Chapter II: Longneck and Threehorn
The sharptooth knew better than to roar. He was a Tyrannosaurus, or twoclaw, and these, being so slow, are ambush predators. Too wrapped up in his own sorrow, old Threehorn continued to groan.
Suddenly he felt the sharptooth's hot breath, and scrambled to his feet, but too late to prevent the sharptooth's bite. Fortunately for the threehorn, the sharptooth had not counted on his prey moving away, and the bite missed the spine and vital organs.
Threehorn bellowed for assistance, but then remembered that his herd was out of earshot--he had, after all, moved as far away from them as possible. He gritted his teeth and faced the sharptooth.
The sharptooth was a veteran hunter. He stepped back a bit as if hesitating. Threehorn needed no more. He charged.
The sharptooth stood stock still, then suddenly stepped aside and delivered a terrible kick to Threehorn's side. This knocked the wind out of him, and the sharptooth moved in for the kill.
Then...
CRACK!
A long tail whipped out and slapped itself onto the sharptooth's face. Down fell the hunter.
But he recovered suddenly and launched himself at the neck of his new attacker, none other than the old male flathead, the grandfather of Littlefoot. He never got there, for a second long tail was thrust out and barred his way. He ran full force into it and went tumbling. His eyes were closed.
When he opened them it was to see two huge longnecks standing over him. He knew that this was one too many, so slowly got to his feet, being careful to keep his tail towards the herbivores, and slunk away.
All this time Threehorn had been watching helpless with mouth wide open, and not just because he was gasping for breath.
"Th-th-thanks," stammered Threehorn.
"You're welcome," replied the female longneck.
The longnecks then explained to Threehorn the advantages of a large, multispecies herd. But all they could get from the threehorn, who was rapidly recovering his breath and pride now, was a snobbish, "Threehorns never mix with laaaahngnecks."
That night, Threehorn's mate asked him, "What's wrong, dear? You look even sadder than you did this morning."
"As much as I hate to admit it," faltered Threehorn, "I owe my life to a couple of longnecks."