Look who's back! Mexico was great, I rode a public bus for the first time. Like, yeah I've ridden a school bus but that was mostly for football games and theatre competition, trust me it's not the same. I also rode a taxi for the first. (I'm sorry I live in a teeny-tiny town in Texas where I can literally bike anywhere we don't have much here lol). Anyways, so this chapter ended up being freaking massive and I didn't want it too long, so I split it. The rest should be uploaded by Monday. And hey, for those of those who can see it, what do y'all think of my new cover? I drew it at like one am because I was having trouble sleeping good god. Oh! And I've recently fallen into an obsession with Daredevil, the netflix series, and I've sort of been crying about for like the past week? And then I found out the dude who plays Hoskins plays the main antagonist of season one and I'm just floored because how can I hate Hoskins so much but Fisk, who literally decapitated a man with a car door, is an awkward ray of evil sunshine? Matt Murdock is still my fave though. Ah, and there were even more tears when I caught up with Hannibal (literally what the fuck), Gravity Falls, and Steven Universe. I'm sorry, I'm a child I know.
Disclaimer: I was gonna say something witty about how I don't own Jurassic World but I got distracted by the shelf of trashy romance novels that my favorite computer at the library is set next to.
It takes Roma and Venizia a little less than a month to catch up to the rest of the pack and by then they reach Owen's mid-thigh. Blue is slightly bigger, nearly reaching his waist, but she's his oldest son this isn't really unusual.
The day is sweltering, Owen is choking on the heat and he decides to put all training aside until he teaches his girls the most important thing to survive the weather. Owen is dead set on teaching his girls to swim and there is nothing either Ingen or Hoskins can do to stop him. He's in his boxers (no one's allowed to judge because he came on the island with the understanding that he'd be training dinosaurs, not swimming) and he's steadily making his way towards the lake just behind his bungalow.
His girls follow, Blue by his side and the others a step behind him. He can feel their emotions mingling in the link, curiosity, excitement, a tiny bit of wariness whirling around him. Owen let's his own excitement color the bond, laced with calm reassurance to assure his girls there is no need to be anxious. He practically skips to the lake's edge, a wide grin brightening his face. The girls are bright sparks in his mind, Blue a burning flare and their energy is buzzing through the air, tingling in his veins.
Owen dips a careful toe into the sparkling, clear water, jumping slightly at the cold but laughing delightedly at the shiver that runs up his spine. He shakes off his precaution and wades in deeper, enamored with the chill that hisses against his terribly hot skin. He stops when the water reaches his waist and squats down, just enough that the cool liquid laps at his shoulders. He cups his hands, lets water pool in them and washes his face, sighing at the coolness it leaves him with. Owen lowers himself until his head disappears beneath the gentle waves and when he slips back out, his hair is a soggy mess, darkened to a crisp brown by the water.
Blue is watching him from across the expanse of water separating them, a mix of exasperation and confusion gleaming in her eyes. Roma and Venizia are sharing a look, and Owen suspects they're questioning his sanity. They've never submersed themselves in water before, Owen usually just splashes them with the hose to wash away the day's layer of dust and dirt.
"C'mon girls, the water's fine!" he calls, hoping to coerce them into the water.
He wades back into the shallower part, hoping to entice his girls into coming in. Blue examines the water a bit more, taking in the glimmering surface, the clarity of the gentle waves. Her sisters are watching her now, looking on with rapt attention as she copies Owen and lowers one clawed toe into the water. The coolness catches her off guard, if her expression (and the shock that ripples through the bond) is anything to go by. She hisses at it a bit, pinning Owen with a betrayed glare. Owen chuckles, splashing the water in her direction. Echo snaps at the falling droplets, perplexed but pleasantly surprised when they do little more than slide soothingly down her throat. Blue simply shakes it off.
It doesn't take long for Owen to convince his girls that the lake is perfectly safe (though Charlie, Delta, and Roma are initially reluctant).They take to swimming far better than Owen had expected them to and he finds himself splashing water, laughing too hard to breath, and chasing after Venizia and Roma when they team up to drag him underwater. Echo chitters, shoving water at Delta with her nose and squealing when her sister returns with a volley of her own. Blue swims in lazy circles in the deeper part of the lake, easily fending off the occasional assault from Charlie. Content floats through the bond, a pleasant and light fog that makes Owen feel just a bit buzzy.
Roma gently bumps his side, nuzzling against his ribs. He chuckles, rubbing her nose and giving Venizia the same attention when she taps his ticklish stomach. Blue croons from a little further away, melting under the water and resurfacing, little drops of clear liquid sliding off her sleek skin.
Owen closes his eyes, humming, and he's pretty sure Venizia is trying to copy his tune. She's making a soft, guttural noise in the back of her throat that makes her vibrate slightly. It could almost be purring. Owen is so caught up in the gratifying wholeness of the bond that he almost misses it. Blue alerts them and Owen's sharp ears catch the sound of a slamming (car) door and the crunch of booted feet on rock and dirt. His girls are calm, so it's likely someone they know and Charlie doesn't look like she's about to bite something so it's definitely not Hoskins. That leaves a limited number of people and Owen is sure he knows who it is.
"Owen!?" calls a somewhat confused (and concerned) voice from the other side of the bungalow. It confirms Owen's suspicions.
"Over here!" he calls, the pack barking out their own heres.
And then Barry walks over, brows furrowed, his expression clearly reading what the hell are you doing. Charlie squawks at him, and Owen can feel her vibrant cheer.
"I. Owen. Owen why did you teach them how to swim. That was a terrible idea."
"Yeah, I beg to differ. They love swimming, Barry. Love it." The girls bark their agreement.
Barry sighs, resignation clear in the slump of his shoulders. The look he's giving them holds mostly disapproval.
(Owen guesses he would adamantly deny the amusement that he doesn't hide quite as well as he should.)
"Wanna join us?" Owen cajoles, knowing perfectly well Barry can't because he's got to go turn in Owen's freshly written reports. Barry gives him another look. Owen laughs because he's a shameless ass and everyone knows it.
"Goodbye Owen, goodbye girls. Don't let your idiot Alpha drown." Owen huffs and when his girls chitter in agreement, he pouts.
"I will not drown. It is not possible to drown where I'm standing, it's too shallow."
"The kiddie pool at the Intern Welcome Party."
"We swore never to bring that up, Barry."
The girls watch their Alpha and his friend banter for a while, mostly amused (vaguely alarmed) at the memories that flicker briefly through the bond. It's calm, the waves lax, the banter friendly if not a bit odd. It's quite the surprise when the scent of copper hits the air.
The back-and-forth comes to an abrupt end and the pack freezes. Owen blinks.
"Owen, your nose is bleeding."
"Um."
"Why is your nose bleeding."
Owen concentrates on staunching the flow with only his hands and failing; there's thick, scarlet liquid streaming through his fingers and staining the clear waves of the lake. Blue swims to him, chuffing in concern, and the rest of the pack isn't far behind. Charlie and Delta are circling him, eyes wandering in an attempt to find whatever it was that dare hurt their Alpha.
"Id's fine, id's fine," Owen says, voice muffled. "Id's jusd de weader, I ged nosebleeds when id geds doo hod."
He soothes his girls, convincing him he's alright and that he won't fall over and die the second they look away. When he manages to accomplish that, he wades out of the lake and accepts the slightly filthy rag Barry offers him. He sighs and gives Barry a pleading look. Barry's stare is deadpan, but he whistles and Owen informs his girls that Barry is his temporary whistler until he can get his nose situation handled. They head for the bungalow, the girls (while assured that he won't suddenly collapse) forming a loose formation around him.
It takes a few minutes for the bleeding to stop and washing the blood off his hands and face actually takes a bit of effort. Barry's rag, stained beyond repair, goes in the trash bin. Owen is still probably going to have to take an icy shower and find something cold to put on his head.
"So... I take it this doesn't happen often."
"Only when it's hot enough to cook eggs on the sidewalk and I've been a little too active."
"... Should I stay?"
"I'll be fine."
Barry gives him one more look before he leaves, a blend of concerned and amused. Owen owes him a new rag. He waits until he hears the front door slam and the distant rumble of Barry's truck leaving. He probably forgot to grab Owen's reports. Then he turns to his girls.
"So, wanna go back into the nice cold water? I can almost guarantee there'll be no more blood." He gets a chorus of delighted chirps in response.
When Owen is told about the interns, he's assured they'll just look in, he'll talk to them for a bit, and they'll be on their way. This is fine, the girls won't even have to make an appearance so no idiotic kid hoping to be the next Steve Irwin has to lose a finger. Owen okays it.
Except. They don't send him a notice telling him the exact date and time of the Intern Field Trip Day.
Ideally, his girls would be chilling the temporary raptor paddock Owen and Barry built (neither Owen's bed nor the house could support six growing animals and an adult human male) by Owen's garage. Owen spends more time sleeping there than in his own bed, but only Barry needs to know that. His girls, however, are not in the temporary paddock.
No, his girls are out and about, doing quick warm up exercises and getting ready for a short patrol in the the restricted zone for a hunting drill.
A black bus, complete with the Jurassic World logo painted on its side, arrives. Owen is saddling the lighter equipment onto Roma and Venizia. As his sturdiest girls, the weight doesn't bother them, and Venizia in particular takes pleasure in showing off her load, much to Blue's consternation. It earns her many a growl.
The interns and some security members are stepping off the bus and Owen is not happy. Subsequently, neither are his girls. He swallows the growl that threatens to burst past his lips and bites back the urge to bare his teeth; he is an adult human, not a raptor and he'll be damned if he lets someone think otherwise. Delta and Charlie have no such reservations. Blue watches them with cold, cold eyes and swishes her tail in a way Owen knows well. She's assessing the threat. Roma and Venizia bracket him and though they've only just grown to hip height, he knows they can cause terrible damage. Their scales flicker a blaring shade of red (a skill discovered when Barry had startled them so bad they turned purple). Echo warbles and the others chuff in agreement, the word intruders ricocheting within the bond.
Someone should have told him. Barry, Hoskins, Claire, literally anyone should have left him some sort of memo so he could be prepared.
Instead, he's surrounded by a pack of territorial and deadly animals, completely unprepared for the appearance of about twenty college kids, a guide, and three Ingen security guards.
Owen could cry.
Owen will not cry. At least, if someone loses a limb, it's not entirely his fault.
He extracts himself from the pack's protective circle, signaling for them to stand down. Blue hisses, low and angry, but concedes. She snaps at the others to get back and they do so reluctantly. Owen nods at them, humming his approval and marches over the large group. He's getting ready to tear into the guide and the security about the stupidity of not warning him of their arrival when his phone vibrates. He pauses mid-stride, head tilted, and reaches for his phone. There's a single message there from an unknown number.
It reads: heads up, you got visitors.
Owen could kill a man. Owen will do his best to not kill a man.
...
Adam Heinaman has a very specific picture in mind when he thinks of Owen Grady. The picture is one of man, a very tall, very muscular man. A body builder type with squinty eyes and biceps bigger than his brain. He imagines arrogance and superiority, an alpha male type with no actual regard for the animals he's training or the humans he's working with. In his mind, he sees sun bleached blond hair and muddy brown eyes. He also imagines him to be very aggressive. And possibly insane. What type of sane, normal person decides that yeah, taking on raptors is a good idea?
Owen Grady does not at all fit in the canvas Adam painted him on. He's tall, yes, but he's not seven feet of hulking muscle. No, Owen is built of lean muscle and sleek, practical lines. His eyes are wide and sharp and focused (and a startling shade of blue-and-green that pierces souls). His hair gleams pale ginger verging on brown in the sun and he stands ramrod straight, shoulders squared, radiating the sort of calm confidence that speaks of a cool head in a hot situation. Those eyes (as bright and clear as the glint of the sun on the lake behind the bungalow) burn with intelligence and something similar sparks in the eyes of the raptors (holy shit raptors!) that surround him.
Adam gulps.
Grady's (sharp, fierce, somewhat confused) eyes shift to him for the fraction of second before sliding off in disinterest. Oh no.
He's hot.
Adam concentrates on trying to breath normally (which is pretty damn hard to do when there's a pack of freaking raptors staring at him and oh, oh god, are those the Indominus Rexes?). Lucy is starting to give him that I-already-know-what-you're-think-and-it's-a-terrible-idea look and it's not helping.
Grady's talking to the guide and he's making some weird, frustrated little chuffing noises that Adam can't quite place until one of the raptors, the one with the blue stripe, also starts making them. Grady calms himself, if only slightly, and sends the raptor some sort of hand signal that quiets her down. He's talking to the guide again, but Adam can't really make out the words over the curious clamor of the other interns. Lucy's trying her best to grab his attention by jabbing her bony elbow in his ribs (repeatedly), but Adam has two younger sisters, three older brothers, and a gaggle of terrifying cousins. Lucy's elbow jabbing is inconsequential.
Grady's on his phone now, and Adam can vaguely hear a mish-mash of English and French spurting from his mouth like fire. When he finishes his call and slips the phone into his pocket, he takes a deep breath and the tension in his shoulders smooths itself out. His eyes sweep over the interns once more and then he's strolling away, his steps quiet and graceful.
Adam is once again reminded of the raptors milling around the bungalow.
...
Barry arrives at the bungalow exactly twenty minutes after his quiet altercation with Owen on the phone.
There's a line drawn right smack in between the bus and the students huddling desperately in it's shade, and Owen's porch where Owen and the pack stand practically statue still.
Owen has that look on his face, the one where his lips are pressed together and the lines around his eyes are pinched. It's the one that means he's surrounded by idiots and Barry suspects this is more about Owen Wrangling than Raptor Wrangling.
Great.
Talking to the interns is actually supposed to be Owen's job but Barry can deal. Besides, as much as he loves the girls, and knows they've got some semblance of respect for him (according to Owen), if something goes wrong, he doesn't have the power to keep the girls in line. So. He talks to the interns while Owen hovers in the background, keeping his girls from causing trouble. For some reason, this entails cooing at them and Barry is quite certain that anyone else would have lost at least a hand by now.
One of the students, some kid named Lucy, asks if they can get a closer look at the pack (and Barry pretends not to notice the exaggerated punch the dark-haired boy to her left lands on her shoulder, nor the tongue she sticks at him). Barry feels a lot more tired.
He shoots a look at Owen in question and he in turn eyes his girls. He nods, but gestures for the students to stay back.
They approach slowly and for one weird moment, Barry is reminded that Owen walking in the middle of a formation of potentially deadly predators looking like a goddamn warrior prince despite his simple jeans and t-shirt can actually be intimidating to those who have not been exposed to his terrible puns and that habit of cuddling his pillow. The one dark-haired kid next to Lucy looks like he might start drooling.
Barry kind of feels bad for him because besides that one terrible, terrible date with Claire Dearing (which, admittedly was half his fault, the rest goes to Zara Young for having the idea of setting them up in the first place and not mentioning that she knew they both danced to the tune of ace ace baby) Owen doesn't date. Especially not now that he's mother of six and Barry should start policing his thoughts because otherwise they go to strange places.
Owen signals for the interns to approach (slowly) and nobody dares to cross the line. He starts talking, words falling from his mouth in silky rivers that captures the attention of his audience.
"Respect, energy, the knowledge that they are wild." A deep bond that comes from having Disney princess animal communicating powers. "That's what it takes to train and care for an animal." Barry successfully stifles a snort.
By the time the interns leave, Owen's been hit on a grand total of six times, and has had three students try to get his number. Only one of interns had tried to reenact How to Train Your Dragon and Owen had been fast enough to save the poor kid's fingers (though sadly not his purple scarf). Though, why anyone would wear a scarf on a tropical island is beyond Barry.
"That wasn't too bad," Barry says as the bus disappears into the trees. Owen sags heavily on his hammock.
"I need a beer." Venizia makes an offended little sound, gesturing to the bags still saddled on her body.
"And a really long trip in the restricted zone." Barry hums in agreement.
She's standing face to face with a raptor.
Like. An actual velociraptor, the thing everyone who's ever worked in Jurassic World has nightmares about, the thing that makes blood turn to ice at a mere mention. They'd told her about Owen Grady the raptor handler (whisperer/mother/whatever) and his pack of actual fucking raptors. She didn't believe most of what they said, no way someone could handle predators the way they said he did. As a herbivore handler, she doesn't have much reason to talk the predator handlers, much less seek out Owen goddamn Grady, the Raptor Whisper in the restricted zone.
Unfortunately, there's a trike in distress and the best at handling dinos in distress are Barry and Owen and Barry isn't on the island at the moment. They (meaning the senior handlers) had sent her, Alice, a newbie, to retrieve Owen to calm the poor thing down. Something about the guy's way with animals.
"Watch out for the raptors!" Lorie had said.
No one mentioned they would be running around outside their paddock. Who leaves a carnivore (a freaking velociraptor) outside its paddock?
It (she?) stares her in the eye, but there is no hunger its gaze. Alice's breath freezes in her throat as it shuffles closer, examining her with bored, amber eyes. It's not full size, but it's still pretty big and Alice feels the pinpricks of cold sweat forming on her forehead. The muffled tip-tap of it's large sickle claw on the hard-packed dirt almost mirrors the thump-thump of her heart and its lips peel apart to reveal deadly teeth.
Maybe it's that it hasn't attacked her yet. Maybe it's because despite the terror coursing through her veins and fogging her thoughts, she still thinks it's beautiful.
She puts her hand up and reaches for the raptor's snout.
It's close, so close, and it isn't lunging yet so maybe...
"Unless you're not particularly attached to that hand, put it down."
Alice startles, badly, and barely manages to move her hand away before the raptor's lunging and pinning her down, a low, furious growl emanating from deep in its throat. She's breathing hard, there's no blood but its claw are digging warningly into her arm.
"Echo, back off! Now, get off her now!"
The raptor snarls, blows hot breath into her face, but it gets off, snapping at her when she attempts to get up. Alice stays down. She tilts her head, and there he is, Owen Grady in all his Alpha glory. He's staring the raptor down, low scolding noises scraping from his throat, brows bunched together, eyes ablaze and teeth bared.
"Eyes on me," he hisses at the raptor and Alice wonders if he's mad at it.
He signals at it to- do something. When it melts into the shadows of the trees, Alice sighs in relief and picks herself up. She's finds herself the subject of Owen Grady's furious glare. He's tapping a blunt fingernail on the knife at his hip, his eyes are like chips of ice. He reminds her of the raptor that had just left.
"What are on earth were you doing?" he asks, voice soft and calm and edged with steel (a blade shielded in velvet). Alice nearly chokes on the lump in her throat.
"I w-was looking for you 'cause one of th-the trikes is, um, is going kinda crazy and we couldn't get B-barry 'cause he's, you know, off island. So. Yeah. I got kinda lost..." Alice hates the uncharacteristic stutter and the way she sounds so uncertain. It doesn't really soften the look on Owen Grady's face.
"Were you not told about the raptors?"
"They were mentioned."
Owen inhales a very long breath and lets it stream slowly from his nose. His fingers pinch at the bridge of his nose and his eyes squeeze shut. When he meets her eyes again, he looks more resigned than angry and Alice supposes it's an improvement. He tells her he has to take his girls home and then he'll head out to deal with the trike.
...
"You tried to touch one of the raptors?"
Alice cringes at the disbelief in Lucy's voice.
"How are you even still alive?" questions one of the senior handlers, a flame-haired man with a sunburned face.
Alice admits that Owen had been there to keep the raptor from tearing her to shreds.
"He's dangerous."
"He's wild."
"He gets more like his raptors the more they grow."
"Don't even mention the Indominuses (Indomini?)."
Murmurs go throughout the breakroom, the way the animals (not just the pack) react to him, the way he walks like he's stalking prey when he's frustrated and Alice is beginning to think she should have taken her chances with the raptor.
Barry walks into the breakroom (back from whatever he was doing off island) and the conversation hushes. Alice wonders if Barry knows all the dos and don'ts of Owen Grady, wonders how he manages to navigate them.
...
Owen is really, really done with people thinking it's okay to wander into the restricted zone (pack territory, Blue whispers in his head) without authorization just because they're looking for him. He needs to talk to Masrani and Claire about an approved visitors list.
At the very top: Barry Provaire. Not on the list: interns, most of the handlers, and unapproved Ingen security guards. And if not that, he'll accept people calling in before they decide to invade his (the pack's) territory. He also needs everyone to know it's not okay to try and pet the raptors. Ever.
Only Barry's allowed to touch them and only when they approach him first (which they often do) and Owen is the Alpha. His contact is very much encouraged. The strange touch of those who are not pack (family, Ohana, what may have you) is uncomfortable. Especially for Roma and Venizia. The adore being looked at and admired, yes, but never touched. He can still feel Echo's displeasure at the near contact with the intruder, can almost taste it as something bitter.
The girl was lucky it was Echo and not Charlie or Delta or especially Roma.
For all that Owen is able to do with them, they are still wild and deadly. Tame is a term Owen would never dare to associate with his girls (and Blue snorts at anyone who does so).
He's in the temporary paddock with them (and though it's not much, easily escapable, they stay because their Alpha wants them to and they know it's for the best). They've curled around him, Blue's head in his lap, Venizia at his back while Roma takes up all the space to his left. Charlie and Delta splay themselves over his legs, effectively trapping him on the ground. Echo is trying to squeeze beside Blue to tap her nose to his hip and Owen can move just enough (much to Charlie and Delta's annoyance) to allow her to do so.
They're taking a quick breather before they head off into the trees again. Owen hopes Barry'll be able to deal with the other park matters while he's away.
Owen really shouldn't enjoy patrolling the restricted zone as much as he does.
He thinks it has something to do with the fact that it's just him and his girls and nothing else but trees and a few indigenous animals that are nothing but whispers in the back of his mind. His girls are getting better at developing shields and where the park had once been a loud, energetic hum that stole his sleep, it now lurks in corners, barely a spark. The pack are suns, bright and beautiful. Headaches come less often.
Owen's checking the cameras, the ones put there to make sure some idiot tourist wouldn't come in looking for a little more than what the park offers. There's only a few compie packs here and there, still running free, but they're not much of a nuisance. Mostly, they make for a clever snack for the girls.
The pack is milling around and Owen gives them the signal to go about as they please. He has to replace one of the cameras and it could take a while. Blue bumps into his hand before she runs off and the rest follow her example. Their emotions filter in as he works the screws (old and kind of rusty) and it distracts him, just a little bit.
He lets himself slip, sliding into bond with ease and sees. Blue's running, mostly just to shave off excess energy and to feel the brisk breeze against her marbled skin. Echo's dozing in a patch of sunlight, snapping lightly at the lizards that approach. Roma and Venizia and Delta and Charlie have teamed up against each other in a competition to see who can catch the most prey. Delta's managed to catch a rabbit and Venizia's racing Charlie for a wild chicken. There is no danger, no threats, and Owen feels entirely balanced. There's warmth seeping into the bond, everything's slow and hazy and it takes Owen a moment to realize he's humming softly in content. He doesn't mind, rather enjoys the pleasant buzz in his veins. He takes another moment to enjoy it, the feeling of being connected, of not being alone (never) before going back to the camera.
It takes a good few minutes to replace it, but the pack doesn't mind. He carefully slides his way down the steep hill the cameras are placed and doesn't notice the loose rocks until he's tripping over them and tumbling down in a graceless heap. He lands, hard, and something shifts painfully in his wrist and ankle. He groans, and winces at the pain of having tiny, pointed rocks digging into his back.
Oh.
He doubts Barry's going to be pleased.
It doesn't take long for the girls to race to his side, having felt his five-second terror at the shifting ground beneath his feet and the sharp twinge of his painful landing. Blue's there immediately, pressing herself comfortingly to his side and trying to alleviate his pain (trying to leech it away through the bond and he startles when it begins to work and that the other girls are doing it too). Roma and Venizia are pushing him to sit up (oh, when did they get so big) and he thinks he may be a tad more injured than his wrist and ankle. Did he hit his head on the way down? Does he have a concussion? He can't be sure. Echo's trying to send reassurance through the bond, the way he does when they're nervous, or agitated, or getting prepared for a medical exam. She's doing a pretty good job of it, his heart's no longer trying to burst through his chest.
Delta's got a forelimb on his arm, it's her attempt to comfort him and he thinks it's also working. His breathing isn't so bad and Charlie's loud, staccato barks (up-up-up) keep him from straying into sleep. Owen reaches his good hand to his head and winces when he finds his hair matted with thick, sticky fluid. He doesn't have to look at it to know that it's blood.
Scratch that, Barry's going to be pissed. He grimaces when he catches sight of his radio. It's broken, cracked to hell and he doesn't have his phone on him. He doesn't want to imagine what Claire will say or what Hoskins will do when he finds out that when Owen was injured, instead of mauling him to death the pack actively helped him. Owen squashes that to the back of his mind to not think about later.
Roma and Venizia finally get him up and slip under his arms, acting as crutches. They're three months old, but already they reach his waist and he has no doubts that they'll reach Rexy's height within the year. The rest of his girls are six months and he knows they'll reach head-height by eight months. Roma and Venizia have always been the most protective of him (right behind Blue) and Owen's sure that's saying something because Delta has a habit of sniffing at his food to make sure it isn't something deadly before letting him eat it. She's told him several times that there's no way salads are good for him.
Echo leaves his side momentarily to fetch his bag of equipment (all probably broken now, dammit) and returns with it slung over her neck.
They're leading him away now, seeking out the quickest way to get him back to the bungalow. Owen whines and makes a vague motion to his bike, still parked next to an old stump with the rest of his equipment hung on it. Blue whuffles at him, exasperation in her eyes.
Leave it, she says, Barry can come back for it later.
Owen doubts he has much choice in the matter (Roma and Venizia are the only things keeping him up after all) so he acquiesces. The pack moves into formation around him, Echo at his back, Charlie and Delta to his left and right, keeping just slightly behind his crutches. Blue takes to the front, keeping him mostly shielded from potential danger.
He feels like he's floating, in and out, up and down, little black and white dots dancing in his vision. Roma and Venizia make sure he doesn't fall unconscious, though he wonders if his head wound is even that bad. Venizia's make those little crooning sounds, the ones that he knows are the Indominus equivalent to sweet nothings.
Then the pack stops, abruptly, and it's only Venizia's claws on his shirt that keep him from stumbling to the ground. For a very brief moment, the pack stops leeching at his pain and he gasps in absolute misery until they're back at, giving him soft trills in apology. They're still paused and it doesn't take Owen long to figure out why. There's footsteps nearby (human) and it sounds to Owen like whoever's out there is trying to be quiet but failing horribly.
"Hey!" Owen calls, voice miraculously not hoarse, and the crunching steps stop. Then they start again, speeding up and fading. Owen signals at Charlie and Delta.
Catch. Herd to the Alpha. Do not attack!
They bob their heads in understanding and rush into the foliage. Not long after, there's a loud, terrified squeal that reminds Owen of the pigs in the training runs. His girls don't take long to return, two teenage boys huddled together between them. Blue doesn't look the slightest bit impressed and through her, through the pack, he can smell their fear, sour and pungent. He groans.
"Whoa, man, did they take you hostage? Did they take us hostage? Are they gonna, like, eat us!?" rambles one of the boys with increasing hysteria. He's blond, Owen notes, and his companion is a brunet.
"Do either of you have a phone?" Owen asks, tiredly. The brunet nods and Owen holds out his good hand. The boy approaches very slowly, which is a pretty smart move, possibly his first of the day. He slides his phone onto Owen's hand, every moment monitored by Blue, Delta tensed and ready to strike at the slightest twitch.
Owen barely has the situation under control, knows he needs backup before the boys do something stupid. Though he figures trespassing on the restricted zone is almost stupid enough. The only reason his girls haven't attacked yet is because Owen's convinced them the boys could be useful. They were stupid to come into the restricted zone in the first place and now they're facing down a pack of protective prehistoric predators prepared to do whatever to protect their injured Alpha. Honestly those boys are lucky to be alive.
Owen taps in Barry's number, glad to have memorized it, and even happier when his partner in crime picks up at the second ring.
"Hello?"
"Barry, we have a situation."
"Owen? Whose phone are you using?"
"Yeah, um, I'll explain later. Right now I'm in the restricted zone, near the original ruins, I can see the old visitor's center and. Well, I kind of fell when I was rigging up the new cameras and while the girls were taking me home, we kind of ran into some kids and the girls are like, one twitch away from tearing them apart."
There's a moment of silence from the other line. Owen thinks Barry might counting to ten.
"I'll be there in moment." His voice isn't nearly as strangled as Owen thought it would be.
...
It turns out, Owen did have a concussion.
And, that's it till Monday. Remember, reviews, much like coffee, keeps me going!
And here's some fun facts about this story and myself you may (but probably don't) want to know
-English is not my first language
-All the chapter titles (and the actual story title) are song lyrics
-I play the trumpet
