To Tread Upon Fields Afar

by Nimbus01

[New Fyn Continuity] When two siblings pick up a hint that their father, presumed dead, may still be alive, they set out on a journey which challenges their perception of their world. Meeting new friends and running across terrifying new enemies, they must work together to pick up a trail that went cold decades ago- their father's trail to a mythical place called the Great Valley.

38. Chapter 35: Paths Diverge

As promised, here's the TL;DR of the previous chapter. Following her encounter with Sol, Zaura was tricked into consuming white tree grove flowers by Carmas, who then attempted to rape her. Sol's timely intervention prevented the act from completely taking place, but his appearance startled the half-conscious Zaura, who fled while Sol brutally slaughtered the herd deputy. Now, with Fyn on the way, Sol must prepare to take responsibility for actions he feels were completely justified.

Paths Diverge

An eerie silence had fallen over the white tree grove. White petals still fell from the shaken trees like snow among the Skywater; their pure, untouched beauty tainted blood red as they fell to the ground. Water and crimson mixed, running in rivulets down, down towards the river. Carmas's body was already in the process of being reclaimed by the land. It was a fate the Longclaw standing over him felt he did not deserve, but he was too tired, too shaken to do anything about it.

He felt good, and this was somewhat surprising to him. Having never actually directly killed another dinosaur, he thought Carmas's death would have shocked him, perhaps even haunted him, but it did not. The sad excuse of flesh lying in a heap in front of him had, in his eyes, deserved every wound, every iota of pain he'd caused him for what he did to Zaura. He wished this wasn't the case. Sol found that he didn't want to be as pleased with his victory as he was- deep down, it was almost sickening- but that didn't stop him from believing he'd done a good thing today.

As it stood, he could not yet bring himself to move, however. Even in death, Carmas's presence was one he could not ignore. He'd silenced him for good, but now his bulging, wide eyes stared at him accusingly, deriding him from deviating from his usual, generally nonviolent ways. He was not a killer, or at least he hadn't been before today, but now- to take his first dinosaur life- he had truly earned the mantle of Sharptooth, and it was this realization that kept him fixated on the dead Longneck, even as the last of his death-twitches ceased.

So fixated was he, in fact, that he did not notice as Rear entered the grove behind him.

…

The sight that greeted Rear was a grisly one, but not a particularly surprising one. Leaving the cover of the forest behind her, she stepped into a clearing of fallen, white petals, many of which were stained red from the fighting. It was almost like something from a sleep story. Petals fell slowly from the trees amidst the falling Skywater, and in the middle of it all, two dinosaurs were situated: the victor, and the defeated.

Two.

Something about this was all wrong. She'd heard Zaura's call, had she not? But where was she? More disturbingly, why didn't Sol seem to care? The large Sharptooth didn't even turn to acknowledge her as she drew nearer to him, looking for any sign of the female Sailneck, and when she finally reached Sol, she froze as the look in his light-reflecting eyes made a connection in her mind- a connection to a group of three broken Fast Biters in a sand-covered forest far away, watching as a Clubtail bleated his last cries of distress.

'

Those were not Sol's eyes she saw above her; they were Left's- her old packmate. They held within their gaze no kindness, no humor, none of the things that made Sol who he was. They were devoid of laughter. Instead, she saw malice, a cruel air of righteousness, something she never imagined her pupil to feel. And as she got her first look at the defeated Longneck, she suddenly knew why.

He had not died peacefully. Many Leaf Eaters did not, and she'd seen many a violent death, but this one was different. The eyes were wide open, the skin frayed, torn in multiple places with long, jagged slashes. He'd been thoroughly disemboweled, split from chest to tail, his ribs were cracked, and before it all stood Sol, dripping with the Longneck's blood, strands of muscle and viscera hanging limply from his jaws. It wasn't hard to put the pieces together. Sol had killed the Longneck, and in his utter desire to do so, he'd lost track of everything else, bent on the sole purpose of inflicting as much harm as he could while he still drew breath.

It angered her.

Everything she'd taught him about respecting life, valuing his place in the world, was gone. She chastised herself for not knowing better; after all, she and her pack had once believed themselves to be the same way, only to fall into the same trap almost a year ago. Sol represented, in her eyes, what Left might have become had their plan to kill the Clubtail eventually come to fruition rather than ruination. That cold, unfeeling stare, the limp tail, dangling arms, the slouch in his shoulders- they were all the signs of a Sharptooth that no longer cared. Even if that wasn't enough, he no longer even seemed to notice or care where Zaura had gone to. Sol was so far gone now, that Rear wondered if she even stood a chance anymore of bringing him back. Part of her was afraid to. Talking to him would be to converse with the very thing that destroyed her pack; the feelings she herself had worked so hard to suppress. But she had to try, for Sol's sake and her own.

It was Sol who spoke first, however, casually tilting his head to the side to regard her with an unblinking, unfeeling stare.

"Hello, Rear. Remember that Longneck I told you about? Carmas?"

He stretched a claw out, pointing down to the dead Longneck with a grim smirk on his face, and Rear shivered. The name was a familiar one to her. She knew Sol had never seen eye-to-eye with him, but she had never imagined it would come to this. However, judging from Zaura's obvious scent, the Longneck's pervasive mate-smell, and the obvious signs of a tussle, it wasn't hard to imagine what Sol had walked in on, and why he had reacted so violently.

"This is him."

He could see the anger in her eyes. It was not something he'd expected to see, after all he'd matured, hadn't he? Carmas was his first kill. He was a full-blown Sharptooth now. He'd imagined something like that would make her happy, but this was not the case at all. He frowned.

"Rear, you seem upset."

The Fast Biter spoke for the first time, her voice wavering as she tried to control the overwhelming anger that threatened to bubble to the surface.

"Upset? Sol, you could not even begin to describe what I feel. How would you expect me to react? You have acted just as I did- just as the way I warned you not to act. You have forgotten who you are."

"Ah," he purred, bending down to all fours to speak with Rear on her own level, "so this is why… you've come to chastise me. You want to teach me a lesson, tell me about my 'rightful place in the world.' You want to regale me with stories of Sharpteeth who lost themselves, who fell prey to the dangers of the world because they took what was not theirs, right? Well guess what, Rear?" His voice rose to a fever pitch, practically a roar, and Rear saw tears beginning to form in his eyes, "the world is shit! I tried not to interfere, I tried to stand aside and let my instincts, my desire to hurt Carmas for how he treated Zaura say silent. And you know what happened? I'm sure you can smell it. He forced himself upon her. And when I saw that- when I came in here and saw him on top of my best friend, how do you think I reacted? I tore that son of a bitch off of her and made him feel everything he'd done to Zaura. And you want to know something else? I'd do it again without hesitation. Gladly. I would take my claws, and-"

He had no time to react as Rear's foot curled up off the ground, lashing out and slashing a thin, shallow cut across the side of his face. Sol yelped in surprise and pain, but he shut his mouth quickly, blinking back fresh tears as Rear snarled at him. Everything he'd said was true. She absolutely wanted to talk- yell if need be- to get her story across one more time. She would not stand by while her pupil fell the same way her pack had, but she also knew that they had no time for that discussion, not while Zaura was gone, injured more than likely.

"No, Sol. I have not come to lecture you. Mark my words- we will have that discussion, but now is not the time for it. I am here to bring you back, to snap you out of the rage-fueled state you are in. Zaura is gone, Sol. Did you even take the time to realize that as you beat and clawed this Longneck to death? Did you stop once to think that maybe, just maybe, something was happening beyond your own desire for revenge?"

Sol's face burned, but it was nothing compared to the pain in his heart as he realized what Rear had pointed out. He'd completely abandoned Zaura, all to pursue some terrible, ugly form of revenge. He still held to his convictions that Carmas had gotten what he deserved, but he wondered now if that had really been worth letting Zaura get away. Somehow he didn't think so. But Rear continued on, regardless of the pain, both physical and mental, she had inflicted on the Longclaw. Whether he wanted to or not, he needed to hear what she had to say.

"Sol, I know this Longneck did something despicable. Any Sharptooth could figure that out by getting a good look at this place. But you've put everything that matters aside in favor of some ridiculous lust for revenge, which is not only selfish, but dangerous. Open your eyes, Sol! Zaura has long since fled. You came up here to rescue her, yet your own desires have blinded you to the ones you love the most."

"Zaura…" Sol muttered, blinking as he shook his head, his pupils constricting back to their normal size. He whipped his head around, searching for any sign of her, any indication of where she'd gone. Rear was right. In his desire to kill Carmas, he'd completely forgotten about anything else. Zaura had run away without him ever knowing it. Suddenly the taste of Carmas's blood on his teeth turned vile and bitter, as he realized this had been the Longneck's last play- the one chance he had at revenge, even if he'd never intended it.

"Zaura!" he called out in Leafspeak, ignoring Rear as he tromped past her to where the grass was pushed down, an imprint that could only have been caused by one dinosaur. Behind the imprint, a faint trail of blood led off into the trees. He could still smell her. There was still hope.

"Rear, I've found her!" he called back to the Fast Biter. She moved slowly, solemnly, her eyes never leaving Sol's own.

"Come on, Rear! We have to follow her!"

For a moment, Rear thought about stopping right where she was, of using Sol's own desperation to get her point across, to make him see the gravity of his actions, but she remembered her promise to herself, her vow to protect all of them, including the Longnecks, and she let it go. As she'd said to Sol already- there would be time for discussion later. Now was the time for action. Zaura was lost, likely hurt, and regardless of the state Sol was in mentally, like it or not, she was the priority now.

A noise nearby prompted both Sharpteeth to snap their heads up, alert. It was the sound of heavy footsteps, running towards their location; both knew the accompanying scent. It was Fyn. He'd probably heard Zaura's call, too, and was on his way to check it out. Sol and Rear shared a worried glance.

"Go," Sol barked, trying to shoo her away with his claws, "get out of here. I'll cover."

But Rear did not move. Instead she ran the claws of her hand through her feather crest, making sure it was preened to its fullest, and stood bolt upright, facing the direction of the approaching footsteps.

"What are you doing? Are you crazy?"

"No," she replied, shaking her head. "I'm done running, Sol. This is not your problem; it is ours now. I may not understand his words, but I will meet the Longneck alongside you. No more secrets."

The bushes parted.

…

When Rear had entered the grove and seen Sol's handiwork, she had been angry and confused, nothing more.

Fyn's reaction to seeing everything was far worse.

When he shoved the low-lying branches aside, his first instinct had been to find Zaura, to find out why she had called out to him with such distress. In the instant his eyes fell upon the clearing, this was his only goal, so Rear, Sol, and the dead form of Carmas didn't even register. At least, not initially.

With Zaura gone, Fyn's brain snapped to the next bit of important information in that fraction of a second: Sol, and the strange Fast Biter standing beside him. This would have been his focus, had it not been then that he saw the carcass. At the sight before him, all connections his mind had made, every possible outcome he unconsciously sorted through just died. His mind ceased to function. For a moment, all he could do was stand still as his brain shut down, unable to process the image of his bloodstained friend, the vaguely familiar Fast Biter, and the corpse of the herd deputy.

It was the smell that brought him reeling back into the real world. Longnecks' sniffers weren't the best, but there were a few smells that they could pick up on instantly, and Carmas's mate-smell dragged Fyn kicking and screaming back to reality. The scent hit him as if it was a physical force, a blow directed right into his gut as he finally understood the reality of the bloody scene before him. Fyn fell to his knees with a ground-shaking "thud," emptying the contents of his stomach onto the red and white grove floor.

"Zaura," he rasped to Sol through the hot pain in his throat, "where- where is Zaura?"

Rear was taken aback, recognizing one of the few Leaf Eater names she knew coming from Fyn's mouth. Even after everything he'd seen, between Sol's kill, the bloody battle site, and of course, her, his thoughts were for his sister first. Perhaps she'd underestimated the familial bond he and Zaura shared.

As Fyn raised his head back up, he tried to take stock of the situation, fighting through the stomach-turning sights and smells as he pieced the information together one small bit at a time.

I smell Carmas's mate-smell. That's a fact. Carmas is dead. Another fact. Sol's covered in blood, maybe Carmas's blood. Zaura is gone, and there is a Fast Biter standing nearby. She doesn't seem hostile, though. Strange. And behind me-

Fyn's stomach leaped into his throat as he head the pitter-patter of tiny feet rushing through the foliage. In his haste, he'd almost forgotten about Cura. He couldn't let her see this, not after everything she'd been through at his expense already. He clenched his teeth, swallowing the lump of bile in his throat, and rose to his feet. No words were exchanged between himself and the Sharpteeth, but they did not move as he turned his back on them, moving to block the view of the grove from Cura's curious eyes.

"Cura, wait!" he called out just as the little Longneck came bounding around a tree. She skidded to a stop just in front of him, panting.

"Fyn, what's wrong? Why didn't you wait for me?"

"Go get Masur," Fyn ordered. His tone immediately caused Cura to pay attention. Even as he issued his command, however, he was uncertain he was making the right choice. Would bringing Masur to the grove help anyone? Right now, it only seemed a great way to complicate everything further, especially with the details of what exactly had happened being as murky as they were.

"Fyn, what's going on?"

"Go!" Fyn barked, more forcefully than he had intended. The shock was wearing off; now he wanted answers. The hurt, scared look in Cura's eyes barely even affected him as she turned and ran, only stopping once to look back. It was serious; she knew that now. Fyn returned to the grove, averting his eyes from the bloodied corpse of Carmas. His tail was raised erect, wary of the Fast Biter, but it was Sol he approached. The Longclaw could see the tension in his muscles and remembered his encounter with Zaura the previous night. He'd have to be more careful here. Fyn was a much more understanding individual than his sister, but that didn't put him in the clear. He knew exactly what this would look like to any Leaf Eater.

"Talk to me, Sol. Where is my sister? Why is Carmas dead? Who's the Fast Biter? In that order. Go."

Every statement was short, and as punctual as a tail-strike. Sol would have flinched had he not been in his own state of post-battle shock. Instead he matched Fyn's dead gaze with his own, and answered him in a dry, emotionless voice.

"I found Carmas trying to rape Zaura. I intervened, and that is all you need to know. This Fast Biter is Rear, my hidden companion and your protector for the last few months, and Zaura is gone. If we hurry, we can catch her."

Fyn was surprised by Sol's matter-of-fact answer. Nevertheless, he'd answered his questions in as concise a manner as he could ask for. Now was not the time to mince words. He wasn't sure whether to believe his friend or not, but there was enough evidence around him to at least assume the Longclaw was telling the truth, and as much as he hated assuming things, right now it was all they could afford to do.

"Okay…" he dipped his head, letting out a long, deep sigh. Sol wasn't sure what to make of the gesture, so he decided to defend himself, before his silence made anything worse.

"Listen, Fyn, if you'd been there, you would know I did the right-"

"Stop."

The Longneck met Rear's eyes, then turned his attention over to the corpse. Fyn fought the urge to vomit again. If he was going to acknowledge and handle the situation, he had to face it head-on. He couldn't simply pretend the dead body and the Fast Biter didn't exist.

"I don't want your excuses, Sol. I want my sister back. Can your Fast Biter track?"

"Your Fast Biter." For a moment, Sol almost felt like striking Fyn. Rear could see the beginnings of a growl forming as he drew in breath, and she hissed at him. She didn't know what Fyn had said to make him so upset, but violence could bring the confrontation to a very swift, unpleasant, and unproductive end. Instead, the two Sharpteeth exchanged a brief conversation, consisting mostly of clicks and low growls. The Fast Biter concluded it with a curt nod, and a whistling screech. Sol turned back to Fyn.

"Her scent is fresh. If we leave now, we can-"

"Find her, Sol. Get out of here. We will speak later."

Sol thought back to his time with Fyn; it flashed before his eyes, a long, winding river of memories, emotions, sensations. The Longneck had always had his back. Even before Zaura had warmed up to him, it was he that had defended the Longclaw. Fyn's harsh words, his sharp tone; he couldn't take them personally, and frankly- maybe he deserved them anyway. He was the one who had escalated the situation after all.

No, I did not. That was Carmas.

Correction: the only living one to have escalated things. He would not challenge Fyn. Not here, not while Zaura was still gone. Things had already gone sour enough. He and Rear shared a few more words in Sharptooth, and as Rear fell into a steady run towards Zaura's trail, Sol turned to Fyn one more time.

"I'll return soon."

"I know," the Sailneck replied.

Sol said nothing more, only turning to follow Rear's rapidly-disappearing tail through the trees. As his footsteps faded, Fyn was left with nothing, no sounds but those of the Skywater and his own heartbeat. Quietly, he sank to his knees in the cold mud and wet grass, unable to care as his proud, orange scales became coated with sticky, red blood. Carmas's, Sol's, Zaura's- it didn't matter whose it was. It only served as a stark visual reminder that today, the events of this morning, marked a breaking point, a loss of innocence within his small, humble herd. Maybe Sol would find his sister, and all would be well, but he doubted it. He wanted to be there alongside him. He knew that he would overturn every rock and shrub, search every river, and comb every part of the forest until his sister was found, but what good, in the end, would that do? He would only slow the Sharptooth down.

Sharpteeth.

Right. He'd forgotten about the newcomer. Just another extra piece in the whole, complicated mess to deal with. He didn't know why she and Sol seemed to know each other, though part of him felt that, if he dug hard enough, he already knew the answer. He just had no motivation to pursue that line of thought now. All that mattered was finding Zaura; finding her and atoning.

Atoning because you weren't there for her. You struck out on your own, with Cura, in pursuit of something completely irrelevant. You learned nothing, your way across the river was already clear. It was for your own selfish need for information that she's gone now.

And it was true. Looking back on everything he'd done that week, it had all been for no one's benefit but his own. He'd exposed Cura to horrors no child should ever endure, asked Sol to risk his own life to help him, and because he'd chosen to go back for one more, unimportant Dream, he hadn't been there when Zaura needed him the most.

"A leader must be selfless," he whispered to himself, barely audible above the sound of falling Skywater and rumbling thunder, "and what have I been? Nothing but selfish."

His head felt heavy, and Fyn no longer bothered to support it as he sank down to the ground, overcome by an overwhelming feeling of emptiness. A leader, he knew, would rise back up, accept the challenge, admit his mistakes, and sort through the issues to plan his next move.

But he was not a leader. And now, he wasn't sure he would ever be capable, not after realizing how blind he'd been. Fyn began to sob, the tough facade he'd erected to face Sol crumbling as his true feelings poured through, mixing with Skywater as they ran down his face in the form of tears. He lay facedown in the bloody, petal-covered dirt, unable to stop himself as his body shuddered with sobs, and it was in this way he remained, until Cera and Chomper found him.

…

The trail was not a difficult one to follow, and Sol found himself thanking the Skywater for not washing it away. Zaura's scent was strong, even as traces of her blood became fewer and farther between. Then again, it wasn't just a scent trail that he and Rear were following. Zaura hadn't exactly been discreet when she came blundering through the forest. Bent trees, crushed bushes and torn earth all indicated places where a certain Longneck had come tromping through. But it wasn't a typical Longneck path. Zaura was generally much more careful than this. The widespread swath of destruction in her wake could only mean that she hadn't been in her right mind when she fled, and for that, Sol could hardly blame her.

Rear remained silent, taking point position as they half-ran through the dripping forest. There were a great many things on her mind, and on top of that, her heart was racing. Encountering Fyn for the first time since they'd last met, however brief it was, had been both terrifying and exhilarating. She'd imagined a far worse outcome, especially given the circumstances, but Fyn's desire to see his sister safe, it seemed, outweighed any prejudices the Longneck might be carrying. It gave her hope; hope that she might yet be accepted into the group. She longed for the day she could step out from the others' shadows, and perhaps, judging from Fyn's response, that day was a little closer than she'd previously believed.

Sol's actions were still on her mind, too, but she'd tucked them away for the moment. She was aware that she had to say something, but having her mind elsewhere would slow down the hunt. And that, in her mind, was exactly what this was, though she dared not tell Sol. It was a hunt. Whether he knew it or not, the Longclaw was engaged in yet another Sharptooth staple. Though admittedly, this was the first hunt Rear had participated in where the goal was to save the hunted, rather than kill her.

The trail stopped just outside the trees, where footprints faded into wet sand. It was immediately apparent as to why, and when Sol made the connection, he finally broke.

In front of them lay a river- the river. True to the herd's stories, it was considerably more rapid here, and sharp rocks jutted up from the bottom, merciless teeth in what looked to Sol like a gaping, greedy maw. It was immediately apparent what Zaura had done, and why the trail stopped here. She'd jumped in, completely disregarding all the warnings the others had uttered about this part of the river. The scenario played out in his mind's eye. He saw her flee, terrified, into the churning waters, only to be tossed about like a Flyer in a funnel storm. He could almost hear the sound of cracking bone, and air forced out of desperate, wheezing lungs. He shut his eyes, dropped to all fours, and hung his head low, his snout almost touching the water.

Rear extended a claw, to comfort him, but she fell back as the Longclaw rocked himself upright, falling back onto two legs as he emitted a bloodcurdling roar. His voice cracked with the exertion, and he fell back, coughing. He began to swipe his claws wildly, tearing at the tall grass lining the side of the river, and Rear kept her distance. She knew Sol wouldn't hurt her, but an accident was not out of the question at this point. Right now, she wasn't sure any of their herd was above treating with caution.

"Zaura!" Sol roared across the water, "Zaura, come back to us!"

But even as his burning throat issued his cries, Sol knew it was a futile gesture. He simply couldn't bring himself to believe that she was…

Don't you say it, Sol. Don't you fucking say it.

Frustrated, he knelt down and dug his claws deep into the sand, burying them as far as they could go. The cool, moist feeling upon his hands helped to bring him at least partially back to his senses, and his wild flailing calmed enough for Rear to come to his side.

"Sol, she's-"

"Please, don't say it," he urged, his throat hoarse as he choked the words out.

"She's not here," Rear continued anyway, "but that doesn't mean she's gone. It's a powerful current. We shouldn't give up yet."

Sol sniffed, bringing one clawed hand up to wipe the moisture away from his eyes- moisture that was not entirely Skywater. Rear was right. If Zaura had fallen here, her body would have washed up somewhere close. There was no way her corpse would have avoided getting caught on the rocks. There were too many. The only way to get around them would be…

To actively avoid them.

"That's the Zaura I know," he whispered to himself as a new scenario began to take shape in his mind's eye, one of a Longneck, tired, defeated, but determined, fighting, no, raging against the very forces of the world to stay alive. Whether it was a winning or losing battle, he could not say yet, but there was a chance, if even a slim one, that she had survived. He looked to Rear, a newfound confidence burning in his eyes.

"We'll find her, Sol."

He nodded, and as he stood to follow her as they made their way down the river, he knew, somehow, that she was right.

…

Pain.

Neck hurts, legs hurt, back hurts, so much…

Sail. No sail, I am a half-sail now. Pain. Pain from sail. Sail is gone. No, part of sail… gone. Source of pain. No, source of pain is Carmas. What is Carmas? No, who? Carmas…

RUN.

Run, do not stop.

But why? Why should I run? What am I running from?

TEETH, BLOOD, EVIL.

Sharptooth.

Or Carmas?

Where am I?

Zaura slowly opened her eyes, catching herself at the last moment as she fell forward in a slow stumble. Her mind was a mess of thoughts, sensations, and emotion, but one thing kept her going: the repeated message to run, to get away from… whatever it was that was chasing her.

It felt wrong- running felt wrong, somehow- but it was her only answer.

Where am I?

The question repeated itself again. She remembered a river, and a forest. A grove of white trees-

(Not there)

-but it was the forest that remained with her. Both the river and the grove held some sort of terrible secret or dark purpose, she was sure of it, but there were no negative emotions associated with the forest. In fact, she felt as if she needed to be there for some reason.

For a moment, a flicker of clarity danced through her mind, and she remembered. She remembered Carmas, the white tree grove, the Sharptooth attack (she felt she knew him, but she could not recall an exact image. That memory was a blur), her crossing, the river's brutal battery, and then...

And then what? What had happened after that? She remembered rocks, impacts, and then nothing.

Forest. I have to find the forest.

But her world was still hazy. Opening her eyes did nothing but lend color to the miasma of uncertain shapes around her. There was no horizon, no identifiable landmarks stood by to guide her. She was just as lost with her eyes open, and just as tired now, if not more so, than before.

However, Zaura could make out one shape, or rather a series of them, just behind her feet. They were her prints- had to be. Long, dragging marks in the dirt

(Sand)

She paused. There was the logical side again, a voice she had almost forgotten existed. Sand? That didn't make any sense. There wasn't any sand in the… in the…

Already unconsciousness was pulling her back, forcing her down, down into her own footprints. She completed the thought, fighting all the while. She'd fought this long, what was the harm in one more battle?

There was no sand in the forest.

She looked back at the tracks, squinting, peering through the fog of her vision as she tried to see what lay behind her. She had been walking, that much was clear, but she didn't know where, or for how long. Her footsteps followed behind her, but only for a short distance. The Skywater and the sand had erased them, either that or she just couldn't see beyond the ones closest to her. But the most terrifying realization, one that almost yanked her back out of her once more descending stupor was the sudden observation that she could no longer see the forest. The sky and the land blurred together, and she could not tell where sand ended and clouds began, and amidst the gray sky, she knew she had no hope of finding the trees she had fled.

She was alone again, just as she had sought to be, alone under a dark sky with only fragmented images to keep her company. Her eyes closed once more, and she let her tail fall limp. At this point, she was too tired to care.

…

Tracks.

Sol had been the first to spot them, and Rear made sure to take the time to congratulate him. In his state, he needed it. Neither of them could believe it at first- the current had carried her a great distance downstream, far outside the forest. Sol proposed that this was probably because Zaura's strength had given out at some point while crossing. Helpless, she'd been carried by the river until whatever feeble paddling she could muster carried her to the opposite shore. In a true test of her own strength, it seemed, Zaura had made the Crossing before anyone else.

On the other side of the river, however, Rear and Sol were met with their next dilemma. It was clear that Zaura had made it to the other side alive- Rear had even picked up her scent again- but neither of them was about to cross to go after her. Zaura hadn't been thinking clearly when she went in. For the Sharpteeth, however, the risks were more apparent.

"Perhaps if I were to paddle against it-" Sol started for the third time. Rear quickly shot the idea down.

"No. Zaura was lucky to make it across. I have no doubt she was injured. Just look at the way the footsteps drag, Sol. A healthy dinosaur did not make those. Even if you survived, you would be in no condition to track her down. If we are going to get across and find her, we need another way."

Rear turned her attention back towards the forest, in the direction of the grove, an idea beginning to take shape in her mind.

"You said we needed something to bait the Scale Biters, right Sol?"

The Longclaw nodded, not once taking his eyes off of Zaura's tracks. They were close enough that he felt he could almost touch them, but he knew that Rear was once again right. Crossing the river would only put him at unnecessary risk.

"You just killed a Longneck. A big one. I think we have all the bait we could possibly need."

Sol finally turned away from the other side of the river to see Rear, a grim smile on her face. It was a simple expression of emotion, probably not even an entirely sincere one, but it was enough. Sol met it with his own half-grimace, half-grin.

"Perhaps Carmas can be of use to us after all."

…

When Chomper and Cera arrived in the clearing, neither gave a second thought to the eviscerated Longneck beside Fyn. In their day, they'd seen worse. Instead they went right to work getting Fyn back up on his feet and patrolling the area for any clues. Fyn wasn't talking, but thanks to Chomper's sniffer, they were able to get a pretty good idea of what had happened, and who was responsible. Scents were all over the place. Chomper picked up Zaura's, Sol's, Rear's, and the dead Longneck's. Still, there were a few crucial pieces of evidence they were missing, namely why Zaura had been so easily overpowered. According to Cera, it wasn't like her to just lie down and submit, but when she questioned Fyn, he only repeated what Sol told him. Still, it was progress. He'd said something, after all.

"So here's what we know so far," Cera thought aloud, pacing around one of the trees in the center of the grove, "Zaura and this big guy were the first ones here. They got in a fight. Zaura gets put down pretty quickly, the big guy tries to rape her, and Sol comes crashing in to finish him off. So why did Zaura run? What are we missing here?"

Fyn shrugged. "I don't know, Cera. I don't have a clue. Sol's gone to find her. Maybe she can tell us herself if-" he drew in a sharp intake of breath. He wasn't about to admit that Zaura could be lost just yet, "-when she gets back."

"Well they're not back yet," Cera pointed out, "and sitting around in the mud isn't going to do anyone any good. I get it, Fyn, it sucks. But moping isn't going to save Zaura, and it sure as the stars isn't going to prove Sol's innocence, or at least the other Longneck's guilt."

"Carmas," Fyn muttered, "his name was Carmas."

"Whatever! The point is- you have a responsibility to your herd. Now you can sit there and let Chomper and I do all the hard work, or you can get your ass off the grass and fulfill your obligations to your friends. Believe me, Fyn, we could use your help right now. If and when the other Longnecks discover what happened here, you are going to have to explain it. And if you try to blame this all on Chomper, well…" she looked over at the older Sharptooth, sniffing at a pile of kicked-up dirt from where the initial scuffle had taken place.

"My friend doesn't exactly like being blamed for things he didn't do."

The threat was an empty one, and Fyn knew it. He felt guilty for it, but secretly he'd hoped Cera would have had more comforting words for him, perhaps something along the lines of "we all make mistakes" or "it's not your fault, Fyn." He wasn't certain those words would have helped, but to have her completely ignore the issue- that he hadn't been there in the first place- hurt him. It was a selfish notion, and he knew it, but he welcomed it now. As far as selfish deeds went, self-pity was nowhere near his worst anymore.

"It's my fault she's gone," he said, stuttering as he tried to hold back another sob. Cera led out a loud snort and planted her face directly under Fyn's. She shook off the tears that fell on her frill and fixed Fyn with a gaze that he felt could have melted ice.

"Maybe it is, and maybe it isn't, but you need to snap out of it! I thought you were supposed to be some kind of leader, Fyn! This is pathetic! Get on your feet, wake up, and put that Longneck brain of yours to good use already!"

Fyn was visibly shaken, and Cera wanted nothing more than to stop. Decades ago, she would have meant those words, but now she understood the way it felt to be on the receiving end. But she kept the act up for a reason; she'd seen too many dinosaurs in Fyn's position, so far gone that they never recovered. Fyn was special. Dinosaurs like him and his friends were a rarity in the Mysterious Beyond- or anywhere, really. She wasn't about to see him accept failure. Not yet. Perhaps it was the fire in her eyes, or her harsh, barking voice, but whatever it was, something snapped Fyn out of his slog, at least partially. It was enough. He gave Cera a slow nod, and then started off towards Chomper, doing his best to try and discern whatever he could from the clues he was given.

It was hopeless. As far as Fyn was concerned, they had no other information than the obvious- Carmas, dead, marks of a scuffle, and Sol with the bastard's blood all over him. Why hadn't Zaura beaten Carmas? Why had she run from Sol? He knew there had to be something missing, but he was driving himself insane trying to figure out what it was.

Beside him, Chomper lifted his head to the sky, sniffing cautiously.

"Longnecks, on their way, and they're close."

"I thought you could smell them coming farther away than that!" Cera snapped.

"You try getting good scent with all these flowers around," Chomper retorted, "it's all I can do not to get a headache!"

Fyn paused where he was, Chomper's words triggering a slight flash of inspiration- a tiny possibility. The flowers- something so simple no one had ever bothered to consider it. Zaura had told him, after her first meeting with the deputy, of their strange scent and healing properties. She'd gone into great detail about the strange sensation she'd experienced breathing their scent in….

The Sailneck started his search again, this time keeping his head close to the ground. It made sense why they'd miss something so small; the field was a mess now, and they had no reason to believe the flowers were anything out of the ordinary. But Fyn knew otherwise. If Carmas had led his sister here, of all places, it couldn't be a coincidence, could it? He could have taken her farther away. This was still relatively close to the gathering-place compared to other parts of the forest. He would have been taking a huge risk bringing Zaura here…

Unless, of course, there was a good reason. After all, these flowers only grew in this location.

He almost missed it. If he hadn't stopped to blink Skywater out of his eye, he might have passed by it completely, but as he slowed, one thing caught his eye. It wasn't abnormal to see sticks lying on the ground- there were plenty of them that had been knocked loose by the two fights- but this one was different. He could see by the faint hints of green in its frayed end that this stick had been pulled directly from the tree, and it was flowering. Only someone had stripped the flowers clean off.

Someone with a stripping pattern that matched a Longneck's perfectly.

And that wasn't all. Next to it stood the remains of a pile of more green sticks, and a depression where someone had been lying down. Carmas's mate-smell was strong here, too. Fyn began to formulate an idea, something that surprised even him.

"He fed them to her," he whispered, putting the rest of the sticks back where they had once sat, "she ate the flowers, and… something happened."

Something that was able to render someone as strong as my sister nearly unable to fight back.

He picked up the remains of the stick in his mouth, careful to keep the spots where the flowers had once grown far away from his mouth. There was a lingering scent on the stick, and Fyn picked up on it immediately- a sickly-sweet, overpowering scent that made his head swim. There was no doubt in his mind now- this had contributed to Zaura's downfall. He shivered, not of cold or fear, but of a sudden wave of anger that passed through him. How could someone have stooped so low as to deliberately deceive someone as young as Zaura? The thought made his blood boil, and he felt that if Carmas hadn't already been killed by Sol, the Longneck would have been answering to him instead.

But the bottom line that Sol was innocent, and right now, that's what matters. Another mystery down, one left to go. And that would be…

The Fast Biter. And her appearance was a mystery he initially hadn't felt he had the time or energy to solve. But with what he felt was a decent answer to the Zaura question, he had no choice. Cera had got his mind racing again, and he couldn't stop it. Self-pity was the farthest thing from his mind now as he tried to recall the Fast Biter's appearance.

Tan body, short forearms, feathered crest… was it green? Blue?

He'd seen that color combination somewhere before, but it completely escaped him as to where, and after coming to the conclusion that Carmas had tricked Zaura somehow, he was barely holding back his anger. His judgement was clouded. He needed a place to rest, to calm himself and allow some time to think. It had been a stretch to think clearly about the flowers; figuring out who the Fast Biter was would take even more time, time he did not have, he realized, as he heard the sound of several approaching footsteps.

The herd.

He looked to Chomper and Cera. Both of them nodded back to him. Ready or not, it was time to own up for Sol's actions. As leader, it was his duty to answer for those who represented his herd. Even if he felt that the title was on shaky ground, he had no choice but to accept it. He moved quickly, rushing to cut off Masur's entry into the grove. He was able to stop him just outside the treeline. Understandably, the larger Longneck was confused, even a touch concerned.

"Fyn? Uh, is everything alright? Cura came to get us, said it was urgent."

"Do not let any others enter this grove," Fyn replied, baring his teeth. His sails stood erect, flushed red, and his tail was held high, at the ready. It was an aggressive posture, and despite the Sailneck's diminutive stature, Masur fell back, somewhat intimidated.

"Take it easy, Fyn. No one's here to cause trouble. I just need to know what happened. Perhaps I can help…"

His voice faded as he caught a glimpse of the grove over Fyn's spines. Fyn saw the life leave his eyes, caught the barely noticeable exhale of disbelief as Masur finally saw what he'd been protecting.

"That's… that's…"

"Carmas, yes," Fyn answered for him, "and now you understand why I've made my request. Send the others back. I want only to speak with you."

Slowly, hesitantly, the larger Longneck faced those of his herd who had joined him. He uttered a low, undulating call, and they met it with murmurs of disappointment and disbelief. Typical, Fyn scoffed. It surprised him very little that a herd that strode side by side with death would be so interested in what they probably already assumed was a killing. It sickened him. Carmas deserved no attention, even in death. But the Longnecks walked away anyway, plodding slowly back to the river shore where they would no doubt begin to gossip and make up their own rumors about what had happened in the grove. Fyn didn't care. That part was out of his control.

When the crowd behind him cleared out, Fyn finally let Masur into the grove, and received the reaction he'd mostly been expecting when his eyes fell upon Cera and, more specifically, Chomper.

"F- Fyn," he stammered, raising his tail and backpedaling towards the trees, "th- that's a…"

"Sharptooth," Chomper finished, his voice as grave as Fyn's had been. After what had happened to Zaura, he wasn't about to treat Carmas's leader with the customary measure of respect.

"And he's a friend," Fyn added, standing between the Longneck and his natural enemy. "If not for him, I might have mistrusted one of my own."

"Mistrusted? What are you talking about? What have you done to Carmas?!"

Masur was borderline hysterical, but to his credit, he did not back down. His eyes kept switching from Carmas's lifeless body to Fyn, to Chomper, and back to the body. His tail twitched rapidly- all signs that he was about to crack. Fyn picked up the flower-stick in his teeth and threw it down at Carmas's feet. He tried to restrain his anger, to keep his tone as neutral as possible, but it was a difficult fight, and one that, looking back, he wondered if he might have approached more tactfully.

"These flowers- do you know them?"

The Longneck's answer was immediate. "Of course! We use them to ease pain when treating wounds! Why?"

"Then tell me- what would happen if someone were to eat those flowers?"

Fyn was trying to imply something, Masur was sure of it, but he couldn't figure out what. He couldn't see any connection between Carmas, the flowers, and the obvious signs of some terrible, one-sided fight. Nevertheless he kept his calm and answered him as honestly as he could.

"We do not eat them, at least not usually. They create a state of relaxation, a waking sleep. The eater's sense of reality is dulled and they barely experience sensation. It's sort of like a form of near-unconsciousness. But what does that have to do with my deputy? What did you do to Carmas?"

The last piece of the grander picture fell into place, and Fyn finally, clearly saw the amount of depravity Carmas had resorted to in order to subdue his sister. That he had trusted someone so deceptive, so unreadably cruel and unfeeling, was an abhorrence to him. He felt his body begin to shake uncontrollably as he tried and failed to hold back his building rage.

"I have done nothing to your deputy, Masur. This is the work of Sol, who came in here just in time to see… to see…" the words seemed to catch in his throat. Just the thought of saying them to Masur, the one responsible for keeping his herd and especially Carmas in check, disgusted him. It felt as if speaking them was almost as vile as committing the act himself, but he had to do it. For Zaura's sake.

"He saw your deputy… force himself onto my sister. He tried to rape her, Masur, and he fed her those flowers to do it. He tricked her in order to subdue her." The words tasted sour and rotten, but they were free now, no longer his to contain. Now their ugly truth clung to Masur instead. He could already see the Longneck leader's brow furrow as he tried to understand the atrocity one of his own had committed upon a total stranger, and a welcome guest.

"At the beginning of the week, we made an agreement," Fyn continued, "that neither of us would bring harm to the other. Do you remember that? We met in the forest- I couldn't perform the customary greeting, and we laughed it off. I remember that day vividly, especially now. We had an agreement, and yet here we are. You couldn't control the actions of one of your own, and-"

"I had no control over him!" Masur shot back defensively. He didn't have the heart to fight Fyn, not after the clear visual evidence that he was telling the truth, but neither would he stand by and be ridiculed for something he'd had no power to stop.

"You are the leader of every dinosaur on this stars-forsaken stretch of river!"

"No, the Elders-"

"Fuck the elders!"

Cera shifted uneasily as Fyn punctuated his last point with a Sharptooth-like snarl. She'd almost preferred his quiet, brooding side. She wondered now if forcing him to play his part had been such a good idea after all, but she stood by quietly as he carried out his tirade against Masur.

"Do you know what's really in that river? Huh? Because I can tell you it's no star-controlled 'thing,' no force of nature that you can't hope to understand. It's a bunch of Scaly Swimmers with teeth! You and every single one of your followers is blind! So blind that you couldn't see Carmas for who he was! You let him have free reign, be with whoever he wanted, and now? Now thanks to your blindness, my sister is gone! She ran because of what Carmas did to her, do you understand that? Am I getting through to that tiny brain of yours? Zaura is gone because of your deputy."

Fyn whirled around and spat, unable to look the leader in the eye. Part of him knew that his accusations were pointless and irrational, but that didn't concern him anymore. He only wanted the leader to feel even a fraction of what he felt now. Neither he nor Zaura nor Sol could afford the luxury of obliviousness anymore, and to see someone else so casually lounging in it was an affront to him. He knew it hadn't been Masur's fault that Zaura had been so horrifyingly abused, but Masur gave him an object at which to vent his frustrations and he took it, spinning around again and pouring everything he'd repressed out all at once as his tail whistled through the air, cracking harmlessly behind him.

"We came here for a peaceful stop, a diversion, a chance for food and water before we moved on further into the Scar. We asked for your help, and you gave it willingly to us. We expected that we would be treated kindly, only for you to wrap us up in your own stars-damned problems!"

Masur actually felt afraid now. The life was gone from the Sailneck's eyes as they stared up at him, replaced with a burning, seething hatred that he had never expected from someone as well-mannered as he. Fyn was losing his grip on reality- perhaps he'd already lost it- but he knew that turning to leave now before he had the chance to finish would doom his herd. Perhaps it was already too late. He wondered, absently, if Fyn really had been sent from the stars. It would have gone far to explain his frightening, almost otherworldly transformation.

"If we had gone around, looked for our own safe passage across that river as you should have done years ago, we would never have met you. Zaura would be safe, and you would all be dead in a few years, fallen prey to your own fear and ignorance-""

"Fyn," Cera muttered, becoming steadily more uncomfortable as he went on. The Longneck leader seemed positively traumatized. The Sailneck was pushing him, daring him to step closer to the ledge in his mind that Fyn had already long since leaped over. It was becoming difficult to watch; his ruthless verbal attack was something she was quite familiar with. It had happened more than once during her own young adult years, and it had only served to drive others farther apart.

Like Chomper.

But Fyn didn't hear her. Instead he continued, advancing menacingly towards Masur, forcing him back towards the trees.

"...and you know what? That'd be fine! Because Zaura is worth a thousand of you, do you hear me? Her life is worth more to me than any of you could ever hope to add up! And now she's gone. Thanks to your stupid beliefs and your unwillingness to see reason, she's gone!"

"Fyn, stop!" Cera called out again.

"And now I'm going to do the Crossing anyway. No, we will. You know why? Because I made a promise, a promise that I'd get all of you across safely. I made that promise by becoming your Champion, and I intend to keep it, which is certainly more than you can say! But I'll tell you something else: I'm not going to like it. If it were up to me, I'd be more than happy to leave all of you here, on the other side of the river to die! Because that is exactly what you deserve! You and all your ignorant underlings don't deserve what's on the other side of that river! Maybe the Elders are right about that."

"That's enough, Fyn!" Cera roared, finally grabbing his attention. Masur seemed on the verge of breaking, and when Fyn turned around to look at her, she could see that the Sailneck already had. His entire body was rigid, shaking, flushed and ready for combat, but tears left wet streaks down the side of his face. Saliva dripped from his mouth, no doubt from his incessant ranting, and he was panting hard. He was, in short, a complete mess.

"That's enough," she repeated, quieter, "the only one who deserves your anger is already dead."

The crashing of clawed feet upon water-soaked leaves announced the impending arrival of the other Sharpteeth. As he'd feared but also expected, Fyn did not hear the pounding footsteps of Zaura among them. They would return with the same numbers they had set out with. All of his passionate anger faded. To an observer, it would appear as if someone had removed some invisible stone supporting him. Fyn seemed to fall in upon himself. Zaura wasn't coming back. His will to fight, to berate, to chastise had vanished. He turned one more time to Masur.

"Get your herd gathered by the riverside. We will make the Crossing before the Bright Circle falls."

Masur felt his heart jump into his throat at what he could only hope was a slip of the tongue. Fyn hadn't really meant "we" in the traditional sense, had he? Only one could cross. Only one would be judged at once. To send multiple dinosaurs over at once, regardless of what he thought lurked beneath the waves...

"You say 'we,' but surely you only meant…" Masur offered timidly. Fyn glared up at him, and for a moment, that spark of wild anger returned to his eyes.

"Did I stutter?" he asked with a voice that positively dripped venom.

Masur bowed his head respectfully. This was not a battle worth fighting, nor even one he wanted to fight. Instead he obeyed the Longneck, retreating from the grove and trotting at an impressive clip back towards the gathering-place. The prospect of a mass Crossing terrified him, to be sure, but right now, anything was preferable to being back in that grove.

…

When Sol returned to the white tree grove with Rear, it was apparent that something had happened. There was a clear tension in the air; Rear could even smell it. Cera and Chomper were both there, alongside Fyn. His back was turned to them, and he seemed to be staring off in the direction of the river. None of them said a word.

"Zaura is alive," Sol said finally, breaking the tense silence. Finally, Fyn turned to face him, and Sol could see that he'd been crying, something most of their little herd had been doing a lot of as of late.

"Then where is she?" he choked out. Sol couldn't discern any sort of emotion in his voice. His words carried the tone of a dry, lifeless individual made to carry out the same task until the end of his days. It scared him. He'd never seen Fyn like this before.

"She's crossed the river," he explained, beckoning for Rear to follow him as he approached his leader, "she dove into the rapids and made it to the other side in one piece. I… can't even begin to imagine how."

That's my sister, Fyn thought, and managed to crack a faint smile through the somber mask that his face had become.

"Were you able to speak with her?"

Sol shook his head. "No. She'd fled by the time we got there. And if we're going to follow her, we need to do the Crossing as soon as possible. She's been hurt. I don't know how much time we'll have."

"Done. I already told Masur we're crossing today. And once we get to the other side, then we can…" he trailed off as he saw Sol and the Fast Biter share a concerned glance with one another.

"What?"

Both Sol and Rear had been prepared for this response. They'd discussed it all the way back. Zaura was Fyn's blood. They both knew convincing him to stay the course and leave the tracking to them was going to be an impossible challenge, but they had to try. It would be highly detrimental to have Fyn along. As Sharpteeth, and only Sharpteeth, they could devote all of their time and energy to finding Zaura. They were quick, and if they needed to eat meat along the way, they both knew it would be preferable not to have a squeamish Longneck around.

"You can't come," Sol answered simply. The Fast Biter chirped something else to Sol, and he added, "Rear says you might slow us down."

Rear. An odd name. So that's what the little Sharptooth was called. Looking at her more clearly now, Fyn knew that he'd definitely seen her before, somewhere…

Recognition hit him like a bolt of Skyfire and he sprung back, his tail high in the air and his knees bent. He remembered Rear, all right. It was hard to forget the pack of Fast Biters that had so bitterly welcomed him and his sister into the Mysterious Beyond. But something stayed his tail. Maybe it was the eyes. Despite everything telling him that she was an enemy, someone not to be trusted, it was her gaze that made him question this. There was no malice in those eyes. Even when he'd seen her back in the Forest of Sand, those eyes had looked much different. She seemed to carry herself in a different manner now. Gone was the aggressive, hunched predatory stance. Instead she stood erect, respectful, and her countenance suggested that of a mother, rather than a killer. If he didn't know her by reputation, he would never have assumed that she meant him harm. But he knew her reputation. He'd seen her handiwork.

Yet Sol seemed perfectly trusting of her, and he'd been there, too. He was there when Lyko fell, when the pack ambushed them it had been him that scared them off. And here he stood beside the very creature that had tried to kill him so many months ago.

"Fyn."

The Fast Biter uttered the single-syllable name with a short bob of her head. Fyn was taken aback. The accent was thick, raspy even, but her word was clear. She'd said his name.

"How does she know my name?" he asked Sol, still hesitant to let his guard down.

"She's been traveling with us for a while now, though only I knew it. After Lyko's death, she took it upon herself to protect us. She stuck with us through High Haven, the mountains, Chomper's forest, even here. If not for her, I might never have found out what's in the river. She's helped me in ways I cannot even begin to count. She's taught me how to track, how to read scents, even… yes, even how to scavenge."

He didn't outright say "eat other dinosaurs," but the implication was obvious. Fyn didn't know what to say. None of it made any sense. If he'd had any emotion left to express, then Sol's revelation would have hit him like a charging Threehorn, but as it stood, all he could do was stare, tired, at the little dinosaur that he had not so long ago regarded as an evil, unfeeling enemy. Yet there were a few small flashes of memory that made him wonder if, perhaps, there was something credible to Sol's tale.

A confrontation between two Fast Biters, one with a familiar yellow feather plume atop its head standing before a large pack of hungry, angry Fast Biters, her kin. He didn't understand why one of them had broken off the attack. Perhaps now he did…

A strange, Sharptooth-like call that had alerted him to the presence of Chomper, long before the two of them had made peace….

A mysterious visitor, one who had brought him food and water in his time of need, and one who left mysterious, toothy markings on the branches it had plucked from…

Perhaps, he thought, he knew Rear better than he realized.

"And she… helped you find Zaura's trail just now?"

The Longclaw nodded. Fyn lowered his tail slowly, against his better judgement. He wanted to pull Sol aside and ask him about everything, every lie the Longclaw had apparently told, his experiences with Rear, all of it, but every moment spent talking, unraveling the knots of their past, was time Zaura was probably losing, alone in the Mysterious Beyond, more than likely wounded. He would have no time for small talk; the mysteries could wait.

"And why can't I come, then? Zaura's my sister. Why would Rear be against that?"

Sol spoke to the Fast Biter again in Sharptooth, and she responded. He, in turn, translated the message from her for Fyn.

"You are not as fast, not a tracker, and not a Sharptooth. As she said before, you would slow us down, and besides- you have your own path to follow." He left out the part Rear had mentioned about hunting. He wasn't too keen on it himself, and Fyn didn't need to know that his protector made a frequent habit out of hunting down other, unaffiliated Leaf Eaters for food.

At Sol's answer, Fyn slammed his foot hard into the ground. "Dammit!" he swore, kicking his foot to the side in a spray of mud, grass, and petals. He did so not out of anger for Sol, but because both Sol and Rear were right. To find Zaura, they would once more have to split up the group. The Beyond had already separated them once before. Fyn had been hoping they could avoid a second occurrence. That thinking, however, had only proven to be wishful.

He sighed as Cera and Chomper slowly came to a stop behind him, trying to clear his mind and set his priorities. It was a technique that helped whenever he started to feel overwhelmed. He'd used it not long ago, when Cera had shaken him into helping her and Chomper, and now he was using it again just to stay on top of the situation.

"So we have to split again," he said, thinking aloud, "but we all need to cross the river first. That's our number one priority. And then…"

"River first, Fyn," Cera said softly behind him, "one challenge at a time. Then we can work on getting Zaura back."

He didn't try to argue. There was no reason for it, and he had no strength left to pretend otherwise. Even if he had, he knew it would be wiser to save it for the day's coming challenge.

"Alright, then," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, "then we all cross together this evening. Sol, you said you have a plan?"

Sol grinned, a sinister smile that exposed his teeth in a fashion that would be frightening to anyone unacquainted with him.

"A revised plan, yes. But it's going to require some muscle. We're going to have to move a big, heavy lure for our Scale Biters."

All four dinosaurs followed his gaze as he looked over at Carmas's carcass. This time it was Chomper's turn to smile as Sol's idea became clear to him, and if Sol's smile had been terrifying, Chomper's toothy sneer was the stuff of night terrors, as was the mildly-crazed glint in his tiny, reddish eye.

"I think I may be able to help with that," he snarled, mentally sizing up the corpse of the despicable Longneck, "I have a bit of history when it comes to disposing of carrion, after all."

The dark humor was utterly lost on Fyn, though, as he plodded off in the direction Masur had gone.

"Do what you have to do. Just be ready when we actually make the Crossing."

"Where are you going?" Cera called after him.

When Fyn turned to face her one more time, she could see a very faint twinkle in his eye, and a sad smile in the upturned corner of his mouth.

"I need a moment alone… and some time to say goodbye."

Well, here we are. Keijo6 and Rhombus totally called it but this is not, as I predicted, the end of the first act of Book III. That comes next. Still, it is a significant chapter, one filled with the effects these events had on our characters. Everyone has a breaking point, and our last character to break, it seems, has finally reached his. As you can see, I've maintained my goal of making this as much a tribute to my past works as a standalone entry with the title of this chapter, arguably my best-received fanfic yet (seriously, what do you guys see in that story? All of those old tales were garbo!). It's not the first tribute I've put in Fields, and it definitely won't be the last. I'd also urge you to keep your eyes peeled. Mine are not the only stories to have short nods to come. Pay close attention as we move forward. Those of you who are well-read in the fandom may pick up on one or two more small "tributes" as well...

I don't have much else to say, so I'd like to make an announcement regarding my prompt response for February. I have withdrawn my entry as I feel it wasn't well thought-out. It took a bit of a back-burner this month to Fields and "The Line," so when the time came to start drafting it, my heart really wasn't into it. The plot does lend itself well to a short novella, so I'm keeping the idea itself in my little notebook of plans, but for the near future, we probably won't be seeing a Tria/Topps origin story. Sorry :(

That being said, I'm back on my writing track after a slight diversion. I've already begun work on the next chapter, and the outline is already firmly drafted. All that's left is to sit down and write. That being said, I'll be dividing my time between that and reading this month's prompt response submissions, as well as catching up on Julian94's "The Eighth Hunter" and Rhombus's "Mender's Tale," two Sharptooth-centric stories that I feel both merit some recommendation here.

So with that, I bid you auf wiedersehen. See you very soon on the other side of the river! Paradise awaits!

...Or does it?

Cero Vurum: I'm glad you agree with my decision to make the rating "M." It was a choice I had to justify for a while, and I think now people are beginning to realize why I did it. I'm not exaggerating when I say the third book of this story is significantly darker both in tone and content than the other two- now, perhaps, that is more obvious. Still, I hope the content continues to please despite the tonal shift. These are hard, dark times indeed, but I hope to maintain an overall feeling of hopefulness, even when the situation is as bleak as it is at the end of this first act. There's a fine line between writing a story with dark content to advance the plot, and simply putting it in to increase the "edginess factor," and I've been trying hard to stay on the side of the former. I've come closer with this latest chapter, but I hope to keep my characters true to themselves. These events can crush even the strongest of souls, but a hard-forged personality? That never dies. Sometimes it just finds a place to hide until the storm blows over.

I also appreciate that you took the time to read "The Line," regardless of your views on it. I totally understand your perspective. It's one I tend to share, though I felt the story's extremely dark premise was still one I wanted to explore for the prompt. Writing it was sickening, and actually publishing it was one of the toughest choices I had to make on this site. It's an ugly story, but I feel it's also an important one, so I thank you for giving it a try regardless.

Rhombus: The crossing of the river will mark a very new direction indeed, and one I'm not sure any of my readers have yet seen coming. With the potential for many new plotlines, who can really say where our characters will end up? The only certainty is that the things they've seen in the first Oasis will likely change them for better and worse. Your observation about the Scar is equally spot-on. I've been playing around a little bit with imagery in the latter half of this book, and it's true that the Scar is very much a mental one as it is a physical one. One wonders if it will ever heal, few scars do, after all, but perhaps this is for the better. All of our characters have gained new experiences. Terrible, experiences, perhaps, but learning experiences. If they can walk away from these lands wiser than before, then perhaps there is a small bright side to this terrible detour.

xPrimalHunterx:

I think about the alternate universe fact all the time! In my eyes, every work of fanfiction is an AU until it is accepted by the original creators as canon (which I think has actually happened before, though I can't quite recall when). That alternate universe point can also be extended to the events that ultimately led to the Valley's fall, too, and it's a pretty good bet that it has something to do with why the Rainbowfaces are there now. But I've said enough. Wait and see...

Keijo6: Nope, ultimately Zaura never recognized Sol during the fight. If she had, perhaps, things might have gone differently. That's the sad reality of a situation in which one was essentially drugged; she never had the chance to see Sol redeem himself for her. I've been under anesthesia twice in my life now, and I can absolutely confirm that this response is plausible. The memories I have before falling asleep are shaky at best, and at worst, nonexistent (though that is probably for the better). I believe it is a true testament to Zaura's strength that she was able to fight off her own unconsciousness for so long to begin with. Still, her exposure to the flowers will no doubt have a lasting effect on her memories. One can only hope the warped version of events she perceived will not have some sort of impact on her way of thinking.

SpiritStrike: I figured you'd appreciate the bit with the heart :). Truthfully, though, when I responded to your review where you mentioned Sol eating Carmas's heart jokingly, it made me reconsider the ending to the fight. Initially, Carmas was only supposed to die of blood loss. In a way, he sort of did before Sol went all "Temple of Doom" on him. After thinking it over, I realized that if I could, the heart extraction would be a great symbolic way to finish off Carmas, so Rhombus assisted me with some research and theorycrafting. Eventually we came to the conclusion that, if Sol went in from a certain angle, one he would be familiar with by now thanks to Rear, he could indeed retrieve the heart of everyone's least favorite Longneck waste of space.

At any rate, however, thank you as well for your kind words and digital applause! This is a tone that I feel will be maintained for a while, so the dark stuff is really only beginning. However, I hope to continue writing said content in a way that feels authentic and at least somewhat believable, while maintaining a focus on how it impacts our characters. The third act is almost as much a character study as it is a journey, and the petrie dish that is the first Oasis is about to produce its results...