Otto III

Otto whistled, the thin and shrill bark of air carried far by the flat yellow sea. A patch of waist-high grass to his left shifted ever so slightly with a low rumble, the merest whisper of a threat. The Phiomia must have heard it, for the beast raised its head in alarm with a startled squeal. The giant pig started to flee but by then it was already too late.

Winter pounced out of the brush with a ferocious snarl. The Phiomia squealed and ran . . . straight into Otto's trap. He leapt from the grass and drove his spear right between the pig's eyes. Otto twisted out of the way as it crashed into the ground, long blades of grass embracing it with golden arms. The Phiomia thrashed and kicked, staining the field red as it desperately squirmed in the grassy tangle. Winter was little more than a white blur as he darted in. The huge Direwolf silenced the squealing pig with one swift wrench of his head.

"Good job, Winter," Otto smiled as he absentmindedly stroked the coat of soft white fur. The Direwolf wagged his tail with a happy bark.

Otto glanced back to their kill and unsheathed his dagger. It was made of Parasaur bone, about as long as his hand and surprisingly sharp. Otto had spent the better part of a night honing the weapon from a Duckbill thigh bone. He slashed away at the sticky red grass that tangled the corpse, moving quickly so the scent would not attract other predators. The hill plains were home to some of the most dangerous creatures, but the best game as well. The sooner they were gone, the better. Otto had just slashed through the last tangle when his Direwolf gave a stout bark.

Otto glanced up to see Winter growling at a patch of grass, his tail pointed stiffly at the swaying fronds. Otto tightened his grip on the blade and stalked over next to Winter, the soft leather soles of his boots muffling his every step. Otto observed the brush carefully, eyes studying everything that moved. During his time on the island, Otto had learned to notice things. Just one overlooked detail, regardless of how seemingly insignificant, could result in one's demise.

His eyes quickly locked onto something; a ring of orange flowers, beautiful as a glowing fire or a setting sun. It stood out simply for the reason that it was perfectly, absolutely still. Otto quickly relaxed, loosened his grip on the dagger, and graced the brush with a relieved smile.

"Come out, I know it's you," He called. Winter glanced at him curiously and the bushes stayed unmoving. "Still shy," Otto muttered with a sigh.

He returned to the deceased Phiomia and hacked away at a shoulder. The thick hide took a great deal of effort to saw through. Otto cut away a slab of meat just a little smaller than a Dodo, his hide breeches stained a dull pink by the time he was finished. He carried the bloody flesh back to the grass. Winter had still not moved, hackles raised and crouched as if to pounce on the bush. Neither had the orange ring, Otto noticed happily. He tossed the meat at the bush. It landed and rolled to a stop right in front of the grass, a small cloud of dust rising from the impact. The orange blur darted forward, quick as a snake, grabbed the offering and retreated into the bushes, all in the blink of an eye.

Winter barked in alarm and Otto stared at the bloody stain in surprise, the ground bare where there had been meat just an instant before. It had been just enough time to catch a glimpse of the beast; a small female Dilophosaurus with an abnormally bright orange frill. Otto had noticed the sneaky hunter stalking his kills for a few days now. It would always just stay hidden near the outskirts, watching his every movement with careful eyes. Otto always left a portion behind for the orange lizard if there was any meat to spare. He pitied the beast, small and alone. It had no mate, no family, and was shunned by the others of its kind.

Otto shook his head and went back to work. Worry about the kill now, the Dilo later. It was only a matter of time before something else would drop by for an unpleasant visit. Otto planted a foot on the corpse and pried his spear loose with a spray of blood. He sheathed his dagger and transferred the spear to his left hand, awkwardly holding the weapon in a loose grip. Ever since the Terror Bird fight his arm had never felt normal. However, the scrapes on his chest were now just scars and Winter was almost as good as new. Otto knelt and took one of the stumpy feet with his right hand, his good arm, dragging the heavy burden behind him. Winter trotted over to help, taking ahold of another leg in his mouth. Together they dragged the huge beast back to the camp.

Otto's time on the island had made him lean and strong yet, even so, he was red-faced and puffing by the time they dumped the Phiomia in the shade of the cliff. He splashed his face and chest with the cool water from the brook by his camp. Otto gingerly peeled off the moss wrapped around his arm and checked on the healing wound. A jagged dried crust of blood ran between his arm from wrist to elbow. It was healing, albeit slowly. Otto wrapped his wound up again with a fresh patch of moss and tied it closed with sturdy vines. No sooner did he finish than Winter splashed into the brook, spraying him with icy water.

"Hey!" Otto protested as the white Direwolf gracefully leapt out and shook himself dry. The water splattered all over him again, soaking his fresh moss dressings and his hide breeches. "I just changed those!" Otto shouted, laughing as he tackled the wolf.

They rolled into the brook. Winter snapped playfully at his face while Otto splashed the Direwolf with freezing cold water. He climbed out, drenching wet. "Now we're even," he smirked.

Winter barked in agreement and shook himself dry again. Otto sighed. At least I'm already soaked, he thought. With a smile, he set to skinning their kill. Otto worked beneath the glaring hot midday sun so his clothes would dry faster. He slid his bone dagger out and pressed it into the giant pig, the blade digging into the tough hide. Otto was dry by the time he was finished, a heap of Phiomia hide loosely piled at his feet. He sliced a few choice portions from the flanks and then let Winter have the rest. Otto placed the meat on a flat stone under the shade, rinsed his dagger and left the hide to soak in the brook.

The drying rack was a rickety, flimsy thing; a long stick held over two Y-shaped branches that came up to about his waist. The two poles were crooked and the stick hanging between them looked prone to snap at any moment. A scaly Duckbill hide was already draped on the rack, bleached a dull grey from the Sun. Otto ran his hand along the leathery hide, feeling the scaly contours. Otto found that Parasaur hide made for great clothing; tough, durable, and surprisingly waterproof. He had already used some of the hide for shoes and as straps for his blade. In contrast, Phiomia hide was much softer and more comfortable. Otto had used one for his breeches and new undergarments. His old pair were bloodstained and torn, now just spare cloth for wounds and no more.

Otto pulled the Parasaur hide off the rack and replaced it with the soaked Phiomia skin. He left it tanning in the midday Sun and threw the already prepared hide onto a smooth rock to his left. With his dagger, Otto cut out two large round holes for where his arms would go. He repeated the process for the edges but on a much smaller scale; worrying away a line of holes, each no bigger than his smallest fingernail. Otto folded the leather in half and lined the holes up. Using a sturdy length of plant fibres tightly twined together, he joined the two sides down the seam. When he was done, Otto tried the leather vest on.

It was a bit loose around the waist but otherwise fit fine. The leather still held a grey colour from the skin of the duck-billed Parasaur it had come from. Otto tried waving his arms, leaning forward and back, and twisting around. The vest bent with his movements but did not tear or rip. Otto took it off with a smile and placed the vest face-down on the rock. He then took two extra straps of leather and joined them to the back of his vest; one near the bottom and the other by the top. This would let him carry a spear on his back, freeing up a hand. Otto would have worn the weapon at his waist, but every one of his spears was too long. Keeping it strapped to his back was the only convenient way to hold it.

Otto knelt by the fire pit and grabbed the two rocks; one a rusty orange colour and jagged to the touch, the other a pale grey, round and smooth. He struck them together with a mighty clash and sparks landed on the coals. They quickly took fire and the flames spread, leaping from the sooty rocks to a nest of sticks and twigs. Scarlet tongues of fire engulfed the dry logs, bark and wood crackling from the heat. The flames were licking the roof of the stove before long, fiery tongues turning the stone a sooty black. While the stove was heating up, Otto sliced one of the Phiomia steaks into small chunks with his bone dagger. He tossed the small red cubes onto the flat stone when it was sweltering to the touch. Otto let the meat sizzle and crackle, the fats slowly melting to encompass the entire stove. Their succulent juices were held in by a slight incline near the edge of the stone, almost like a pan.

Otto gathered a handful of the tiny onions and golden potatoes neatly stacked on a nearby rock. He gently rinsed them in the brook and then cut them into smaller chunks with his dagger. Otto tossed the slices onto the rock, the onions and potatoes sizzling in the thin coat of Phiomia grease. He had just discovered the vegetables a few days ago, growing in a valley deep in the forest. Otto had only stumbled upon the hidden garden by chance while hunting. The wild plant patches had been littered haphazardly around a great pond in the center of the valley where huge fish, some as large as himself, had drifted in lazy circles.

Growing by the lake was a rich harvest of wild plants that Otto had somehow recognized despite the strange blankness that engulfed every one of his memories. Pearly white onions, crunchy orange carrots, potatoes that fit in his palm, crisp green heads of lettuce and cauliflower, scallions, leeks, turnips, asparagus, beets and celery. Further out and close to the cliffs had been yet even more plants; shiny purple eggplants, juicy tomatoes, firm cucumbers, fiery red peppers, crunchy beans and even a few stalks of corn. How so many plants had grown together, and in the same season too, Otto had no clue. Then again, almost nothing on this island made sense. The hidden vale was open to the outside by three rocky canyons. What had intrigued him at first was why so many plant eaters avoided the place altogether, but Otto soon found out why.

Corpses had been strewn around the lake in various states of decay, the ghastly trophies causing a rancid stench that he could smell from afar. Huge bugs the size of his foot had been buzzing around the rotten carcasses, nibbling at sickly green flesh. Otto had given the decaying corpses a wide berth, more interested in the wild plants growing by the lake. He had been pulling up potatoes by their stems when Winter had started growling, low and deep. Otto had turned in time to see an absolutely enormous green scorpion scuttle out of the darkness. Just by its body alone, the monster had come up to his chest. With its tail completely extended the beast had towered over Otto by a head, the hooked barb gleaming dangerously over his face. The monster also had two huge pincers and eight hairy legs, each one as thick as his arms. Otto had hefted his spear while Winter had barked and crouched, ready to pounce. After a moment of careful deliberation, the monster had turned and stalked off, retreating to its lair rather than fight him and the Direwolf.

Once the scorpion had fled from the first encounter it never troubled him again. Otto found that it was called Pulmonoscorpius according to the Dossier. He had only visited the valley twice after that; once to gather more vegetables and the other time to set traps in the pond. Otto had tried to bring back as many of the wild plants as he could, but he could only carry as much as his arms could hold. Otto glanced back up from his thoughts as a rich scent filled the air. The meat was brown and succulent, the golden juices glistening in the setting sun. The onions were translucent and grilled to perfection, the potatoes tender to the touch. Otto spooned half the meal into a seashell that he had found and cleaned, letting his dinner cool down and slavering from the mouthwatering smell the whole while. Otto was just about to bite into the savoury meal when Winter stood up, hackles raised. He turned and growled at the jungle, his tail raised like a bright white flag.

Otto trusted Winter's judgement better than his own so he carefully put his plate down, vaulted off the floor and unholstered his spear from the straps on his back. Suddenly, the great white Direwolf bounded into the bushes snarling. There were a few vicious snaps followed by a pained screech. Otto shouldered through the fronds in time to see Winter pinning a small orange frilled Dilophosaurus to the floor. The reptile started to hiss and thrash, only to earn a few sharp barks from the white Direwolf. The Dilo stayed unmoving after the sudden outburst, rooted in place by fear. The wolf looked back at Otto.

"Let go, Winter," He urged. The Direwolf got off reluctantly and stalked back to his side, glaring at the smaller beast with a silent snarl.

The orange Dilophosaurus got up cautiously. It barely came up to Otto's waist, much smaller than Winter and every other Dilo he had seen. The small beast hissed softly and began to back into the bushes, cold black eyes never leaving the Direwolf. The Dilo had never followed him after a kill before, and it had certainly never gotten this close to his camp either. Something had made the beast especially bold today.

"Still hungry?" Otto gestured for Winter to follow and pushed back through the bushes before the Dilo could chirp a response.

The white Direwolf paused for a moment to growl at the smaller beast before following him back into the camp. With his bone dagger, Otto carved another generous chunk from the Phiomia corpse. He pressed through the undergrowth again to find that the orange Dilo had not moved. Otto gently planted the morsel by his feet and slowly backed off. He had just settled down by the fire with Winter when the small reptile joined them, tightly clutching its prize. The great white Direwolf bounded up with a snarl and the Dilo backed off a few steps.

"Winter it's alright, let the poor creature stay," Otto said. The Direwolf reluctantly sank back down, though his eyes never left the newcomer.

The orange frilled lizard approached again, more slowly this time. It dropped the meat a respectful distance away and curled up, taking small nips from the tender flesh. Winter got up and moved protectively between him and the small creature, growling whenever it shifted toward them. Now that things had finally calmed down a bit, Otto went back to his half-forgotten meal. The seashell plate was still resting on the dirt where he had left it. Otto was grateful to find that his dinner was still warm. The potatoes were smooth and creamy, the meat was tender and savoury. The fried onions added a sweet and sharp flavour to the whole meal. When he ate the last cube of meat from the tip of his dagger, Otto went back to the stove and scooped the rest into the shell, savoring every last bite.

The Dilo stayed by the warm and welcoming fire even when it was finished eating. Otto offered it another slab of meat but the gift went untouched. Before he curled up for sleep, Otto took a heavy branch and pushed the flat stone off the fire pit. He threaded the Phiomia steaks from earlier through a long stick and hung it over the fire to smoke while he slept. When Otto was finished, he lay back down next to Winter, nestling against the warmth of the soft pale fur. The Direwolf curled up glared at the Dilo with a half open eye. With his belly full, a warm fire and Winter next to him, Otto slowly drifted off to sleep.

The Dilo was still there and already awake when Otto blinked to life, squinting in the bright morning rays. Winter was restlessly pacing around the Phiomia remains, growling whenever the Dilo got too close. Luckily the two had not killed each other while he slept, so that was good. Otto yawned and stretched, preparing for his morning routine. He checked the small alcove in the corner of his camp and sure enough, a gleaming egg the size of his fist was there. The blue Dodo Otto had befriended on the beach came by every day to eat the berries he left piled in the corner. In return, it always left an egg for him to break his fast.

Otto got to work on the meal. He cut three long strips of meat from the Phiomia corpse. It would likely spoil sometime tomorrow but there was enough to last him and his companions the rest of the day. Otto took the stick that held the smoked Phiomia meat and pulled it out of the ground, staking it back down near the cliff. He pulled the flat stone back over the pit and got the smoldering coals blazing once more. Otto laid the tender strips of meat over the stove when it was searing hot. They sizzled and crackled, the fats melting from the heat and the meat frying in the golden juice. Otto cracked the egg and spilled the insides next to the rasher of pork, the yolk like a golden island in a sea of white. He left the meal to cook over the stone, a sharp hiss coming from the frying grease.

Otto glanced over to where the Dilo was watching him, those black voids locked on the frying meat. Winter sat by the Phiomia corpse gnawing on a round leg and guarding the meat against the smaller beast. Otto walked over to cut a chunk from the giant pig and tossed the morsel to where the orange Dilophosaurus lay. It scurried over and began tearing into the meat as if it would never get a chance to eat again. Otto gingerly stepped around the ravenous beast and gathered a handful of bright red berries from the jungle. He rinsed them in the brook and set them on a leaf. By now his meal was well cooked. He slid the crispy bacon and the round white egg into his seashell plate. Not wanting to let the precious golden juice go to waste, Otto cut up a few potatoes and tossed them in the pan. They would taste delicious when he fried them in the leftover bacon grease.

The orange Dilo had finished the meat and was now looking at Otto with pleading eyes. He tossed the beast another chunk of raw flesh and it gratefully set to devouring the morsel. Winter was still worrying away at a Phiomia leg in the corner, muzzle stained red. With his companions settled, Otto dug into his own plate. The egg yolk was still a little runny, the golden juice sweet on his tongue. The white was cooked all the way through and savoury to the finish. The fried potatoes were crisp and pleasant; the insides were sweet and crunchy, the skin was crispy and seared into a golden brown crust from the grease. And the bacon itself was the best part. Every other flavour melted away as he chewed on the sweet, crispy treasure. The bacon strips were crunched away one by one until Otto's plate was pitifully barren. He ate the succulent red berries as a sweet afterthought to the course, scarlet juices staining his chin.

When Otto was full, he got a start on the day's work. First, he cleaned up the growing mess that cluttered his camp. He rinsed the stove top and his seashell plate in the brook, leaving them to dry on the bank. Otto sorted his meagre possessions into a tidy row; a crude axe he had made earlier, a few wooden spears, his rocks for starting fires, and of course the Dossier. He dug a shallow hole a bit aways from the camp and threw some of the smaller bones and other waste into it, covering the hole back up with a thin layer of dirt. Otto cleaned the ashes from the the fire pit and went out to split logs with the axe; a sharp rock wrapped to a sturdy stick with strong vines.

Otto snapped thick branches off the trees and split logs with his axe. He peeled bark and dry thatch from the trees for kindling, though he did not need so much as when he had started. By now there was always charcoal in his fire pit; quick to ignite and able to hold a steady flame. Otto returned to his camp with the bounty. After he was done stacking logs and piling kindling, Otto whistled and Winter bounded to his side. The orange Dilo got up curiously, but only followed when he and the Direwolf were much farther ahead.

Otto was met by the repulsive stench of rotting flesh the instant he set foot in the valley. There were corpses strewn in various states of decay everywhere. Otto spotted the massive scorpion feasting at a huge round carcass, but it was quick to scuttle away. He knelt by the pond, pinching his nose all the while to repel the horrid stench. Otto checked his traps; narrow channels of water blocked off on all sides by heavy stones except for a small opening near the front. Three in all, though only two held fish. He had baited the traps with tender chunks of Dodo. The fish would swim in to eat but not back out, for the stones on either side made the channel too narrow to turn. Otto unholstered his weapon and speared the two large fish, each one as big as his leg. He swung the spear over his shoulder, the heavy wood pressing against his leather vest.

Otto pried a bushel of spring onions from the soft, muddy ground. Winter followed his example and took a bite of some carrot stems, dragging the orange vegetables out of the dirt with a soft plop. The small Dilo paused when they passed it on the way back out, then it scampered to the edge and pried a head of cabbage from the ground, holding the leafy green in its scaly little hands.

Otto and his procession returned to the camp and dumped their new goods near the fire. Otto had just hung the fish to smoke when Winter lifted his head and howled. "What is it, Winter?" Otto asked alarmed. The great white Direwolf barked and started loping toward the beach. Otto had no choice but to follow.

He sprinted after Winter as swiftly as his legs would permit. The Dilophosaurus followed a moment later. Even at his fastest, Otto could not hope to match the speed of the great white Direwolf. He ran past blurry trees, leaped over rocks and crashed through bushes. Finally, Winter pulled to a stop at the top of a small crest and began to bark. Otto slid over, trying to catch his breath from the exertion. The white Direwolf glanced back at him and barked, tail pointing to the hills below. Otto looked down and saw a man being cornered by the two Dilos from the beach. He had no time to think, he could only act.

"Hang on! Help is coming!" Otto shouted.

He whistled, sharp and loud. Winter immediately charged at the bigger of the two; a dark green Dilophosaurus with two blood-red crests above its head and a bright yellow frill. It was smaller than the Direwolf by a little bit, maybe standing up to Winter's shoulder. The Dilo hissed and unfurled its frills, jaw extending to spit. Winter twisted out of the way, snarled and leaped, landing on the vicious reptile. The two went down together in a tumble of dust and sand, scales and fur.

Otto slid his spear from the strap on his back and charged in a wordless war cry. The other man had tangled the smaller brown Dilophosaurus in some sort of net bound together by heavy rocks. Otto thrust at the ensnared creature, but it squirmed away and the spear only grazed its frill. It hissed in rage and spat at him, the green liquid splattering all over his shoulder. Otto screamed in agony, stumbled forward and tripped over a rock, his spear spinning out of his reach. He landed right below the beast, a mouth full of sharp teeth poised above his head. The Dilo bit down at him, trying to tear at his throat. Otto rolled away at the last possible moment and the beast only snapped down on a mouthful of dust.

He grabbed his knife, drawing the blade with a sharp scrape. The Dilo came at him again but Otto twisted away and slashed at its neck. The beast managed to lean back, just out of his reach. And then the other Dilo slammed into it. Otto only saw an orange blur, no more than a flash of colour. The brown reptile reared back, hissing in surprise. No sooner did it recover than the orange Dilo closed in again, snapping at the larger beasts neck. While the two lizards grappled, Otto was able to get back up. He closed in behind the brown female, his blade raised high. It must have sensed him, for the Dilo turned. It wasn't fast enough. Otto opened its throat in one swift motion, a wide red smile against the rough brown scales.

The beast collapsed on the ground, blood gushing into the dirt. Otto breathed a sigh of relief, picking his spear back off the ground. The orange Dilo glanced at the fallen corpse and chirped in delight. Otto smiled at the victory and then slapped at his shoulder, the skin itchy and red. He grimaced in pain but there was nothing he could do about the acid but wait it out.

Winter padded back to him, muzzle dripping red. Otto rested a hand on the wolf's head and looked back at the man whom they had saved. He was broad of shoulder and taller than Otto by around half a hand, naked except for the same simple undergarments Otto had washed ashore with. The man had warm hazel eyes, dark skin and short black hair. He was bulky, long of limb and well muscled. A three-headed length of twine hung from his hand, each arm ending in a heavy rock. He recognized it as the same contraption that had tangled the brown Dilophosaurus. Otto did not know if the other man would understand him if he spoke; he was absolutely sure that he had never seen anyone that looked like this man from before he washed up.

His impressions were quickly disproved when the other man spoke with a perfect accent. "Well met. An honour, to be sure," he said. "To whom do I owe my life?"

"Otto Weiss," He replied. "The honour is mine. And yourself, friend?"

"Joseph," the dark skinned man said. "Thank you, kind sir. You saved my life."

"It was what anyone in my position would have done," Otto assured. "Do you have a home that you might return to?"

"I fear that the stars are my roof and the dirt is my floor," Joseph answered with a sigh.

"You are welcome to share my food and fire, Joseph. It would be an honour to host you. Come, it is just right this way." Otto started toward his camp, Winter loping ahead and the Dilo following closely behind.

"I am grateful, friend," Joseph said again as they walked.

"As am I. You have no idea how wonderful it is to have another soul to talk to," Otto confessed. "I feared that I would go mad."

As they walked, Otto noticed Joseph giving Winter a wide berth. The Direwolf's muzzle was still red and splotches of blood stained his fur.

"Don't worry. Winter likes you," Otto assured him.

Joseph had only nodded and continued on, more or less the same. Otto also saw him shooting glares at the orange Dilo. Well, that couldn't be helped. Otto had found him being attacked by the very same creatures. He couldn't blame Joseph for holding a grudge against the beasts. He'll get used to them. I did.

Otto saw the hill up ahead. "Welcome to my home," Otto announced as they rounded the cliff.

Author's Note:

I'm really sorry about this, but I will only be able to update every two weeks instead of one in the coming month. Final exams are coming up and they are worth 20% of my grade. I will be spending too much time studying to be able to keep up the once a week updates on my story. This is only temporary however, and once the finals are over I will go back to my regular schedule. The next two chapters will be posted at two week intervals. Once again, I am sorry for the delay and hope to be writing once a week again.

Anyways, thanks to the people who left reviews.

Tall-Gothic-Guy, thank you for the kind praise. It was very motivating to know that my writing is appreciated. Also, sorry for ruining your request :( Otto has another human to talk to now. (yay, I think?)

TheJaiganticBridge, thank you for the continued support and helpful review.

NightWyvern91792, thank you for the continued support and I appreciate the motivational praise.

Also taking name suggestions for the orange Dilophosaurus. Please remember Otto's character, he is not from modern times so no modern names.

Thanks for taking the time to check out my first fanfiction, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Special thanks to TheJaiganticBridge for helping with the story by researching some of the creatures. If you like the concept of ARK, check out Exploring the Notes, another ARK fanfiction by TheJaiganticBridge. Feel free to comment, ask questions or criticize my story, review is always welcome. And if you like what you saw, make sure to check out the other ARK: Survival Evolved fanfictions out there. Have a great rest of your day or night.

-DaRumpyBurr