AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story takes place several years after 'Mentors of Yesteryears', which serves as a transition point between the original Land Before Time and War Before Time. I would recommend reading it before diving in here.
If you're wondering about the sequential order of stories in this continuity, it would be:
'Mentors of Yesteryears'
'Babysitting a Sharpneck' (Takes place early in 'Mentors of Yesteryears' - not essential to plotline)
'Because You're a Sharpneck' (During early 'Mentors')
'Surviving a Sharpneck' (During early 'Mentors')
'Circle of Death' (During early 'Mentors')
'What Do Sharpteeth Eat?' (May be semi non-canonical)
'War Before Time I: Fall of The Valley'
So, finally! I've been building up this continuity for over a year! Now, the actual war begins! I'm aware that throwing in action just for the sake of action could make a pretty cheesy story that desecrates the Land Before Time of your childhood. Needless to say, that's not my goal here. My goal is to develop it into something that takes you by surprise, while bringing more of that classic Land Before Time goodness: character evolution; world building, and tales that could have been told, but never were, with some new elements to boot. Who, and what, are the Rainbow Faces? What happened to Pterano after his exile? Why does Red Claw try so hard to catch the youngsters? Why do sharpteeth avoid The Great Valley when it's so easy for leafeaters to enter? It almost feels like there's a deeper story beneath the surface. Today, we'll enter the next phase of that story.
Enjoy!
Hey, the name's Cera. I'm sure you've heard the epic tale where 'mentors of yesteryears' helped my friends and I grow into sharptooth fighters. If not, what are you still doing here? Get your tail over there, come back and THEN we'll talk!
...
I am much more persuasive in person, but you know what? I'm just gonna assume you've met my demands. I'm gonna assume you've watched us grow up, training to the point where we could, and did, defeat Red Claw as teenagers. Yep. Teenagers. He'll never live it down. Funny thing is, it's been years since the Big Battle and we haven't seen or heard a peep from him, not that we're taking any chances. After I dropped him the ultimate sharptooth insult, Littlefoot's sure the big guy'll be out for revenge (given the opportunity, I'd do it again, hee!) So anyway, we've cut back on trips to the Mysterious Beyond. He's up to something, or so Littlefoot thinks. I say he died of wounded pride. If not, he's just a big, wimpy hatchling too scared and ashamed to face the leafeaters who trounced him good. Flattering, sure, but that's a real pity. I mean, come on! My friends and I? We're practically legends waiting to happen!
Littlefoot is like a storm, a titanic terror to any sharptooth unfortunate enough to face him! Despite his size, he moves like the mighty wind: Fast, fluid, ferocious! You can thank Doc's training for the freakishly strong bones and muscles that help him move like that without injuring himself. His tail is sky fire, the roar of its thundercrack rippling across the land as a testament of his strength.
No one flies like Petrie, no one touches him. Unlike Littlefoot, I can't say he's fast as the wind. The wind wishes it were that fast! The Bright Circle is his ally, cleverly blinding the biggest sharptooth as he streaks from the sky.
You should see Ducky. That tiny thing grew like nobody's business! In the water, she's more dangerous than a belly dragger, but don't ever think she's helpless on land. She understands the flow of momentum in ways only a swimmer could. She kinda had to. It was the only way to survive years of training under her two crazy sisters (I love those rascals). Doesn't matter how big or strong you think you are. She'll wrestle you to the ground with her bare paws.
Spike's a bit more chatty these days ... in a one-word-a-week sort of way. I know, he looks so big, slow and sorta dopey, but let 'em think that. Give him some incentive and it turns out he's insanely talented in a fight, and cunning in ways you'd never expect. A motivated Spike is a scary Spike. Ah, Spike, lover of green food. They say 'you are what you eat'. They never told Spike not to take it literally. While Ducky understands motion, Spike understands green food and, call me crazy, but it's almost as if it understands him. Over the years, big, ol' clumsy Spike has learnt to disappear among the bushes as though one with the green, his movements melding with the whisper of the leaves. It's strange to say that Spike is the closest thing we have to an ambush hunter. Judging from the priceless reactions of sharpteeth, I'd say they're having a much harder time with the idea, heh heh!
Fast runners and fast biters; the hunted and the hunters; two sides of the same stone. Unlike her natural rivals, Ruby has no sharp teeth, so she has to fight better, harder, faster. She's a living blur! There are moments when you can barely see her ... but ... I'd settle for that over not seeing her at all. She and Chomper left the day we beat Red Claw, taking a big chunk of our hearts with them. He said he needed to learn how to deal with the sharptooth part himself that scares him. He said he'd find those at the fabled Hidden Valley who could help him. He said he'd come back. He never did. Not yet, anyway. It's been years. We're still holding our breath in hope, but sometimes I wonder if we're just suffocating ourselves for no reason.
Anyway ... then there's me, The Amazing Threehorn Girl! The first to face Red Claw in vicious one on one combat, and end the fight slamming him off a cliff!
After the battle, Littlefoot had this awesome idea. It's called 'The Valley Guard'! Volunteers from across The Great Valley, trained to fight and work together to keep everyone safe, especially if Red Claw comes looking for trouble. It sounds awesome, but it's kind of boring much of the time. The most exciting thing we do is protect leafeaters who take trips outside the valley, or send flyers to spot faraway travelers before going out to meet them and make sure they get here safely. We've crushed a some lesser sharpteeth in adventures few and far between, but The Amazing Threehorn Girl needs a real challenge!
...
Aaand she got it ...
Now she's hoping with every bone in her body for it to end. Things change. That's part of life, but no one told me everything could change.
No one told me the world could crumble.
No one told me stars can fall.
No one told me, 'cause no one could imagine it. Honestly, I'm scared that when this is over, no one and nothing will be left. No leafeater. No sharptooth. No mountain. No valley.
Nothing.
How could this come to be? I'll admit that the things to come are beyond my understanding. I can only imagine what kind of monsters will lurk the strange new world on the horizon, but I do know this:
I am NOT going down without a fight!
WAR BEFORE TIME I:
FALL OF THE VALLEY
Chapter 1
Beginning of the End
"EARTHSHAAAKE!" screamed a scrambling little thicknose. "QUICK! GET UNDER SOMETHING!"
"NO! We're safer in the OPEN!" declared another, rushing for the field.
"Sure! If you wanna get CRUSHED on your merry way!" argued the first. "UNDER!"
"OPEN!"
"UNDER!"
"OPEN!"
The two bumped heads, forgetting the danger in favour of winning the argument.
Meanwhile, a third watched the drama in nonchalance. "And here I wonder why us little thicknoses barely make it in The Mysterious Beyond. Prot, Ocer! Knock it off! It's just them! It's pretty much always just them!"
The little thicknoses parted heads.
"'Them' who, Atops?" asked Ocer.
"Nice one, Littlefoot! Evade THIS!"
Peering from the bushes, the little thicknoses beheld two dueling giants. The earth shook under the longneck and threehorn's might as they traded blows with swiftness that belied their tremendous mass.
"Doesn't that hurt them?" asked Prot.
Atops examined the scene for a moment. "It's just sparring. They're being gentle."
The others flinched as Cera rammed Littlefoot.
"You call that 'gentle'?" Ocer argued.
"They've hardened their scales by rubbing against rocks," Prot stated.
Ocer thought back. "Oh yeah. It's called 'stone scales', right?"
"Yup," Atops confirmed.
Prot sniffed before smacking his lips. "Mmm! I smell sweet bubbles! C'mon, guys! Let's check it out!"
Atops sighed as he grabbed Prot's tail with his mouth, preventing the latter from heading into the open. What was it with Prot and open spaces, anyway?
When Prot gave him a confused, annoyed look, he explained: "It's like you want to get squished! Those sweet bubbles are part of the training. They pretend a branch of bubbles is a hatchling. One of them protects it. The other tries to eat it, playing the sharptooth. You can see how Littlefoot's guarding something. He's trying not to give Cera any ground."
Atops always seemed to have an answer for everything. Though Prot appreciated the times when that had saved their family in The Mysterious Beyond, being constantly corrected by his 'know-it-all' big brother was slightly irksome. In a streak of stubbornness, he often chose to ignore or challenge Atops' insight.
"How do you know so much about their training?" smirked Prot.
Atops rolled his eyes at his brother's undermining attempt. "I was thinking about joining The Valley Guard."
Prot blinked. "Seriously?"
Atops raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"
"You're built like a pebble," Prot stated.
Ocer snorted a laugh.
Even Atops had to chuckle. "Yeah ... well, there are many sides to The Valley Guard. I'd be a Shadow Watcher.
That caught Ocer's attention. "Really? Sounds cool! What do 'Shadow Watchers' do?"
Atops looked sheepish. "Um ... basically, watch from the shadows. Flyers can't see everything from the sky, and it's easy for sharpteeth to spot them. Shadow Watchers are small enough to sneak through the bushes, unseen but always seeing ... at least, in theory. Most of them are tiny longnecks. Those guys are quick and scary-good at staying hidden, even in large groups, but Shadow Watchers don't see much action, not compared to River Masters, Earth Shakers, Wind Racers and flyers."
Prot frowned. "'Flyers'? They don't have a unique name?"
Atops shrugged. "Pterano never bothered. I think he thought it was unnecessary."
"Hmm," Prot hummed. "Y'know, maybe I'll join too."
Atops smirked. "You?"
Prot held his chin high. "Yeah. I mean, why not, right?"
Without warning, Littlefoot's tail swept above them, decapitating the bushes just shy of their heads. All three little thicknoses froze, save their quivering knees.
"Nevermind. I prefer life," Prot amended.
"Sorry!" Littlefoot exclaimed upon noticing the small dinosaurs.
Shaking off terror-induced paralysis, Prot and Ocer ran for the hills on the spur of pure, irrational instinct.
"QUICK! GET UNDER SOMETHING!" Ocer shrieked.
"It's safer in the OPEN!" Prot snapped back.
Cera shook her head. "I've never understood your kind."
Atops walked after his brothers with annoyed resignation. "Me neither."
Littlefoot grinned as he stepped between Cera and the sweet bubbles. "Bad move, Cera, taking your eyes off the sweet bubbl- Hey! Where'd they go?"
The threehorn smiled as she moved aside to reveal the berries. "I swiped 'em when you got distracted with the little thicknoses."
Littlefoot blinked in surprise before chuckling. "Real sneaky, Cera. I guess you win."
She raised an eyebrow. "What're you talking about? They're still here, aren't they?"
He tilted his head.
Cera rolled her eyes. "You called them 'sweet bubbles'. That's not what they are, far as you should be concerned. They're a hatchling, and until I've eaten them, there's still a chance. Would you give up on a real hatchling?"
Littlefoot's eyes widened. Cera had a point, and already his 'Advanced Imagination' honed by meditative training was picturing a hatchling in the berries' place ... and a sharptooth in Cera's stead. There was no second chance. No room for failure.
The threehorn smirked. "I see I have your attention. Welp, time to dig in anyway. This will be a learning experien-"
A feral roar pierced the air. It took a stunned Cera seconds to realise that sound had come out of Littlefoot. Taught the sharptooth tongue by Chomper, he seldom used it except in the presence a predator. Never had he roared at her. She didn't know what threat or ultimatum it conveyed, didn't know the appropriate response ... but she definitely knew the most inappropriate response.
Cera belted out the Ultimate Sharptooth Insult.
Littlefoot's jaw loosened, eyes fluttering, flabbergasted. That was one of the few sharptooth phrases Cera could replicate, even if he never told her the translation (and had no intention of doing so). All she needed to know was that it was very, very bad. Apparently that never stopped her.
"PSYCHE!"Cera yelled, snatching the berries in her beak and jeering through her teeth. "Catch me if you can!"
Littlefoot boomed a longneck battle cry. To say the least, the low-frequency vocalisations natural to his species could be quite intimidating, but after years of strengthening his voice to speak sharptooth? Combined with an earth-shaking stomp? Perfectly synced with a thunderous crack of the tail? The atmosphere seemed to shatter. It was worse than a roar, beyond intimidating. It was the perfect storm. Cera had no doubt that sharptooth and leafeater alike would freeze in sheer terror of the sound. Of course, she was made of tougher stuff. She wouldn't freeze. She'd run for the hills, and that she did, heart pounded as she felt his footfalls thundering after her, coinciding with the booms of his voice so that he sounded times larger than he actually was. Okay, maybe this had taken a turn for the crazy, but she'd been wanting to test her speed against a serious Littlefoot. This was the perfect opportunity!
Even if Littlefoot was taking his role a tad too far.
The sharp-toothed silhouette loomed over Ducky, jaws parted in an impending snarl. She faced it undaunted. Rushed right up to the giant, took hold of its tiny arm and used its own weight to send it crashing to the ground with a whirling yank.
She smiled down at her handiwork. It would have been much more impressive, had her opponent been a real sharptooth instead of a gnarled, dead tree that loosely resembled a predator, especially when the Sun hit it just right. However, she wasn't complaining, and the awe of the maneuver was not lost on her students.
The young swimmers stared, gobsmacked the nth degree. Only the river raging nearby averted the silent lull. However, Spike's response was little more than a lazy blink before he returned to munching the third, hefty bush that comprised his pre-brunch appetizer. Impressive as they were, his little sister's feats were nothing new to him.
"And that, future River Masters, is how you bring down a strong jaw sharptooth at least twice your size," Ducky chirped. "Go for the little arms and-"
All at once, the children's delayed reactions bombarded her.
"That was AWESOME!"
"I've never seen anything like it!"
"How'd you do that?"
She began to answer. "There are several ways. It's a matter of-"
"How much bigger does the sharptooth have to be? Can a kid do that to a strong jaw?"
"Well, it's not ..."
"Can we learn Running Water today too?"
"What's 'Running Water'? It sounds cool!"
Ducky balked, eying the rapids uneasily. "Um ... it's ... a way of getting across the valley really quickly using fast waters. I'll teach you the principles in calmer currents. That could save your life if you accidentally end up in fast water, but Running Water is incredibly risky. It takes a long time to master, and it's not for kids, it's not," she shuddered, "it's not!"
"Ca and Nona say you learnt really quickly," argued an amurosaurus.
Ducky's eye twitched as her mind revived traumatic memories.
A teenaged Ducky fiddled with her forepaws as she nervously eyed the fast-moving water. Ca and Nona had brought her here to learn a new technique, but anything involving the reckless twins and deadly rapids had a mandatory element of 'nope, nope, nope!' The fact that they'd disappeared into the jungle just before she reached the edge made her all the more nervous.
"Hey, Ducky!" called Ca ... or Nona. Probably Ca. It was hard to differentiate their voices, but Ca usually did most of the talking.
Ducky breathed a sigh of relief as she spotted the twins farther upstream, waving from the river's bank. She waved back. They were dangerously close to the edge, though. One wrong move and they could end up-
Suddenly, the twins leaned back, over the water, and fell in.
Ducky's jaw dropped. Why would they do that!? They were goners!
Fear turned to intrigue as she watched them resurface. They were ... racing down the speeding currents ... in full control of their movements! Dodging, jumping and kicking off of rocks in a stunning display of ravenously rapid reflexes. They even leap-frogged each other for good measure!
The twins effortlessly stopped before her, bracing on all fours against two separate rocks. It almost looked as though they were standing sideways, held against the stone surfaces by pounding water simulating horizontal gravity.
"Neat, huh?" beamed Nona.
"Super neat!" Ducky enthused.
Ca and Nona pushed off the rocks, darting up to Ducky, leaping the bank and landing behind her.
"How'd you even learn something like that?" asked Ducky.
"Experience," Ca answered before kicking a screaming Ducky into the rapids.
...
Later that evening, Ducky sat in her nest, rocking back and forth in fetal position, her traumatised eyes staring off at nothing in particular.
Checking in on her, Ca and Nona exchanged glances.
"Um ... you okay, Ducky?" asked a concerned Nona.
The catatonic Ducky did not respond.
Ca shook her head and walked away. "Give her a day or two. She'll be fine."
Ducky winced away the disturbing flashback.
"Ca and Nona said you're really good at it," noted a maiasaurus.
"Oh, did they? How nice of them!" beamed Ducky.
"They also said it's so easy, a kid could do it," a probactrosaurus added, stepping up to the water's edge with a thoughtful finger to his chin. "Should do it, too, 'cause the younger you are, the faster you learn."
"Oh, did they? How nice of them ..." Ducky deadpanned through her teeth.
The probractrosaurus continued: "All you gotta do is take a leap of faith and- whoops!" *SPLASH!* "AAAAAAAAAHH!"
Ducky didn't hesitate. She raced for the rapids and dove after the youngster caught in the currents. Spike's eyes snapped to her. Jaws dropped as the other pupils got their first look at Running Water in action. Ducky blazed through the water, leapt a log and kicked between boulders like an aquatic pinball. She vaulted off a rock into a somersault that propelled her over the drowning youngster. Swimming against the current, Ducky let it hurl him into her arms before she landed sideways against a boulder with her hindlegs, fixed to its slippery surface by nothing but the racing water and skill.
A chorus of cheers erupted from the pupils on the shore.
Ducky smiled appreciatively, heart pounding. Now, how to get her student to the bank in the safest manner possible?
Spike frowned as he looked around. He didn't really hear the cheering. His mind didn't work like that. It took focus to absorb any words that came his way, focus he usually found to be unnecessary. However, the whisper of the wind, the soothing ground thunder of giants roaming the lands: that he understood, no focus necessary. It was the heartbeat of The Circle of Life. The songs of green food? Hmm ... maybe not, but words?
Words definitely were not part of The Circle.
He didn't know how ... but they just weren't. Were there ever simpler times before words existed, and everyone just did what they had to do because it made sense? He didn't know. The pounding footsteps coming his way? Yes. That fit The Circle. From the feel of it, two parties were responsible: a smaller, closer one whose panicked pace seemed to stomp harder than necessity demanded, and a big one who ran like a mother longneck pursuing the sharptooth who snatched her hatchling. That last part was rather unusual, but it wasn't hard to put faces to those footsteps. Good. The bigger party would be useful.
Spike walked up to a tree, judging its dimensions. The size was good, but he saw signs of rot. Besides, the shape was not ideal. Onto the next tree.
Suddenly, Cera thundered onto the scene, looking as if she were running for her life.
"Hi Cera!" Ducky called. "Could you help me? Oh, you were running from someone? What did you do this time?"
Cera blinked out of her semi-panic before spitting out the sweet bubbles. "'What did I'-? Nothing! Help you? How?"
"I gotta get him back to shore, but I don't wanna risk swimming with my paws full," Ducky explained.
The threehorn looked around for some way to assist the swimmer, deeming it a lost cause. "Again, how?"
Cera's eyes widened as she spotted pebbles shuddering on the ground. It was shaking.
The threehorn snatched up the sweet bubbles and dashed off. "Littlefoot's-coming!-Ask-him!-Bye!"
Right on cue, Littlefoot burst from the foliage, quaking the river side with his footsteps as he pursued the threehorn.
"Littlefoot, hi! Cera said you'd help!" Ducky exclaimed.
The longneck evaluated Ducky's situation before smirking after Cera. "Clever girl."
Littlefoot reached his tail across the water, attempting to scoop up Ducky and the young swimmer.
A male parasaurolophus spotted Spike browsing his next tree. He sighed and shook his head.
"'Why's he thinking about food? Doesn't he want to help his sister'?"
The confused parasaurolophus blinked out of his thoughts and turned to the source of the voice - a female his age.
"'If that were Anati, I'd jump right in," she continued "'... but that'd probably make things worse, so I'd find a more responsible way to help'. 'Uh oh, my sister's in my head again. How does she do that? She must be the smartest swimmer in the valley!'"
"Hey, Sis! I never thought that part!" he objected.
Anati smiled. "Close enough, Ark."
Littlefoot withdrew his tail, standing too close to the edge for comfort. "I can reach, but barely. Wanna risk it?"
Ducky shook her head. "No, no, no. Can you use something to reach farther?"
"Well ... in Spike's defense, I'm not sure if he can help," Ark argued. "He's not a swimmer, and his tail's not long enough to reach them."
"'But Spike should at least do something,' thought Ark, ' Does he ever do anything?'" narrated his sister.
"Anatiiii!" Ark whined. "Littlefoot's Advanced Imagination training wasn't meant for this! You're making me sound like a judgmental jer-!"
*KRACK!*
The collective startlement of the children was palpable as they watched Spike withdraw his tail from a tree whose trunk bore the wound of his thagomizer. Littlefoot remained unfazed while Spike stared at it expectantly. Did he ... think it would fall? It was by no means the heftiest of trees, but such a healthy specimen felled by a single blow? Impossible!
The ghastly sound of snapping wood rent the air as the tree began to fall. Spike was in position before it even collapsed, his lazy gaze tracing its movement with calm expectancy. At precisely the right moment and angle, he dealt the tree an deafening blow. It sailed through the air, over the youngsters with jaws agape and landing at the longneck's side.
Littlefoot lifted the tree with his tail, testing it with experimental thumps to the ground. "Perfect size, perfect strength, looks like you knew just where to strike so that it broke in the best way," he extended the tree to Ducky, who grabbed it and let him pull her to the river bank. "Great job, Spike! Though I'd advise against whacking it over the kids like that. They look a little petrified."
Ark was suddenly aware of the draft wafting through his open mouth. He glanced at his sister, whose slack-jawed expression mirrored his own. They really did look petrified, flatteringly so. She noticed his predicament around the same time. They attempted to remedy the situation by manually closing each other's mouths. The limp jaw muscles refused to cooperate, leaving their little muzzles agape every time they withdrew their paws.
Having pulled Ducky and the younger swimmer from the water, Littlefoot gently set them down before raging after Cera. A few kids nearly toppled at the force of his footfalls.
Ducky watched him go with a raised eyebrow. Seriously, what did Cera do? She looked at the traumatised kid in her arms, his vacant stare mirroring the aftermath of her first, forced, failed taste of Running Water. She gave him a reassuring squeeze with a pat to the head.
"Don't worry. You'll be back to normal in a day or so," Ducky assured.
Snickering around the branch clenched in her jaws, Cera brushed away her footprints with its leaves as she backed into the nook of a small hill from which a twisted tree arched above her. She cast aside the leafy branch in favour of the berry bedecked one tucked away in her hiding spot. Technically, its foliage was edible, but not all green food was created equally. She would eat them all and force Littlefoot to watch her devour the last one after he errantly passed her hiding spot. There she crouched with the eerie silence of a predator, a gleeful grin twisted across her face. Most sharpteeth may have been monsters, but she had to admit: there was a certain thrill to lying in wait, knowing that no one would see her until it was too late. Any second now, the longneck would-
A familiar face dipped to meet her eyes from atop the tree providing her cover, beak smirking. "Hey Cera."
"Petrie? Shoo!" Cera whispered. "You'll give away my position! Littlefoot's right behind me!"
"Ooch! What you do this time?" asked the flyer.
"Why does everyone assume I did something?" snapped Cera.
Petrie smirked slyly. "'Cause you are 'Cera, Doer of Things'."
"Yeah? Well, I did nothing!" she sputtered. "He's just- we're training, and he's overplaying his part, which is a weird combination of fun and creepy. How'd you find me anyway?"
He tilted his head. "Which is it? 'Shoo' or answer?"
She groaned. "Since you're not shooing, you might as well tell me."
He smiled smugly. "We flyers see all."
Cera glared. "You just spotted me when I was in the open, huh?"
Petrie deflated. "You can't prove that."
She smirked in satisfaction. "I just did. So, since you're risking my cover, you owe me. Fly up there and signal me with ... I dunno, one of those funny squawking noises you flyers make for no specific reason if you see Littlefoot coming."
The flyer shook his head. "No can do. I'm in training of my own. I gave my uncle the slip, but I gotta stay focused, 'cause any second now- Uh oh ..."
Petrie's head snapped skywards. As though on cue, a silhouette blazed from the sky, outlined by the blinding light of The Bright Circle. He only glimpsed it. Felt the waft as it blurred overhead. A deceptively light thump heralded the landing behind him. The young flyer touched his temple. It stung, ever so slightly. A talon must have tapped him. At that kind of speed, the lightest of taps took on a whole new nature. It had to have been perfectly calculated, accounting for the micro-nuances of his movements. A hair's difference and it would have missed, or been a far more unpleasant experience.
He turned to see the ambusher straighten to a stand from an all fours landing. Sinewy muscles adorned a body battle-wrought by an exile spent unwittingly etching his actions into the legends of The Mysterious Beyond.
"Focus is imperative, Petrie," he stated. "Always be cognizant of your surroundings."
Amusement tugged at the edges of Petrie's beak. "You're one to talk, Uncle Pterano. Look where you landed."
The older flyer raised an eyebrow before looking down.
One pounce. One flap. One blink and Petrie closed the distance, catching nothing but air in Pterano's place. He looked to see his uncle perched atop a rock. If not for the closing wings, it might have looked as though he had been sitting there all along.
"A clever ruse, but you leaned too heavily on the expectation that it would work," Pterano stated. "You anticipated my failure to react, robbing yourself of the ability to acknowledge that I did. Had you realised, you might have pursued and tagged me, as opposed to stopping short under the impression that you had already won."
Petrie frowned. "You expected me to trick yo-?"
His final word abruptly ended as he shot at Pterano, claws skimming soil as he skidded fruitlessly across the ground. This time, Petrie saw him move. All it took was a quick, backwards beat of the wings.
Pterano shook his head. "No. You tricked me. Twice, now. but I expected anything, permanently poised to react at any given moment."
"Guess I wasn't fast enough," Petrie sighed.
Pterano gave him a reassuring smile. "Believe me, you are. Just keep your wits about you. You're well on your way to one day succeeding me as The Daybreaker … but that day is not today."
Petrie flashed a competitive smirk. "We'll see."
The flyers exploded into the air, swirling around an invisible axis in a dizzying attempt to outmaneuver, outsmart and outclimb each other. Pterano gave no opening, no hint of his intentions. He seldom did. It was up to Petrie to intuit the best moment of attack. Attack he did, surging forth with blinding speed. Pterano broke from the swirl in an sharp dash. Petrie would not be shaken, adjusting mid-charge. Pterano found himself fleeing as the youngster tailed him like a shadow. Blindingly fast, tilting past tree trunks, tucking wings and unleashing countless, nameless little techniques born from years of practice, they streaked through the forest as if it were nothing.
Cera peaked from beneath her tree to watch the incredible spectacle.
At first glance, the unacquainted eye would have judged the two flyers as rivals battling it out over a life partner. At second glance, one would have noticed that they had honed the agility-based courtship combat to a new, masterful extreme. Of course, Cera was not unacquainted. She had seen this many times: a death-defying game of tag that still boggled her mind. It filled her with an odd sense of pride. To think, her little friend, 'Panicky Petrie', was going to be the next Daybreaker: a legendary sharptooth fighter who pounced from the sky, blinding his foes with The Bright Circle so that the last thing they saw was a speeding silhouette before talons struck like lightning. A pity she herself didn't have a title to inherit. Someday she'd have to stop calling herself 'The Amazing Threehorn Girl' … maybe that day was long overdue. 'Triple Threat'? Hm. Not bad … 'Cera, Doer of Things'? She chuckled at the thought of Petrie's dubbing. Well, it wasn't as if she needed an alias. Aside from Petrie, it didn't look like anyone else would get one, except perhaps Littlefoot. Did Doc's training make him the next Lone Dinosaur? Perhaps not ... unless his friends and family met an untimely demise. She headbutted aside the thought. In any event, Littlefoot wasn't much of a loner. If he had no friends, he'd make new ones. Seriously, he'd become 'mud brothers' (whatever that meant) with some swimmer from the Big Water the day they met! Come to think of it …
Where was Littlefoot?
Cera felt a looming presence behind her.
The threehorn rushed back to her hiding place before a powerful tail hooked under her belly and heaved her out of the way. That tail went on to rip said hiding place from the earth. The semi-dead tree's roots were feeble, but nonetheless it was a horrifying feat of might.
Livid eyes scanning for the berries. He snarled a sharptooth demand to know the whereabouts of the 'hatchling'.
Cera licked the sweet, red juices off her beak, adding a triumphant grin for good measure. No reply necessary.
Littlefoot's eyes popped with palpable shock and a flash of pain before a chilling silence fell over the longneck as he dealt her a glare that all but promised death. Cera felt it more than she saw it, his head silhouetted by the nigh-blinding Sun which, to be honest, made it all the more intimidating. Was that convenient coincidence, or was he doing it on purpose? It had to be deliberate, all part of the terror factor. There: everything was much less scary when you knew the logic behind it. Now her heart was just pounding from all the excitement, and the trembling legs? She was tired, that's all. The chase was exhausting. He didn't scare her. Not one bit. To prove that, she defied him to his face.
"I R-REGRET NOTHING!" Cera declared.
The chill of his glare turned to fire. She felt like running, just to get under his skin. Certainly there was no other reason. Just as it looked like Littlefoot would crash into her with the power of a landslide, he took a deep breath and let the tension ebb as he exhaled.
Cera clicked her tongue and shook her head at the longneck. "Poor guy. Alright, I'mma go grab a bite to eat. That 'hatchling' just made me hungrier."
The threehorn turned to leave.
Littlefoot almost sputtered, amused and flabbergasted. "'Poor guy'?"
"All that intensity must be too much for your little longneck heart," she stated. "But don't worry. I'll cut you a break."
"Awwwww!" Littlefoot cooed before Cera felt his tail wrap around her, cheek leaning against her back.
"Um ... what is this?" she asked awkwardly. "Is this, like, a 'thank you', 'cause there're a billion better ways to thank me."
"You looked like you could use a hug after what I put you through," he cooed. "I'm here for yo-."
"Don't patronise me, Flathead! I was talking about you!" she insisted, attempting to wiggle free.
"Mm hm," he agreed sarcastically without budging. "When a threehorn deflects their feelings onto the nearest party, it's a desperate cry for emotional support."
"Why in the world would you think that?" spat a struggling Cera.
"You could barely look me in the eye."
"If I did, it'd be harder to take you seriously!"
"Your face was twitching."
"I was fighting back a laugh! You were overplaying it! Lemme go!"
"Your legs were trembling."
"My muscles were tired from all that running!"
"I could hear your heart pounding."
She broke his grip and whipped around to face him. "You could? I mean … nuh uh!"
They locked eyes in silence. Then the two friends burst into laughter.
Once the chuckles died down, Cera began to depart. "For real, though, I'm starving. You coming or what?"
This chapter would have been longer, but I decided to end it here and use the excess for the next one. Thanks for reading!
Next: Littlefoot and Cera discover that they have something in common - something that should be impossible, and they are not alone. Time will tell how concerning this revelation will be in 'Dreaming with Open Eyes'.