Author's Warning: As I've stated a few times now, this is the chapter that earned this story an M rating by my standards. I will sugarcoat none of this- this chapter contains an attempted rape, as well as content that is largely more violent and disturbing than most of what I've written so far. While this falls under spoiler material, I must clarify this beforehand, as this particular subject is a highly sensitive one. If you wish to skip this chapter, I will not hold it against you. Instead, I will provide a brief tl;dr at the start of the next chapter to summarize what happened here. If you do choose to read the full story, however, proceed below. It's a bit of a departure from my norm, but it is a necessary one. See you soon.
-Nimbus
Shattered Dreams
Falling asleep wasn't quite as easy as Fyn imagined it would be, even if it was night, and late at that. When he and Cura arrived at the cave once more, he'd asked her to try to remember her Dream, and the images that came to mind whenever she thought of it. He didn't know if she'd succeeded or not, but trying to do the same thing on his end was proving quite difficult.
This was, simply put, due to the overwhelming multitude of thoughts flying about his head as he tried to drift off to sleep, whirring and darting around him like a particularly annoying Buzzer. He would find himself thinking of the Valley one moment, and then on to the Scale Biters or the Crossing the next, never actually settling on the topic of the valley for more than a few moments. Even if he hadn't been trying to conjure up a specific Dream, he doubted he'd be able to get much sleep tonight anyway. The days to come would bring with them some big challenges, challenges he'd be expected to answer as the leader of their little herd.
There was, of course, the immediate question of what to do about the Elders, assuming the Crossing was a success. Somehow he doubted they felt their chances of a successful crossing were high, and while he didn't know anything for sure, he had a feeling that seeing them cross the river could cause them to act unpredictably. It was a cautious assumption, perhaps, but something he'd need to consider. What Masur's herd would do also remained a mystery, and perhaps an even more troubling one. How would they react to seeing their most treasured beliefs stripped down and proven false? Cura hadn't reacted well, and she was just a child. The adults could be more worrisome. Hopefully, it wouldn't come to that.
Red sky, Fyn. Remember the red sky.
He tried envisioning that sky, easily the most memorable thing from his Dream, but the image was soon overwhelmed once more as his thoughts turned to the journey ahead. After this place, Cera had warned, it would be a long walk to the next Oasis, and that one held truer to the name. There was no guarantee it even still stood where she claimed it would be, and with water as scarce as it was going to be the farther they walked into the Scar…
Focus.
He rolled over, groaning in frustration. Cura was already soundly asleep; he wondered if she was already walking under that red sky, alone and confused. Would she wait for him? If he met her in her Dream again, would there even be a waiting, or would it be as if they'd fallen asleep at the same time? He didn't know. He hoped the latter was true; the thought of Cura struggling while he failed to utilize his gift was torturous. The poor little Longneck had been through enough already.
Come on, Fyn. Think. Think of something else.
The red sky wasn't working. Every time he brought it up something else took its place. He needed something more memorable, something-
A sound.
And he knew exactly what sound he needed. Fyn shut his eyes again, imagining nothing but a voidlike blackness and one sound, repeating itself over and over again.
"Thrum, thrum. Thrum, thrum. Thrum, thrum."
The void drew closer and Fyn embraced it, and as all sensation left him, as the sound of Skywater and distant thunder faded away, replaced by the soft whistling of a lonesome wind, he turned his eyes skyward, and opened them.
To a blood-red sky full of ashen clouds.
The transition was seamless, as smooth as waking up on his own time. One moment he was in the cave, thinking about the sound, and the next-
Thrum, thrum.
The next, he was hearing it. Just as before, the sound filled him with an overwhelming sense of dread. It seemed he was in the right place.
Fyn took a moment to compose himself before looking around, getting his bearings. He was standing in the exact same spot as before- a ledge overlooking the smooth, blackened floor of the valley. Behind him, he began to hear whispers, voices in both Leafspeak and Toothspeak. He didn't bother trying to understand them. He knew from the last time that doing so was impossible. Across the chasm in front of him, he saw the cave, and standing beside it, waiting patiently-
Cura.
He beamed, despite the gloomy atmosphere. So she'd waited for him after all. Either that, or her Dream had just begun, too. A low rumbling announced the collapse of the rock wall beside him, and as the fallen pile grew, forming into a bridge, Fyn wasted no time crossing it. This time, Cura did not run into the cave on her own. She stayed, waiting for him. As Fyn reached her, she spoke to him in a voice that seemed clear, but distant.
"Come on, Fyn. Follow me."
Fyn tried to say something in response, but- like before- his words came out as a jumbled expression of thought and feeling, made tangible by the Dream. He decided to remain silent. Cura had seen this part before, and he didn't want to miss it because he'd been blabbing.
She led him inside the cave, where- as expected- the "thrum thrum" sound grew louder. They pressed on. There was no rainbow-colored flash of skin this time, nothing barring their path. The deeper they went, the louder the sound became, as if it was part of Fyn's body now. He remembered the way it had governed his own heartbeat. He concentrated, and was unsurprised to find that it had done the same this time. Again, his heart and the strange sound beat as one, but now he knew to expect it. He followed Cura, unafraid as they pushed ahead into the darkness.
Ahead, the cavern widened, and Fyn could see shiny stones gleaming in its walls- a dazzling display of color in the darkness, each stone seemed to contain a light of its own within it, casting a rainbow light over the inside of the cavern. The walls seemed to emit a faint sound, a single, high pitched hum. Unlike the thrumming sound, this brought the opposite effect, leading Fyn towards an feeling of peace, and contentment. The other sound faded away, replaced by the hum until it was no more.
Cura looked around the cave, seemingly surprised, and Fyn wondered if they'd encountered something she did not expect. Certainly, given the expression of surprise on her face, it didn't look like she was familiar with this part of the cave. Yet she, too, seemed in awe rather than afraid.
Wait.
The message appeared from nowhere, completely sourceless, but Fyn felt its intent, and its importance. They were meant to be here, and here they would stay for the rest of the Dream. No more red sky, no rainbow scales. These shiny stones held some sort of answer for them.
He called to Cura. Though he spoke no words, she understood his message. Together, the two sat down, staring up at the cavern ceiling, and the plethora of rainbow lights, and waited.
…
The two Longnecks reached the white tree grove in silence, though Zaura's sobs persisted. She didn't care what Carmas or anyone else would think of her. Normally she hid her tears when she had tears to shed, but having already shed them in front of Sol and now Carmas, she felt no reason to stop. At his instruction, she found a soft patch of grass beneath one of the white-flowered trees and lay on it, resting her head upon the cool, soft ground as the deputy busied himself picking branches from some of the trees.
Finally, lying still with the company of another close by, even if it was someone she didn't particularly care for, she had a chance to reflect. Her thoughts traveled all the way back to the start of their journey, to their time in High Haven, back to the mysterious death of a Lightfoot. She remembered meeting with Sol that day, the way he'd greeted her in his Sharptooth language, his nervousness, the way he'd torn up his sleeping-place. Had he had something to do with that? Or the time he'd spent away from them in Chomper's forest, insisting that he needed to work on his "tracking" alone. Looking back, she wondered how she'd ever been so foolish. Sol hadn't picked up all those new skills on his own. He had to have had a helper, and the Fast Biter from earlier seemed the perfect culprit. She vividly remembered her and her pack. She'd pursued them even outside of the Forest of Sand. Had it not been for Sol's sudden arrival, she might have continued to do so.
But what if that was what she'd been led to believe all along? What if Sol had been covering for another Sharptooth the entire time? These thoughts mingled and mixed, falling deep into the pit of her stomach where they stayed and burned with a slow, unquenchable fire, and for the first time in her life,
(No, the second time. You remember the first, even if you don't want to)
-she felt lost. Perhaps this was why she'd so readily accepted Carmas's help, she reasoned with what little amount of rationality she had left. She needed something to hold onto, some source of stability no matter how precarious. It was why she sought Fyn, and why she now found herself lying under a white tree in the early morning under a sky that wept as she did.
"'Ere, I 'rought 'oo 'ese," Carmas mumbled, depositing a mouthful of gathered sticks in front of her, "go on and eat. It'll make you feel better." He lifted his head up to the tree Zaura sat under, and his head quickly disappeared inside the white flowers. Zaura heard a snap, and he brought it out again, carrying another stick covered in the sweet-smelling, white food.
"And these too," he added, rolling them over to Zaura's pile. She looked down at them, confused, remembering Carmas's instructions to her not to eat them, and the way he'd applied the paste to his foot to heal it. Now, for some reason, he seemed perfectly fine with giving them to her.
"Carmas, I thought I wasn't supposed to eat these," she said, sniffing at the flowers. Again her nostrils were filled with the same sickly-sweet smell from the last time. This time her repulsion was more than just with the smell alone, however. The flowers stood as something impossible- something so sweet it could not exist. She'd learned tonight that fantasies, no matter how much one wanted to believe them, were just that in the end- fantasy. Sol was a Sharptooth. She was a Leaf Eater. The fact that she'd been fooled into being friends with him, let alone attracted to him put a sour taste in her mouth, one that she doubted even Carmas's gift to her would quell.
"These flowers heal, Zaura, but they do not just heal the body. They heal the mind. You're sick in your head, and in your heart. They will heal you, help you to think again, to take charge of your situation once more. They help. Trust me."
She eyed the white petals warily. Relenting, she opened her mouth, closed her teeth daintily around just one petal, and plucked it from its parent flower, crushing it between her teeth. The aromatic scent filled her mouth with the same, light taste as the fragments seemed to simply melt away. The taste was not unpleasant, and left a charming, tingling sensation on her tongue. A shiver ran down the length of her body, and she felt as if a great weight had lifted from her shoulders, as if the world had grown tired of pressing her into the dirt and had decided, if only for a moment, to relinquish some of the pressure. Carmas was right. The flowers truly were beyond compare, and perfect treatment.
Zaura ate the rest of it, working it around slowly as it fell to pieces within her mouth. She closed her eyes, letting the sweet, tingling taste and the soft, gentle vapors run down the back of her mouth, calming her. She vaguely heard the soft sigh of grass parting as Carmas sat down beside her. He was close, closer than she normally would allow, but as she swallowed the rest of the flower, she found she didn't mind. In fact, his presence was a comfort.
"I… look, maybe it's not my place to say this, but I never trusted that Sharptooth from the start."
Zaura glanced up from her meal to see Carmas looking over at her, his face creased with concern and sorrow. Regardless of who he was, his measure of sincerity spoke to her, and she decided to say what had been on her mind ever since her shocking discovery.
"Maybe I- maybe we shouldn't have. But that doesn't make the truth any harder to believe. Sol was my friend."
"No, Sol pretended to be your friend." Carmas stared off into space, looking to Zaura as if remembering something. In reality, his mind was turning the fastest it had gone in years, looking for a way to spin his story. It was clear that, while her trust had been broken, Zaura still held some sort of attachment to the Longclaw, no matter how thin.
"Have you ever heard about Longclaws? I mean, do you know all that much about them, other than what Sol has told you?" he asked her.
"No," she whispered, "I can't say I do."
Inwardly Carmas let out a cry of glee. This was working out better than he'd envisioned.
"Well, allow me to tell you what I've heard, then, and you can make up your mind after that. See, our kind met our fair share of Longclaws back when we roamed the Mysterious Beyond. They were always loners, strange Sharpteeth, not accompanied by Leaf Eaters or their own kind. We didn't realize why that was until it was almost too late.
You see, a Longclaw more than any other Sharptooth has just one priority: to eat. And it'll do whatever it takes to fulfill that need. Based on the stories we still tell, we once took a few in with us from time to time. They seemed decent on the outside- friendly, polite, a couple of 'em knew Leafspeak- not things you would normally expect from a Sharptooth. Anyhow, they'd stay with us until we reached a new water-place, whether that be a lake, stream, river, or what have you. Seemed they preferred our company when moving to a new territory."
He shifted in place, keeping a careful watch on Zaura's eyes. She honestly believed him. Perhaps the flowers had made her more gullible, but still, he was half-surprised to see that she didn't doubt him for even so much as an instant.
"Over time, though, we began to realize that territory was all they really cared about, and that they were using us, benefitting from our protection and numbers without really giving us anything in return. They didn't care about our company, our companionship- we were just walking shelter to them. And to make matters worse, it wasn't long before some of our herd members started to disappear. Our herd learned the hard way during those years that you can't trust a false-face. And those Longclaws? Not a single true-face among them."
"False-face?" Zaura looked up from her leaves again. Carmas could see that she'd nearly finished the flowers, and though she was not aware of it, her eyelids were clearly beginning to droop. He just had to keep her occupied a little longer…
"A false-face is a dinosaur who seems normal, much like you or me. They're called false-faces because the face they wear, the words they use- they're not sincere. They're all lies, but the false-face is so good at hiding who he is, that it's nearly impossible to tell him apart from all the other true-faces. These Longclaws knew that we would be sympathetic to their loneliness, hear they starving bellies, see their tired feet and let them into our herd, so they behaved in a way that they knew we would pity. But that wasn't who they were, and it took the death of many a Longneck before we finally got wise to their plans. Sound familiar?"
Zaura grew more and more dismayed the longer Carmas's tale went on. He was describing Sol perfectly- all of his charm, his good-nature, everything about him: false. It felt like someone had kicked her in the stomach. If everything about him was false, and she'd still managed to fall for him…
Well that made her a fool, didn't it? No surprises there.
"Carmas," she whispered, feeling her mouth begin to tremble at the onset of more tears, "none of it was real, was it? Sol, his kindness to me, everything he's done for us- was that all an act, then?"
Carmas shifted himself closer; close enough that Zaura could feel the warmth of his own skin beside her. She did not move away- in fact, she welcomed the tangible presence of another. Something felt wrong- she felt distant, like she was sensing everything, every sight, sound, taste, touch, and smell, through the body of another. Her vision was cloudy, like the sky had descended upon the little grove. It wasn't alarming, but it felt different, strange even.
This is what happens when you spend all night and morning crying, Zaura. Get a grip.
"No, Zaura," she heard Carmas's voice coming from somewhere close- beside her ear? Her first thought was to look at him, but it seemed like too much of an effort. She felt at peace with herself, so much so that the thing he said next never bothered her in the slightest.
"None of it was real. Sol was a false-face, too. But I'm here for you, Zaura. I'm real. So forget the Longclaw. No matter what happens, I'll always be beside you, to keep you close, and to comfort you. You know I'd never hurt you like he would. All I ask is that you let me in…"
…
Sol carefully touched a claw to the side of his face where Zaura had struck him. It hurt to blink, and the site was still extremely painful to the touch. She hadn't cut very deeply, but the wound was a significant one- a thin, red line stretching from the bottom of his jaw up to just above his eye. It had swelled up quite a bit since the initial impact, and the pressure was next to unbearable. It felt to him like his head was firmly clamped in the jaws of a larger Sharptooth, a pain that tripled every time he moved so much as a claw.
But none of that mattered. All of the pain was incomparable to his dedication to finding Zaura once more. Rear had urged him not to, that he should rest, give her some time alone, but Sol wouldn't hear it. As he saw it, he'd caused the mistake, and it was his responsibility to own up to it and fix it. Even if Zaura was going to just turn away again, he had to make sure she knew the truth. No more secrets. Before the Bright Circle rose, she would know exactly what sort of dinosaur he was.
He could smell Rear not far behind. She'd protested against him going after Zaura, but that apparently hadn't stopped her from tagging along. Sol wished desperately that he hadn't dragged her into the whole ordeal, but there was nothing he could do about it now. This was his own task, and if she wished to spectate, that was her call.
Part of him couldn't believe this was actually happening. It all felt so surreal, like a bad sleep story that he'd just wake up from in the morning. He wanted to believe that, to tell himself that as soon as he woke up, he'd tell Zaura everything, from Rear to his feeding and training, but the pain reminded him that this was no sleep story. Everything had happened so quickly- months' worth of building a friendship, all gone because of one slip-up. Because, as Rear had warned him, he lacked situational awareness. Now Zaura was gone, alone, wandering around in the dark like a lost hatchling. He couldn't stand the thought. Even if she could no longer tolerate his presence, he had to make sure she was safe. There were other dangers than Sharpteeth in this forest.
He shut his eyes against the wind, which had worked itself up into a low howl, and pressed ahead, fighting the pain all the way. She was out there, somewhere, alive for the moment.
Hold on, Zaura. I'm coming.
…
Zaura's world was fading.
She wasn't sure when she'd become aware of this, exactly, but it was becoming more obvious the deeper she descended into… whatever was affecting her. The white tree grove looked more vivid than usual, its whites stood out among the darkness, making the place look almost like day. Carmas's yellow stripes and marks stood out against his gray skin, too, looking strangely out of place. By now, something seemed off, a message that had gotten through to her despite the overwhelming desire to lie down and close her eyes.
It had to be the flowers. She was sure of it. Carmas had said they healed the body and the mind, but what she felt now was beyond healing. It was the absence of, frankly, anything. She felt nothing. She tried to move her leg. The appendage moved, but she felt nothing. Her heart skipped a beat. She tried again, still nothing. It was like she was looking down at someone else's leg. Zaura tried moving the other one, to the same results. She began to hyperventilate, looking desperately to Carmas for an answer.
"Carmas, what- what's happening? I feel strange."
Carmas refrained from curling his mouth in annoyance. He'd expected the flowers to be faster, and by now the faintest hints of dawn were already painting the sky with their blue tint. The first of the herd would be waking soon, and he was getting impatient. Already his body burned with a nigh uncontrollable urge. Beside him, the object of his affection lay helpless on the ground. He could scarcely believe it, but he knew that he'd planned this. He knew that, inevitably, it would lead to this moment right now.
"Embrace it, Zaura, let the flowers do their work. That is the healing process you feel, nothing more." He spoke softly, gently, in an attempt to calm her. He could see the rapid rise and fall of her chest as she tried to cope with the strange sensation the flowers had cast upon her. She was resistant, a fighter. He should have anticipated that.
Cautiously he edged even closer, until their sides just barely touched. Whether it was the Skywater or her increasing numbness, Carmas could not say, but Zaura didn't seem to react to his advance. In fact, she was having a hard enough time as it was keeping her eyes open. Carmas steeled himself, taking in a slow, measured breath. A fire burned within him, the same fire that burned below the belly of all male Longnecks this time of the year. Zaura would have no such sensation in her state of rapidly fading conscious, but that, Carmas reasoned, was probably a good thing. It'd be easier for him. The urges were louder now, rising to the top of his mind in a piercing, primal shriek. He had to listen. He could wait no longer. Very slowly, he lifted himself up onto his feet, and placed a foot over the ridge of Zaura's back.
The feeling in her legs was gone, but Zaura was aware of the sensation of something upon her back, something sliding, working its way down from one side to the other. The sensation was almost imperceptible- perhaps it would have been were it not for the weight behind it. She wanted to turn around, to see what was going on, but the effort seemed too great. If she lifted her head, she felt as if she might collapse then and there. She dismissed it as just another trick of the flowers.
Healing. She needed healing. Healing of the mind.
(Are you sure? Is that really what he wants?)
She felt the sensation again on her left side this time, something large now wrapped itself around the entirety of her back, from one side to the other, and she felt a steadily increasing pressure from above. She fought to open her half-closed eyes, to see what was going on. She barely managed to tilt her heavy head to look at Carmas.
Or to look at where Carmas had been.
He wasn't there. Carmas had disappeared, and the pressure was growing. Something was on her, straddling her back, and even through the haze Zaura began to realize that something was very, very wrong.
"Lie down, Zaura, close your eyes, and embrace it all. Embrace me. Embrace the inevitability. This is all I ask. You are mine, now."
The voice came from beside her ear, sickly-sweet like the flowers. Something pressed upon the small of her back, something she'd never felt before. But she knew exactly what it was. An electric jolt passed through her as the realization of what Carmas was doing hit her like a bolt of Skyfire. She'd seen her share of courtships in the Grove, and even some of what came after. She knew…
She knew why Carmas had straddled himself across her back, and was now forcing her down into the ground.
Move! Her mind screamed at her, clawing past the comforting fog of the flowers, fighting to be heard as she sunk into the realm of the unconscious, get up before he does it to you! You know what comes next!
But I don't want to move.
(Stand up. Stand up and fight right now).
I want to sleep.
(Get your sorry ass off the ground. You can sleep when you're dead)
I want to heal.
(He's not going to heal you, Zaura. Listen to me. He's fooled you again. He has tricked you again. Once more, someone has lied to you, and you fell for it. You fucking fell for it, just like you always do, isn't that right? Go ahead, lie down and accept your defeat. And when you're carrying his eggs, carrying part of him inside you, you can remember this day and laugh at the foolish young female you used to be. Because that's EXACTLY what you are, isn't it? A fool. A fool who admits defeat the first time things start to get tough).
"No," she mumbled, the sound echoing up from the depths of her lungs, barely more than a whisper. Carmas bent his head down to her level again. He was on top of her now, feet squarely on either side of the Sailneck. She wasn't going anywhere; he had time to hear whatever she had to say.
"What was that… darlin'?"
The voice calling out from the dark pit of unconsciousness became a roar, lit ablaze by the one word she recognized.
(Come on, Zaura. Get up. Tear that fog away from your eyes, rage against him for your life, for your own dignity, your honor. Don't let that piece of shit have the satisfaction of winning. Not now, not ever. Stand up, Zaura. Stand up, throw him off, drive him into the ground if you have to. He cannot win).
But I don't want to mo-
(STAND UP, THROW HIM OFF, DRIVE HIM INTO THE GROUND, KICK HIS ASS)
Her whole body shuddered as Zaura woke, piercing the veil of white that clouded her vision, her perception, her reality.
The real world.
The facts came flooding in, observations pieced themselves together as the reality of what was happening fully dawned on her.
Carmas is on top of me, and if I do not move- if I do not fight- he will have his way with me.
But the fog was not the only thing holding her back. The crushing weight of Carmas atop her kept her pinned. He was almost twice her own weight, and more than capable of keeping her down. But there was another option, and right now there didn't seem to be any alternative.
He's a Longneck, Zaura. Like you. Are you sure you want to do this?
(Make him bleed).
She thrust her neck upwards and backwards sharply, breaching the surface, tearing through the membrane of her false reality and re-entering the one she was currently living. Carmas's grunting was suddenly cut off by a sharp, pained yelp, and she felt a rigid jerk as his body tensed. Her neck stopped as her spines sunk into soft flesh and held. Something warm cascaded down the length of her neck. She didn't need to look to see that it was blood. Carmas pulled back, screeching like a downed Flyer, but the spines held fast, embedded in the muscle of his lower neck.
Zaura began to sway, rocking back and forth as Carmas shook to dislodge her. She felt a tugging sensation- the spines held better than she'd anticipated. Back in the grove, they'd only ever been used as a display of mating potential. Now she was using them to deter a mate. Carmas swung himself around, and Zaura stumbled with him, catching her foot upon the grass and falling just as a heavy foot smashed into her thigh. She heard a sharp snap, and a wet tearing noise as she tumbled forward onto the grass beneath the white trees. Her face plowed into the soft, wet earth, and the white reached out to reclaim her. She pushed it away, hobbling to her feet. Her world swam before her eyes, but she focused on all four feet, squarely on the ground. Carmas had been sent reeling to the other side of the field, blood oozing from four punctures in his neck. She'd missed the windpipe, but the damage was significant nonetheless.
"You… you bitch!" he croaked, his voice harsh with pain. He stumbled backwards, regained his footing, and then squared off opposite her. When his eyes fell upon her sail, he smiled, a terrible, malicious grin that chilled Zaura to the core.
"But I guess I fared better than you did…"
More of the warm liquid was running down her neck than before, and as soon as Carmas pointed it out, she realized that this wasn't his blood anymore. It was hers. Even before she saw the fragments of her once proud spines in the middle of the grove, she realized with a horrible, sinking feeling what Carmas had done.
She felt a great pressure in her thigh where he'd hit her, but it was nothing compared to the pounding feeling in her neck, just behind her head. It took a monumental effort just to feel again, to understand what had happened to her, but the limp fragments of wet membrane upon the back of her neck, and the blood running down her skin was enough of a clue. In order to force her away, Carmas had kicked her, completely breaking the spines that had penetrated him, and tearing the sail in the process. Once free, he'd shaken what remained of the spines out of his own neck. Zaura was a half-sail now. The thing that made her who she was- a Sailneck above all else- was damaged, torn, unrecognizable now. He had ruined her, ruined any chance that she would ever find a mate of her own. A Sailneck with a broken sail was a disgraced Sailneck. To make matters worse, she could tell by the pounding that her sails were flushed, the sign of a Sailneck in distress. The rush of blood was pouring through the torn membrane, making her weaker by the second. Once more her world swam, and she imagined not one, but three Carmases standing in front of her, leering at her.
He had ruined her, but he had not ruined her will to fight.
She surged forward, ignoring the pounding in her head. Carmas sidestepped her rush with ease, driving his back leg into her stomach at full force. Zaura doubled over from the impact, but felt nothing as the flowers continued their attempt to pull her into sedation.
"Heh. Hurt, didn't it?" he taunted, sauntering over to where she'd fallen, "good luck getting a mate with that pathetic excuse of a sail now. Didn't really think that one through, didja? Come on, darlin,' I'm the only one for you now."
"Funny you say that," she spat, tasting blood from where she'd bit the inside of her cheek. She met his smirk with one of her own, and her defiance seemed to anger him, clouding his brow with contempt. Excellent.
"See, the thing about those flowers you gave me, asshole- I can't feel a damn thing."
Zaura let out a roar, bringing her tail up in a swift, forceful arc across Carmas's chest, leaving a thin, red scar. The crack it made as it reached the end of its swing filled her with a renewed sense of determination. She could fight back. She would not succumb. Again the larger Longneck fell back with a loud cry, but this time Zaura picked herself up in spite of the white, and now the black clawing at the corners of her vision, dragging her down into the pit of unconsciousness. She pawed at the ground and charged forward again, not willing to give Carmas another chance to recover. Her charge caught him just as he prepared to ready himself again, and this time it was he who was flung bodily across the grove, smashing into the trunk of one of the trees. White petals fell down like snow, but Zaura brushed them aside as she dove upon him again, driving her feet into this side over and over, mercilessly pounding at the dinosaur who had so nearly wronged her, pushing down, down into him, feeling the hard bone beneath her feet, blocking out his pathetic braying as she hit him. Her foot came down hard, there was a muted crunch, and Carmas shrieked. She'd broken a rib, maybe more. His foot came up again, catching her just below the neck, and she staggered backward, the breath driven from her lungs. Carmas rose up, coughing, and glared at Zaura with eyes that blazed with a dead light. There was no emotion behind them, only the desire to fulfill an unfulfilled urge. Before she could recover, he barreled straight into her, knocking her off her feet again. She hit the ground hard, closing her eyes against the impact, and as she opened them she found herself struggling once more to escape the grasp of the white. It was a losing battle. No matter how hard she struggled, the white of her stupor and the black of unconsciousness closed in, threatening to end her fight. Carmas's feet and tail rained down blows upon her exposed body, smashing her into the dirt as she had done to him. Between each strike, he could hear his grunting, empty laughter.
His tail came down again, straight onto her face, and Zaura's vision erupted in a colorful display of fire and stars. She screamed out, a hoarse, pained cry for help that carried with it a message of fear, and loss. She was immediately silenced as the tail came down one more time. Her jaw felt numb, and her vision was nearly gone. From where she lay, the whole grove seemed covered in a white mist again. She was failing, fading, even as Carmas flipped her onto her stomach, in the way a hatchling might flip a pebble for amusement, she began to slow, her movements losing their purpose as the flowers dulled her to the point of no longer caring. She found her thoughts turning back to her childhood, a time in the grove she had long since tried to forget…
…
"Zaura, what took you so long?"
The two young Sailnecks met outside the trees on the sandy beach. The yellow female who had addressed the other seemed eager, excited to carry out whatever plans she had made, while the rose-colored female who had emerged from the trees simply seemed downtrodden.
"Talked to Fyn," she replied.
"And?"
Zaura let out a long, dramatic sigh as she rolled her eyes. "He says he doesn't want to get in trouble."
"But we're not even going that far!"
"Doesn't matter. He won't do it," she said, starting off down the beach, away from the grove. The yellow Sailneck quickly fell in beside her. She was half a year older than Zaura,and her spines were already beginning to grow in. Zaura often looked to her with a small measure of jealousy, but it wasn't enough to compromise their friendship. She was a good friend, and a bit of an explorer. Today was to be the first day she would accompany Zaura outside the sheltering trees of the Grove, an action that Garas, the herd leader, had expressly forbidden. Zaura wondered why Fyn hadn't felt the same excitement as her. Standing up to their father, breaking the rules- that was an exciting prospect for her. Yet Fyn chose to stay behind, playing on the boring old rocks again.
But as the two Sailnecks passed the Grove's final tree, those feelings of dismay dimmed, and Zaura's heart soared. They were past the borders- she was free for the first time in her admittedly short life. She looked to her friend with a huge grin on her face, and she responded in kind.
"Race ya!"
Zaura met the challenge with a smirk of her own. "You're on!"
…
Sol snapped up, alert, as Zaura's call ripped through the morning air. It was a call of distress, but it was so much more than that. Her voice was rough, ragged, pained. It was the first time she'd truly sounded afraid, and this hit Sol like a physical blow. Gone were the melodious tones of her Sailneck cry, replaced by base terror and sorrow.
He took off at a sprint, running faster than he'd ever run before, leaving Rear a few seconds behind before she finally realized what he was doing. That call sent shivers down his spine, and it could only mean one thing: Zaura was in danger- mortal danger- and no matter what she would think of him for it, it was his responsibility as a friend to see her through it.
…
Fyn and Cura didn't have long to wait. The humming sound grew louder, but not painfully so. The lights of the shiny stones seemed to swell, growing in size and intensity, and before his eyes, Fyn saw them move.
It happened slowly at first, the lights creeping up toward the roof of the cave, leaving colored trails in their path. Both dinosaurs looked on, awestruck as they gathered in one spot, filling the cave with a brilliant, white light. Then the lights fell, running down the opposite wall like water in a Skywater storm, swirling, collecting at the bottom of the wall for a moment before it traveled back up, lines etching themselves in colored patterns into the smooth rock. It took him a moment, but as the lines began to take form, Fyn realized what he was seeing.
They were creating an image, like a hole in the cave to the world outside. He could see mountains rising from the floor, trees growing under their watchful shadow…
And then it all began to fade- the cave, the colors, the sounds- everything, as a sudden an overwhelming wave of anguish broke over Fyn, filling him with a sudden sense of crippling despair as the Dream winked out.
Zaura.
Both he and Cura awoke to the sound of Fyn's sister's cry. They shared no words, only a brief, worried glance, before Fyn charged out of the cave, feet pounding tremors into the ground as he raced towards the desperate plea for help, leaving Cura scrambling to keep up in his wake.
…
It was the moment Carmas mounted her again, pressing her face down into the grass with his superior size that Zaura realized she was fighting a losing battle.
Her skin was sticky with blood- hers and his. She'd lost so much already that just staying awake was an effort in and of itself. Based on her failure to protect herself from Carmas's relentless battery, she knew she wouldn't be able to lift a foot to get up again, much less actually fight back this time. Finally, after all the pain, all the pressure, all the exhaustion, there was nothing else she could do.
Her mind screamed at her to get up, to shrug away the pain as she always had and finish him, but that voice was quickly becoming tired, and silent, muted by the deranged, coarse laughter of the Longneck-
(Carmas)
-In her ear. He had planted her firmly into the ground this time, taking care to pin her neck down with his own, carefully avoiding the spines. His wounds still gushed; she could feel it on the surface of her neck. The few rare moments when she remembered what was actually going on, she took what little satisfaction she could from that fact.
"Look at you," he cackled, pushing down on her. Zaura felt the familiar sensation, the one that had alerted her to Carmas's actions in the first place. This time, however, she couldn't resist. He pushed down again, and Zaura felt the air rush out of her lungs in a wheezing cough.
"Fuck you," she gasped, squirming to escape his firm hold.
"No, Zaura," he chuckled, "I'm afraid you don't quite understand how this works. You really thought you had me, didn't you? You thought you could walk away, because you were so strong, so sure of yourself, that nothing could ever claim you. You thought you were a free spirit, right? Tell me, Zaura- how does that feel now? Do you still feel like that?!"
Reality came flooding back into her mind again, and she bit down on the grass. She wanted to cry, but she had no tears left. He forced himself down onto her again, and her vision threatened to black out completely this time.
"You Farwalkers are all the same. So gullible, so trusting- Fyn will cross that river tomorrow, and he will die like the others. Because let me clue you in on something- there's nothing special about your brother, even if the herd believes it. They'll walk into that river tomorrow, and they will be torn to pieces just like everyone else. And when that happens, we'll be alone together, just you and me. And believe me- I can make your life wonderful here, or miserable, just like today. It's your choice."
The meaning behind his words was completely lost to her now. She felt only sadness and a sense of bitter defeat. She didn't know who Fyn was, or what Carmas was talking about anymore. The only thought that remained firmly lodged in her mind was that she had lost. She didn't know how or why, but once again, she had failed to see something so obvious that even a hatchling could have spotted it.
"Good girl. Lie down, cooperate, this'll be over before you know it. Unless, of course, I decide to start over aga-"
The weight suddenly lifted from Zaura's back, followed by a spattering of warm liquid on her back. She saw a flash of teeth and claws before she felt herself flung aside, rolling to a stop beneath one of the white
(Trees. White trees).
She heard a sound, a cross between a hiss and a roar, and she raised her battered head just enough to see what had caused the commotion.
…
"Hold up!"
Zaura skidded to a halt as her friend held her tail up, a sign to stop. She ducked behind a small sand dune, cautiously peering over it. Eager to get a glimpse of what had caused her friend to bring their chase to an abrupt halt, Zaura too glanced over the lip of the dune.
On the beach ahead of them was an incredible assortment of shells of various sizes, shapes, and vibrant colors. This was a wash-beach, a place where the current deposited a larger amount of debris than usual. She'd seen her share of shells like this before, but never so many in such a small area. Some were open, exposing their smooth, iridescent white insides, while others were beautiful on the outside in their own right, curling upwards in a perfectly pointed coiled cone or a swirling, smooth, round shape. The area was just as beautiful as her friend had described it.
But it was not the shells she was looking at. It was the small, spindly-legged sharptooth that picked at them that caught her eye. It stood about Zaura's height, a deep, dark brownish-red and black. Its body was covered with feathers, which ruffled in the ocean breeze, giving it an almost comical appearance to Zaura. It picked at the shells, turning them over and looking inside for the meat that sometimes remained within. Zaura did not fail to notice the one long, curved claw on each of its feet. She shuddered. All thought about the creature's appearance aside, that claw was scary.
"He's hoarding all the shells," the yellow Sailneck hissed indignantly, much to Zaura's surprise. She'd expected more of a cautious response, what with the fact that the creature they were looking at was indeed a Sharptooth. But her friend didn't seem to care.
"Let's go down there and chase him off."
"What, are you crazy?" Zaura shot back, "he could eat us!"
"Hah, I'd like to see him try," her friend scoffed, popping up over the dune and marching toward the Sharptooth. Against her better judgement, Zaura followed her. She was, after all, the more experienced of the two of them outside the Grove.
"Hey you! Those are our shells!" the yellow Sailneck yelled, "get away from them!"
The Sharptooth hopped in place, startled by the sudden intrusion. He fixed the yellow Sailneck with a curious glance, tilting his head to one side.
"You heard me! Shoo!"
"Yeah, get out of here!" Zaura added, not wanting to be a dead weight in their efforts. The Sharptooth hopped back a little, barked out a short, cawing call, and then bolted in the other direction, moving in short little hops. The yellow Sailneck laughed as he ran off.
"That'll show him. Come on, Zaura. You've got to see some of these!"
…
When Sol entered the grove and saw Carmas straddling his friend, all rational thought died. He felt it all cease in an instant. He knew what was coming next, but he didn't try to fight it. This was different from some dinosaur carcass out in the middle of some forest. This was the enemy right in front of him- a towering, heavy, walking piece of meat. He only allowed himself one more thought before his instincts kicked in- a single, definitive statement, one he thought with surprising evenness and clarity:
Carmas, I am going to kill you.
The Longneck didn't hear him approach, and Sol took advantage of this opportunity, sprinting up to him and driving his claws deep into the side of him. He felt something hard scrape past the tip of his fishing claws, a rib perhaps, and he latched onto it for grip. It took a moment for the pain to register, but when Carmas turned around to see Sol at his side, his claws buried up to the wrists in his own stomach, he began to screech in terror, a high-pitched Longneck call completely unbecoming of a creature of his size. Sol dug in farther, avoiding the large Longneck's tail spasms, and heaved, putting his entire body into it. The Longneck rolled off Zaura, and the force with which Sol hit him sent both him and Zaura tumbling in different directions. Sol didn't even notice as the Sailneck came to a stop under one of the trees. His only thoughts were for Carmas, flailing to stand back up as blood poured from his new wounds.
New wounds. So he's been hurt before.
Punctures lined his neck, and Sol felt a gush of pride that Zaura had fought back against him. He didn't know what Carmas had done to her to make her so subservient, but he imagined nothing good. He took a moment to size up his opponent as Carmas regained his footing. He seemed to be favoring one of his back legs, and his abdominal wounds had forced him to hunch, something which would compromise his ability to move from side to side. Then there were the wounds Zaura had inflicted, the spine-holes on his neck. They didn't seem particularly dangerous, but if he needed to, he could use them against Carmas. Biting down on one would surely break off an attack if necessary.
But the one signal he received that confirmed for him how easy Carmas would be to take down was the look on his face. Gone was the self-assured smirk, the aloof, uncaring attitude, replaced by a pale, wide-mouthed look of absolute terror. He'd seen his end in Sol's teeth; he knew his time was limited now. Sol snarled, exposing the teeth in his mouth for good measure again, relishing the way Zaura's attacker flinched away.
"Sol, it's not… it's not what you think," he pleaded, backing away toward the treeline. Sol followed him, matching every step with his own. Carmas wasn't going anywhere fast. He could outrun him. Sol had all the time in the world now.
"It is exactly what I think," he hissed. He'd reverted to the Sharptooth language now; he didn't mind. Somehow he felt that it better expressed his feelings towards the slimy figure standing in front of him. He sniffed the air- Carmas's mate-smell was strong and pungent. Yes, he reasoned, he knew exactly what Carmas had been up to, and there wasn't a single story he could spin that would make him believe otherwise.
"You've told your last lie, Longneck," he snapped, saliva dripping from his open jaws, "now you can feel every pain you inflicted on Zaura. And then some."
He lunged forward. Desperate, Carmas wheeled around, his tail in the air. The thick appendage caught Sol in the chest, knocking him into one of the grove's strange, white trees. Sol shook off the impact, emerging in a shower of fallen petals as Carmas turned to make his retreat. Sol leaped onto him, digging his claws into the Longneck's back, and tearing several long gashes down its length. Carmas tensed, kicking back as he let out a whining, pained grunt. Sol dodged the foot and dug his claws in again. This time, Carmas spun around, flinging Sol to the ground. The movement put him down on his hurt leg, and he shrieked out again. Sol got up quickly, hopping onto all four legs, and targeted Carmas's injured appendage, butting it with his head. He felt the Longneck recoil, and he swayed back, nearly falling over. The tail was swinging wildly now, indiscriminately targeting anything and everything in its path. Twice it lashed against Sol's side, but he did not relent, pounding on Carmas's leg until he was unable to hold out, and fell to the ground. The legs parted with the force of the impact, and Sol grimly chose his target, bringing his clawed foot down between Carmas's back legs and raking it viciously downward. The sound that came from Carmas's throat was otherworldly, like nothing Sol had ever heard before, and a more merciful soul would have ceased the attack there, or swiftly ended it. But Sol could not remove the image of Zaura, trapped under the weight of the (probably former now) deputy from his mind.
He dug his claws deep into Carmas's exposed belly and began to tear, slicing through skin and muscle, down to the bone. The Longneck continued to flail, but Sol stayed well clear, straddling his belly and thrusting his jaws into the slit he'd made. The shrieks were deafening, but Sol ignored him, tearing through bone and viscera to find what he was looking for. He stopped for a rare moment to think, remembering something Rear had told him.
All of our blood comes through the heart. It is a prize among Sharpteeth. In our pack, it is usually given to the Alpha. To claim the heart is to truly claim the life of your prey.
He was digging in the wrong spot. Sol turned his attention upward, to the soft skin between Carmas's front legs. Ignoring the Longneck's rasping, incoherent pleas, he dug his claws in again, as deep as they could go. He could feel the pounding, throbbing muscle he was looking for just beside them. The motion, the sound, the very feel of it sent him into a frenzy, and he parted the muscle wide with his claws, shoving his thin snout into the wound as he searched for the one muscle that kept Carmas alive. As long as it still beat, his job wasn't over. He found it, just past the tip of his snout- the sound of its defiant beating was like laughter to him, even from the edge of death, Carmas was mocking him.
I got to her first, Sol, and now she'll never trust you again.
With a muffled scream, Sol lunged forward, deeper into Carmas's chest cavity, jaws stretched as wide as he could manage as he found the heart. Blood spurted between his teeth, hot and savory as he clamped down hard. His teeth, designed perfectly to catch and hold onto Scaly Swimmers, never lost their purchase as he began to tug. Carmas ceased to struggle; he was either unconscious or dead, Sol didn't care which. He tugged again, bracing one of his feet in Carmas's chest, and the other on the ground. The resistance was intense, but he continued to pull, for Zaura.
With a pop and a wet squelch, the heart tore free. Sol wrenched his head back, his prize firmly clasped between his jaws, throwing a crescent spray of blood into the air, staining the white flowers below a deep red. Behind him, the large Longneck's breathing stopped completely. Sol saw this and raised the heart high to the stormy sky, feeling the warmth on his neck as what little blood remained ran down it. He snapped it down, slicing the dense muscle to shreds with his sharp teeth, and within moments, the heart of Carmas was gone. A bolt of Skyfire ripped across the sky. Sol placed a foot on the corpse of the Longneck who had dared to attack his friend, lifted his bloodied head to the sky, and half-roared half-howled his own response to the sky's challenge.
I am a Sharptooth, the roar said, and here, I have triumphed.
As he came back down, his breathing began to slow, his eyes resumed their normal appearance, and his claws hung safely at his side once more. It was only then, as he regained his composure, that he realized Zaura was gone.
…
When the Sharptooth began to tear into Carmas, Zaura could only watch, helplessly. She didn't know who Carmas was anymore. As far as she was concerned, a Sharptooth had come into the grove and taken him instead of her. She kept her mouth shut as the grisly scene unfolded in front of her, but when the giant Longneck finally lay still, she knew she had to act, or risk being the beast's next victim.
So she ran. She ran through the trees, stumbling over every rock, stick, change in terrain. She didn't know where she was going, and she didn't care. It was a race for her life as she outran the Sharptooth, the threat of unconsciousness, the blissful call of sleep's warm embrace. She wanted more than anything to lay down and let it all end, but she couldn't. Somewhere buried beneath the miasma of white mist was her true self, and that voice begged her to go on, to get away and to safety before giving up. And despite the numbed legs, the bleeding sails, and the ringing in her ears, Zaura listened to that little voice.
By the time she cleared the trees, she couldn't even remember why she was running, she just knew that she had to get away, to get herself as far as possible from… something.
The visible world for her was less an environment now as it was a mixed assortment of signals. She knew that the thing that lay in front of her, stretching from the trees to the horizon, was a river, but she never really visually recognized it as such. Somewhere her mind made the connection, and the blurred image her eyes perceived seemed to confirm it.
Safe… on other side.
She didn't know why the other side meant safety, or why she felt so hesitant to cross, but she knew that doing so would be safer than staying on this side, with the Sharptooth. She heard the roar of rushing water as she got close; further downstream, several gray splotches stuck up from the surface. Rocks. Something nagged at the back of her mind, begging her not to go in, but without a good reason, she ignored it.
A sound echoed through the murky fog of her mind, one that sealed her decision: a terrifying, crackling roar from behind her. Startled, she made her decision then and there, and leaped headlong into the roaring river.
Immediately she was overpowered by the strong current. She kicked feebly at the water, but it was in control now. It was all she could do to keep her head above the surface as the current pushed and tossed her like a leaf in a windstorm. So turned around was she that she didn't see the first rock as it rushed up to collide squarely with her side.
Thud.
The impact sent her spiraling back into the darkness, out of control.
…
Their shell gazing went on for most of the morning without interruption. Together, the two young Sailnecks combed the beach, turning over every new and interesting shell they could find. One had even held a little Scuttler in it, which they chased for a while. The Bright Circle hung high in the sky by the time they were halfway through all of them, and Zaura found herself remembering the Sharptooth they'd chased off. Where had it gone? Why was it afraid of them? It didn't seem to add up.
"Hey, Zaura! Check this one out!" the yellow Sailneck kicked at a smooth, shiny shell. Its surface was covered in layered, pale yellow rings. It reminded Zaura of the Bright Circle. The shell was beautiful beyond compare.
But as she bent down to look at it, she heard her friend's laughter suddenly cease as a shadow fell over them. Cautious, Zaura looked up from her friend's discovery to find her shaking, gazing out towards the dunes.
The Sharptooth was back, but it wasn't the only one. Zaura counted three others, all bobbing their heads up and down as the leader chattered something to them. The sight made her uneasy, and she began to wonder if chasing the first one off had been a good idea after all.
"Maybe we should go," she whispered.
Her friend looked down at her, and Zaura could see the fear in her own eyes as she nodded. The Sharpteeth began to climb up and over the dune, steadily advancing on them. Zaura could see their long toe claws moving, pressing down into the sand in a tapping motion. All eyes were upon them.
She heard her friend gulp. "Race ya."
They both took off, sprinting as fast as their small legs could carry them. Behind them, the pack began to screech, and Zaura heard the pitter-patter of their feet upon the hot sand. She didn't dare look back. She knew from the sound that they were right behind them, and moving much faster than either of them, but Zaura was strong, and a good runner. She wouldn't let them catch her easily.
She quickly overtook the yellow Sailneck, and the expression of terror on her face was one that caused her to pause, keeping pace with her.
"Come on, the Grove's just ahead," she puffed, "you can make it!"
But she was already beginning to look tired, and the Sharpteeth were gaining faster. At the pace she was going, Zaura already knew she didn't stand a chance. She fell in beside her, pushing her forward, but her pace always faltered.
"Go," she wheezed, pushing Zaura out of the way as she tried, yet again unsuccessfully, to boost her, "get out of here, okay?"
"Not without you!"
The small, feathered Sharpteeth chose their target, moving to encircle the yellow Sailneck.
"Run, Zaura!" she yelled before their formation collapsed in on her. She caught only a glimpse through the cloud of dust and swarming bodies- she saw the jaws of one close around her neck, its claw penetrating just below, spilling bright red blood upon the sand. The Sailneck began to bleat horribly, but the sounds quickly died away in a gurgling gasp as the Sharpteeth forced her to the ground. Zaura turned away, keeping her eyes to the trees. She ran.
And not once did she dare to look back.
...
Zaura was sent spinning by the force of the hit, and she fought to keep her head up as her lungs desperately drew in both air and water. She didn't feel the pain of the impact, but she knew from its force that it had been a big one.
Crunch.
The next rock grazed her side, and she felt something give- a rib perhaps. Her vision began to grow dark, but she made herself focus, bringing one foot down at a time, pushing herself slowly towards the opposite bank as the current forced her farther downstream.
The river took a slight bend as it began to descend, funneling into a thin, rocky pass. Farther downstream, Zaura could just make out the sight of a pile of grey stones, jutting out into the water. If she could just move close enough to the shore…
Another rock scraped her belly, and Zaura was flung head over tail into the water. Her head brushed the bottom of the river, and her nostrils opened wide, letting in the sharp sting of cold water as she breathed in instinctively. In her blurred perception, there was no telling which way was down, and which was up. Zaura swiveled her head around, desperately trying to get her bearings as she struggled to right herself. In an instant, she saw the dark-colored bank, the hard, craggy stone. Gathering the rest of her strength, she shoved off the bottom of the river towards it. The current was still moving her along quickly, but the lunge was just enough to put her in the path of the rock. She collided with it soundlessly, gasping as she smashed side-first into it. The water pressed her against the stone, trapping her, but she knew it was better than being held captive by the river's current. Slowly, fighting back the descending mist, she worked her way to the shore. As her back legs finally left the water and settled on the smooth, stone shore, she finally let herself fall to the ground, exhausted. The white mist descended…
And Zaura closed her eyes.
…
Fyn found her later, crying to herself. When he asked her what had happened, where their yellow friend was, he was pushed away. After spending most of the afternoon trying to get her to talk, he eventually gave up.
The yellow Sailneck's disappearance was puzzled over by the adults for many days and nights, and eventually the only conclusion they could draw was that she'd wandered too far into the Big Water and been swept away. It was the only way to explain the absence of a body, and it was a believable enough story for the rest of them. Either way, she wasn't coming back. But only Zaura knew the truth behind the circumstances of her disappearance.
And from that day forward, she vowed that she would never trust a Sharptooth- or a stranger for that matter- again.
And we reach the end of the penultimate chapter of the first arc. This was a hard one for me to write, as I feel it represents my deepest foray into the realm of the disturbing. However it's also a catalyst point- both for me, and the story. The place we're moving into after this- it's not sing along songs and bountiful treestars and happy, smiling faces. It's the Scar. And we've only just begun to scratch the surface of it. If anything, this was our introduction to it, because now, after one more chapter, we'll be opening the door, and catching our first glimpse of what kind of life can really survive in a tough, dry, meteor-blasted wasteland. One thing's for sure- we're certainly not done meeting strange new threats.
But if it's Sharpteeth you're concerned about, believe me- a couple of theropods are the least of your concerns. See, the Scar's greatest terror isn't the one that walks on two legs, or the one with snapping jaws full of needle-like teeth. To find the most terrible creature in the coming hellscape, we need only to look within. Even the most incorruptible of us has a demon inside, scratching, biting, waiting for the chance to be free. And in a place like this, we are finally granted the chance we both dread and desire the most- to see it, and confront it face to face.
Welcome to the Scar.
xPrimalHunterx: In response to your question, I only answered two people's comments last time because only two people left comments that I felt I could address in a meaningful way. Sometimes, I simply have no response when a short comment is left, or one that I feel either doesn't merit a reply or deviates from the actual content of the chapter. In regards to your second question- this story is rated M because, by the guidelines, it must be rated this way, namely because of this chapter and the arc that takes up most of Book III, which are both significantly darker than what I've written in the previous two the content therein bothers you or not is inconsequential. I must adhere to publishing rules as well. While I would love to open the story to a wider audience again by reinstating the "T" rating, I cannot in good conscience do so, as the values I was raised by tell me that this story is, as of now, not necessarily suitable for all teenagers. Again, this may not hold true for you and many others, but these are the rules all of us writers must abide by. I hope I've cleared this issue up once and for all.
Rhombus: Well, it seems your feelings were right. After all that's happened, this is the culmination. As Steinbeck once wrote, "even the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry," and judging by how well the herd's solution was coming together, it was only a matter of time before we reached this point- the proverbial wrench in the works, or "Fyn's Law" as I believed you called it. I hope this story will continue to live up to your expectations as we move forward into a new arc. Thanks for everything you do!
Spiritstrike: Request granted :D
Keijo6: The fleeting Sol/Zaura relationship is one that took me a long time to come to terms with, and one that, like you, I am still a little unsure about myself. In this case, Zaura, being on the edge as she was certainly forced her to make certain feelings public that she's been repressing for a few chapters now- ever since the second Book, in a way. Perhaps it was Carmas's attempted wooing that framed her thoughts in a romantic light, or maybe it was the way she never wished to take a mate back during her life in the Grove that's led her to see the value in someone who, like her, is a bit of an oddball, albeit a wisecracker rather than a fighter, even if he is not of her species. Zaura values personality over physique, which is a rare and arguably negative trait considering the world these dinosaurs live in, but it's for this reason that Sol manages to check all the boxes for her. Of course, given everything that's happened recently, it seems those aspirations are going to be a thing of the past...