Part III: The War
Dust swirled in the wind. It spun around, carrying a dry root ball across the sandy landscape. The sand was incredibly dry and formed beautiful shapes. But with the wind picking up slightly, the area would turn deadly. Every dinosaur knows that sand is tiny rocks and getting hit by them at high speed can cause damage, especially in the eyes.
As the wind sped up, sand started being blown from their structures and into the air to join the wind. Most of the small animals, like insects and lizards, took cover deeper underground. Those who did not make it were caught in the mercy of the sandstorm.
Only a fool would walk in this type of weather.
A large foot step heavily fell onto the sand, dispersing more into the windy air. Another foot stepped down, and then another. The ground shook as a large beast heedlessly ventured into the sandstorm. It ignored pain as the tiny rocks struck its leathery skin.
"Sandstorm. Just great." It talked in a husky male voice. As he raised his head high above the wind to avoid being hit in the face, something came into view. On his long neck, a long scar snaked from his right eye towards about the middle of his neck. The wound was given to him by a sharptooth.
The dinosaur was Doc, the Lone Dinosaur.
Doc actually died hundreds of years ago, but his restless spirit is what made it possible for him to say on Earth. He could only go to places he really wanted to go, and he couldn't compel himself to stay. He was afraid others would find out his secret. Eating vegetation was a good way to disguise his death secret, but, while the others never noticed, he never slept, and yet was as alert as ever.
He often wondered if anyone figured out his secret. And if they found out, would they shun him? Then again it wouldn't bother him too much. Doc has always been a loner. His rough childhood taught him that making close bonds would only lead to heartache later on. He had to be callous, had to be as emotionless as possible. He would never be hurt if he was like that.
But one thing still stung in his mind. As he secretly watched Littlefoot play when the longneck was still young, he did see a remarkable resemblance. As a youngster, Doc, too, had friends who were different species, and they often played together. The dangers were so similar as well. Littlefoot was so much like himself, before a tragedy changed him forever.
But nevertheless, Littlefoot had the exact same personality and attitude that Doc himself once had when he was a kid. And his lifestyle is very similar. Doc, too, lost his mother to a sharptooth, and had a father who disappeared searching for a better place to nest. He, too, lived with his grandparents until they died. And all of his friends were killed in a horrible battle, one that time forgot.
"I will never forget it..." He hissed under his breath. He was trapped in his own mind, his own thoughts. A long time ago, when he was a teenager, there was a great battle between sharpteeth and leaf-eaters. It took place far from the Great Valley, and left many dead and others mortally injured. No one knew how the whole thing started, but all Doc knew was, when the dust finally settled, bodies of leaf-eaters and sharpteeth lay on the ground, side by side, locked in immortal combat.
It was then he knew he couldn't give in to emotions. "Emotions only slow you down." He once said to himself. He still came for help if someone needed him. But for the most part he kept to himself. He didn't care no longer what people said about him behind his back. He didn't care to notice how they looked at him as he fed away from all other herds, including his own kind. Doc never talked to anyone. He never socialized anymore after the deadly war.
And because he was the only one who survived, he never spoke of the war. And so the evidence of such a battle laid hidden in the desert, near a half formed valley called Skeleton Canyon. He named it that because 90 percent of the bodies were in there. The whole place was riddled with bones! Doc sometimes went there to pay his respects to his friends. But he dare not stay too long. His feelings would return, and he couldn't let that happen.
He feared Littlefoot would suffer a similar fate. He and Littlefoot were so much alike. That is probably why he showed a little bit of compassion towards the young lad. And something about his eyes reminded him of his own. As he stared into Littlefoot's eyes before he left, he could see sadness, determination, and regret in those eyes. They were how his own looked when he found out he was the sole survivor of a forgotten battle.
Doc's eyes widened as a new thought crossed his mind. He learned of a belief known as rebirth. It's said that when someone dies, they come back to life, and sometimes with the same personality. As Doc stared into the rising sun, he pondered this. Could Littlefoot be his reincarnate?
"Help! Help! Help!"
Doc was driven out of his trance by a cry for help. Instinctively he rushed towards the source of the voice. He saw a small dinosaur rolling across the sandy dunes. Quickly he rushed forth and used his long tail to catch the dinosaur as it was lifted into the air. As he looked at it, he realized it was a swimmer, and not very old either. It looked about Ducky's age. Doc lowered his head.
"Who are you?"
"M-M-My name is S-S-Stepper..." It spoke in a female voice.
Doc cocked an eyebrow. "Stepper?"
"Y-Y-Yes." She answered, nodding. She could tell from the look in his face that he thought it was a weird name. But Stepper had heard weirder names before. She may have been a swimmer, like Ducky, but unlike Ducky, she would grow to be larger, and she had a long crest that extended above her long spine. She was a dull green with black markings, but her crest and forehead were decorated in bright colors. Orange, yellow, and red to be more precise.
"Why are you running?" Doc asked.
"T-T-T-T-There's s-s-s-something going on i-i-in the G-G-G-Great Valley!" She stammered, pointing frantically in the direction she came from. "I-I-I left to g-g-g-go find h-h-help!"
"Is that why you are stuttering?" He asked out of the blue, completely ignoring what she said about the Great Valley.
Stepper glared at him. "I-I-I-It's a problem t-that I c-c-can't control, o-o-o-okay!" Apparently Stepper had a problem which caused her to stutter and no matter how hard she's tried, she couldn't stop it.
"Well gee, sorry, little lady." He said callously. "Why are you running from the Great Valley?"
"S-S-S-See m-m-mister, sharpteeth! S-S-So many sh-sh-sharpteeth! G-G-Gathering u-u-u-u-up! D-D-D-D-Didn't stand a ch-ch-ch-chance! V-V-Valley u-u-under attack!" She screamed.
Doc's eyes widened in horror. It couldn't be happening. This couldn't be happening! "No...not again..."
"I-I-I-It's a war b-b-between sh-sharpteeth a-and l-l-leafeaters!" The swimmer shouted.
That made Doc realize the horrible truth. Because he had failed to tell others of his story of the forgotten war, nobody learned from the past. And because they didn't learn, they would repeat what happened.
History was repeating itself.