The rain came down hard and heavy. Saphira shivered. It was going to be another long, cold night. She and her parents had journeyed so far already. And yet, they still had such a long way to go. She had always been a dinosaur of faith, yet as of lately that faith had been tested and challenged time and time again, until her faith had threatened to abandon her entirely.
The storm was ruthless and relentless. She gazed out forlornly upon the marshlands. On sunnier days, it was vaguely beautiful. On a stormy day such as today, however, it was a desolate and dreary place. And yet… it was still a safer place for the dinosaur herds than many of the prior locations they'd braved through to get here. Thus, it was the place that many mothers, Saphira included, had settled down with their nests. Few, if any of them, viewed the marshlands as a long-term home. Rather, it was a place for the herds to rest up and give birth to their young, until they were ready to continue their journey to the legendary Great Valley.
Within Saphira's nest lay a number of eggs. Although the eggs that had once represented such hope and optimism, it was now a nest full of grief, despair, and longing. The father was long gone now, and the eggs were broken and shattered. All except for the one egg. It was the only egg still intact. It was her last hope for the future, although even that last hope was fading.
Saphira looked out into the distance at the dinosaur herds. All the other species that she gazed upon had more members and more plentiful nests. It filled her with the deepest sense of longing, to see the other herds with larger family units that she herself would never be able to experience. It wasn't that she wished ill upon the other species, not at all, even if they did always keep to themselves. Still, she couldn't quite suppress the sharp twinge of hurt and envy which came whenever she looked upon them.
Her mother and father wanted it just as much, Saphira could tell. Their longing was just as deep and desperate. Not just for Saphira's sake, and not just for the sake of their own desire to become grandparents, but for the sake of their entire species. For if Saphira was unable to continue their bloodline, who would?
She gazed out at the sky. Oh, how she wished she could see the sunset in full. Too often lately it had been blotted out by the clouds. It was the same thing today; the only trace of the setting sun was the thin glow of red around the horizon, and even that was soon to fade. The rest of the sky was covered in a dull, perpetually grey stormy haze. As the night settled in, the dull grey became a pitch black, but the rain persisted. And then the storm arrived in full, and with it came the scattered flashes of lightning that were the only real illumination from the otherwise pressing darkness.
The storm persisted into the next day, and again into the day after. It was broken by momentary reprieves, only for the rain clouds to come back again right after. As the gloomy days carried on, she tended to her last egg with all the motherly love and devotion that she had in her to give. Hoping against hope that this egg would be the one.
The smaller dinosaur approached the nest with all the stealthy precision he could muster. He crouched down behind a thick set of bushes and waited, eyeing the last egg with hunger-motivated longing. He waited and waited, ever anxious, yet patient enough to hold out for the opportune moment. When the moment came – the mother had shifted her head in the other direction – he sprang from the bushes and dashed forward. He was quick. Very quick. But still not quick enough.
He snatched the egg, but scarcely made it any further than that. The mother spotted him straight away and whapped him, and the egg went flying from his hands. She watched on in horror as the egg bounced and tumbled away. She chased after it, only to lose sight of it within seconds. Her heart jolted, then filled with grief and despair. Her precious egg.
She chased after the place where she thought it'd been, running madly after her last hope for the future. She caught sight of the egg as it tumbled down the side of a skeleton, rolled through the dirt and grass, and plunged into the river and was swept away. Though she kept running after it, her heart was already sinking. Her last egg… gone forever…
But hope had not deserted her after all. At the end of the river she found her egg, still very much intact. She was dismayed when she saw the cracks, but it was only because her egg was hatching! The creature inside fighting for life.
And then the shell split open, revealing a newborn who at once was overwhelmed by the massive world he laid his eyes upon. As Saphira laid her eyes upon him in return, it dawned on her that she never had decided upon a name for her baby. But in that moment, she knew what she would call him. His name would be Littlefoot.
"Here I am." Saphira moved toward him. But he was scared, and tried to run away. She responded by giving her baby a loving lick. And another. Littlefoot raised his head slowly, curiously. Hey, that felt kind of nice. As the rain died away, so did Littlefoot's fear. As the long night came to an end, and with it the warm sun came out, he smiled and gave his mother a playful lick of his own, and he gratefully climbed onto her muzzle for some snuggles.
All around them, curious little creatures gathered to watch. Littlefoot was daunted and ran behind his mother's legs.
"Don't be frightened. Come out," she said gently.
And so, slowly but surely, Littlefoot came out, as more little creatures gathered in a circle around them. Then Littlefoot let out a big yawn, already exhausted from the day's events. Saphira lifted him up onto her back.
Saphira's mother and father looked on with great pride and the swelling of their hearts. Against all the odds, they had been gifted with an adorable new grandson. One who they would love and cherish for the rest of their days. One who would bring hope back to their dying species.
From a distance, the egg-napping dinosaur glared at the mother longneck and her newborn son. His lovely meal had been foiled. Even as a hatchling, the baby still looked pretty appetizing. However, he dared not get any closer. He was not going to press his luck, not again. He skulked off to go find eggs somewhere else. Or perhaps he'd have no choice but to settle for green food again. His heart sank; what a shame that would be.
Littlefoot let out another big yawn and curled up on Saphira's back.
"Now, you be careful, my Littlefoot. Beautiful Littlefoot."
As dear, sweet Littlefoot drifted off to sleep, Saphira herself lay down and began to drift off not long after. She was reluctant at first, especially after her egg had nearly been taken away. But her parents reassured her that they would keep a close, careful watch for her. It's okay, they said. You've earned your rest. You deserve sleep too.
And so she listened to her mother and father. She rested herself on the Earth floor with her baby and let sleep come to her. For once, it was not a sleep that was brought about by exhaustion, fatigue, and the stress of worry. This time around, she was far more at ease. More at peace with the world today than she had been for a long, long time.
Littlefoot himself slept peacefully within the comfort of his herd. The herd he knew already by their sight, their scent, and their love. He knew they would be together always.