Joseph III

The trees stood row upon row, ancient warriors armored in bark and leaf awaiting the command to storm the hill. Joseph shifted his grip on the bow uneasily. It wasn't so much the trees that bothered him, but rather the things that hid beneath their dark branches. The trees had been waiting for years to take the hill, and it would be many more before they finally succeeded. The beasts that hid in their shadows, on the other hand. . .

Best if it doesn't come to that. Joseph gave the forest another dark glare before shifting to his right. The icy white field hadn't changed since his last glance, still just as barren and bleak as before. He scanned the frosty steppe carefully, trying to pick out every movement regardless of how small. Nothing but the wind. Joseph turned away when he was satisfied nothing was camouflaged against the snow. Experience had taught him to be wary of everything on the island. If only I had learnt that lesson long ago, before the. . .

No. Don't think about it. Joseph couldn't hope to fix the past, but perhaps he could still change the future. We'll never be taken by surprise again. Not if I can help it. The large man turned once more, facing the craggy grey mountain that sat opposite from the forest. The great stone wraith was closer than it looked, Joseph knew. Grey mist shrouded its icy peak, making the mountain seem like it was days away. In reality, it was only a few hours of walking, maybe less. Joseph couldn't be too sure in his wounded state.

A sharp gust of wind knifed through his clothes, plunging a thousand icy blades into his flesh. Joseph shivered and crossed his arms. It was cold out here. Too cold for his liking, or anyone else's for that matter. Their group hadn't been prepared for the icy climate, not even Winter, who was unaccustomed to his former home after months of living in warmer lands. The Direwolf was already growing a thicker coat, but the humans had to find different solutions. Their fires blazed day and night to keep the chill at bay, yet sometimes even that wasn't enough.

Joseph cursed the cold as he thawed his frozen hands over the torch by his feet, teeth chattering like a troop of monkeys. The flames twisted and twirled like a score of dancers cloaked in red, licking at the air with greedy tongues. Joseph felt the warmth soak into his stiff fingers, and he sighed in relief. The torch was jammed into a rocky crevice to prevent it from blowing over in the wind. Joseph always kept it close at hand. The fire provided some degree of comfort. . . yet he was still freezing all the same. Still too damned cold. I wonder if I'll ever be warm again.

Their group had fled into the north with nothing but the clothes on their backs and a few meagre possessions salvaged from the fire. Joseph knew they would have to make some new clothes eventually. His hide tunic was torn down the front, shredded by the claws of a Megalosaurus that had attacked their former camp. Joseph had done his best to repair the tattered shirt with moss and plant fibres, but the adjustments did little to protect him from the cold. He shivered as another sharp gust of wind cut through the tattered hide. We'll need warmer clothes. And soon, before I freeze to death in this blasted cold.

Giant birds wheeled around the icy mountain peak in lazy circles, their sharp eyes scanning for prey. Argentavis, they were called. The massive birds had huge claws and even larger wings, each one about as wide as Joseph was tall. They would be able to snatch him up easily. A few of the larger ones could even lift Winter. Yet Joseph wasn't worried about the birds.

"Scavengers," Willam had told him. "Carrion birds that prefer to feed on corpses rather than living prey. They'll still hunt smaller creatures occasionally. They might even go after you if they're hungry enough,"

And they'll sprout some new feathers if they do. Joseph kept his bow close at hand. None of the birds had attacked him yet, but he could never be too sure. It makes no matter. Beaks and talons are no match for a good bow and a handful of arrows. Even if the Argentavis attacked, Joseph could always shoot them down long before they got anywhere close to him. A well-placed arrow to the wing would send any birdspiralling out of control. But arrows or not, he would prefer it if the Argentavis left him alone entirely. Joseph made sure to keep an eye on the peak, just in case.

The beasts that concerned him were prowling the mountain slopes much farther down. Sleek and muscular, the Saber-Toothed Tigers made an impressive sight as they stalked around the base of the mountain. Unlike most of the other northern predators, the huge cats relied on ambush tactics to bring their prey down. The Sabercats barely made any sound, and Joseph had to constantly watch the mountain slopes lest one sneak up on him. The huge cats were around the same size as Winter, if not smaller. They were solitary hunters, yet Joseph had no doubts about their ability to kill.

He had watched Megaloceros falling to the stealthy beasts half a dozen times already. The huge elk, no matter how large or swift, were no match for the deadly hunters. Joseph knew he wouldn't stand a chance if one of the huge cats took him by surprise. He never left the mountain slopes unwatched for too long. The threat of a Sabertooth attack was so great that Joseph cautioned his companions to do likewise whenever they were on watch. Luckily, their efforts paid off, and nobody had been attacked by one of the huge cats yet.

Joseph swept his gaze across the rocky boulders, looking for a flash of fur. Nothing. He cursed and lowered his gaze, searching every shadow as his eyes worked their way down the mountain. When did they disappear? I could have sworn there were cats up there just a moment ago. .. The evasive Saber-Toothed Tigers were already difficult to find, but the job was made even harder still by a thin line of trees that grew around the mountain's base. Although pitiful compared to the neighbouring forest to the east, the trees still provided cover for predators of all sorts. Joseph didn't like that one bit. He vowed to take an axe to the forest one day, when his strength was recovered.

Until then, Joseph would just have to take extra care when it came to his surroundings. He scanned the mountain one last time to make sure he hadn't missed any Sabercats. The slopes were completely empty, save for a lone Daeodon who hadn't even spotted him yet. The beast's snout was glued to the ground as it shuffled around in an endless search for food. Even if the Daeodon did notice him, Joseph would hear it coming from miles away. He turned again, this time overlooking a huge lake.

The water sparkled in the sunlight; azure and cerulean, silver and diamond, pearl and sapphire. The colour shifted constantly, taking on different hues to match the sky. A gentle gust of wind buffeted the surface, distorting its otherwise mirror-like perfection. Joseph could see straight through the crystal clear water, right down to the lake's muddy bottom. The water was fresh, he knew. The discovery had been one of his very first upon entering the north. All their drinking water came from the huge lake, although a thin layer of ice had to be cracked during cold weather.

Joseph scanned the shore but found no particular threats. A herd of Megaloceros lapped at the water, while a few Wooly Rhinoceros splashed in the shallows. A trio of Hyaenodons watched the herbivores with interest, but the beasts were on the opposite bank, helpless to do anything but observe. Joseph allowed himself a brief moment to watch the various creatures at their antics before turning again.

Back to the forest, he thought. Joseph scanned the trees carefully, trying to pick out movement from their murky shadows. It was a tedious chore. The forest stretched east as far as he could see, a vast tangle of leaf and branch painted in a thousand shades of green. Dark pines and ancient oaks fought for dominance over the forest, each raising warriors to overwhelm the other. The oaks ruled in the far east, but the pines grew more plentiful closer to the north.

The entire forest was tinged with frost, giving the trees a magical look as they sparkled in the sunlight. When the wind blew, Joseph could hear the creaks and groans of ancient branches. Thousands of leaves fluttered, and for a moment the forest seemed like a deep green sea, storm-tossed and heaving. There was a sudden flash of movement in the corner, white against green. Joseph mistook it for a snow-capped tree at first, but with a pang of alarm, he realized it was still moving.

A white shadow padded between two frosty trunks, its fur gleaming in the sunlight. The beast turned and locked eyes with Joseph. Two golden orbs gleamed as the Direwolf looked him up and down. Recognition flashed through its eyes, just as Joseph came to a similar conclusion. He immediately sighed in relief, relaxing his grip on the bow.

Winter turned away just as his master emerged from the trees, a tall wooden spear in one hand, and a torch in the other. Otto Weiss thrust his weapon into the snow, three fresh Salmon dangling from its tip. He spotted Joseph and waved. The large man returned his gesture.

Otto nodded and turned to the nearest tree, long dead by its looks. He set his torch down and replaced it with a heavy stone axe from the belt on his waist. Otto shifted into a two-handed grip, for his left shoulder was still too weak on its own. He adjusted his stance before swinging, all his weight behind the thrust. Splinters flew everywhere as the crude weapon lodged itself in the tree with a heavy thunk. Otto grit his teeth and wrenched it loose before swinging again.

Winter limped to his master's side and sat on his haunches, watching in silence. The great white Direwolf had regained enough of his strength to hobble around, though he still needed constant breaks. The scars on his shaggy white coat were beginning to fade, slowly getting replaced by tender pink flesh and soft white fur. Joseph knew it would be awhile before Winter recovered completely. The Direwolf was still too weak to hunt, but perhaps his mere presence would be enough to keep the other beasts away.

Joseph scanned the forest again, watching for anything that might be sneaking up on his friends. He had a better vantage point from his position on the hill than either Otto or Winter. A few leaves stirred in the wind, and shadows shifted on the floor. There was no movement apart from the trees. Joseph glanced back at Otto to check on his progress. The axe had sheared through nearly half the trunk, and there were countless wood chips scattered around the tree. Winter was curled up on the snow, apparently already having sensed the lack of danger.

As always, the Direwolf was right. Joseph couldn't detect anything in the forest, hard as he tried. He misliked those woods. Anything could be hiding in those shadows, just waiting for a chance to strike. Worse still, the forest stretched east, back toward their old camp. Joseph trembled to think the Megalosaurus pack was somewhere in those woods, probably only a week away. Or even less, he told himself. It was true that their group had taken a week to reach the north, but Joseph knew the Megalosaurus were in a much better condition than themselves.

Every member of their group had been injured. Winter spent the entire journey being dragged along on a wooden sled, too weak to even walk. That accursed wooden board had slowed them down more than Joseph cared to discover. His shoulders still ached from pulling the heavy burden day and night. With nothing to slow them down, the Megalosaurus would reach the north much faster. If he had to guess, Joseph would say the pack would take four or five days at the most. Two or three if they knew the way. The thought was very unsettling.

They won't trouble us though, a small part of him whispered. The beasts had been scared away by the forest fire Willam created. They were probably weeks away by now, on the far eastern side of the island. But in the case that they did pursue, which Joseph found unlikely, the monsters wouldn't last a day in the north.

"They're cold blooded," Willam had declared. "The Megalosaurus will freeze up and die within hours of entering the north. We shouldn't need to worry about them ever again."

Let's hope it stays that way. Joseph was glad he would never have to see the monsters again. Or at least he hoped he wouldn't. A gust of wind howled through the forest, tossing leaves and shaking branches. Joseph stared at the shifting green sea, imagining all the monsters that could be lurking under its leafy green waves. Forget the Megalosaurus. . . forget what happened. You have new concerns to worry about now.

Indeed, living in the north had been a drastic change from their former home. Easier but harder, Joseph thought. The attack flashed before his eyes, just a glimpse, so short it may have been his imagination. Joseph watched those bloody jaws clamp shut, a scaly green limb drop to the scarlet dirt. . . Warmer but colder. He shuddered.

Don't think about it. Joseph concentrated on Otto's axe as it swung back and forth, dislodging a fine spray of wood. Forget about the attack. It will be like it never happened if you just forget. . . He watched the crude stone axe-head smash against wood, the sound ringing in his ears until everything else faded away. Focus on the present.

The north was a welcome reprieve from the southeast. Everything was so much cleaner here, more straightforward. There weren't any scaled monsters that stalked poor survivors at night, or huge swathes of trees, shrub, and bush that hid the beasts from wary eyes. In fact, there was barely any vegetation at all. Most of the north was composed of snowy fields or hills, with only the occasional forest in between.

Joseph was glad to be rid of jungles, damp, humid, and deadly as they were. He'd had enough of the close-pressed trees for a lifetime. If our camp had only been a bit farther away from that awful jungle, we could have seen them coming. . . Those accursed Megalosaurus only got so close without us noticing because of the dense vegetation. Joseph sighed. There wasn't anything he could do about the past, no matter how hard he tried.

But maybe I can still change the future. Joseph silently vowed to himself that he would never be taken by surprise again. The job was certainly easier now, with wide open plains in place of dark gloomy jungles. Predators had a much harder time sneaking up on you in the north. Except maybe that forest. Joseph gave the trees another cursory sweep, only to come up empty handed again. At least Winter hadn't stirred. Joseph trusted the huge Direwolf's instincts more than anyone else.

Otto strapped his axe back in place. All that remained of the dead tree was a grey stump and some logs at his feet. Joseph watched as his friend retrieved the wooden sled from their new camp and began loading the lumber away. Winter rose and limped after his master as Otto dragged the goods back to their camp. His spear was balanced over the logs, and his torch was in hand. The three salmon jolted with every bump of the sled. Joseph licked his lips in anticipation of the meal.

Sabertooth Salmon were harder to catch than the docile Coelacanth they were used to, but Joseph thought the effort was well worth it. The Salmon's meat was tender and delicate, fresh and savoury. It always tasted delicious, whether smoked, charred or fried. Coelacanth, on the other hand, had an oily and bitter taste that would leave Joseph's stomach heaving after a meal. The only way he could manage the fish were smoked, and even then they still tasted bad. Yet for all their shortcomings, Coelacanth were still much easier to acquire than Salmon.

Surprisingly, the northern fish had razor-sharp teeth in their mouths that could dig into flesh like barbed hooks. Joseph himself had never been bitten, nor had any of his companions, but just looking at the sharp fangs made him wince. The Salmon generally travelled in schools through rivers or streams, but Joseph would occasionally spot one in their lake. The rare sightings didn't come as a big surprise, for the lake fed into a shallow stream. The forest grew along its banks, following the water as it meandered away from its source. The stream ran north by northeast into the ocean, but there was plenty of distance between their camp and the sea.

Getting lost wasn't an issue at the very least. Joseph could always find his way back to their camp by following the stream. He had already wandered along the icy banks a few times with the rest of their group as they hunted for dinner. Fortunately, the fish were fairly easy to spear so long as you took them by surprise.

Otto was by far the best at fishing. His spear would dart into the water, quick as a snake, and burst out with a Salmon squirming on the end. Joseph had much more difficulty catching the fish unaware. They always seemed ready to dart away, no matter how silently he approached. Even when he did miraculously spear a Salmon, it was always sure to be the smallest catch of the day. Fishing obviously wasn't meant for him.

Joseph still worked at it day and night, no matter how many times he failed. Fishing was their primary source of food, and it would continue to hold that title so long as their group was too weak to hunt. Every northern herbivore was either too swift or large for them to take down. Joseph supposed they could try their hands at slaying some of the weaker carnivores, but only as a final resort. They had a nearly endless supply of fish, at least until the river froze solid in winter. But winter was still far off, years away, if Otto's wolf dream could be believed. Besides, there are other ways to live off the land.

Indeed, Joseph himself had discovered a grove of frozen berry bushes only a few days ago. Every branch, leaf and berry was encased by a thin layer of ice, yet the plants miraculously survived. The frost wasn't a problem either, for the berries could be thawed by fire. And although they weren't as fresh as their southern counterparts, the berries were still very much edible. We won't need to hunt anytime soon. Better to regain our strength first. Joseph shifted his grip on the bow. If they were lucky, he wouldn't need to bring anything down with it just yet. Their group would only hunt when they were ready. For now, they were perfectly content living on a diet of fish and berries.

Joseph watched Otto draw closer and closer until he disappeared behind the crest of a neighbouring hill, the Salmon disappearing with him. Thin grey wisps of smoke climbed toward the heavens from where he had vanished, marking the firepit in the center of their camp. Willam had kept the fire blazing all day, feeding it logs whenever the flames shrunk. There was a constant stench of smoke and soot, but Joseph knew the air would soon be rich with the scent of fried Salmon. His stomach growled in anticipation, and it was all Joseph could do to refrain from drooling. Stay alert, he warned himself. The scent will attract others. Don't let them take you by surprise.

Joseph had quickly discovered that meals attracted lots of unwanted company in the north. The scent of frying meat drew beasts from miles around, scavengers and predators both. Free meals weren't easily passed up here, where you could go days on end without food. Joseph tightened his grip on the bow. He wasn't eager to let anything have his dinner.

There was a flash of movement somewhere to the right. Joseph whirled around, bow in hand. Prowling through the field was a fully grown Sabertooth Tiger, pitch black against the snow. Joseph froze with terror. You fool, he berated. You let your guard down for one second, and now you'll die for it! Joseph shook himself from the daze, his heart hammering against his chest. The Sabertooth gradually picked its way toward the camp, sniffing the air with every few steps. Joseph let out a sigh of relief. The beast hadn't seen him yet.

There was still time to act, but Joseph had to move swiftly. He was as good as dead if the Sabertooth noticed him now. It was at the foot of his hill and rising fast. Joseph plucked an arrow out of the ground and nocked it to his bow. There were half a dozen other shafts thrust into the ground at his feet, their bright feathers rippling in the wind. The Sabertooth was a quarter of the way up. Joseph drew the bowstring to his ear and took aim. The huge cat froze. It had detected his scent.

Joseph let the arrow fly just as the Sabertooth's head snapped up to meet his gaze, those green eyes boring into his soul. The projectile flew straight and true, cutting through the air like a knife. It sailed straight for the beast's head, the flint arrowhead gleaming in the golden glare of dusk. The monstrous cat twisted away at the last possible instant, and the arrow only grazed its ear when it should have punctured through the beast's skull.

The Sabertooth landed with a hiss, its dark coat bristling with aggression. Joseph already had a second arrow nocked to his bow, its razor-sharp tip aimed at the beast. The Sabertooth hissed and glared at him with eyes full of malice. It seemed to contemplate the situation, weighing risk against reward. Finally, it gave one last defiant roar before whirling around in full retreat. The lean black shadow raced over the snowy field until it disappeared from sight.

Joseph sighed in relief. A sheen of sweat dotted his brow, and his heart was beating faster than a Gallimimus. He cautiously lowered the bow but didn't relax his grip. There could be others nearby. A quick scan revealed that nothing else was within sight, though Joseph kept his bow ready anyway. He glanced at the distant treeline where the Sabertooth had disappeared. Nothing.

A bright flash of red caught Joseph's eye. It was the arrow he had just used, its feather fluttering in the wind. As much as Joseph despised leaving the safety of the hill, he knew it would have to be retrieved. They were already short on resources, and only seven arrows remained. The extra projectile could mean the difference between life and death if they were ever attacked. Joseph gave his surroundings a quick glance before retrieving his walking staff in preparation for the descent.

Its handle was coated with a thin layer of frost and dirt from lying on the ground. Joseph pressed most of his weight into the stick as he rose, cursing his aching limbs all the while. He slung the bow over his shoulder and snatched his torch from its niche in the ground. Joseph grabbed two arrows and shifted them into his right hand, pressing them against his staff. He tested the ground with the stick before setting downward at a slow hobble. Slick patches of ice tried to make him slip, and the wind pounded his face with invisible fists. Pain flared through his broken ribs with every step, and the huge scabs on his chest threatened to reopen under the exertion. Joseph didn't falter, setting one foot after the other.

He had to lean against boulders for support, and shuffle down the slope with awkward half-steps, but Joseph eventually reached his arrow. He snatched the troublesome projectile up and scanned his surroundings for trouble. Nothing. . . at least as far as he could tell. There was no way of knowing if some beast had taken his spot at the top of the hill; you could see down from its peak, but not back up. Joseph shivered and held his torch closer. There was a long climb ahead.

The hill wasn't particularly tall or steep, but it was large. Even in perfect condition, it would have taken Joseph a few minutes to climb from foot to crest. Fortunately, the slope was gentle, with only a few unruly rocks and crags that threatened to send him sprawling on the ground. Joseph pressed himself against boulders wherever they sat, hugging their great grey flanks as he shimmied up the hill. He wheezed from the exertion, his chest feeling ready to burst. Agony lanced through his broken ribs with every step, bright and blinding. Joseph took frequent rests, more than he had on the way down. He was red-faced and puffing by the time he pulled onto the top, yet amazingly still alive.

Joseph collapsed into the side of a boulder, panting to catch his breath. He was still gasping for air when he heard the shout. Willam, he had time to register. The old man's shout was filled with the unmistakable tone of fear. Joseph was on his feet at once, hobbling toward the camp as fast as he could manage. No more shouts followed, which could be bad or good. In either case, Joseph made haste.

He limped down the hill and started up its neighbour, a squat mound of dirt and stone that was even smaller than the first. Rocks and crevices reached out to trip him, but Joseph skirted around every obstacle. He pulled to a stop at the crest, wheezing like a fish out of water. The camp lay out before him.

In the very center was a huge firepit, rimmed by a circle of soot-stained rocks. There was a large flat stone suspended above the leaping flames by a pair of sturdy logs. The three Salmon that Joseph had spied earlier were already lain over its scalding surface, grease pooling around their sleek silver bodies. Joseph turned away from the meal with some difficulty, straining to ignore its heavenly aroma. He swept his gaze over the rest of the camp.

Their sleeping cots were still untouched for the day. Four piles of dried grass huddled beneath a small stone overhang. The alcove was flanked by a pair of sturdy boulders, effectively forming a natural shelter. It protected them from the worst of the elements at night. The wooden sled lay nearby, still loaded with the lumber Otto had gathered earlier that day. A similar pile of logs lay against a nearby rock, untouched materials that would eventually be raised as new fortifications. A few of the sturdier ones had already been sharpened at the ends in preparation for staking.

Joseph spotted a pile of crude tools in one corner, and the Dossier in another. Barely anything from their old camp had survived the attack, and their group had been busy replacing their lost possessions. Joseph limped down the hill, a knife twisting into his chest with every step. He stopped near the weapon pile, where a small crowd had formed. His companions were gathered around something, watching it with an equal mix of fear and excitement. Joseph found a spot between Otto and Willam, puffing as he pushed through.

It was the egg. A long crack was etched along its shell, sharp and jagged against the smooth grey surface. Joseph watched as the huge orb shuddered again, the crack growing larger. A spiderweb of fractures forked away from the center. Joseph thought he heard a distant squeak, but it was hard to tell with the wind howling at his ears. The egg rolled onto its side, wobbling as more cracks yawned open. The misty orb gave one final shudder before splitting open.

A short grey snout burst through the shell, pushing broken shards away as it emerged. Joseph watched in awe as the shell broke away on either side, leaving a small grey beast squirming on the ground. It threw its head back and cried out, beady black eyes opening to the world for the first time. The two dark orbs locked onto Willam, and the creature immediately chirped in delight. Joseph had unknowingly taken a step back, as had his other companions.

But now Willam approached again, drawn in by pure curiosity. He tentatively reached for the hatchling with his good hand fully extended.

The infant's eyes closed in pure delight as it nuzzled the outstretched hand affectionately. Willam smiled as the beast rumbled. He gently stroked its scaly head, and the hatchling seemed to almost purr. Joseph could not help but smile at the sight.

"He's magnificent," Willam declared in awe.

The infant had a gleaming hide of silvery grey scales that shone by the light of the fire. Just like his eggshell, the hatchling's scales were interspersed with an occasional splash of blue. Cobalt and cerulean danced along the infant's back and ran all the way down his tail. A creamy white underbelly shone like gold in the torchlight. Two obsidian orbs glimmered with curiosity as the beast tilted his head, taking everything in. Willam stroked the hatchling's back, and he chirped in delight.

"But what is it?" Otto cut in. He had instinctively reached for his spear, still bloodstained from the Salmon. Perhaps sensing his master's hostility, Winter snarled and backed away.

Willam glanced at his friend. "Isn't it obvious? The distinctive jaw, the powerful tail, small

arms, and sharp teeth. We're looking at Tyrannosaurus Dominum. The king of the island."

Joseph glanced at the beast curiously. Perhaps it wasn't his place to judge, but Joseph could have sworn the Tyrannosaurus he saw on the beach had looked different. This hatchling's jaw was long and round whereas the adult's had been short and square. In comparison to their bodies, the hatchling had a much thicker tail than his elder. Joseph also realized that the fully grown Tyrannosaurus only had a single crest above each eye, whereas the infant had two on either side. A row of short spikes ran from the top of the hatchling's head, along his back and down his tail. Joseph only recalled the adult as having a smooth ridge in that same spot.

Don't be ridiculous. You're seeing connections that don't exist. Willam's right and you're wrong. Joseph tried to tell himself that he was just imagining the differences, but he couldn't help feeling like something was off. I'm sure I don't remember any of these features on the adult. That spikey ridge would be hard to miss. . . maybe I just remember wrong? Joseph shook his head in frustration. He still felt as if something wasn't right, despite Willam's conclusions. This beast before us isn't a Tyrannosaurus Dominum, I've never felt more certain of anything in my life. But if the hatchling isn't a Tyrannosaurus. . . then what is he?

Author's Note:

Sorry for the short chapter! Apart from the egg hatching there weren't a lot of interesting events, so I got a bit bored. Anyways, name suggestions! Let me know what you'd like our new quote-un-quote "Tyrannosaurus" (wink wink, nudge nudge) to be called.

Girlbook, Joseph is definitely... coping (trying to pretend the attack never happened) Anyways, in regards to your questions

1. I have a current total of five major arcs planned for the moment (including the first one), but this might change in the future.

2. Definitely

3. I think I already answered your third question with this chapter ;)

BlackHum3r, we'll have to see about the Raptors, but they are definitely possible tames. Base building will commence in the chapters to come, and yes, they probably won't last long in hide.

ItsJustCrow, thanks for the support! I'm glad you've enjoyed my story so far. I hope you'll like these new chapters just as much!

DevoutRelic, T_T I'm trying not to kill anyone else off, I swear! For now, the characters are on the slow road of recovery. Anyways, well... didn't mean to make everyone hate Megalosaurus so much. XD maybe throwing the poor beast off the tallest mountain in the game was just a bit too much... Yeah, just a bit. Hope your tribe forgives you. If you need help convincing them, you can always show them chapter 9 ;)

Tall-Gothic-Guy, back to the land of harsh memories indeed! I will definitely have children in the story, girls and boys both. But rest assured, I'm not killing any of them off.

Thanks for taking the time to check out my first fanfiction, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I will try my best to upload every Friday. Feel free to comment, ask question 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