Yay! Another update, and it didn't take me a month this time! :D

This chapter begins a section of history, focused around Kilo's family, and the creation of the Waterfall Pack. I created it in hopes of bringing my readers closer to understanding Kilo and his ways, as well as bring out some plot points which will better round out the story and what will happen.

This starts with the beginning of Kilo and Shadow's lives. :) It was a ton of fun to write, and quite difficult, so I appreciate any words you might have on it!

Thank you everyone! I'll try to get Pt. #2 out within the next couple days, but I'm heading out on the road tomorrow for work, assisting a friend who trains horses as we head to the year's first show. A lot of WSB's progress will depend on hotel wifi and free time in between work, until I get home again Sunday.


"Jurassic World: Why So Blue?"

Chapter 26
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"History - Pt. #1: The Beginning"


~Six years before Blue's relocation to Isla Sorna~


It was cold that night. The air was full with the scent of freshly fallen rain, joined by moisture and thinning cloud cover, giving sign to the powerful storm that had passed over Isla Sorna hours before. The earth was full of water and rivers were bursting at their seams, until flows began trickling down the hillsdes and fields became submerged feet deep. Plant life was choking. Trees were falling over because the ground became too soft for their roots to keep hold.

The rainy season was particularly wet that year on the island. From May to October the sky had done nothing but pelt down mercilessly, with barely a few hours of clear weather to show for it. It was a miracle from the heavens that the storm chose to break that night. For the first time in a long time, the full moon shone its brightest, and the stars twinkled as though they were dancing for an audience.

The entire island was bathed in a calming silence.

Usually on such a night the nocturnal creatures would have become active. They would have taken advantage of the let up and gone out to find food, whether for meat or plants that were practically drowning in the lingering floods.

Instead, the creatures remained hidden, as though foraging or hunting called for too much effort. The island was sent into a seemingly perpetual calmness, without the chirping of insects or the activity of local dinosaurs. Every living thing savored the calm without rain that pelted their hides, or the wind that ripped through the trees.

Everything...save for a single female Velociraptor, whom was certian it was the most terrifying and suspensful night of her life. The silence was torture to her, and the impatient anxiety was eating her from the chest out.

How much longer? Was something wrong? Were her instincts playing tricks on her? Was she imagining the signs?

Towards the center of Sorna, where the trees were thick and the abandoned Ingen facilities were most common, a pack of raptors had arranged their den site into the side of a rocky incline. Over many years the water erosion created small caves in the ridges, which the dinosaurs used like Meerkats in burrows on the African plains.

In the shadows of one tiny cave, only twenty feet to its back wall, the restless female was pacing in circles. She threw her head from side to side as signs of agitation. Her talons clicked sharply on the stone floor, snapping up and down like a human would tap their foot.

She was a slender young thing, nearly 5 years old. Her scales were smoky black that faded to a dull grey on her throat and underbelly, accented by a small cap of blood red on the end of her snout. Stripes of the same bright color trailed down her spine to the tip of her tail, one of which distorted and trailed over both of her eye sockets. Her eyes themselves were pools of concerned yellow that flicked constantly to a large object at the center of the den.

There, bathed in the moonlight from the cave entrance, was a mound of dried mud and leaves that housed her most precious of treasures. The look in her eyes when she gazed upon that mound was of deep affection only a mother could make.

Three eggs lay nestled against each other, tucked in between moss and bird feathers gathered from the jungle floor. She had built the nest some five months before, and it had taken her two tries in order to get it perfect before she laid her clutch.

As a first timer in the business of producing eggs, the female used her instincts to get through trails and error. As all animals she was guided by gut feelings and automatic responses. Every thought was geared towards her developing young and making sure that they survived to infancy, which would then transfer to raising them into their adult years.

Her gut instincts had come in heavy that morning. She sensed a change about the nest and noticed little signs that only an expecting mother would take the time to notice, and it sent her into a nervous wreck.

The eggs were sweating, a term used when beads of moisture began collecting on the surface of their shells. This was not typical and had the mother concerned at first, but before long the tiny orbs were giving more signs, shuddering as the infant inside moved, then developing an odd scent about them. Because of this the female had not dared to leave the nest's side that day, not even to eat or get a drink of water from the stream one ridge below her den.

All that mattered were the eggs. They were her special responsibility and her instincts demanded that she was with them 24/7.

Suddenly, as though responding to its mother's anxious whimpers, an egg shivered violently in the nest. The movement made her head dart up in shock, her jaws snap shut, then her eyes bulge and lungs wrench out a curious purr. The egg shivered again but for a single brief moment it uttered the softest of sounds.

The hatchling was mewling from inside the egg. Every amount of maternal instincts the raptor possessed drove her running to the nest and insisted the time had arrived.

Hatching day finally ended her months of anxious waiting.

Without a moment of hesitation the mother fell onto her haunches beside the nest. Her throat vibrated with gentle purrs as she extended her neck over the clutch, where she nudged the egg that moved, only to give a rejoicing cry of happiness when it responded again by shivering. Inside she heard clawing and whimpers that protested fear, and that made her instincts flare.

As though she knew exactly what she was doing, the female opened her jaws, before placing her teeth on either side of the small egg and squeezing gently. The shell resisted at first, then its surface became covered in a heavy spider web of fractures, and the perfect oval form breached. The moment the raptor felt her egg collapsing she released it from her jaws and pulled back to watch. Her eyes shone and her tail wagged in the awe of finally seeing her clutch reach their full term.

Raptors that descended from the line created in Ingen test tubes, despite rather fearsome appearances, began life in a humble and incredibly vulnerable way. The young were fully dependent on their parents from day one, to feed them and care for them similar to how a dog cares for her pups.

In prehistoric times the raptors didn't start out quite so feeble, but due to a severe genetic defect linked to Ingen's DNA program, breaking the eggs open was a matter of life and death.

Usually, birds or reptiles were born with a sharp point on the end of their noses called an "egg tooth", which helped them break free of their shell. It was perfectly normal for raptor young to be capable of hatching on their own, even starting their days more independent, but something happened when Ingen designed their theme park editions. Something didn't quite match up, like a chink in a suit of armor.

Of course the dinosaurs weren't supposed to reproduce in the first place, but the first courting and nesting season for the raptors was a tragedy.

Somehow during the design process, genes mashed together went bad, and the infants were developed without egg teeth or the means to escape from the thick shells of their eggs. In fact...they were born with no teeth at all, as though proper development was stunted by a couple weeks.

Unable to escape from their eggs, nearly all of the raptor infants died that first season. The parents had no idea what to do, with no instinctive coding or past experiences of egg bearing to tell them something was wrong. When the clutches started dying and rotting, panicking mothers began tearing their eggs open out of sorrow and fear, only to discover that some of the young were indeed alive and began to thrive.

New generations slowly began to learn. New behavior was developed in sharp minds, in order to compensate for the specie's handicap and assure the young were born properly.

The mother raptor laying before her nest knew full well what she was doing. She had watched other mothers to the same years before she was sexually mature, and automatically she had locked it within her brain as an important lesson learnt.

With the first egg broken and the hatchling granted freedom, the female purred again and laid her chin on the edge of the nest. She stared in a never breaking gaze as the shell rose and fell between shallow breathing. She could hear it and see it shift beneath the cracks, as well as smell its scent.

The infant's basic smell was unique. She smelled its individuality and yet, its scent also bore traces of two other aromas, which were the individual scents of the parent raptors. Such a trait immediately said that the infant was hers, and essentially half of her.

Upon further investigation it was discovered the hatchling's scent was male. She could sense it even though he had not yet crawled free. He was instead recovering, after his mother broke the egg and his lungs were bombarded by the harsh breaths of pure oxygen and cold from the moisture in the den. He shivered and gasped for air as a tiny flailing hand pressed out against a shell fragment.

Basic thought processes were already quite developed, in such an intelligent animal. They were like flashes of color in the darkness.

What happened to his little world? Why was it suddenly so cold?

As a little hand poked out into the moonlight, a portion of shell fragments fell away. To the absolute joy of the mother a muzzle soon followed and pressed through widening cracks. After some effort of pushing the youngling tired and rested, regained his fragile stamina, then again explored the freedom of his broken prison walls that had once provided a comforting world.

The mother wagged her tail and cooed.

Yes. Come little one! Be strong!

Suddenly, the stress of the moving hatchling was enough to make the front of the egg crumble. Entire sections of it fell off into the nest, which revealed a tiny black figure cradled in the portion of the egg still intact. A black tail uncurled from around a trembling body that uttered the softest of frightened mewls.

The mother in that moment was offered the first good look at her child. She tilted her head close and purred lovingly, as she looked him over for any misshapen qualities or faulty traits linked with disability. Very quickly she was pleased to find he was perfectly developed, a reward to so many months worrying if she had produced a strong clutch.

Her first born son was jet black in color. He lay with his belly towards the ceiling, tiny body curled up and shivering from the shock that was birth. Pasty red membrane and egg fluid shone over his scales and across his shaking limbs. His heavy head wobbled as his jaws parted in choked whines and revealed toothless pink gums. On top of his head, on his elbows and the top of his tail was a thin layer of black downy feathers. Such things were common with newborn raptors, and would either remain permanent or shed off within the first week. His eyes were sealed shut like a newborn pup, and would remain shut for the next three days, in order for them to finish development of their hawk like vision.

Such things were quite the vulnerabilities. His mother would protect him, love him, and support him...from that moment and through to his adulthood. She would help him grow and become a strong male. It was the main goal in her life to see her offspring survive, and therefore her survive through them and future generations.

As she laid there, the female crooned and watched her son with adoring eyes. The sound of her voice and large presence startled him, making him sink back into his egg and whimper as though it would somehow give him safety from the unknown. To that his mother snorted in a note of amusement.

Nice try little one. Hiding from life would get him nowhere. It was time to come out and get cleaned off.

Swiftly and gently the adult reached forward and took the baby's tail between her teeth. This made him shudder and begin squalling in fear, but as she moved him to the nest floor she purred in soft reassurance. She nuzzled his uncoordinated form into the dried leaves with her muzzle, then began to bathe him with her tongue.

At first, the newborn whined and braced against the soft strokes. His closed eyes tightened further in fear of the touches he couldn't anticipate, but he began to lift his head and flare his puffing nostrils. His body moved with every cleaning that went from the tip of his nose to the end of his tail.

Suddenly, the tiny raptor curled his little lips and uttered a rasping hiss. With surprising speed he curled his head to the side and snapped his toothless jaws, clamping them on his mother's tongue for a moment but then flinching back and giving another cry as though he had frightened himself. His devoted parent shot her head up with wide eyes, before she realized what happened and growled sternly.

Lowering back down she growled and scolded him for his aggressiveness. She nipped his shoulders so that he yelped, then began licking again to reinforce what she was doing was a good thing.

Feisty little thing he was. Rather aggressive for a newborn.

No matter. He was her baby and she would accept him...even if it took some disciplining.

So, the mother continued to purr and lick her son until his body began to relax. His whimpers quieted and his struggles stopped, which allowed room for what needed to take place between them.

The hatchling flared his nostrils again and took in the older raptor's scent, letting it enter his olfactory cavity so that his natural system could process it. As one of his first smells, it was odd and frustrating to understand, which made him curl his lips again. He hissed, but he didn't dare snap again for fear he would be punished.

He leaned fast. This thing, cleaning him and uttering sounds that comforted his heart...somehow he knew it was special. He knew that it was alive just like him, and that its scent was like his but different. She was his kind, raptor, but she was only "half him".

In that moment the newborn came to know the first figure in his life. In his simple mind and thought processing she came to be known as "Mother".

Mother was stern, but Mother was loving. She gave him gentle touches, but was strong and could hurt him with no effort. Every bit of his fresh instincts told him that she was the most important thing in his life and that she was the means to survival, as well as love and parental bonding.

The youngling relaxed and began to make little gurgling sounds. He hadn't learned to purr yet, but he lifted his head and parted his jaws with a tentative whimper. Mother purred in response and nuzzled him, which further encouraged his imprinting instincts so that a bond began to set between them.

This little raptor had no name. In later years he was to be known as Kilo, but that had yet to come, so for the sake of setting names Kilo would have to do.

Suddenly, from away in the nest, a second egg shuddered and began to make tiny sounds. Almost immediately Mother fixed her eyes on it, staring at it with awe before pulling away from Kilo and his cleaning. Her attention span shifted to the next youngling that immediately needed her help, but upon doing so Kilo felt her presence leave and a concerned whine left his lungs.

Slightly panicking the little male attempted to sit up. His back legs were curled up on his either side, but try as he might they were too weak to give him lift and pick his belly up off the ground. His chin clipped into the nest floor, hurting him and making him cry for Mother and her comfort.

Mother ignored the cries for a moment, but only to lift a tiny figure in her teeth and turn back to Kilo. The thing was crying loudly with gasping breaths. The closer it got to Kilo the harder he pressed into the nest and stiffened up.

What was that thing? What awful sound was it making?

He especially became concerned when Mother laid the thing next to him. It stopped crying but it began crawling to the closest presence it could sense through its blindness, which just so happened to be poor Kilo.

The newborn male whined as his sibling, a smoky black female with blood red markings just like her mother, began clambering over him and bumping him with her muzzle. He tried to crawl away from her but she sucked on his arm with her toothless mouth and laid across his equally awkward body.

Mother cooed and began to lick her daughter, Shadow, despite Kilo's angry sounds and shaky movements.

She was born hungry, that one. Kilo about had a heart attack but she licked them both simultaneously and assured them with her voice.

Shadow mewled. She turned upwards to try licking Mother back, seeking food, but in that instant the third egg began to shudder and the parent's attention was once again needed elsewhere. She pulled away and the two siblings were left alone for a moment.

Kilo took a chance to smell the new nest member's scent. He growled ever so softly to express his young uncertainty, but Shadow began licking and sucking on him, cooing and mewling in a soft way.

This annoying thing was important, just like Mother was. She smelled like him but different. She was family, and needed to be accepted into his ever growing ring of newborn imprints...even though she was laying on him and gnawing on his snout.

Kilo tried to pull away. He made little sounds of distress and curled his lips, but Mother came back to them holding a third hatchling in her mouth.

The eggs were done. She brushed the remaining shells aside with her foot and stood over the nest, turning once before laying down and setting her third child out onto the feather bed.

This third one made not a single sound. Although Kilo or Shadow couldn't see him, they could smell him and sense him laying just a few inches away. Kilo was curious but he twitched his lips and kept his distance, while Shadow mewled and crawled forward with little movements and weak hesitations.

Mother gazed down at her second son and inhaled. She became concerned, seeing how still he was and how faintly his sides fluttered with breath. He still didn't make any sounds as Shadow prodded him with a curious snout. He only flared his nostrils and took in their scents, imprinting on them without a moment's hesitation or protest.

The second son was solid grey, with black downy feathers just like his two siblings. He was smaller in comparison and far weaker...something that often had raptor mothers wondering if they should put their efforts into raising such a runt.

But, Mother cooed. She leaned down and began to lick her third child with affection matching what she gave to Kilo and Shadow. She nuzzled him over to the others so that they were all in one place, so that she could lick each one of them and celebrate their life with a singing croon.

Beautiful hatchlings, hers to call treasures and born into the world with almost no complications. For the first time that night the mother relaxed and breathed, curling her body around the young in order to cuddle them, strengthening their bond and keeping them warm.

For a long while the cave was silent, save for tiny whimpers and chirps exchanged between parent and child. It embraced the night's peace with the start of life...but once the calmness began, it wouldn't stay there for the new mother to keep.

From outside there came the skitter of pebbles, then footsteps and curious chitters. She looked to the cave entrance and saw a head poking inside, with glowing yellow eyes staring and intruding upon her privacy with the young.

The pack had heard her newborns' weak cries. It was only natural of them to investigate, but Mother would have none of it, because in her mind each and every one of them was a threat until they proved themselves worthy of her trust. Arching her neck the protective female bared her teeth and snarled. The head that was poking in made a startled yelp and withdrew, but after a few moments the next raptor tried peeking in and Mother had to repeat the process.

MY babies, she screeched. They were no one else's to see! Go away!

Those who stood at the entrance began to loose their nerve. Some chose to leave the new mother be and return to their own dens, while the most persistent of them stubbornly laid down and looked in with clicks of their teeth.

Mother growled, but she looked away and accepted their distance for the time being. She instead went back to cleaning the younglings, whom had all begun to mewl and nibble on each other searching for food. Even Kilo gave in to his stomach's aching want, and he began gnawing on the end of his grey brother's limp tail.

Patience little ones.

Mother arched her neck and attempted to stimulate her gag reflex, to regurgitate meat from the night before that she had been digesting. It was originally meant for her alone, but the meat would be the perfect texture for her newborn young and their toothless mouths. They wouldn't have been able to eat solid meat, and their sensitive stomachs wouldn't have been able to process it until they were many weeks old.

Mother was about to perform her duties, when a sudden disturbance from the front of the den made her young push against each other and cry. She lifted her head to see their audience leaping to their feet and scrambling backwards with fearful shrieks, eyes wide and heads ducking down in gestures of fear and submission.

For a moment nothing seemed to happen. The few raptors that lingered at the cave entrance kept their heads down and stared outside with their terrified expressions, as they slunk forward over the stone and attempted to flee. A shadow fell over them, then sharp claws flashed and an unfortunate omega rank was struck across the shoulder before everyone scattered.

Get out of here! No peeks allowed!

Mother would have gone on the defense, if the raptor voice that rose up in an annoyed snarl didn't strike at her senses of familiarity. Her curled lips immediately fell and her neck arched with big soft eyes. Her tail wagged softly and her throat shook with a soft purr.

Uncle Hook?

A chuff answered her, as a dark figure strode forward into the den with head high and tail arched. His scent confirmed to Mother who it was, and moments later the moonlight gave her a good clear look.

Even back then, Hook was old in age, with wrinkles on his scaled face and creaks in his old bones. The brown and burgundy scales of his hide were accented by the same pale scars, given to him from dominance fights back when he was still a young male. His right death talon was long missing...but yet...his gruff appearance was tainted by the soft and loving look in his golden eyes.

In the future, expressions of such love would only grace his features in rare moments.

Hook purred to his niece. In his jaws was a fresh chunk of meat from that day's kill, which he had saved specially for her, when she failed to come out of her cave and hunt with him. When she proceeded to stay in her den after the storm broke, he thought it wise to bring the gift and make sure everything was alright.

Hook knew about the egg clutch. He was aware that their hatching day was soon, but the moment one of the newborns gave a soft mewl, the old male froze and lifted his head with blinking eyes as though the sound was a huge surprise to him. A sharp inhalation gave him the scents of egg fluid and unfamiliar raptors, confirming suspicions.

Oh...that explained things.

Mother cooed as Hook crept closer. Her eyes remained soft and she greeted him tenderly, without a trace of jealousy or an overprotective want to make him keep his distance. She shifted further onto her side so that her children were nestled against her stomach, but also so that they were easy to see and Hook could get a good look at them.

Weren't they perfect?

From the time she was very young, Mother viewed Hook as a stand in father, after both of her parents abandoned the pack during hard times. She had no surviving siblings, which meant he was the only relation she had left, and he made it his duty to protect and care for her throughout the years.

Hook crouched outside the nest and set the meat within Mother's reach. He greeted her by bumping his snout against her cheek, then he turned his eyes downwards and tilted his head to the side. The old grump couldn't help the proud purr in his throat, and couldn't keep his chest from puffing out in a show of pride.

Mother nuzzled her babies, then grabbed the loose skin around Kilo's shoulders between her teeth and lifted him up for her uncle to see. This startled the little one, but much as he turned about and mewled, Hook eyed him and bobbed his head with a short chuff. He sniffed him, licked his belly, then pulled his head back and growled when one of the feisty newborn's claws hooked the outside of his nostril.

Mother gurgled as though she were chuckling. She set Kilo down and made sure he quieted, before she arched her neck and went back to the task of regurgitating a soft meal. She tensed, gagging, before dipping her head down and setting a pile of partially digested meat on the floor of the nest.

Hook helped her from there by grabbing one of the newborns and setting them in front of the food. He then used his nose to nudge their own snouts into the sludge, so that they could taste it and let hunger guide them from there. Kilo protested and tried to fight but Hook growled sternly and forced the youngling to take a mouthful.

For a few minutes, the three babies went silent and took their time figuring out how to properly eat. Mother licked her lips and watched affectionately, as their little tails wagged and they uttered rasping attempts of purrs. She waited until their bellies were extended, and once they began to blindly search for her presence, she tucked them back against her side and gave them a tongue bath. Her coos sang lullabies to their ears, and once they were asleep she cleaned up the excess food before curling her own body into a tight ball.

Hook made sure his niece and her young were comfortable, before he left the den and returned to his own nest just up the ridge.

The days would pass quickly, and younglings would grow like weeds...but a mother's love would last forever, and Hook knew his niece would prove herself the best mother she could be.


~...~


He was different from his two siblings, that much was clear as the days went on and Mother learned just what it was like to be a first time parent. From the beginning he was bigger than them, and had the strongest personality out of the clutch...which made him a bit of a trouble maker.

Mother knew her first born son as a biter, and a squealer when he didn't get what he wanted. If she was slow getting them food, he would wail and whine until the food was given to him. If he became frustrated -learning how to properly walk for example- he threw a tantrum and nipped his siblings until they were all crying and making a fuss. He was toothless until his second week, but gums hurt just as much as fangs if he pinched the skin right.

Being a mother was very tiring indeed. If she thought the first few days were bad, the moment sharp teeth came in and eyes opened, she was absolutely running in circles.

Kilo was the first of the clutch to open his eyes. When he did, the things he knew by touch and smell became a new wonder for him, like the brilliant red of his sister Shadow's markings, or the lovely image of his mother and her soft eyes.

His siblings were a bit slower, when concerning the will to develop and get up off their bellies. While he toddled around and gnawed on their tails, making weak growling sounds, they growled back and tried to resist his pestering. They curled up next to each other and slept most of the day, which made for a very bored Kilo that liked to cause mischief with himself.

It wasn't long before the youngling began stumbling from the nest. Every moment that Mother had her back turned, he was leaving bed and wandering about the den, making happy little gurgles and worrying his teething mouth on a scrap bone or stray twig. When field mice appeared he would spend long minutes playing with them, rather awkwardly and without fear in the way he stumbled back and forth with mock aggressive growls.

Come on! Fight me! Was his overall view towards everything in his tiny den world.

Mother would hear her son making a ruckus, and with a low groan she would pick him up by the scruff of his shoulders. She'd carry him back to the nest and insist that he rested with the other younglings, but seconds later she would only need to repeat the process and become more frustrated.

It was clear by the second week that Mother needed a break. She hadn't gone out of the den since hatching day...and she was more or les going mad with restlessness.

Thank goodness uncle Hook offered to babysit.

When the old male came walking into the den that day, Kilo peered over the lip of the nest and watched him with intelligent golden eyes. His chubby baby body wiggled from excitement and wonder of a new figure in his world, one he knew by smell and sound but hadn't the pleasure of meeting with sight.

Kilo's first mistake was crawling out of the nest and waddling over to nip at Hook's ankles. The old male went wide eyed, then with a quick blessing from Mother, he reached down and swatted the baby aside with a swift stroke of his paw. The sudden disciplining shocked Kilo and rolled him over. His eyes widened and a sharp yelp came from gaped jaws, before he stood up and shook himself off with a dejected look.

Hook stood his ground and didn't let the youngling's pouting face affect him. He communicated dominance and authority, to which Kilo ducked his head and wagged his tail to show submission. Mother watched on with a pleased look and gurgled as though she were chuckling.

Hook wouldn't give the young spitfire any extra rope. He didn't tolerate disobedience and uncontrolled roughhousing, which would do her son some good to have strong male authority in his life, given that his blood father was...uninvolved.

For the time being, Kilo's reign of terror over the den was suspended. He was devastated but neither of the adults gave pity.

Instead, Mother was glad for the freedom of a day out. Her mind needed the break and her body needed the exercise of a hunt, especially after incubating eggs for months made her a bit soft in the muscle department. To be a single parent with three younglings, it was imperative that she stay in the best shape possible, to protect and provide for them.

Still...it was difficult to look into her babies' eyes and find the courage to leave them.

Cooing softly, Mother stooped down and gave each of them a tender farewell lick, ruffling the sparse downy feathers still clinging to their bodies. They responded with affectionate gurgles and her eyes narrowed, before a rough voice chittered from above. When she lifted her gaze she saw her uncle Hook, and he was looking back with an expression of assurance.

Everything would be fine. He'd make sure they were kept safe and cared for.

Mother hesitated, but she nuzzled the old male and thanked him, before finally turning and striding for the exit. Kilo peeked his head out of the nest and watched as she strode towards the exit. His eyes widened when she disappeared behind the bright wall of sunlight that hurt one's eyes when they looked at it for too long.

Mother had never left them before. The younglings almost didn't know what to think of it, being without her comforting presence and supply of warm meat. Even Shadow sat up on her haunches and looking around with half sealed eyes, squinting in an effort to separate her blurred vision and discover where her parent was hiding. Grey Brother just curled up in a ball and seemed to shut down in order to cope with the separation.

Kilo however, kept his wide eyes fixed upon the den's exit and crept further up the lip of the nest. His young mind puzzled over the light's properties, wondering how it could seem like a solid wall, yet allow things to pass through it. It concerned him and fascinated him at the same time. The questions that flashed through his young mind had him wiggling around and uttering soft whimpers.

What was beyond that bright wall? Could he go through it like Mother? Could he find her on the other side?

Shadow and Grey brother were no help to Kilo's restlessness. Hook was even less of a comfort, as he sprawled out near the den's entrance and proceeded to groom himself, perfectly relaxed and confident all was well in his job as sitter.

This left Kilo alone to plot.

Completely unaware of the trouble taking place, Hook lifted his arm and nibbled at the underside of it, chuffing softly to himself and musing over his niece and her brood. His old heart warmed at knowing she was happy with a family...but something else caught his senses.

The little patter of clumsy feet, and a presence drawing closer as though it was trying to be sneaky...but failing quite miserably.

Hook lifted his eyes. Immediately he saw Kilo in front of him, wobbling forward towards the exit of the cave like a moth to light. His little tail was wagging happily and his clawed fingers wriggled, but the moment he looked over his shoulder and realized he was seen, his little eyes bulged and he nearly tripped on his own horror.

The jig was up! Escape!

Kilo tried to run. He tried to pick up his floppy feet and make his uncoordinated legs work, but they wobbled in every direction and threw off his balance. Stumbling once or twice, picking himself back up, only to sway and get caught up again on his own two limbs.

Hook, not sure if he was amused or angry by the little one's escape attempt, stood up and padded over until his shadow fell across Kilo's body. He caught the scruff of his shoulders between his teeth, then lifted him up bawling and struggling about as though a murder was taking place.

Hush youngling. There's no need to cry.

Kilo was carried back to the nest and plopped down. Hook reprimanded him with a stern growl, and nuzzled him to his belly as though ordering him to take a nap...or...something that didn't involve running away.

It wasn't safe outside the den. They were still far too young for such adventures.

Shadow and Grey Brother flinched to Hook's commanding voice, but Kilo just glared back at him and puffed out his little chest. His lips twitched and showed partially toothless gums. His claws worked furiously to show he was angry.

Hook just chuffed, then slumped down outside the nest so that he could more closely watch the feisty nest prisoners. He went back to grooming his dusty scales, chuffing and gurgling to himself as though he were humming a tune.

Kilo was smart. As he peeked over the nest edge, he saw how closely Hook remained posted, and he knew there wasn't a chance he could sneak past. He knew the adult was much faster than he...so with a disheartened whine, he slinked back into the nest and flopped down for a good sulk.

For some time, the little brain couldn't stop thinking of the light wall...but as the minutes passed, he began hearing an odd noise. He lifted his head and tilted it to one side, then cocked his jaw and uttered the smallest of unsure gurgles.

It almost sounded like Hook was growling. What could he be angry at? They didn't do anything wrong...at least he thought.

Kilo peeked his head over the nest, and to his absolute joy, he saw a sight that gave hope to his mischievous wishes.

Hook appeared to be asleep, snout tucked under one paw and tail curled up around him. With every breath he made an awful snoring sound that was quite foreign to the younglings. Shadow and Grey Brother whimpered out of concern.

Mother never made noise when she slept. Was Hook not really sleep, but growling to make sure they didn't try anything?

To test this theory, Kilo narrowed his eyes and made a sharp barking sound. Scratching his claws against the nest, he tried to make sounds that would make Hook think he was escaping.

The elder stirred, but after a moment of wrinkling his snout, he relaxed and began snoring again.

Perfect!

Kilo was crawling out of the nest and walking to the den entrance faster than ever before. Gazing upon the blinding light, he ventured forth and wagged his tail, without the slightest hesitation for leaving his siblings and being alone.

He wanted investigation and adventure. He wanted to see the unknown and discover where his mother went.

The first few yards to the entrance were moments of anticipation. Kilo ducked his head and squinted his eyes against the light, to try and see beyond it, but the light hurt and forced him to look at the ground beneath him. He reached out with his nose as though to meet something hard, like the other stone walls, but instead he kept walking...for the wall never touched him and seemed to envelope him in the light.

Kilo was scared and bewildered. He clamped his eyes shut, still dreading a collision, but it never came and he sensed the closed space of his den go behind him.

The den was his small world...but suddenly, as the light's power toned down and something warm glowed red against Kilo's eyelids, he sensed that small world open up around him. He came to a stop and cracked one eye open. He winced at the light and reared his head back when flashing spots made him dizzy, broadening his stance and making concerned growls.

Some moments past. As Kilo stood there, he became aware of strange noises, sounds of strange raptors chittering and claws tapping along stone. He heard birds chirping, water trickling, and the flow of wind through weeds just off his right side.

The youngling had a hard time taking it all in, but with a sharp little snort, he forced his eyes open and looked ahead of him. He had no way of knowing what he would see, or had the experience to understand it, but the moment his gaze took on the world he stumbled back in fear.

This new large world had no walls, but exploded with color and objects that were bizarre to him. His head flashed about and his eyes widened, before he crouched and whimpered in a moment of overexposure.

Kilo stood on the ridge of a rock slope. Below him were more ridges that went down at a steep angle, going on and on until it met dirt and blended off into a grassy clearing. Beyond that were tall trees and more green, underneath the shapes of distant mountains and the endless cloudy sky.

The ground was moist with rain, and just beneath Kilo's ridge was a swelled creek, trickling and jumping down the rocks, even forming a waterfall at the entrance of another raptor den. His feet felt the wet underfoot and gave him unfamiliar shivers, while his nose and back were given the sensations of tiny rain drops that occasionally splattered on his black scales.

Every single downy feather on the youngling's body was standing on end, like a wolf's mane when bristled in an agitated way. He still looked about, but his nostrils began flaring and he took in the foreign scents. His little frame began to loosen, and stand up as curiosity won over fear of such a massive unknown.

He smelled everything he saw, wondering over the complexity that surpassed anything he ever knew inside the den. With every moment that his brain became busy with olfactory, visual, and auditory sensations...he became less aware of his own presence in the middle of it all.

Kilo did not know he was being watched. He did not sense the patter of footsteps, or little voices that chittered and chuffed out of curiosity.

Suddenly, many presences drew so close that they could go unnoticed. He turned his head to the side and saw large figures standing near him, startling him and making him jump clumsily away. His claws and little teeth flashed as he made weak hisses.

The figures blinked, and Kilo went wide eyed before stopping his aggression altogether.

Three young raptors, a month or two older than himself, stood with heads high and arms tucked under their chests. Their tails arched and swayed about, while their nostrils flared and studied the scent of the little hatchling they found.

Kilo wagged his tail. He looked upon the strangers and saw that they were just like his siblings, which communicated safety and something remotely familiar within his mind. They were nearly three times his size, but he toddled up to them and cooed just as though they were his sisters, unafraid of them despite never meeting them before.

Hello!

The eldest of the trio blinked and eyed Kilo in an odd way. Her yellow eyes sparked with confidence and curiosity, while at the same time her lips twitched and threatened to curl up when Kilo came close. She was large for her age and a pale green in color, with darker markings under her jaw and on the tip of her tail. The permanent feathers on the top of her head ruffled up as a sign of indecision.

They had never seen this...nest worm...before. He was unfamiliar to them and still smelled like an egg, which put into their minds the conclusion that he wasn't supposed to be there. They themselves had only just been given permission to leave the nest...which meant he was an escapee.

One of the other females, a dirty brown color, grunted impatiently. She demanded that they move on and leave the worm, so that they could continue playing their games.

It was decided, but as the older chicks began walking down the ridge, Kilo stumbled after them and chirped happily. He bumped up against their bodies and wagged his tail, only to duck his head and blink when they made various upset cries.

Go away!

Kilo didn't understand their aggression, or why they didn't want him around. They hissed and batted at his head using their paws, which made him stumble backwards and onto his haunches with a thump.

The eldest chick arched her neck and snorted, making the biggest fit of hostility one of her stature could make.

Nest worms were supposed to stay in the den! Go back home!

Kilo stared at them in bewilderment. It seemed like he was going to give up the friendliness, but standing up he ducked his head low and straightened his tail, then bounced side to side with little rasping growls.

He thought they were play fighting. Finally! Someone that could keep up with him!

The three females blinked. They stared back, unsure what to do, before the eldest stomped forward and struck her hand over Kilo's head. She cackled, he tumbled away, then continued rolling down the hillside when he lost his footing altogether.

Kilo shrieked in shock and fear as he went, going right into a stream that ran cold over his scales and flowed up over his head. The water hurt his lungs and stole his breath, which made him scramble and fight to find the air.

What was this stuff?

Finally, the black hatchling sat up and out of the water, where he gasped and looked about with frightened eyes. The older hatchlings made cackling noises as they jumped down and looked him over with amused glints in their eyes.

Kilo ducked his head in shame and sadness. Making whimpers that stoked their teasing, he picked himself up and hissed defensively.

The little baby was devastated and confused. Never before had he been treated so harshly, with malice and hateful tones. Mother and Hook never struck him for such a reason, and their stern voices never went so sour.

He did not know hate, or the difference between enemy and friend...thus a new lesson was learnt. The trio of females were not his friends.

As Kilo coughed and crawled out of the water, he discovered that there were many more raptors around him and across the hillside, adults and adolescents alike. They looked his way and tilted their heads with surprise, or uttered small growls that showed they disapproved of him wandering about and causing trouble. He shriveled up and whimpered in fear of them, not knowing if they too were enemies that would deal him hurt.

Suddenly, however, Kilo felt footsteps shake the earth behind him. He froze and clamped his eyes shut, as the trio females ducked their own heads and whimpered nervously. The adult raptors nearby turned their attention away, walking down the slope or pretending to look at something else

In all eyes was a gleam of fear and submissive respect..

The thumping stopped. A shadow fell over Kilo and he cracked one eye open, body racked with shivers and heart thumping from anxiety of the continuous unknown. He glanced over his shoulder, only to see a pair of massive grey feet across the stream from him. They were armed with black claws...but as Kilo focused on the lethal weapons he noticed a stain of red, and smelled something he knew only from Mother's meat feedings.

Blood.

Fear again hit Kilo. He whimpered and followed the feet upwards with his eyes, where he found slender legs and an underbelly riddled with faint scars. A thin neck was arched gracefully and a head turned down at him, holding a chunk of fresh meat that dripped and turned the stream red for every moment a drop of blood hit the water.

Sharp yellow eyes narrowed at the sight of Kilo, and a growl communicated confused hostility.

What was this doing here?

The raptor was a large mature male, with ghostly grey scales and black markings across his eye sockets like splotched ink. The top of his head was adorned by a crest of fine textured black feathers, and his body sported an assortment of faint scars from past battles.

Kilo shied at the aggression this strange raptor gave. He sensed an amount of dominance that surpassed any he had ever known, accompanied by confidence and power that demanded fear and submission in scores. It made him press against the rocks and whimper...yet he couldn't tear his eyes away from the cold stare that had him trapped so effectively.

If there was any reward for a tyrant king, this raptor would have taken the cake. Kilo couldn't have picked a worse raptor to bump into, and he would have been far more afraid if he knew the truth.

Alpha was back from his hunt.

There was a dull splat sound, when the scarred male dropped his mouthful of meat on the ground. Droplets of blood hit Kilo's scales and made him flinch, but a presence swooped down towards him and he clamped his eyes shut. Warm breath washed over his little body and he cringed at the smell of death upon it.

The alpha, who was sniffing and looking over the youngling, curled his lips with a flick of his tail. He looked up at the few raptors who remained nearby. His voice came in a furious hiss that demanded answers.

Who's nest worm was this?

Of course, no one stepped forward. They ducked their heads and crept away, which only made alpha angry as he clicked his teeth together.

Who was the mother!

There was a moment of silence. Every heart was beating wild, and every eye looked away for fear of being pinned with blame, ruled by a terror their leader held over them.

It seemed the little one was alone...until a great roar exploded from further down the hill. It split the air in two and caught the attention of the entire pack, as a figure scrambled up the rocks and flashed her teeth in fury. A voice communicated strength and devotion only a parent could give.

Get away from the baby!

Mother came between Kilo and the alpha like a black dart. She kicked water in all directions and crouched over his little shivering body, slashing her claws about and casting her wild eyes to all that were within fifty feet of them. She snarled and spat and flicked her tongue like she was rabid.

Kilo couldn't have squealed louder, as he huddled against Mother's foot and nuzzled his dirty face against her warm scales. Her shadow enveloped him in a feeling of safety, while her state of rage both awed and frightened him.

The alpha, who was forced back by the entrance, showed his teeth and gathered himself. Mother faced him head on and fixed her eyes on his, which made him blink in a baffled way and hiss in a sharp warning.

Be careful who you snap your teeth to, wench! He was alpha!

Mother quieted, forced to obey, but she kept herself positioned over Kilo and refused to budge. She breathed harshly after a long day's hunt, and her body wreaked of dried sweat and carcass blood. Her curling lips were stained red and her gut was full of meat saved for her brood.

What was Kilo doing out of the den? Where was Hook?

Mother's thoughts were interrupted, when her alpha stepped close and snorted.

Was this whelp hers?

She could sense the disgust and anger in his voice. Her eyes fixed upon him and shone with hatred, mixed amongst fear and sadness that went deep like a wound.

Kilo was her child, but alpha hadn't known that, much less did he know of the clutch's existence. To protect her young she had kept the eggs secret and hidden from him within the walls of her den. From the day her body became heavy, to their laying, to their hatching.

She had good reason to take such precautions, for the pack's leader had a reputation for murder. When eggs hatched he would go into the mothers' dens and seek out the newborn males, to kill and devour them as an act of preserving his alpha role throughout future years. He was cruel and mentally unsound by his species standards, where alphas should have protected and supported their pack with compassion and devotion.

Mother could still remember the sorrow cries of those females...mourning the deaths of their sons from within blood painted caves.

She would NOT let her own sons suffer the same fate. Alpha or not, they were her treasures and he had no right to take them from her!

The female made her intentions clear as she curled her lips and stared the taller male down. He glared at her, furious, before gnashing his teeth and hissing.

Stand aside, female.

No!

He snarled and raised one clawed hand, but she clamped her eyes shut and braced, taking the strike so that three long gashes cleaved her shoulder down to bone and made her yelp. Kilo heard her and made his own cries. The pack shifted uneasily and watched on from a distance.

Alpha snarled again.

Move!

Mother resisted. Blood flowed from her wound, but she lifted her eyes and held back choked whimpers. She kept herself strong and refused to allow her enemy the chance to destroy her precious child.

Alpha stared at her, growling, before his head raised and his eyes took on a hurt look. It was an insecure emotion, fake and poisonous as he uttered the smallest of gurgles.

Mother was horrified, and she hissed angrily to the male so that she might as well have slapped him.

How dare he try to pull that on her! How dare he!

She puffed up her chest and snapped her teeth, which drove the male hissing and spitting backwards. In a final attempt he tried to reach his head past her, but she used her body to block his way to Kilo.

She never struck him, for fear of the consequences, but she denied him and offered her own flesh as a buffer to his attacks.

Alpha withdrew. He looked at the female and his previous attempt to woo her all but disappeared behind disgust, melting a sickly affectionate face behind burning eyes and flashing teeth.

Fine...the whelp was too small and weak to be a problem anyway.

He reached down and grabbed his meat. The pack chittered to themselves, but he snarled to them and demanded silence before turning and strutting away to his den across the hill.

Silence lingered, then the pack began leaving altogether, casting a few uneasy glances to Mother before ducking inside their dens.

It began to rain again.

Mother caught her breath and stood for a moment. Kilo shivered and looked up at her with shining eyes, full of love but tainted by guilt.

He left the den when he wasn't supposed to...did that mean this was his fault?

The female looked down when she heard her son's voice. Upon seeing him shivering up against her foot, she stooped low and ignored the pain in her shoulder, so that she could caress him with tender licks and nibbles.

The poor thing was wet and cold. His ebony scales were dirty and splattered with blood, which made her whine and check him over for wounds. When she found none she gave a happy croon, then licked him some more until he was cooing and leaning into her tongue strokes.

As the rain worsened, Mother fixed her teeth in a gentle hold around Kilo's tiny body. He did not fight the restriction. He did not cry or protest that he wanted to stay outside.

Kilo had enough of the outside world. He was terrified by what he experienced, and he was happy to be within his mother's comforting grasp, as she began climbing up the hill towards their den.

He did not know of alphas, or pack dynamics. He did not understand the complexities of life or the social struggles it held...but he learned three things that day.

Never disobey Mother or Hook again. Never assume that a strange raptor is a friend...and never...NEVER...go near the alpha raptor.

Kilo hadn't known fear for very long, but in that moment, his greatest of fears imprinted upon the fury of his alpha.

Never would anything else terrify him so deeply as that raptor's hateful gaze.