Here we go guys, so sorry for the wait.

This chapter was pretty tricky to write because Cera's character is really hard to get a grip on. Hope she's in character enough. If not, might need some pointers.

Enjoy!

Brothers Under the Bright Circle

Chapter 8

We're In This Together

A good night's sleep was all the group needed to keep on going the next morning. With Ducky now part of their ever-expanding herd, Whiplash had taken it upon himself to be extra careful when it came to be keeping an eye out for potential dangers. This sometimes led him to falling behind somewhat with him constantly looking over his shoulder as though he was expecting some sort of attack to happen at any moment.

Despite Whiplash's newfound mindset, this didn't stop Littlefoot from doing what he had always wanted to do: playing with someone his own age. He and Ducky decided to invent a game as they walked along the hard-cracked ground, jumping from one spot to the next and avoiding the jagged cracks as though they were a river of fire.

Ducky narrowly jumped when she almost stepped on a crack and tripped, giggling.

"Don't step on a crack," she told Littlefoot happily, "or you'll fall and break your back!"

Littlefoot did as she instructed and hopped from one spot to the next. His fleeted movements made it appear he was almost doing a silly dance, but he didn't pay any heed to how he looked. All that mattered was that he was having fun with someone that wasn't a grown up.

After several more hops, Ducky suddenly stopped as a loud noise occurred.

It took Littlefoot almost a second to notice that it was coming from her, and it was oddly familiar.

Ducky giggled and held her belly, "My stomach is talking, hehe!"

It wasn't long before Littlefoot's own stomach did the same and he turned his head away in embarrassment. "Yeah, mine too," he replied. He looked over his shoulder to see Whiplash approaching them, the larger longneck's expression was nothing but amused.

"We just left that waterhole behind us yesterday, Littlefoot," Whiplash chuckled, shaking his head.

Littlefoot shrunk back, avoiding Whiplash's gaze. Unlike the larger longneck, he wasn't used to surviving this long without food and water, and Ducky was just about the same. Whiplash seemed to sense his younger brother's change of mood and he lowered his head, giving him a gentle nuzzle.

"I know it's hard, little brother," he told him kindly, "but you've got to understand that surviving in a place like this is not very easy. You've known this since you hatched, but every little bit helps, even if we do not like it."

Littlefoot nodded in agreement and he set off again with Ducky walking next to him and Whiplash walking a small distance behind them, the game between him and his new friend was now forgotten. They came across a group of dried up trees with leaves as dry as the ground itself. Whiplash spotted the tasteless brown food and gently nudged the two, getting their attention.

"I'll get you two something to keep your strength up," he told them. "We don't know when we'll hit the next part of our journey or when we'll find anything edible or drinkable again."

Littlefoot nodded and he sat down on his haunches, while Ducky perched herself on his head.

As Whiplash walked over to the trees, Ducky tapped a finger on her snout thoughtfully.

Littlefoot looked up at her, seemingly sensing her mood. "What?"

"He is not very chatty, Whiplash isn't, oh no, no, no," she admitted out loud.

Littlefoot smiled softly. "I've known him since I hatched," he explained. "He doesn't talk much unless its important to say, but he's a really good brother when you can count on him. Although… he's not very trusting of others that aren't longnecks. He doesn't even talk about where he came from except he's from a land that's very far from here."

Ducky crossed her legs and leaned back, her mind wandering even more. "Maybe he is sad," she suggested.

"Sad?" Littlefoot asked, confused.

Ducky nodded. "I do not know, he seems sad, but maybe he does not want to talk about it for some reason," she guessed.

Littlefoot became even more confused. Whiplash had explained that his past was quite difficult to talk about, and that his mother had passed away before he hatched with his father caring for him until a kind herd of longnecks took him in. The further Littlefoot dug into the past, the more Whiplash closed off from the rest of the world, as though every ounce of his past filled him with pain and sadness.

"Maybe you should talk to him," Ducky suddenly said, pointing at Littlefoot. "He does not trust me."

Littlefoot shook his head doubtfully. "Believe me, Ducky," he sighed, "I tried asking, but the more I ask, the more he turns away and changes the subject. It's like whatever happened hurt him pretty badly."

The sound of leaves rattling together caused the two friends to look up to see Whiplash with a branch in his mouth and was struggling to pull it off. No matter how strong Whiplash was, the branch was even stronger, and the larger longneck had to dig his paws into the hard ground to keep his balance. The tree emitted a screech that didn't sound like your typical tree, but Whiplash continued to pull. Something slid down the branch he was pulling with an even louder screech, but this one was of pure terror. It bounced off his snout and landed on Littlefoot's head.

Littlefoot became as still as stone as he stared at the thing that had fallen on him. It peered into his eyes with even bigger, wider, and more terrified eyes of its own. Without a second thought, he threw his head back, trying desperately to shake it off. The thing's claws had a firm grip on his head, but after several shakes, it flew off and landed with a heavy thud on the ground.

Littlefoot stood stock still, unable to comprehend what had just happened, but Ducky somehow mustered up the courage to come forward to look at the creature.

The creature was unlike anything the two younger dinosaurs had ever seen. It was small with terrified black eyes, tiny legs and odd-looking protrusions coming from its front legs that Ducky called arms. But what made this creature unique were the strange, leathery objects attached to its arms and its sharp looking face.

Ducky drew closer until she was a respectable distance from it, her curiosity overcoming her nervousness. "Who are you?" she asked.

The creature drew back and covered its long face with its arms in terror, but it uttered its response in a stutter, "M-my name Petrie."

Ducky giggled and offered her paws out to Petrie, pulling him up to his feet. "Petrie, huh? Funny name!" She giggled again, unable to help herself.

"I fly?" Petrie asked hopefully.

"No… you fall," Ducky said hesitantly.

Petrie let out a pitiful wail and hid his head beneath his wings, whimpering about his failure. Littlefoot and Whiplash glanced at each other in confusion and then Littlefoot returned his gaze back to Petrie. "Why were you even up there in the first place?" he asked, still puzzled. "You're a flyer, aren't you? You don't look like a faller."

"Me no fly so me climb up tree to try," Petrie explained, flapping hid wings as a demonstration. He flapped for a few seconds, lifting higher until his eyes caught a glimpse of the ground. Panic immediately gripped his tiny mindset and he fell back to the ground, trembling.

Whiplash frowned at this. "Seems as though he's afraid to fly because of being up high."

"It would make sense to me," Ducky agreed, nodding. She approached Petrie and helped him back on his feet. "It is alright. Many things do not fly at all, nope, nope, nope. Why not come with us? We're going to the Great Valley together."

Whiplash's expression changed to neutral for a split moment before his shoulders slumped a little. "Very well," he gave in. "But I must warn you that the more we get together in this group, the harder it will be for all of us. While I understand that there's a lot of families split apart, we can't keep picking them up. We have to consider our own survival, first and foremost."

"But it doesn't seem fair on them," Littlefoot protested. "What if someone we next meet is hurt? What then?"

"Then you better hope that we don't," Whiplash sighed, and then motioned with his head to follow. "We better get a move on. The Bright Circle is beginning its fall, and I don't want to be caught out in the open where there is a chance that a sharptooth will find us."

Littlefoot inhaled deeply before letting his breath go. He lowered himself to Petrie and Ducky. "Come on," he said, "before he changes his mind."

At the offering, Petrie scrambled up Littlefoot's nose, scratching his skin and pinching at a sensitive spot on his nose with his claws. Littlefoot almost grunted in pain, but he reined it in when he saw Whiplash watching intensively. Any sound uttered from his mouth would have resulted in giving Whiplash an actual reason to cast the other two out. He didn't really blame Whiplash for being protective, especially after he had just lost his mother not too long ago. His little brother's safety was his responsibility and his alone until they reached the Great Valley.

The group continued onward, leaving behind a chance to scrounge up anything edible, but Littlefoot didn't mind. If they didn't find anything within the next few days he could resort to eating his treestar, but the thought of eating the last gift his mother had given him made him feel guilty. He would rather starve than eat something so precious.

The Bright Circle was nearing the end of its journey when they reached an enormous forest unlike anything they had seen before. Trees bigger than even Whiplash towered above them, all of them packed tightly together with vines hanging from their branches. Unfortunately, this made it difficult for the large longneck to pass through. Every time he would squeeze between the trunks, he almost got himself entangled in the thick vines or his belly getting stuck amongst them.

A tiny part of Littlefoot felt guilty that he, Ducky and Petrie had it easy slipping through the roots of the trees, but they patiently waited for their guardian to catch up.

When Whiplash finally managed to bypass the thick barrier, he was covered in dead vines on his neck, back and tail, his greyish brown skin aligned with small scratches, and his breathing was laboured from nearly getting stuck so many times.

Suddenly, his head shot up and his body became tense, his tail raised slightly above the ground. One paw was held up off the ground as he glanced at his surroundings. Littlefoot stood stock still as he watched him warily, even Petrie and Ducky were utterly silent. All three knew this posture well, for they had seen their parents often stop to listen for any potential dangers.

A sound came from somewhere on Whiplash's right and the longneck immediately shoved the three younglings into the shadow of a large root with his snout. Littlefoot kept his mouth shut, knowing that uttering a peep would put all of them in danger. Whiplash then backed away slowly and froze in place, making himself appear like a tree since his skin was almost the exact same colour as the tree itself. He hung his neck a little and he curled his tail around the branch of another tree, making it appear that they were vines just as dead as the real deal.

Littlefoot could feel Petrie trembling between his eyes while Ducky placed her hand on his neck to keep herself steady, all of them waiting with battered breath and wondering what had spooked the big longneck.

They got their answer a few minutes later when a hissing sound came from around the corner of a boulder. A creature walking on sprawled legs and a long thin tail came around, its forked tongue flicking in and out of its long snout. An enormous fin unlike anything Littlefoot had ever seen curled over its back, and a pair of hungry yellow eyes looked left and right, searching for its next meal.

Its tongue snaked out again, tasting the air, trying to find anything worth snacking on.

It paused as it came near the root where the three were hiding, and it tilted its body back as it continued to flick its tongue out, hissing underneath its foul breath. The fin on its back rattled as though in frustration and it slithered away into the rustling trees.

All three exhaled deeply, relieved that the creature was gone, and they looked up just as Whiplash moved out from his hiding place, his sides heaving as though he had ran for a long time. Had the strange creature made him frightened too?

"Thanks," Littlefoot smiled at him.

Whiplash smiled back, but he didn't respond in kind, knowing that words were not enough.

The group continued deeper into the forest, the sounds of far away creatures echoing through the fading light of the Bright Circle. Every sound that came only made Petrie even more nervous and jumpy. And when a creature seemed to scream as though it had been eaten by something, he scrambled up Whiplash's leg.

Annoyed, Whiplash stopped and glared at the tiny flyer that had a strong grip on his back leg. When Petrie doesn't get the hint, he attempted to shake him off, only for Petrie to grip even harder and he scuttled up onto his back, his neck and perched on the back of his head.

"Petrie, I'm going to only say this once," Whiplash warned, his tone dropping to annoyance, "get off my head."

"But you have a nice head, flathead," Petrie giggled. Both Ducky and Littlefoot laughed.

Whiplash grunted something underneath his breath and his long tail reached behind the flyer and grabbed him gently, plucking him off and quite rudely dropped him on the ground. He continued walking, ignoring Petrie's saddened expression.

Littlefoot approached Petrie. "I think you owe him an apology," he told him sternly.

Petrie's expression dropped even further, and he stood up, brushing the dust from his wings and hopped after the big longneck, calling his name as he did so. But Whiplash ignored him, so Littlefoot ran ahead until he was right in front of Whiplash, seemingly blocking his path and forcing him to stop in his tracks.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "You're usually not like this."

Whiplash hesitated and looked down at the ground, his expression completely unreadable now. "You would not understand," he muttered quietly. "Even if I explained it a hundred times over, it wouldn't matter."

"Then help me to understand," Littlefoot pushed.

Whiplash turned away, avoiding his little brother's eyes.

A squeal of terror tore through the forest, causing both Littlefoot and Whiplash to look up. Ducky and Petrie were scrambling in different directions until they grabbed onto Littlefoot's legs. Pounding feet echoed around them and Littlefoot quickly darted underneath Whiplash. With the conversation forgotten for now, Whiplash curled his tail and spread his legs in a fighting stance, ready to take on whatever was coming.

Or who.

His tail lowered when he saw what was making all the noise.

It was Cera, she was running as fast as she could and constantly looking over her shoulder. She had her eyes set on whatever was behind her far too much and she wasn't looking where she was going. She slammed into the back of Whiplash's leg and fell backward, her head smashing onto the ground and knocking her out.

She wasn't out for very long, but when she woke up, her vision was a hazy blur. Her whole world was spinning, and the figures that looked down upon her were just as blurry and out of focus. She recognised the concerned Littlefoot, but she didn't know who the flyer or swimmer were. But if Littlefoot was here, that meant that Whiplash couldn't be too far behind. This left her feeling extremely angry at this and she sat up quickly, her horn almost poking Littlefoot's eye out.

He stepped back away from her cautiously, but she caught a glimpse of Whiplash standing a short distance from them. His frown was just as twisted as hers, indicating that he wasn't pleased to see her either.

"What are you doing here, Cera?" Littlefoot asked nervously. "Why were you so frightened?"

"Frightened?" Cera huffed and shouldered passed him. "Me?" She laughed as she attempted to walk away, but Whiplash's tail snaked out in front of her path, stopping her from leaving. She growled and faced him with a glare. "Let me pass!"

"Just because I don't like you or your kind," Whiplash grunted, "doesn't mean I want you to get eaten. There are meat eaters lurking around here, and we just happened to have met one not too long ago."

Littlefoot's eyes widened with surprise, but he shook it off and cautiously approached the threehorn while Whiplash watched. "You didn't answer my question earlier," he said.

"I'm not afraid," Cera snorted, tilting her head back pompously. "I could have been with the other threehorns by now, but I chose to come back and warn you. I met Sharptooth!"

At the mention of the monster that had killed his mother, Littlefoot became paralysed with fear. Petrie screamed and latched onto his neck while Ducky scurried underneath him, trembling in terror. Whiplash frowned suspiciously, but he was once again unreadable.

The moment passed and Littlefoot glared dangerously at Cera, but she glared stubbornly back at him.

"Come on, Cera," he protested, "Sharptooth is dead. He fell down into the big underground."

Whiplash nodded in agreement. "While I wasn't there when he fell, I find that difficult to believe that he even is alive." He lowered his head down to their level. "Tell me, if you met Sharptooth, how are you still alive?"

If looks could kill, Whiplash wouldn't have been breathing when Cera's face contorted into a nasty look. She turned away, her tail held high as she ignored his question and continued with her story. "I was all alone in the dark, just Sharptooth and me." She whirled around, lowering herself to Ducky's level where she was still hiding beneath the root. "I can hear him breathing." She deepened her breathing, making it sound monstrous and terrifying.

"Enough, Cera," Littlefoot snapped angrily, but she too ignored him, pushing closer to Ducky while Petrie watched, his eyes focused on her alone.

"I could see one big ugly eye looking for me!"

Whiplash shook his head in disbelief. "You can keep making up the story, Cera," he smirked slightly. "Do you mind explaining how such a small threehorn stood up to him?" He lifted a paw slightly to prove a point.

Littlefoot couldn't help but agree with his question. This sounded like Cera was fabricating the story, and even if she had seen Sharptooth he was as good as dead and no longer a cause for worry. But the fact remained that Ducky and Petrie were believing every word of it, not once considering that something as small as her could stand up to a full-grown monster such as Sharptooth.

"You think I'm making it up?" Cera roared and rushed into Whiplash's face, but he barely even flinched as she kicked up dust in his eyes. He didn't even raise his head in response, it was as though he had heard all of this before.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "There is a slim chance of Sharptooth being alive, but the way you're telling the story is making it difficult for me to believe." One of his eyes glanced at Littlefoot. "Even you find it hard to believe, correct?"

Littlefoot scraped at the ground with one forepaw, and his silence provided the answer that Whiplash was looking for.

Cera's whole body was shaking with rage as each word left Whiplash's mouth. For someone who didn't talk very much, he certainly had a way of getting on her nerves. She roared in anger and headbutted a nearby root, smashing it to pieces. In the result of doing so, Ducky was still hiding beneath it and she went sailing through the air. Both Littlefoot and Whiplash looked up with concern as they saw the tiny swimmer disappear amongst the long grass.

Littlefoot ran over to the grass, trying desperately to find her, but with his long neck being far too short for him to see above the grass, it was nearly impossible for him to see. Whiplash came over slowly, being ever so mindful where he was placing his large feet.

"Where she go?" Petrie asked worriedly, now having perched on Littlefoot's head.

"I don't know," Littlefoot admitted. "I can't see anything."

"If I move a step," Whiplash explained, "I might end up crushing her without realising it."

Cera remained silent, not bothering to care about a lost swimmer.

Littlefoot raised his head as high as it could go and tried to sniff the air, but Ducky's scent was far too faint and his sniffer wasn't very good. Even Whiplash, who had a slightly better nose, couldn't pick any scent of hers. He slowly inched his long neck forward, searching for anything from above that stood out amongst the brown grass, anything that looked like a hatchling swimmer.

"Ducky!" Littlefoot called. "Where are you?"

As far as Whiplash could tell, there wasn't a predator nearby that was a threat to the children, so he didn't berate Littlefoot for calling out. As far as he could tell, they were utterly alone in this vast wilderness.

"Hey, what that?" Petrie asked, pointing with a claw. Littlefoot and Whiplash followed the direction he was pointing and spotted a large clump of grass surrounded by a mound of rocks, and it was moving and giggling.

Littlefoot hurried over to it, but Whiplash remained where he was to avoid causing any problems. Cera followed reluctantly, still angry at the two longnecks who didn't believe her story about Sharptooth being alive. So what if she made up some of it, that still gave the indication that he was up and ready to kill.

When Littlefoot reached the grass, Ducky came backing out, still giggling. Confused, he drew closer until she held up a hand, stopping him in his tracks. He soon found out what was making the grass tremble as something poked its head out, something with dreamy looking eyes. The creature snapped up some grass and swallowed it down, it then moved onto the next clump and the next, chomping down until there was nothing left but a pile of rocks and bits of eggshells. He sniffed around for more before he laid down and went to sleep.

Ducky had found an egg and it had hatched into a creature with four blunt spikes on the end of its tail.

"He is a spiketail," Ducky explained when Littlefoot asked what it was. "I call him Spike."

She looked up at Whiplash hopefully, and the big longneck immediately knew what she was going to ask. "He can come," he sighed as he glanced around for any signs of other spiketails. "It doesn't look like there is anyone around to care for him."

"Oh no!" Cera snapped, stamping a foot dramatically. "He is not coming! We've got enough moves to feed and who knows how long before we find more food. I am not travelling with a spiketail. It's bad enough that I'm walking with a longneck, let alone two for that matter!"

She then glared up at Whiplash. "You even eat a lot more than we do!"

Whiplash glared hotly at her. "Do not assume I eat so much just because I'm larger than you. In fact, I ate my fair share before we found you, Ducky and Petrie. I do not need to eat again for a long time. What I'm more concerned about is you young ones."

Cera attempted to come up with a comeback, but the words were lost on her and she stomped away angrily, her tail raising mockingly. She wouldn't admit to his face, but she knew he had a point, she just didn't want to say that she was wrong. She was far too proud to say anything.

But that wasn't going to solve the problem with Spike.

Littlefoot remembered how he once saw young flyers fighting over sweet bubbles Anyone would go into a frenzy for one of those, even he would. He looks around for a moment until he spotted a bush covered in sweet bubbles. He plucked a small bunch and dangled it in front of Spike's nose. Spike raised his head, sniffing deeply and gobbled down the juicy substance. He licked his lips and sniffed around for more until Littlefoot presented them in front of him. He snapped them up again and Littlefoot beamed with delight at this new discovery.

"Guys, I just had an idea," he announced. "Ducky, I'll give you a bunch of sweet bubbles and you can ride my tail. Spike will follow, I'm certain he will."

Ducky clapped eagerly as Littlefoot handed her a larger bunch. She hopped on the edge of his tail while Petrie climbed onto his back, clutching his treestar protectively. Ducky dangled the sweet bubbles in front of Spike's nose. Littlefoot moved before he could snatch them up again and Spike immediately began to follow.

Whiplash nodded approvingly.

"Fine," Cera snorted, "but I'm not going to care. He's not my responsibility."

A sudden crack in the air caused all five of the children to look up, startled. Whiplash lowered tail and then his head until he was nose to nose with the little threehorn, his eyes burning with anger and disapproval.

"All of you," he growled lowly, "are MY responsibility, but Littlefoot is mine first and foremost. I might not like you, threehorn, but as long as I'm around, you won't need to think that way." He then shoved her forward with his snout until she was amongst the others. "Follow Littlefoot, I will guard the back."

The group set off again, this time they were bigger than they were before. But Cera was not happy that a longneck had told her off for simply not caring about a spiketail, so she moved ahead of Littlefoot, any excuse to put herself at a distance between her and Whiplash. Whiplash didn't seem particularly bothered by this behaviour and he did as he promised, keeping an eye on their backs and watching for any potential dangers.

Littlefoot found himself subconsciously glancing over his shoulder, a question forming at the back of his mind. He hadn't seen Whiplash this angry before, it was extremely rare for him to even display such emotion.

He was plagued with questions that continued to haunt him: why was Whiplash so distant, troubled, and aloof? What did he have a reason to fear? But more importantly, why was he not with his herd? Why was he so alone in this world?

All these questions were forced out of his mind when he heard the sound of snapping teeth. He couldn't think about that right now, Spike was getting ever so eager to eat the sweet bubbles.