching her, a Scaly Swimmer casually impaled upon one of his fishing claws, with a perplexed look on his face.

"What?"

Sol shrugged. "I guess that's one way to do it."

The larger Sharptooth waded towards the shore, his catch in claw, and started nibbling at the head of his Scaly Swimmer.

"Dig in," he muttered between mouthfuls, "you've earned it."

Rear looked down at the slimy creature flopping its last moments of life away on the shore. The texture of the scales had been less than appealing, but she didn't want to offend Sol. Nervously, she pried open the side of her catch with one claw, and stuck her snout in.

The taste was incomparable. Given the choice she would have preferred a good Threehorn any day, but this was a close second. The meat was soft,, melting in her mouth as she stripped it away from the bone, and it had a light, fresh taste to it. Within moments she'd stripped most of it clean, and began working on the head. Sol had already finished his, and was wading back out to try again. Rear decided to sit this round out, and started to peck at the creature's juicy eyes- another delicacy.

"So, as depraved as all this is, what does Fyn have to do with any of this?" she called out to him.

"Well that's the real kicker," Sol replied, setting up near a sandbar a little farther out, "he's doing the crossing next. Volunteered to replace some kid."

"He's WHAT?!" Rear spat out a mouthful of Scaly Swimmer tail. Her job was hard enough as it was with the Longnecks trying to avoid trouble. Now they were seeking it out?

"Look, I can't blame him. He's got a big heart, and he wants to help these dinosaurs."

"But without knowing what's in the river-"

"Well it turns out, we might be able to help with that."

Sol was doing the claw-twirl again, and Rear could once again see the shadow of something moving toward him. She watched as he started to lure it in, holding conversation without ever breaking eye contact.

"How so?"

"Did you smell something a little off when we came here? Something kind of like a Scaly Swimmer scent?"

Now that he mentioned it, she had. But without any similar smells for reference, she'd ignored it as some unimportant creature's scent. Nevertheless, she nodded her head in answer to Sol's question, a gesture the Longclaw caught out of the corner of his eye. The shape was still in deep water, but at the rate it was traveling, it wouldn't be too long before it was within striking distance.

"I think that's where we have to start. If there's something alive in this water, it's up to us to find out. Fyn's going to need all the information we can give him." And then, offhandedly he mused to himself, "strange. Lot of prey in this lake. Haven't been this lucky in a long while." Rear missed this, but did manage to see the shape suddenly disappear. It was quick. A blink, and she'd have missed it. It was simply there one moment, swimming towards Sol's claw, and then gone the next. Sol looked just as confused, peering out into the water.

"Where'd it go? Did you see it?" he called out to Rear on the shore. Rear held up her claws.

"Nothing. It's gone!"

Sol wheeled around sharply as something broke the surface behind him. Without a moment's hesitation, he brought his claw down, struck the water- and stopped. A frown slowly fell over his face. He seemed to be looking at something.

"Sol? What is it?"she called, craning her neck to try to get a better view. Slowly, the Sharptooth lifted something out of the water, turned, and held it up to Rear. She couldn't see clearly from where she stood, but when the Night Circle's light struck it, she knew exactly what she was looking at.

A Scaly Swimmer. Or, more accurately, half of one. Everything past the swimming fins was gone, torn away, leaving only ragged flesh behind. The dying animal gave two feeble flops before going limp in Sol's grasp. The Sharptooth came wading back to shore a tad more quickly than he'd gone out, before throwing the carcass down at Rear's feet. She gazed down at its lifeless eyes, and felt the pungent stench of the mystery creature fill her nostrils again. She knew the smell, Sol knew it too; together they looked to one another, and Sol gave his mentor a nervous smile.

"Rear, I think we've found a clue."

The shuffling of branches and leaves announced Sol's return to the sleeping area. By the time he came back, Zaura found herself wishing she could have propped her eyes open with sticks. Now that he was back, however, her efforts had paid off. She shut her eyes as he approached, and listened as he padded around on the grass before settling down with a gentle thump. She heard the rise and fall of his chest turn to gentle, rasping snores, and- sure that he was asleep, she lifted her head up to look at the snoozing Sharptooth.

Where have you been Sol? And why didn't you tell us you were leaving?

She settled back down, deep in thought. Sol was hiding something. He had to be.

That's just paranoia, Zaura. He probably just went fishing.

Her inner voice served to reassure her, if only a little, and Zaura felt her breathing slow to a normal pace again. It was true; he'd probably just slipped out because he was hungry.

But tomorrow night, just to be sure, she'd stay up again.

Well, it seems our adventurers have run into a bit of a dead end. At least it's well-furnished! But what does the half-eaten Scaly Swimmer mean? Who does the mysterious scent belong to? Who is Cura- really? What will I have for lunch tomorrow? Probably PB&J, because I'm a poor college student. So at least we've got one out of four.

I'd also like to extend a special thank you to user The Rhombus. He helped me out by pre-reading this chapter, and has offered to help me as the story continues in exchange for my own help proofreading his work. This way, I can make sure that a finished product is released, instead of eagerly mashing the submit button, as I am wont to do. Expect a short chapter very soon, and the opening of some new doors in this narrative.

Or... caves, I guess? There really isn't a very good prehistoric equivalent to doors. Whatever. See you all around!

-Miles