Hello! Here's the second chapter! I'm sorry it took so long. I've been working on a future chapter to this story that's eight thousand words in length. Not finished with it yet.
Fairly descriptive battle, please let me know if I should up the rating.
He was close.
So very close.
The scent of his prey was everywhere.
The scent of her.
Her scent, mixed within the damp and earth laden musk of the island and the salty mix of the surrounding sea.
The Bull Spinosaurus flexed his clawed hands, talons clenching and unclenching. He was eager. Oh, so very eager. He had not had a challenge in quite some time. Not a proper one, at least.
Sorna's Spinosaurus had been hunting the female Tyrannosaurus for days. Today was the third day upon Isla Nublar. A day filled with powerful wind gusts, unusually cool, that were blowing in from the sea, casting askew the once dominant white and puffy clouds, and bringing in a blanket of grey.
A storm was coming, charging forth along the horizon whilst thunder rumbled in the distance, still out to sea.
He would need to find her, and swiftly, before the coming storm would wash her dominant musk away in the pouring rains.
A deep and guttural grumble ruptured from the Bull's throat, his neck craning to push his snout skyward. His nostrils flared, muscular chest heaving as wisps of white flittered from his nares, testing, checking. He smelled many things: the muddy and thick earthen scent of Isla Nulbar, the heavy, watery odor of the approaching storm, the salt of the lapping sea, the metallic, iron stench of blood-and her.
Yes.
Her.
Her, and the iron scent of crimson.
The Bull's emerald eyes sharped, serpentine pupils now dilated in apprehension. His taloned hands clenched and released, viscous saliva welling within his jowls and dripping lazily onto the lush forested floor. The trees trembled and made way as his greater form forced the forest in his path to bend, great footfalls being left in his wake and molding the earth behind him.
Sorna's apex predator followed the scent upon the winds, the darkness of the forest canopy lessening as the tropical forests reached an end. Emerging from the brush, and onto the edge of a grassy knoll, the Bull saw her.
But most importantly, she saw him.
There she was, tan scales dull from age and ripe with stories of previous battles won, her scars bright and almost vivid compared to her natural earthen hue. Her muscular neck raised her massive head, jaws soaked in crimson and red flesh between her crushing maw. Her amber eyes looked upon him. Locked upon him.
Her fallen prey that she had so previously gorged upon did not exist. The grassy knoll did not exist, nor did the surrounding forests. Nor did the approaching storm.
All that existed was him.
Roberta did not know what he was. Part of her did not truly care. All she knew was that he was here. Here, after dogging her for three days.
Ever since her call was answered.
Roberta's muscular chest expanded, and then lowered as a forceful huff of breath escaped her, wisps of white puffing from her gaping maw with a spray of escaped crimson. Her jaws closed, throat muscles bobbing as the torn chunk of muscle was swallowed whole.
The Queen stepped forth, one leg upon the carcass, and the other, up and over, pressing onto the blood soaked grass. The bones of her prey snapped under the force of her weight whilst she stepped forth, and ushered forth a booming, almost deafening roar in challenge, blood and spittle flying from the force of her call.
It was a challenge that was eagerly answered, for the Bull stepped forth, and a harrowing, shrill, yet thundering call ruptured forth from his gullet. Thick and viscous saliva turned white and caked around his scaled lips, emerald eyes rimmed red as his pace quickened in an approach-almost a charge.
It was a charge the Queen would meet, with red tainted jaws opened wide to clench upon his throat-just like the white one.
However, Roberta soon discovered something.
The Bull was not like the white one.
The white one faltered upon seeing her.
The white one called weakly, almost timidly, to her challenge.
The white one failed to guard her neck from Roberta's crushing jaws.
The Bull failed not, on all three.
Roberta's jaws were cast askew from her intended mark, neck craning sideways from the force of the blow. Talons, clawed and sharp upon muscular fingers raked along the side of her jaws, tearing flesh and bleeding crimson.
At first, Roberta only felt the stinging and sharp pain of the claws. And then she felt a greater weight descend upon her, jaws wrapped upon the back and side of her neck, a taloned hand roughly gripping her hide.
The Bull was not like the white one.
He was larger.
He was stronger.
He knew how to fight.
Roberta now knew why he so confidently challenged her.
It was because he knew how to kill.
A pained and almost panicked bellow escaped the Queen. But underneath that, was defiance.
Roberta could feel the male attempt to twist her thick and muscular neck. Attempt to break it.
He was struggling to hold her down. Struggling to get a good grip in all her opposition and thrashing, the Rex throwing her weight towards him, attempting to use his own weight against him and push him off.
His grip almost faltered, and his other hand raked across the Queen's snout, attempting and failing to grip upon her like his other clawed hand did.
She was large.
Far larger than the others.
And she was powerful.
It was in the moment of the Bull raking her snout, that Roberta saw her chance. Her jaws clamped upon his hand, and broke almost every bone within.
Almost instantly, the Spinosaurus let go of the Tyrannosaur, a breathless, shrill cry escaping him. Roberta used the distraction to ram the Bull, causing the Spinosaur to fall upon his side with a great thud and loss of breath.
Roberta took the time to shake her jaws, adjusting them and attempting to shake away the pain as the Bull writhed upon the ground, swiftly recovering and getting to his feet. His injured arm hung, limp and useless, thick globs of crimson falling upon the grassy knoll. The Bull's emerald gaze fell upon his injured arm, then towards Roberta.
His gaze was hateful. Wrathful. His chest heaved with thick and heavy breaths in rage, a tongue gliding against his bloodied teeth.
Roberta's amber gaze stared back, the old female focusing on regaining a second wind.
Not even the white one gazed upon her with such rage.
She knew, just by the look in his jaded gaze.
His mind was set.
She was his to kill.
And his alone.
A snort in spite escaped the Queen's nostrils, and a second call in challenge escaped her throat. Dominant. Threatening. Challenging.
It was a call the Bull answered. Spiteful. Defiant. Unrelenting. Wrathful.
The approaching storm boomed with thunder in the distance, the winds now heavy and chill with a thick pressure. Rain began to spritz and drizzle, coating and illuminating their scaled hides and washing away the blood from their wounds, mixing sanguine and earth.
The Spinosaurus approached, though not in the same manner he had previously. He could not afford to be so reckless.
She was dangerous.
Good.
That made her a worthy rival.
A worthy kill.
The Bull then turned, walking parallel around the Queen, circling, calculating, testing. As if a predator circling prey. His full length was displayed towards her, sail proud and vivid in its multicolored hue. His injured arm always faced towards Roberta.
The Queen kept her gaze upon the large intruder, moving in a circle, opposite of him. She dared not lower her posture, expose her neck. Then he would have an opening.
His eyes never left hers.
Her eyes never left his.
Emerald and amber gazes were held constant in a silent battle. A silent dare. A silent challenge.
Nothing existed to them but the other. Not even the now heavy rains that battered their hides and flooded the knoll, nor a hot white light striking the forest in the distance, followed by a rumble of thunder.
It was then Roberta struck, jaws moving to clamp around his throat. Her movements were sudden, swift. Though her crushing jaws found not her rival's throat, but the downpour of the black storm.
The Bull stepped to the side, and clamped his jaws around the Queen's snout, attempting to keep her jaws subdued and shut. His clawed hand raked against the flesh of her robust brow, scratching against her eye.
The pain caused Roberta to thrash and struggle with an even greater fervor, and the Bull lost his grip to the shaking Rex. The Queen, however, failed to strike, attempting to shake away the pain from her damaged eye.
It was an opportunity the Spinosaur took, for he crashed into the Queen, and sent her tumbling into the damp earth. Roberta grunted in pain as her weight hit the ground, and her legs flailed in panic, vision impaired to the side of her rival. She struggled to rise, but found the dampness of the ground too slippery in her current state.
The Bull lowered himself, jaws opening to clamp upon Roberta's scaled throat. A sudden kick of her powerful leg muscles stopped his advances, the Spinosaurus grunting. Then he was kicked again. And again.
The blows were powerful, and knocked the breath out of his lungs with each kick, the Queen's toes raking against his hide. Sorna's Spinosaur then turned in rage, and clamped his jaws around the Tyrannosaur's offending foot, twisted her leg, and then tugged.
A horrid crack rang out that caused Roberta to scream, and her other leg to kick as hard as she could to get the larger predator away from her.
The powerful strike connected right into the Bull's jaw, a vicious snap cracking out that sent the Bull falling upon his side.
He was screaming, crying, a shrill, pained call as the Spinosaur writhed upon the ground, limbs flailing as he attempted to rise to his feet.
When the Bull did so, his head drooped, neck hung low, breath ragged and hitched. His jaw was broken.
Emerald eyes rimmed red, his gaze fell upon Roberta.
She attempted to rise. Each time, she could not. Her injured foot was swollen and tender, dislocated. She did, however, manage to twist herself to turn her amber gaze towards her challenger, eye bloody and crimson lazily trickling from her wounds. Her breath was heavy and labored, Roberta fatigued and winded. Perhaps if she were younger, she would have the energy to force herself to get up. Not now, however. Her foot hurt too much.
Despite her exhaustion, a call came from her. Though it lacked the same strength it did before. It sounded tired. Weak. Forced.
The Spinosaur faltered in his response, spitting out a glob of blood and several of his teeth. Now thrice, he responded. Though his call was hoarse. Quiet. Strained.
Despite the challenge being called, and answered, both parties moved not. They were injured. They were fatigued. They were spent.
They could not longer fight.
The pair simply remained where they were, letting the rain from the storm pelt their scaled hides and clean their wounds.
The Bull then rose to his full height, and meandered off to scavenge from the Queen's kill. He struggled to feed. Struggled to twist his head and clamp his jaws upon flesh. Struggled to tear meat from bone. Struggled to move without pain. His feeding was slow. Tedious. But he managed.
It was in his feeding that the Spinosaurus failed to notice something. The scent of blood and the cries of battle attracted opportunistic predators.
A pack of three Metriacanthosaurus neared, braving the storm in curiosity, and opportunity.
They were targeting the Tyrannosaurus of Nublar, surrounding her like a pack of wolves. Debating. Calculating.
They would rather not tangle with a larger predator for meager scraps of meat. No. They would rather eliminate competition.
Roberta craned her neck to look upon the smaller predators, the female Rex once more attempting to rise with new haste. She snapped her powerful jaws, snap echoing in warning. Attempting to keep them at bay. But she could not protect herself from all sides.
The Queen released a bellow in warning, forcing herself to sound more dangerous than she currently was. Less frightened than she currently was.
She did not expect her call to be answered.
She did not expect the ground to shake.
She did not expect her rival to charge forth.
She did not expect the Bull to step over her, and scatter the scavenging pack, emerald eyes once more rimmed red, jaws foaming and raging.
The Spinosaur forced himself to project his harrowed call. Force it to be less hoarse and weak then it actually was. Force his broken jaws to snap. Force his broken arm to move.
Force himself to show no weakness.
But it was a weakness the scavenging Metriacanthosaurus could sense, even through his bravado.
He could pretend as much as he wanted. Force himself as much as he wanted.
He could not hide the blood and wounds.
The pack scattered, and then regrouped, now focused upon the larger predator.
The wall between them, and their intended prey.
The Bull released a guttural grumble. A low warning. A serpentine hiss.
His jaded eyes narrowed, and focused.
The Tyrannosaurus of Isla Nublar was his prey.
No one was taking that away from him.
She was his, and his alone.
She was his prey.
And this pack was his opposition.
Well, what do you think? I think I have too much fun writing the Spinosaur as a nutcase...but almost one with a code of honor? I'll try to get the third chapter out way sooner than it took this one.
Thank you for reading and have a nice day!