Chapter 6: The Fighter
Fyn woke early, trying to decide how best to approach Shael. In his mind, he was running through dozens of scenarios as he paced, anxiously, none of which actually ended well. He knew, for example, that simply walking up and saying "hello" probably wouldn't be the best option. Perhaps if he were armored, like a Clubtail...
"No," he decided, "'hello' is not going to work."
He mentally removed that option from his list. The next one he considered was apologizing. Not a bad option, but the next one, he felt, was better. Perhaps he could offer her help in dealing with her troubles. It wouldn't look like he was trying to force himself back into her life, and it would be an innocent offer. Fyn decided to stick with the final option, and proceeded to try to figure out where she might have gone. He hadn't seen her since the night they fought.
"Bron would know," he thought, heading for Littlefoot's father's nest. On the way, he was carefully considering his phrasing.
"Hey," he said as if speaking to Shael as he tromped through the forest, "I know you're going through a lot right now, but you don't have to do it alone... No, too obvious."
He walked on, as a second starter came to mind. "I'm really sorry about your loss. Your parents must have been great. No way, definitely hits a sore spot." He groaned, talking to himself.
"I'll never get this figured out."
Up ahead, he saw Bron, grazing as he always did at this time of day. He acknowledged Fyn as he approached.
"Fine day to you, Fyn."
"And to you as well."
"Can I help you with something?"
"As a matter of fact," Fyn said, clearing his throat, "you might be able to."
"Well ask away, and you may get an answer."
"Do you know where Shael is?"
The great Longneck considered this for a moment. "The last time I saw her, she was in those trees," he said, nodding towards a small cluster of green growth in the near distance. "That's where I'd look for her."
"Great," Fyn said, "thanks."
"The Day of Mates is coming soon," Bron said to Fyn's fast-disappearing tail.
"I know," Fyn called back, "that's what I'm counting on."
Fyn raced for the trees, faster than he'd ever run before. Wind whistled through his sails, and once again, he felt the sensation of flying.
"Like walking among the clouds," he thought to himself, "oh the irony."
"Hey, Fyn! Where you headed?"
Fyn looked up. Petrie had just swooped down next to him.
"Petrie, what's up?"
"Well... me up," Petrie said.
Fyn laughed. "I guess you have a point there."
"So where you going?"
"Well," Fyn said, "it's kind of a personal thing."
"Oh, that okay, then. Me not ask."
"Thanks, Petrie," said Fyn, "I appreciate that."
Petrie appeared to be trying to remember something, then snapped his small fingers when he finally figured it out.
"Oh, that right! Me supposed to tell you something."
"What's that?" Fyn asked.
"Littlefoot told me to get you. He said it important," the Flyer said, enthusiastically.
"Important, eh?" Fyn frowned, slightly. "Can he wait until I'm done?"
Petrie shrugged, "I'll tell him, but he not seem like he in a waiting mood."
"Sure thing, Petrie. Thanks."
"No problem," the Flyer said, shooting back up into the air. Fyn couldn't help but wonder why Littlefoot had sent Petrie for him. Littlefoot knew that he'd be trying to make amends with Shael today, didn't he? Fyn didn't know, but he still had a mission to accomplish. He continued on, into the trees, engulfed by their silence. He could see why Shael had headed here. It was peaceful, and the right spot to partake in some personal reflection. He softened his footsteps. The last thing he wanted to do was alert her and have her run away before he could even speak. He crept through the forest, listening for some sound to indicate her presence. At first, all he could hear was the rustling of the leaves, the clicking and chattering of small animals, and his own footfalls, but eventually, another sound registered: someone crying softly. It was Shael, Fyn knew. She was here, after all. He peered ahead, through the brush and finally saw a glimpse of blue among the trees. Shael was sitting next to a pond, her head bent to the water's surface, weeping. Fyn felt a pang of guilt. Had he done this to her? He swallowed. This would be harder than facing a whole pack of Sharpteeth. He was about to walk in, when he caught himself.
"I can't do this," he thought to himself.
"Yes you can," another part of his brain said.
"No way, going in there is a deathwish!"
"Then consider who you're going in there for. Is it yourself, or her?"
Fyn thought about this. Who had he really been trying to help in doing this?
"Her," he decided. He crossed through the remaining undergrowth to stand next to Shael. The blue Fin-Neck looked up.
"You. I should have known. You have no right to be here."
"Shael, please," Fyn said, standing next to her, "I'm only here to help. What's wrong?"
"You know very well what's wrong."
"Yes, I do."
"Then why are you still here?"
Fyn took a deep breath. His next phrase was going to be tricky."Because I don't think I'm the problem."
Shael glared at him. "What?" she hissed. "You dare say that you're not the problem?"
"I could be wrong," Fyn said, "and if I am, then I apologize with all my heart, but I've never lived to cause others pain. My sole wish is to help, just like I want to help you right now."
"If you think that you can just try to get back into a relationship-" she caught herself, "-that never even existed, you can think again!"
"That's not my goal," Fyn said. "All I see beside me is a suffering dinosaur, and I want to do my best to help."
Shael's breathing slowed and her gaze softened. She began to cry again, softly, and spoke.
"Do you know why I attacked you the other night?"
Fyn shrugged, "you felt I was at fault for what happened at the grove. I can understand that, and I'll even take the blame for it. I could have-"
"No, that's not it. It's because when I talked to you, I felt like I could finally open myself, release the emotions I've been concealing for so long. I cried that night, Fyn. I haven't done that for seasons, now, and it made me feel weak. Talking to you made me feel weak. Weakness is a killer out in the Mysterious Beyond, and I'd trained myself to avoid it. When I could finally let my feelings out... it was too much for me. I just felt terrible and needed someone to blame, some explanation for what was happening to me. Really, I should be apologizing to you."
Fyn was silent. He'd never considered her side of the story to be like this. He'd just assumed she was upset about what had happened at the grove. Obviously, there was a lot more going on than he could possibly fathom.
"You know," Fyn said, quietly, "sometimes we need times like these, where we can just let ourselves go. There's nothing you need to apologize for. Just know that I'll always be here if you need someone to talk to."
Shael sniffed. "Thanks. I'm glad you still trust me."
"Friends again?" Fyn asked.
Shael began to answer, but before she could speak, Littlefoot burst through the trees.
"There you are!" he said, "I've been looking everywhere for you two. Follow me right now, it's urgent."
Shael looked at Fyn, "we can finish this later."
Fyn nodded, "agreed." He looked up to Littlefoot. "Where to?"
"The Smoking Mountain," Littlefoot answered, without hesitation, "let's go!"
The two Fin-Necks followed Littlefoot to the trees, wondering why he'd called upon them so urgently.
…
Littlefoot led Fyn and Shael high up onto the Smoking Mountain's slope. Everyone else, including Taria, was waiting for them when they arrived.
"Finally," Cera said, "the Great Valley's only in danger, but I'm sure it can wait."
"What?" Fyn said, "in danger? What do you mean?"
"Allow me to explain," Taria said, stepping forward.
"Inside the Smoking Mountain is Flowing Fire, right?"
"Right," Fyn nodded.
"Okay, well there comes a time when all of that Flowing Fire builds up and pushes against the side of the Smoking Mountain. That's why we see all of this... stuff," she gestured to the steam shooting out of a crack next to her. "Try to guess what happens when that Flowing Fire pushes too hard for the outside rock to handle."
Fyn thought. "Well, I'd guess it would erupt, but not like it usually does. It would be pretty violent."
"Right," Taria said, rolling a small berry in front of everyone. She gently began to push down on one side, and the other side of the small fruit bulged until it burst apart, sending juice everywhere. She'd made her point clear.
"Just like that," she said, to clarify.
"Well, you wouldn't have called us here if it couldn't be stopped," said Shael.
"Right, Shael. It can be stopped. If, for example, we were to give that Flowing Fire another way to go before the eruption..."
"You mean like making a hole in the Smoking Mountain?" Fyn asked.
"Precisely."
"But there would still be an eruption," Shael said, "that Flowing Fire would have to go somewhere."
"Again, correct, but the eruption would be nowhere near as serious as it would be if it happened on its own."
"So we need to break a hole in the Smoking Mountain," Fyn said.
"Yep," Cera said, "and breaking things is my specialty."
"Actually, if we do this right, we won't have to work much at all," Taria said. "I've found what I think is the thinnest spot on the Smoking Mountain. If we can create a rockslide, then that may be our chance to break through."
Fyn was impressed, "smart plan. I like it. When will we do it?"
"Tomorrow," Taria said, "which leaves us with two options: do we tell our elders, or let them enjoy the Day of Mates without the fear of being turned to ash?"
Everyone was split on this choice.
"I say we tell them," Littlefoot said, "if things go wrong, we need to have an escape plan."
"Why worry them?" Cera countered, "it sounds like we have everything under control,"
"True," Fyn said, "we wouldn't want to start a panic."
"I think Littlefoot's right," Shael said, "we need to be sure we have a backup plan."
"Me agree with Littlefoot, too," Petrie said.
Ducky spoke. "Well I agree with Fyn and Cera. Panic is bad, it is, it is, especially if nothing happens."
"Spike can't talk," Cera said, "he doesn't count."
"Then it's down to you, Taria," Littlefoot said. "What should we do?"
Taria clenched her teeth. She hated making tough choices like these.
"Maybe if we just told Littlefoot's grandparents..."
"It's settled, then," Littlefoot said. "We'll talk to them today."
Fyn looked at Shael, "I'm sorry. We'll have to postpone our talk."
"It's fine," Shael said, "we'll have plenty of time to work things out when this is all over."
"Right," Fyn said. At least he could count on Shael to be honest. As they walked back down to the Valley, he thought about the Fin-Neck girl. She was a fighter, he decided, a natural-born defender who was trained to block out pain, and who radiated toughness. Like any fighter, she just needed backup now and then. He smiled. Maybe she wasn't so hard to understand after all.
…
"Are you sure?"
Littlefoot had just told his grandfather about Taria's discovery of the Smoking Mountain's impending eruption. Grandpa Longneck, understandably, was quite skeptical. After all, the Smoking Mountain hadn't seriously erupted for hundreds of seasons.
"I'm very sure," Littlefoot said, "and I trust Taria."
"But if you do this, completely on a possibility, mind you, and a very slim one at that, you'll miss the Day of Mates."
Littlefoot shrugged, "it can't be helped. We have to stop the Smoking Mountain. If it does erupt-"
"Why not just send others to do it; those who won't be attending the Day of Mates?"
"Because it was my friends and I who discovered this, and it's our responsibility as adults to defend this Valley from everything, including itself. Taria's the only one of us who really knows how the Smoking Mountain works. Trust me, you need to let me do this."
Grandpa Longneck sighed. "I suppose I don't have much choice in this matter. You're right, as usual, Littlefoot. Just promise me you'll stay as safe as possible."
"I will," Littlefoot said.
"Good, you're performing a noble task. I'm proud to see that you're willing to risk so much for so many."
"It's what must be done," Littlefoot said simply.
"So it is," Grandpa Longneck said. They bid each other a good night, and Littlefoot retreated to his nest, passing Bron, who was already asleep, on the way. He hoped he could stay safe tomorrow, to be able to come back to his father. Really, he knew, this wouldn't even be a particularly dangerous task, but something at the back of his mind was in doubt. He slept restlessly, that night, and his sleep stories were filled with images of the Smoking Mountain, and his friend, who, though she didn't know it, was also the goal of his love, Taria. He could see in his mind's eye thick black smoke pouring out of the Smoking Mountain, which had been cut in half in size by the force of the eruption. Everywhere around it, trees were leveled, and he could see entire sections of the Great Wall collapsed, with others crumbling away. Most eerie, however, was the grey blanket of ash that covered everything. Littlefoot knew that this was an image of what might happen if they failed. In his sleep story, he and Taria were standing on the Great Wall, observing the damage. Taria turned to him and spoke one phrase which haunted him throughout the night.
"If you really loved me, you would have prevented this."
Littlefoot tossed and turned as the sleep story repeated over and over in his mind. They would have to act tomorrow. Taria depended on it. Everything depended on it.
Whoa, chills. At least, that's how I felt when writing that second-to-last line. Time is ticking away. Will the dinosaurs avert almost certain destruction? Will things ever work out for Fyn and Shael? And finally, will Littlefoot and Taria ever be together, or will they go their separate ways? All will be revealed soon...
