We Will Hold On Forever

by

DaveTheAnalyzer

Chapter 06: An Unwelcome Reunion Part 1

Tria kept her distance as she watched Mr. Threehorn. He was sitting on a small hill. The midmorning sunlight was as clear and beautiful as yesterday but that only seemed to bring down his spirits. His head tilted down mournfully and his eyes didn't see the forest in front of him. All that determination, all that rough-around-the-edges charm that he brought to everything, was almost absent. What remained was someone who had his emotions ripped raw and didn't know how to cope.

*What do I say?* Tria wondered.

Mr. Threehorn and Cera had been like this since last evening. They had been almost despondent, eating only when prodded to. They appeared almost grateful when Tria suggested the family take an early lie in. None of them were in any shape to be the subject of gossip at the gathering Grandpa and Grandma Longneck called for at the meeting circle and they all needed rest to recover from the sad experience. Tria had hoped things would get a bit better in the morning. When prompted to eat, though, Cera mentioned she wasn't hungry and wished to be left alone to think. Tria attempted to engage her mate in conversation as they ate but after receiving one too many monosyllable answers, she gave up. Even she recognized there were times when others should be left to process their grief in peace.

Though Tria knew this intellectually, there was only so many hours she could watch the love of her life be sad without doing something.

Before Tria could think of her next course of action, Tricia padded over to her father, nuzzling his foreleg until she made enough room for herself to wiggle in. She rubbed against him and warbled at him with sad eyes, giving and asking for comfort in that complicated toddler way. A smile was tugged from Mr. Threehorn and he nuzzled her.

"Looks like I'm not the only sad one here, huh?" he murmured.

Tricia nodded and leaned in, closing her eyes happily at the fatherly contact. Some of Mr. Threehorn's old energy came back and he gave a low laugh as he continued to give Tricia affection.

Tria saw her cue to step forward. "Topsy?"

Mr. Threehorn looked around, some of his clarity returning. "Tria?"

"I hope this is a good time-"

"Don't worry. I've moped enough."

Mr. Threehorn turned around, gently picked Tricia up with his mouth, and sat down, depositing her on top of his forelegs where she settled down and rested. Tria stepped closer and also sat so she and Mr. Threehorn were face to face. She groped for something to say

"Are you doing alright?" Tria asked weakly.

"Oh, I'll deal with it." Mr. Threehorn said. "I already…lost them once. Having it happen again isn't fun but I'll still recover."

"It must be hard, thinking you might see them again."

"That was just this ghost thing messing with my head. I would have liked to see them again, watch the girls grow up, and be as good a father as I can be. If Littlefoot's herd leader of a father can manage it, so can I." he sighed. "But Horen, Rica, and Duane are never going to grow up. I never separated from my previous mate. That was only a made up story, inspired by arguments and misunderstandings that went unresolved when they all …at least I had yesterday. I wish it had been longer and we could have talked more but at least I got the chance to say goodbye."

Tria's heart flinched. "Oh Topsy, I'm so sorry. If I really understood what was happening, I should have waited. You should have had more time with them, but because of me…"

Mr. Threehorn shook his head. "Don't blame yourself. Maybe it was for the best. If you told us that night or today, the parting would have been harder. We could have made so many plans for future reunions and when we found out they couldn't happen…"

He sighed heavily, as though he had so much weight on his shoulders. Tricia stirred uneasily, looking up with some confusion and melancholy until Mr. Threehorn calmed her with a sad nuzzle. Tria ached at the sight.

"Topsy…"

He looked at her with regret. "I haven't been fair to you either. Not telling you I was meeting with my previous mate…it only led to more worry. From how you conducted yourself with the two of us, I should have told you everything right from the start. "

Tria was silent for a moment. "Thank you. I really appreciate you saying that. It hurt that you didn't tell me the truth. That you didn't trust me to be able to handle it." She sighed. "Though it was probably for the best you didn't tell me. If I got involved right away, I might have accidentally blown the masquerade from the start and you'd barely have spent any time with your previous mate or daughters. I wouldn't want to do something so painful to you."

"Still, I didn't know that. I believed it was true, though in retrospect…I'm happy about your understanding." Mr. Threehorn gave her a hesitant look. "If it was actually true – if I did separate from them and they were still alive – how would you react to us meeting? Would you be okay with it?"

Tria paused. "I won't lie, Topsy. I wouldn't exactly be at ease with such a reunion. It's usually not comfortable to get the ex involved. Even if you know she is a good person and she doesn't present any threat to your current relationship, feelings of jealousy are inevitable. Nevertheless, I would have tried my best to accommodate. This would have made you and Cera happy, and it'd have been sweet for Tricia to get to know her other older sisters. If this happened long enough, I could have managed my feelings enough to get along with them."

"Good." Mr. Threehorn said with a flicker of a smile. "That would have been good. I'd have liked for Tricia to get to know the other girls. Apparently, they had a lot of fun together yesterday. I would have liked to play with them too and take some weight off my previous mate's shoulders in child rearing, make her happy so – see, I'm already planning these reunions. I know they aren't practical but I can't help it," he laughed bitterly. "Life really is tough. I was the one who expressed the most doubt about ghosts being real and the very next day, I get haunted by my previous mate and daughters. I don't know if that's a reward or punishment, but either way, it showed how strong I really am."

"There's nothing wrong with being shaken by what happens." Tria said. "That's what everybody goes through. But you'll get better, Topsy. You just need time to deal with -"

"Life isn't going to give you time to get better." Mr. Threehorn interrupted. He squared his shoulders forcefully. "The valley might be safer than most places, but yesterday demonstrated there are still dangers to deal with. I need to be prepared for whatever supernatural nonsense is going to be thrown our way next or I wouldn't be a threehorn."

"Topsy, there's a difference between being cautious and not really addressing your-"

"Besides," Mr. Threehorn gazed straightly at Tria, "I don't want to burden you, Cera, or Tricia. You all have enough to deal with and I don't want to add my whining on top of it. I want the family I have now to be happy and if you're all happy" he smiled, "then so am I."

Tria stared reluctantly. She wanted to argue the point but Mr. Threehorn's last line had been so eloquent and his expression, after hours of despondency, so sincere her heart couldn't help but melt a little. At length, she sighed.

"Well, if you're sure," she said. "Just know that I'm always willing to listen."

"Don't worry, Tria." Mr. Threehorn said reassuringly. "It will be fine. In the meantime, though, I'm going to give Tricia more attention. You hear that, Tricia? I'm sorry I haven't been spending much time with you lately but I'm going to make it up to you now. How do you like that, you little goofball?"

Mr. Threehorn gave Tricia a playful nuzzle, and Tricia giggled eagerly, loving the idea. He slowly stood up, allowed Tricia to slide off his legs with a "whee!" and marched off, moving a bit faster so his youngest daughter could engage him in a game of chase. Tria watched them go with mixed emotions. On the one hand, she was happy her mate was trying to return to his parental duties, but at the same time, she felt his pain hadn't been properly dealt with and that he still didn't trust her enough to help him with it. Tria gave another sigh.

"Threehorns," she muttered, and followed them.

Littlefoot hesitated, trying to remain inconspicuous. Cera was curled up on a rock, half-lidded eyes staring at nothing. He and his friends had tracked her down here after making preparations and working up the nerve to search for her. They watched for a few minutes to see if there was an appropriate time to approach. Littlefoot didn't want to mess this up. He hurt Cera enough yesterday. He didn't want to twist the knife further. He could still remember the guilt he had the day before and the conversation he and his grandparents had thereafter about the gang's encounter with Cera, Tricia, and their ghostly sisters.

"Why didn't you get us when you saw Cera and Tricia were being haunted?" Grandpa Longneck asked.

"We were going too." Littlefoot replied. "But one of Cera's sisters spotted us and we couldn't leave right away without being suspicious. Only they noticed we were nervous and not looking at them, and then…"

Grandma Longneck sighed. "We're so sorry you had to go through that. Though tell us, if you were able to get us, would you have requested to accompany us as we broke the news to her?"

"…she's my friend. She would have needed our support. Though I guess we bungled that for her."

"There's nothing you can do to change that. However, she will be hurting, and what you can do is help her through the hard times."

As Cera continued to lay there and not do anything, Grandma Longneck's words filled Littlefoot with some drive. There was no point in waiting forever. He couldn't change the past but there could be something he could do to make up for it in the present. Nodding to his friends, they walked forward.

"Cera?"

Slowly, she raised her gaze. Littlefoot and the others stood in front of her, watching her tentatively.

"Are you okay?" Littlefoot continued quietly. "I know this might be a sensitive time."

"We understand leaving you alone to deal with yesterday," Ruby said, "but when today came, we wanted to make sure you were alright."

"We know you might be mad at us," Petrie said, "so we bring presents."

Cera looked around and noticed for the first time they were carrying different kinds of green food in their arms or on their backs. One by one, they started laying it at her feet.

"When people are sad, they do not eat much." Ducky said. "We want to make sure you are healthy, we do, we do."

"I remember you once said you like yellow flowers." Chomper said softly. "I hope we picked the right ones."

Something about that comment made Cera stir. She picked up one of the yellow flowers in question and gave an experimental bite. Some life came back into her eyes as she chewed. By the time Cera finished, she silently surveyed the food laid out before her with tentative but greater interest.

"Go on, eat up." On a lighter note, Ducky added. "You better do it quickly. It is taking everything Spike has not to eat some of it himself."

Spike nodded, only looking half serious as he stared mournfully at the green food that wasn't his. Giving a small laugh, Cera started picking her way through the offerings, becoming more energized the longer she ate. By the time she cleared her way through most of it, she gave a satisfied pat to her stomach and stared appreciatively at her friends.

"Thanks, guys…I – really needed that."

Those words were an ice breaker for Littlefoot and the others. Relief plain on their faces, they moved closer and sat around Cera.

"How are you really doing?" Littlefoot asked.

Cera shrugged. "It hasn't been fun. Ever since last night, I can't work up the energy to do much of anything. Even now, I feel like I wouldn't be able to put a crack in a small rock, never mind break it. Every time I try to think about something else, they come back into my head. It just keeps occurring to me I'm never going to see them again and my stupid brain keeps coming up with things I should have said to them but will never be able to now."

Littlefoot's heart wrenched and he lowered his head. "Cera, I want to apologize. We really should have given you that time to say everything. We were going to walk away but one of your sisters noticed us."

"That my fault." Petrie bowed regretfully. "Me thought we should tell you about sisters but when Ducky smartly stopped me, me too stupid to notice we stand under bright circle where we could be seen."

"Do not call yourself stupid, Petrie." Ducky said. "I stopped you but I cannot be that smart since I did not notice we could be seen too, oh yes, yes, yes."

"We couldn't think of a way to run off that wouldn't alert you to what's going on." Littlefoot continued. "I know that isn't a good excuse – we managed to talk our way out of worse binds – but –"

"It's fine, Littlefoot, all of you." Cera interrupted. She sighed. "Really, it's hard to be mad at you for long. Either way, everyone would be torn up about this. It couldn't be helped. Maybe it's better this way. The goodbyes would have been harder if we became too attached."

"Cera…"

"I'm sorry for lashing out at you yesterday. I knew that you did the best you could but…I was just so happy to be back with my sisters. I wanted to be with them as long as I could. I was also looking forward to seeing Mom again. Deep down I knew something was off but it had been so long since I saw them and that last time, it was…" resentment entered Cera's voice. "You know, at least you got to say goodbye to your mother. It might have sucked but at least you got to talk to her and she even stuck around as a spirit. Me, I didn't have that. One day, I was talking to them across a gorge, the next I'm in the valley and Dad tells me they're dead. It felt like they walked around a corner and didn't come back. As I got used to them not being around…it was as though they were never here at all. Even though I know you couldn't help it, there are times I envy you. What makes you so special your mother could still talk to you after she died, while I get nothing?

"There are also times," Cera's voice became watery, "where I wonder if Mom and my sisters are dead because of me. Not only because they were looking for me after the earthshake, but because I insulted your mother, fought with you, and some force decided to punish me by hurting them."

Heart wrenching, Littlefoot stepped closer. "Cera, no, no, no. It didn't happen like that."

"I didn't always believe in fate and curses and stuff like that, but with these ghosts, I'm starting to wonder..."

"You're not responsible for this!" Littlefoot said. "It was just an accident. What you're saying doesn't make any sense."

"Yeah," Petrie nodded, "me not good with times, but me pretty sure they died before you and Littlefoot fought."

"Unless this fate thing can go back in time, then that is not what happened, no, no, no." Ducky said.

"And even if what you say did happen," Littlefoot said fiercely, "then it's this fate or whatever's fault, not yours. Having your family dead is something I'd never have wanted."

"Really?" Cera stared dully at him. "I was such a jerk. With how angry I made you, don't tell you wouldn't have been tempted to think those bad thoughts."

Littlefoot faltered, and looked away. "Maybe," he said. "I do know my mother wouldn't have wanted this. No matter how mad you probably made her with the way you treated me, she wouldn't want to have your family hurt and would be angry if this fate did anything about it. But let us assure you, we don't believe anything magic like that happened."

"Okay." Cera's gaze lowered. "Though I still can't help thinking that if I didn't vanish off to chase hoppers that night, they'd still be alive."

"Yeah, I know that feeling." Littlefoot said quietly. "But remember Cera, our mothers and your sisters wouldn't want us to blame ourselves for what happened. They'd say we were kids: we could only have so much responsibility for what happened. I'm sure they'd think we should allow ourselves to be happy."

Cera raised her head, staring at him. After a moment, she welled up a smile. "I knew there was a reason I became your friend. Thanks, Littlefoot. You're right. I'm just being stupid. This blame game thing is helping no one. Now I'm really done being mad at you."

"Cera…" Littlefoot's chest warmed with relief. "I really am sorry for what happened. We'd have been happy to give you all the time we could've with your family."

"Now you stop blaming yourself. I admit, I'd have liked to talk with Mom more but…you all did the best you could." Cera sat up straight and stretched, a bit of her old energy returning. "Besides, this is all over with now. They are gone and there's no use thinking about them all the time. I might as well put this whole mess behind me and move on."

Littlefoot, whose spirits rose at the signs of Cera's recovery, winced. "Cera, you don't have to forget about your mother and sisters to move on."

"I'm not saying I'll forget about them." Cera replied. "There's no way I'm forgetting yesterday. As time goes on, I'll just not think as much about them."

"But…that's so sad."

Cera looked at him with annoyance. "C'mon Littlefoot. I know people love to say that they think about their dead or absent loved ones everyday but…be honest. As you get used to those who aren't around, there are days where you don't think about them. Can any of you really dispute that?"

The others averted their eyes thoughtfully or anxiously over the question.

"Me don't always think about Uncle Pterano." Petrie admitted. "Me still worry about him being safe out there but it hard to think about that all the time. There are even days me don't think about Papa and he in Great Valley!"

"It's strange, just waking up every day and not having Mommy and Daddy nearby." Chomper mumbled. "When I first came here, I thought I'd miss them too much to not think about them. As I got used to living here…I still miss them but there are days where I'm having so much fun, I forget about them," he almost looked guilty.

"I did think about my family every day at first." Ruby said. "When I wasn't worrying about my family, I was worrying about what to do and thought about what they would say to do. Now I think more and more about what I would do, and less about what they would do and what they are now doing," she rubbed her chin anxiously. "I know they know how to be safe, but I don't like not thinking about them."

"It is hard to think about all of my brother and sisters since there are so many." Ducky said. "Many of them stay with Papa. Since I am with you guys a lot, I do not think about them as much as I do all of you. Though that is not the same as what you guys have, so um…" Fidgeting, she looked at her brother. "Is it the same with Tippy and his mama, Spike?"

Spike frowned and turned the question over in his head as though it were a sour tree sweet. At last, he sighed and nodded reluctantly. Spike missed Tippy and that nice spiketail mother but he hadn't been thinking about them much. Cera looked at Littlefoot expectantly.

"I do think about my mother a lot." Littlefoot said defensively. "Maybe not every day but…" he trailed off. "I do sometimes wonder what Dad and Shorty are up to. Since they're part of a herd and know how to keep safe, I don't worry about them as much, so I guess I don't really think about them all the time."

"See, didn't I tell you?" Cera asked.

Littlefoot and the others only looked around sadly, mind now on absent loved ones. Cera's triumphant expression faded.

"Hey, I didn't want to get you guys depressed," she said gently. "I just wanted to say that not thinking about them is normal. Thinking about whether they're okay or not and what you could have said to them won't accomplish anything. It would only hurt yourself. Since they're gone, it's only natural to just move on. And here I am, trying to move on."

"If you say so." Littlefoot said dubiously. He gained a smile. "But they aren't ever really gone, Cera. Those who are dead or away live on in our hearts. I'm sure that's the same for your mother and sisters."

"Living on in my heart, huh?" Cera said, doubtful. "I don't really feel anything there."

"Maybe they are with some other part of you." Ducky suggested.

Ruby nodded thoughtfully. "Not all herds believe that the dead live on in your heart. Others believe they live on in your head or stomach or tail."

"Maybe they live on in Cera's horn." Petrie said.

Cera considered the horn on her nose wryly.

"Hey Mom, sorry for ramming my horn into that rock several days back," she said. "That must have shook you all up. I bet Horen's head is still rattling. Just tell her it was nothing personal so she won't start ramming around in there, okay?"

In spite of themselves, the gang laughed. Morbid though it was, the joke was such a breath of fresh air after almost twenty-four hours of sadness and worry, and it really signaled that Cera was back to old form. Littlefoot's spirits couldn't help but lift at the sight of Cera beating the rock with a forefoot, chuckling at the reaction to her own joke. He tried to push aside his own misgivings about Cera's doubt about her mother and sisters living on inside her and her choice to move on by not thinking as much about them. Everyone coped with loss in different ways and now wasn't the time to press her about the issue. Right now, Littlefoot was content to sit near Cera and laugh with a friend he was back on good terms with.

Papa Sharptooth breathed slowly and attempted to walk around the cave. Twinges of pain popped up and down his body, protesting the strain of long disused muscles or still unhealed wounds. He winced but bore the pain out with a bit of a smile. Battling Redclaw had severely damaged both of Chomper's parents to the point they found themselves tiring after walking or hunting, and the pain could be such that they had to lay down to rest for days at a time in order to recover. That Papa Sharptooth could move around at all without the usual agonies and exhaustion that dogged them for cold times was a significant improvement. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his mate also circling to inspect her injuries.

"Don't spin around too much, or you might become dizzy and hurt yourself," Papa Sharptooth said half seriously.

"Quiet, you." Mama Sharptooth said distractedly. She inspected her tail. "That last kill really helped. Getting big prey is worth the pain if it heals us faster. Soon, I bet we'll be able to hunt together."

"Finally," he sighed. "It feels like forever since I left this blasted hole. I never felt comfortable with letting you go out alone to get the food."

Mama Sharptooth walked over and gave him tender nuzzle. "I never minded. I do look forward to the hunts being less boring though."

A purr rumbled up Papa Sharptooth's throat and he returned the nuzzle, getting closer to his mate. Mama Sharptooth was tough, yet a softie, and Papa Sharptooth felt delight whenever they got be affectionate. Their heads continued to rub against each other until a tentative cough brought them back to reality. Ruby's father stood at the cave entrance, watching them politely but with the usual tense guard that came with dealing with sharpteeth.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything." Papa Fast Runner said.

Papa and Mama Sharptooth gazed at each other before strolling to meet with Papa Fast Runner, all business.

"We were just wondering when you were going to come." Papa Sharptooth said. "Do you have any new information?"

Papa Fast Runner paused to regather his thoughts. "Talking with the bellydragger wasn't easy but she did confirm what she said when she first came around: she had a sharpbeak friend who died and came back as a ghost. Their attempted hunt in the Great Valley didn't go well and the secret got revealed in the argument they had. He vanished soon after."

Mama and Papa Sharptooth winced. They briefly surveyed each other grimly, finding the news unwelcome but not surprising.

"It aligns with what I've been hearing." Mama Sharptooth said. "There are many people claiming to have seen ghosts lately, and from what you and your mate say, it doesn't seem restricted to sharpteeth. I thought it was all nonsense at first, but when more and more started talking about it…"

"I kind of hoped the bellydragger's initial rantings were simply a byproduct of grief." Papa Fast Runner's gaze flickered worriedly. "But if she's seen these ghosts too, like so many others…something big might be going on and I don't know what it could mean."

"Let's focus on what we can know then." Papa Sharptooth stepped closer. "When she first ranted about losing her friend, my mate said she mentioned encountering a sharptooth child in the valley. Did you – did she say anything about what happened to Chomper?"

Papa Fast Runner smiled reassuringly. "Not to worry. The bellydragger and her ghostly friend were unable to really harm any of our children. From what little she did say about Chomper, his friends did a good job of looking after him. They were the ones that got the bellydragger and sharpbeak to argue in the first place."

"Chomper has a good taste in friends. At least they are able to keep him safe." Papa Sharptooth muttered.

Mama Sharptooth sent him a stern look. "Dear, don't start."

"Why not? It's one more strike in their favor."

"This isn't a competition. Letting your mind down that path will only have you eating at yourself and that isn't going to accomplish anything. Just concentrate on the fact our boy's safe and he's with those who love him. That's all that matters."

Papa Sharptooth held his mate's gaze until he sighed and looked away.

"I know," he said."I know those thoughts aren't helping. But those leaf eaters – our food – are doing a better job of protecting Chomper than us. Heck, not only are they keeping our son safe from Redclaw. They are making him a laughingstock! It's hard not to think about what we've been doing."

There was a moody silence. Papa Sharptooth lowered his eyes. Being frequently laid up by their injuries had left Chomper's parents a lot of time to think, to go over what they had accomplished. One pattern they couldn't ignore was their mistakes in protecting Chomper. Only through luck or the intervention of those leaf eater youths was he saved. Sometimes, it was the parents' mistakes that ended up endangering Chomper in the first place. Papa and Mama Sharptooth had been trying to put those thoughts out of their mind, that all parents made mistakes, but with their son's absence, they were hard to ignore.

Gaze flicking down briefly, Papa Fast Runner coughed. "If it's any comfort, when Ruby briefly visited with some of the children, Chomper took time to ask how you two were doing. He seemed happy to be with his friends but I got the sense he misses you two terribly. Don't think too badly about yourselves. Whatever mistakes you've made, he still adores you two."

Papa Sharptooth welled up a smile. "You're right. He's not making a big deal out of this like I am. Sorry. I'm being more immature than my-"

There was a faint rumble. Chomper's parents and Ruby's father immediately turned to the sound's direction, wondering if they had imagined it. But another rumble soon followed, a bit closer. Then another and another, the rhythmic beat of a large dinosaur walking on two feet. The three tensed as the sound neared. These were the footsteps of another sharptooth.

"Hide." Mama Sharptooth whispered.

Papa Fast Runner nodded and the three backed away quietly into the cave. They stood in the shadows, listening warily as those footsteps grew loud with proximity. Encountering another sharptooth would have made them cautious enough. Not many of them were a sociable lot. But these footsteps were the drumbeat of someone consumed by a mission and it was dangerous to stand in the way of those sharpteeth. Papa Sharptooth, Mama Sharptooth, and Papa Fast Runner held their breaths as the footsteps became their loudest yet.

Then a figure appeared, his features made clear in the sunshine. Mama Sharptooth breathed in sharply.

"No, that's can't be him," she said. "That's impossible!"

"So, what was last night's meeting like?" Cera asked. "Do I even want to know?"

Littlefoot rolled over to look at Cera. "Don't worry, barely anyone said anything about you. Everyone was mostly concerned about the ghost thing happening for a third time."

"More than a few were shocked that we encountered ghosts for a second, or in Littlefoot's case, third time." Ruby said. "I can still hear that flyer Don saying 'again?' after Grandpa and Grandma Longneck explained what happened. Littlefoot's grandparents tried to keep us from being the focus but we were still noticed."

"Well, we do tend to get into the middle of weirdness." Cera admitted. "Still, it is surprising that we're now getting into the middle of ghost weirdness."

"Mr. Thicknose talked about trying to find a clue about the ghosts." Ducky explained. "There was an argument about how, since where would you begin? There wouldd be a lot of looking around and few would know what they would be looking for, no, no, no."

"So Grandpa Longneck said to stop and talk about it later." Petrie said. "They right. It big problem, so it need lots of talking to solve. Many grownups worried though. They want to find answers, especially since word by flyer is that a herd's coming tomorrow. But while they talk, will ghosts continue appearing?"

"That might be likely." Ruby said. "Maybe it's a good idea to think about who might come back next before the next person who comes back surprises us. Does anyone have any ideas?"

"Maybe our grandparents?" Littlefoot said reluctantly. "Of course, I still have mine, but I think my dad's have passed on. Are any of your grandparents still alive?"

There was a unified shaking of heads.

"I never really knew them." Cera admitted. "Dad mentions them sometimes but he doesn't talk too much about them."

"My parents barely mentioned them at all." Chomper said.

There were nods of agreement to those statements.

"Either our parents miss them in ways that we miss, or they have moved on from their deaths." Ruby said.

"What about Spike's original parents?" Ducky said. "Well, Spike? Erm, have you had any strange thoughts about them being alive lately?"

Spike's forehead creased in thought and he shook his head. He never knew them and was quite content being part of Ducky's family, his family. The most he ever felt about his birth parents was a distant wistfulness. Cera gazed keenly at Littlefoot.

"What about you, Littlefoot?" she asked. "Maybe something will happen involving your mother. It would be nice to see her again, right?"

Littlefoot's eyes turned skyward. The thought of hearing his mother's voice again, to feel even the ghost of her comforting touch, stirred a longing ache in his chest. For a moment, he allowed hope to surge through him…

But then the illusion broke and Littlefoot's long neck bent with the weight of reality.

"No," he said quietly. "No, I don't think she'll come back."

"Uh…how do you know?" Petrie asked tentatively.

"I don't know." Littlefoot rubbed his chest vaguely. "It just doesn't feel like it'll happen. Maybe it's because…she was content in the end. She wouldn't be part of this."

The others gazed at him sympathetically. Coughing, Littlefoot saw to detract attention from himself.

"So any other ideas?" he asked.

"What about others in valley?" Petrie said. "They might have dead family and friends that might come back. It happen with Hyp. Maybe we find out where it happen next?"

"Are you suggesting we walk up to every person in the valley and ask if they know someone who's dead?" Cera said dryly. "Nah, I'm not catching that heat."

"Well, it an idea." Petrie said defensively.

"How about the sharpteeth you fought?" Chomper suggested. When the others looked at him, he said. "What? From your stories, you dealt with a lot of sharpteeth. There could be more than one that didn't make it."

"Hmm." Cera rubbed her chin. "That's an interesting idea. Sharpteeth do seem to hold grudges. But I can't think of any we fought lately that died."

"We fought a lot of them, we did." Ducky said. "It is hard to remember all of them, it is, it is."

"We better remember, though." Petrie said nervously. "What if one of them come back to try to hurt us. That very bad."

Ruby nodded. "Chomper brought up a very good point. Not only could the ghosts of our loved ones come back, but the ghosts of our enemies might also return. Even if it might not happen today, it's better to prepare before that today comes. Do you think any of the sharpteeth you fought have died – well, besides the obvious?"

Ruby and Chomper watched as Littlefoot and the others creased their foreheads, briefly with confusion, then in thought. Littlefoot went through his many memories of fighting sharpteeth, which was admittedly more extensive than any child his age should be. Upon being confronted by danger, he and his friends became pragmatic. If a certain action could save their lives from a sharptooth, they were going to pursue it even if it might kill the predator. There was little time to consider the moral implications of what they did. It was an unpleasant necessity Littlefoot tried not to consider too closely.

Now he ran through his memories of his last sights of their defeated sharpteeth. So far, all the mental images that came to his attention showed sharpteeth that were still from grogginess or unconsciousness but showed little signs of being dead. Even when they were completely buried by rocks, Littlefoot had a hard time thinking that had killed them. Littlefoot frowned and delved deeper into his memories, feeling like he was missing something.

Cera, Ducky, Petrie, and Spike had identical looks of concentration as they went through their own memories. When the silence went on for too long, Ruby spoke up.

"Well?" she asked. "Any ideas?"

"Hmm, no. Still can't think of anyone." Cera said. "I mean, all the sharpteeth we deal with always seem to get back up. Like those fast biters who got swept up after we unblocked the Thundering Falls. They managed to swim their way out."

Petrie nodded. "Me remember that. Me also remember Littlefoot's grandpa and Doc burying sharpteeth in rocks but they appear just knocked out. We didn't linger to check."

"There was also that sharptooth that fell into the big water." Ducky said. "You were there for that, Chomper. Sharpteeth do not seem like good swimmers. But from where he was being swept away to, he could have got to land and climbed out."

"Yeah, that's also likely." Chomper said. "But are you sure there's not a few sharpteeth that didn't survive? With how many you ran across, there are bound to be some who you hit in the wrong way or made to fall head first off a cliff. There must be a few who hold a grudge."

"It's not like we had time to learn their personal details while they tried to eat us." Cera said.

"For all we know, all of them hold grudges." Petrie said.

"From your stories, there is one that did hold a particular grudge." Ruby said, with a bit of pointedness.

For a second, there was some blankness. Then everyone cottoned on.

"Right, the first sharptooth we dealt with. The one who took…Mother's life." Littlefoot said, with effort. When the others glanced at him sympathetically, Littlefoot hurried on. "He was pretty persistent. He seemed to stalk us all the way to the Great Valley before we took care of him."

"Oh, that guy." Ducky said. "It was so scary having to hide in the water to get away from him."

Petrie shuddered. "If me didn't learn how to fly then, not all of us would have made it."

"And if I didn't come in time, he probably would've eaten you all." Cera raised her head proudly. "At least we didn't have to deal with him again. After that boulder into the pond, I think he took the hint."

"That was a pretty big hint you dropped on him." Ruby said. "Maybe he got how big it was as he was drowning."

Littlefoot stirred of confusion. "Drowning…what are you talking about?"

"Yeah," Cera said, "he got out of the water and ran like a scaredy-egg."

Ruby suddenly stilled. "You…heard about him surviving?"

Petrie tilted his head ponderingly. "Well…we kind of saw it."

"We did not see much." Ducky added. "We did not stick around after what we did, oh no, no, no."

Chomper and Ruby watched Littlefoot and the others with a nervous bewilderment that chilled Littlefoot's tummy. The pair exchanged looks before Chomper spoke up.

"But…you told us how you defeated that sharptooth so many times. None of you said anything about him getting out of the water."

"I swear we did bring it up, right Spike?" Ducky said.

Spike began to nod but froze. Looking uncertain, he placed a paw on his head, like he was having the beginnings of a headache. Noticing Ruby and Chomper's expressions, Cera stood sharply.

"Stop confusing us," she said. "He ran away."

"Is this really happening?" Ruby looked disquieted. "Tales do change with every telling, but you always told us he never came back."

"You must not remember right." Petrie said.

"But we do remember." Chomper insisted shakily. "Oh, no. You know what this means, right?"

"What does what mean? Is this a game?" Ducky rubbed her hands nervously. "You can stop now. You are freaking me out."

"You're freaking us out." Ruby said. "In the end, he drowned. You always told us he drowned."

Littlefoot shook his head, the movement a bit harder with fear. "I don't know where you're getting this. We always said he lived-"

"No!" Chomper said desperately. "None of you ever said that. No matter how many times you told the story, you always said he was dead!"

Everyone stared at Chomper. Then Cera seemed to be struck by the same headache as Spike, gripping her head and groaning. She went rigid.

"They're telling the truth." Cera said slowly. "This headache…I had one just like this yesterday when I realized my mother and sisters weren't…alive. Which means…if we felt this for that sharptooth…"

Silence descended. Abruptly, Ducky gripped her head and whimpered. Petrie shuddered and dragged his fingers across his temples. Littlefoot trembled as throbbing rocked his forehead, beating like a heart, each thrum a bit less painful than the last but leaving behind a terrible iron cold in the veins. Dawning fear came across each face present. They all knew the implications of this memory lapse.

Watching their surroundings closely, Ruby and Chomper edged closer to the group. Spike collapsed and shaded his eyes as though the bright circle was too brilliant. Ducky hugged her brother, her breaths shuddering. Petrie gripped Cera's foot, shivering. Cera didn't notice. She stared, her skin ashen. Reluctant, dreading, Littlefoot stood.

"No," he said. "No. It can't be."

A bellow cut through the silence. Littlefoot and the others jumped. The blood-curdling scream passed as a shockwave, reaching one end of the Great Valley to the other. It vibrated the air, the earth, and reached into the core of every living being until not even Littlefoot and the others could deny the full truth, the horrible truth. The sound seemed to go on forever, coming from a deep, molten fury that no sky water could quench. When the last of those awful echoes gave way to quiet, Littlefoot swung his head about, desperate to locate the source, but so full of fear, not wanting to see what he would lay eyes upon.

Then he saw it. They all saw it. A shape, so distant, standing on top of a Great Wall mountain, frozen, as if a rock formation. It was so far away yet that distinct countenance made Littlefoot and the others feel vulnerable, like it was standing right in front of them. Chomper stepped forward, eyes on the sharptooth silhouette, understanding and just as scared.

"'Vengeance,'" he whispered.

The sharptooth surveyed the valley before him. He had chosen a high place to announce his presence but he could still see the tiny shapes starting to mill about, their voices occasionally becoming audible in panic. He sniffed and stared with longing. Before, when he had been near that pond, he had caught the scent of so many leaf eaters and could only guess why such a variety were grouped nearby. To think that such a wonderful place existed, with plentiful green food to make the leaf eaters plump and ready to be feasted on by sharpteeth clever enough to penetrate it defenses…

"…sharptooth is here!"

"Oh, no!"

"…do we run?"

The sharptooth paused in confusion. Amid the panicking leaf eater babble, did some of it become…understandable for him?

Well, no matter. The sharptooth put that and his appetite out of his mind. He came for something more than filling his belly. Those damned seven – seven? No – five kids were there: the longneck, the threehorn, the big-mouthed swimmer, the flyer, and the spiketail. Only the longneck and threehorn had humiliated him by injuring his eye and deigning to make him a ramming toy respectively but the others have racked up offences during that boulder stunt that have made them also worthy of death. Even if those three kids had done nothing to the sharptooth, their mere association with the longneck and threehorn made them guilty.

He breathed in nasally and was only slightly gratified to smell fear mixed in with their scents. The sharptooth wouldn't be content until the children's flight or fight instincts were tested, exhausted to the brink. Until they were taken hold by the despair of being at death's door, alternating between begging for mercy or wishing for him to eat them so the torment would be over with. Whatever they wished for, the sharptooth would do the opposite and he would milk all the retribution he could out of them.

For it had been a great crime for those leaf eater youths to stand against him. Not only did they run away from him. That was the annoying but natural risk one had to accept when your primary food source was capable of independent locomotion. No, these children thought they could fight back, outwit him and be the perpetrators of his own demise. By all rights, they should have died but before the sharptooth knew what was happening, they sent him falling into the pond, weighed by an enormous boulder. As water filled his lungs and he struggled against its weight, fury and humiliation ran through him. They had done more than bruise his ego. They damaged his pride more than even any rival sharptooth had and that wouldn't go unpunished. They would suffer. Even if it was the last thing he ever did, the sharptooth would make sure to end their miserable lives, even if he had to take down every valley denizen that stood in his way.

Bloodlust dominating his mind, the sharptooth moved down from his perch and entered the valley.

Littlefoot and the others ran. Around them, people moved quickly in all directions, lost in fear, searching for shelter, making a desperate beeline for loved ones. Several crashed bodily into each other or dithered on the spot, not knowing where to go. But the seven found it easy to sail around and under the maze of swift and clumsy limbs, never slowing, never distracted, all focused on the one objective they were so desperate to reach.

"Grandma!" Littlefoot shouted. "Grandpa!"

"Daddy!" Cera yelled. "Tria! Tricia!"

"Mama, where are you!" Petrie cried.

"Mama!" Ducky hollered.

Spike opened his mouth and called out with all of his lung power. Chomper and Ruby, with no family in the Great Valley, could only watch stricken when their friends' calls received no answer.

"Oh, where are they?" Littlefoot panted. "What do we do?"

"I am sure they are looking for us as much as we are looking for them." Ducky said.

"I'm sure I can hurry that up." Chomper said. "My sniffer can find them."

"Then get sniffing before that sharptooth sniffs us out!" Petrie said.

Chomper got to the front and led the group, still dodging panicked valley denizens. He paused every now and then to get a better catch of the scent but the more seconds passed, the more confident he became.

"Are they together or apart?" Cera asked anxiously. "Because if they're apart, then we're more screwed then we already are."

"Don't worry, they're together." Chomper said. "All their smells are close. C'mon!"

Relief flooding them, they continued running. Eventually they came across an eye of calm amidst the storm of panic. Their parents stood in a great clearing shouting for others to slow down, directing them to evacuation routes, and clarifying the danger with the information they had. As Littlefoot and the others got closer, they could tell their parents were strained trying to induce some measure of composure back into people desperate to find shelter.

"We don't know how the sharptooth got in." Grandpa Longneck was saying. "Now please, follow Mr. Thicknose to the caves in the right Great Wall."

"For the last time, calm yourself!" Mr. Threehorn said impatiently. "You won't survive any better by losing your head."

"Yes, I believe you'll be safe up there." Mama Swimmer said. "I'm sure because you can fly!"

"I know you're scared." Mama Flyer said. "But we beg you to pass along this hideout information to anyone you can find."

"Do we know where everyone is?" Tria glanced around anxiously. "Cera? Where's Cera?"

"And Littlefoot and his friends." Grandma Longneck raised her neck to look at the Great Valley wall. "Oh, I hope they aren't right in the thick of danger again."

"We're alright!" Littlefoot shouted. "We're here!"

Fear drained from each parent's face as they and the gang rushed to meet up with one another.

"Good, you're all where you should be." Mr. Threehorn said. "I'd better not hear you were inches away from that sharptooth."

"We weren't, for once!" Cera said.

"But we've been that close before." Littlefoot stepped forward. "Grandma, Grandpa, it's that sharptooth, the one who killed Mother."

There was a hitch in breath from the parents.

"That sharptooth?" Grandpa Longneck said sharply. "How do you know?"

"You told us you drowned him." Grandma Longneck said.

"That is the reason why he is back." Ducky said. "He is angry at us for killing him and that roar was about him wanting revenge. Chomper said so."

"He's a ghost." Cera said. "Remember what happened yesterday when we found out Mom and my sisters were dead? Five of us believed he was alive and we had headaches when Ruby and Chomper told us he wasn't. He's going to come after us."

"He is?" Mr. Threehorn asked.

The gang's parents stared at them. The concept of their children's attempted murderer coming back to terrorize the seven filled most of their faces with open fear. All of the parents, even Tria, remember the stories the gang told of the sharptooth's ruthless pursuit of them and what they were forced to do to survive. Grandpa and Grandma Longneck looked almost petrified. From their personal loss, they knew what the sharptooth going after their grandson meant. Even Mr. Threehorn showed the faintest ripples of fear across his face. Oddly, life then surged back into him.

"If he is, then he's going to have to go through us, literally," he continued. "If the past ghosts are any indication, he won't be so tough."

"Be careful what you say." Petrie said nervously. "He really mad. That could make him strong."

"But Mr. Threehorn might be right." Mama Flyer said firmly. "Since you kids realized he's dead, then the illusion will be broken for him and he won't be around for long. In the meantime, you kids need to get underground as soon as possible."

"Underground? What do you mean?" Ducky said. "Wait, where are our brothers and sisters?"

"We've left them in the care of Big Daddy and the Tinysauruses." Mama Swimmer said. "As long as they stay away from any holes, the sharptooth shouldn't be able to notice or get to them."

"Guido was sent along as an extra pair of eyes." Tria said. "He'll keep Tricia calm. Between him and Big Daddy, the kids should be safe."

"You all should join them." Grandma Longneck said. "See that bush? There's a hole hidden there. Hop in, and look for Big Daddy. If Spike and Chomper use their noses, you should be able to find him. In the meantime, we'll work together to take care of this sharptooth."

"What? Don't!" Littlefoot said, panicked.

"Didn't you hear the part where he killed Littlefoot's mother?" Cera said. "He's not like the other sharpteeth we've dealt with!"

"And you can't kill someone who's already dead!" Petrie said.

"But we can deter him until he goes away." Grandpa Longneck said. "As Petrie's mother said, previous ghosts haven't been around for long when the truth comes out. Hopefully the pattern holds and we can distract him until he leaves. Are all of you ready for this?" he asked the other parents.

"Of course." Grandma Longneck said. "I'm not letting you do this alone."

"Fighting a ghost does sound unnerving." Mama Swimmer shook herself. "But I want to make sure he doesn't torment the children again. Besides, he can't really touch us, right?"

"From what I hear, the worst he can do is make us cold." Mama Flyer said unsurely. "But we should be prepared for anything. I'm ready."

"I'm already ready." Mr. Threehorn said firmly. He glanced at Tria with concern. "You don't have to do this, Tria. This might be a ghost, but a sharptooth can be very intimidating, so -"

"I'm helping you." Tria said stubbornly. "What's the use of learning how to use my horns if I'm not going to use them? Besides, this guy will need numbers to drive him off and every volunteer counts."

Mr. Threehorn nodded, though he still appeared reluctant. Before he could reply, a distant boom shook the earth. Another roar split the air, angry, commanding. Whatever dinosaurs were still nearby hastily ran for it. Chomper turned to them terrified.

"He's demanding to know where Littlefoot and the others are," he said.

"Littlefoot, take your friends and stay underground." Grandma Longneck said.

Despite knowing the sharptooth was a ghost, Littlefoot and the others were scared. Most of them remembered how the sharptooth nearly robbed them of so much, of what he already robbed, and their minds couldn't help coming up with ways the sharptooth could harm their families. The gang's instincts were screaming that something was wrong. Pleading, five of them approached their parents.

Littlefoot shook his head. "No, please don't do this."

"Stay away from the holes as long as you can." Mama Flyer said. "Don't attract any attention to yourself."

"Don't fight him, Mama." Petrie pleaded.

"If you must get food, do so quietly and don't move quickly unless you need to run." Mama Swimmer said.

"Mama, let's run." Ducky said. "Let's just run!"

Spike put his paws on Mama Swimmer's leg, nodding desperately. But Mama Swimmer pushed him and Ducky away.

"Cera, look after Tricia." Mr. Threehorn said.

Tria took a deep breath. "Be a good sister to her. Hopefully, we won't be long with this."

"Then stop talking like you won't be here!" Cera said.

Littlefoot looked between his grandparents, looked at his friends' parents. The rumbling steps grew closer, closer. A sense of unreality came over him. He watched his grandparents raise their heads, Mr. Threehorn and Tria lower their horns, Mama Swimmer straighten and bear her fists, and Mama Flyer perch on the highest tree to flare her wings. Whether they were scared or not, all of them were ready to fight what could and had killed before. Even with being dead, could the sharptooth kill again? The concept of any of them not being alive by the sunset was just too much for Littlefoot.

*What do I do? This is my responsibility. How do I stop this?*

The rumbling steps became louder, punctuated by a roar that sought blood. Even as the others started backing away and Ruby pushed him to go with them, Littlefoot remained rooted beside his grandparents, desperate to make the seriousness of the situation clear.

"Listen, you can't do this." Littlefoot said. "Anything might happen. If he gets you – if you're not here, I'll-"

Then the rumbling got to its loudest yet and everyone was distracted completely when the sharptooth came into view.

Littlefoot's breath was stolen. It was as though he had been transported back to before the boulder dropped. The sharptooth's hide was the same dark, earthy green Littlefoot remembered, rippling with muscle. Those enormous, pointed teeth hadn't changed – they had easily rend flesh from his defiant mother. Worst of all were the eyes. One was bruised and veined from an unfortunate encounter with thorns but both were a livid red that drew no quarter when seeking what they wanted. Those eyes focused on the grownups in front of him and a rumble bubbled from deep within his throat, incensed this group even dreamed of blocking his path.

That red gaze flickered to the young dinosaurs. Chomper stepped back as the sharptooth froze on him, taking in the young predator's presence among leaf eaters, before noting a cringing Ruby, the straggler between the worlds of plant eating and meat eating. Gradually, he zoomed in on Cera, Petrie, Ducky, Spike, who were completely frozen, wanting but unable to look away. At last, he focused on the still Littlefoot. The sharptooth drank the longneck child in longingly, absorbing every detail. Littlefoot was terrified when the sharptooth nasally breathed in, watching him with eyes that knew him as certainly as Littlefoot knew the sharptooth.

The sharptooth's muscles quivered as those eyes narrowed – found you.

A snarl twisted the sharptooth's mouth, and he charged. Several booms followed as the parents took a unified step forward, answering with bellowing roars that made the sharptooth skid to a halt. That didn't discourage the sharptooth for long, as he soon gave another challenging roar, but it bought enough time for Grandpa Longneck to quickly turn to Littlefoot and the others.

"Go, Littlefoot!" Grandpa Longneck cried. "All of you, go!"

That snapped the gang out of their terror-stricken shock. Ruby and Cera zipped over, grabbed Littlefoot, and dragged him to the hole under the bushes. With the leaves and branches pushed out of the way, the others hopped in one at a time. As Ruby jumped into the hole, Littlefoot looked back in time to see the sharptooth make another go only for the parents to loudly remind him with another set of screams and bellows who stood in his way. He saw the sharptooth's murderous anger focus on his grandparents.

"Grandma!" Littlefoot yelled. "Grandpa!"

"Littlefoot, come on!" Cera said.

Growling, Cera shoved him into the hole. Littlefoot flailed as he tumbled and struck the tunnel floor hard. Dazed, Littlefoot blinked up and scrambled out of the way as Cera hopped down and landed on the spot he laid in a second ago. The others had backed away when Littlefoot came down and now Ruby and Spike helped Littlefoot to his feet as yet another roar broke the air.

"Hurry!" Petrie said. "Sharptooth might push his head through at any moment."

"Chomper, can you sniff out where Big Daddy and our brothers and sisters are?" Ducky asked.

Chomper took a whiff and nodded. "I think I have them. Let's go."

Littlefoot looked up at the hole, hearing bellows and the slightest whooshes and whips of an exchange of blows. He wanted to peak up, to make sure his grandparents and the other parents were alright. But Cera nudged him again and he reluctantly joined the rest of his friends walking down the tunnel.

The sounds of fighting gave way somewhat to the booms of heavy feet. Every time there was a consecutive series of booms or a moment of quiet, Littlefoot imagination went wild. Do those noises mean their parents had gotten the upper hand and they were driving the sharptooth into a corner? Or was he hearing the sounds of struggle? Were their parents moving quickly to avoid a dangerous blow? Was the quiet a signal they were trying to regroup? Littlefoot could see his friends' gazes nervously rove the top of the tunnels, those same questions plaguing them.

The sharptooth's roars maintained their angry edge but as the murmurs of battle proceeded on, the parents' calls started to gain a note of confusion and desperation. No matter how much Littlefoot reminded himself of the sharptooth's current ghostly nature, he couldn't remain calm. There were no agonized screams that indicated the infliction of a serious injury but the more the fight above continued, the tenser Littlefoot became. At last, he stopped and closed his eyes.

"Oh, I just can't stand it." Littlefoot said. "Our parents are fighting the sharptooth and all we're doing is staying down here hoping they'll win."

"Well, what do you expect us to do?" Cera asked. "We barely took him down when he was just a regular sharptooth. How do we even hurt him now he doesn't have a body?"

"Maybe he needs to be reminded he's a ghost." Ducky suggested. "When that sharpbeak found out he was dead, he and that bellydragger got so upset they ran away, they did."

"That might work with those two but this the sharptooth." Petrie said. "He scarier than everyone else that try to eat us put together."

"But he's still a ghost, yes?" Ruby said. "The sharpbeak wasn't able to pick up Ducky and that was before he even knew he was a ghost. He won't think he's not a ghost if your parents go through him. So maybe the sharptooth won't be able to do as much harm as we fear."

"I don't know." Chomper said. "He still looked pretty solid for a ghost and that was after we knew he was one."

Littlefoot was quiet for a second. "That's right. He was pretty solid. I couldn't see through him at all. None of the other ghosts we met looked very solid after we found out what they were, right?"

The others became silent. They had been too panicked by the sharptooth's appearance to notice but now that they looked back, he was indeed as solid as though he was alive. Spike made a noise of agreement – his expression revealed he thought the sharptooth was concernedly lifelike and the others couldn't help concurring. Littlefoot only found himself more distressed.

"That's only more reason why I want to make sure the grownups are doing alright," he continued. "We barely know how these ghosts work and what we do know, the sharptooth doesn't seem to be following as much. Please, you all don't have to get involved. I'll just poke my head out and watch to make sure nothing bad's happening."

Cera gazed hard. "And if something bad is happening, then what?"

Littlefoot breathed deeply. "I – I don't know. But I don't think any of us would be comfortable with something going wrong with our folks while we're not there, right?"

The others fidgeted and glanced amongst themselves in uncomfortable agreement. Face faltering with pained anxiety, an echo of yesterday's events, Cera glanced away before forcing herself to look at Chomper.

"Where's the nearest hole to all that drama?" she asked.

Chomper managed to sniff out one such hole and led them to it. They soon approached afternoon light shining down from an opening. The hubbub of conflict echoed loudly. Fortunately, there was a ledge underneath the opening. Littlefoot climbed on and used his long neck to cautiously peak out. Fortunately, a nearby tree blocked the hole from view, so he could observe the distant battle without fear of being spotted.

What Littlefoot saw made his heart jump up his throat.

Currently, the sharptooth was surrounded by the parents, roaring defiantly as it searched for a way out. The fact no one had visible injuries provided Littlefoot with some relief but there was the fact the parents possessed an edge of exhaustion. The flaps of Mama Flyer's wings were a bit quicker. Mama Swimmer's shoulders heaved as she drew in breath. Topsy and Tria's guarded stances weren't as strong. But Littlefoot noticed this most in his grandparents. They were slightly breathless and they moved not with the swiftness they had in previous sharpteeth battles. Littlefoot winced when the sharptooth lunged at Grandma Longneck and she barely dodged to snap her tail at him.

Or at least, that was her intention. Her tail went right through the sharptooth as though he was nothing more than a mirage. The sharptooth backed off briefly, annoyed but none the worse for wear. Grandma Longneck noticed, and she began to appear frustrated.

"This is a stalemate," she said. "I appreciate we aren't getting hurt but we aren't exactly discouraging him either."

Growling, the sharptooth stood on his soles and snapped at Mama Flyer. The flyer hastily ascended out of reach and then circled down to thrust at his chest. Mama Flyer ended up passing through and out of the sharptooth's back. The sharptooth screeched in frustration while Mama Flyer shivered as though having passed through a cold breeze.

"That isn't something I ever want to get used to." Mama Flyer muttered.

Mr. Threehorn looked irritated. "Why are you dodging when he can't hit you?"

Mama Swimmer swung her fist and it went through the sharptooth's arm. She leapt back when his claws swung back at her. "I'd like to see you try to throw away a lifetime of survival instinct," she retorted. "It's hard to ignore when he looks as solid as any living sharptooth."

"Isn't it strange?" Grandpa Longneck said. "Our hits keep going through him yet he's barely reacting. Does he even notice?"

"Perhaps it's his anger." Grandma Longneck said. "When you're really furious about something, it can make you oblivious to details even if they're staring you in the face."

"Hmpth, I can fix that." Mr. Threehorn stepped forward. "Step aside. I'll make sure he goes away faster."

"Topsy, be careful." Tria warned.

"Yes, we can't be rash with what we don't understand." Grandpa Longneck said.

"But we can't afford to be too cautious when our children are at risk." Mr. Threehorn said.

Before anyone could reply, he made a ramming charge. His horns went through the sharptooth's chest. The sharptooth backed away in annoyance but Mr. Threehorn wasn't content. He rammed at the stomach this time, making the sharptooth retreat some more. With a father's determination, Mr. Threehorn thrust his horns toward the sharptooth again and again, making the latter slowly back up.

Somewhat encouraged, the other parents followed Mr. Threehorn's lead. Tria thrust her horns alongside her husband, Mama Flyer made swooping stabs with her beak and feet, and Mama Swimmer threw out her fists. Even Littlefoot's grandparents joined in despite their clear misgivings, defending the others by whipping their tails. Together, as a united front they were making the sharptooth walk back the way he came. Littlefoot felt a flicker of hope. The sharptooth was still reacting with his usual anger and irritation but perhaps Grandma Longneck was right. If nothing else, the gang did know the sharptooth for his intense fury and focus, so he likely wasn't aware of his state. Maybe the grownups could rectify that. Maybe the sharptooth could disappear without much violence after all.

Mr. Threehorn scoffed as he rammed once more. "Hmpth, some sharptooth you are. You might be ugly but you're not scary."

Even as he was compelled to step back again, the sharptooth showed a flicker of odd confusion before that was swiftly overcome by an incensed growl. It appeared he grasped the gist of what Mr. Threehorn was saying. Grandpa Longneck glanced around warningly.

"Mr. Threehorn, don't provoke him," he said.

"What's he going to do, walk through us? He can't understand us anyway." Mr. Threehorn said. "You won't be able to get what you came for, sharptooth – we'll make sure of that. So go back, back to where you came from. Go!"

The sharptooth hissed and abruptly swung his tail at them. The parents jerked back but it merely went through them. Mr. Threehorn only snorted and charged again. The sharptooth staggered away. Bent down slightly, sides heaving, he raised his head to stare at them with an almighty, growing resentment. The others were getting nervous.

"He seems to be understanding you pretty well to me." Mama Flyer said.

"Ha, he can just understand my tone." Mr. Threehorn returned his attention to the sharptooth. "That didn't do anything. Face it, you're yesterday's news. You're just vainly trying to reclaim former glory and from where I'm standing, it's pathetic."

The sharptooth opened his jaws wide and screamed. Manically, he swiped his claws through Mr. Threehorn's muzzle, horns, and frill until he was breathless. From how Mr. Threehorn stared coldly at his opponent, they were as effective as a cold draft.

"Are you done yet?" Mr. Threehorn rocked his horns defiantly. "Stop terrifying our children! You might have been the most dangerous meat eater around but those glory days are over. Here we see you for what you really are – a smelly, dumb old sharptooth who doesn't have a clear head on his shoulders, whose pride is as useful as pile of pebbles-"

"Topsy, watch what you're saying!" Tria warned.

"- and who has nothing that makes a sharptooth a sharptooth – you can't hit, you can't hurt, you can't kill. Face it, you're a tiny crawler who thinks his bark is his bite and that makes you nothing more than a flailing punk who everyone laughs at!"

The sharptooth's irises contracted. He swept an arm back, snapped his claws out, and swung those two lethal digits toward Mr. Threehorn's indifferent face. They veered closer, closer…

And closed firmly, solidly, around Mr. Threehorn's left horn. Mr. Threehorn's expression faltered.

"W-what?"

The sharptooth's spare hand grabbed the right horn, and pulled. Mr. Threehorn's feet left the ground as the sharptooth swung hard and let him go. Mr. Threehorn cried out as he was sent flying. He crashed into the forest line and slumped, several trees groaning before toppling on him like dominos. Mr. Threehorn only stirred a bit and moaned.

The parents stared, shocked. They were interrupted when the sharptooth slowly turned to them, growling ominously.

"Oh dear." Grandpa Longneck said.

The sharptooth screamed, and rushed in. He turned and his tail struck at Mama Swimmer. She gasped, all the oxygen leaving her. Panicked, Mama Flyer attempted to zip up but the sharptooth grabbed her wing and slammed her into the ground once, twice, three times. Before anyone could react, he threw Mama Flyer into Mama Swimmer, toppling the latter off her feet and leaving the pair in a daze. Tria hollered and charged. To her shock, her horns still phased through but the sharptooth head-butted her and slashed her flank with his claws. Tria yelled, and her legs buckled. Grandma and Grandpa Longneck stepped around her, angry.

"Now you see here-" Grandma Longneck began.

The sharptooth's strong tail whammed into her chest before she could get another word in. Her eyes widened and she struggled to get air back in her lungs. Grandpa Longneck rammed his head down only to be head-butted by the sharptooth's stronger and faster cranium. Grandpa Longneck rose up, dazed, and the sharptooth took the opportunity to body slam the elderly couple. Littlefoot's grandparents staggered off, not looking as solid on their feet as dinosaurs of their size should be. The sharptooth prowled toward them but there was a cry out from the side and Mr. Threehorn stormed in, making the sharptooth jump away.

"I'm not out yet!" Mr. Threehorn declared.

Grandpa Longneck panted. "How's he doing that? How's he physically hurting us?"

"How did he understand leaf eater?" Grandma Longneck said. "That was more than understanding tone. You can't learn a language that quickly."

"I don't think we have time to get answers for these questions." Mama Flyer said urgently.

For the sharptooth still stood in front of them, only another brief look of odd confusion interrupting his powerful and confident countenance. The others picked themselves up and gathered back together, a little punch drunk, unnerved, but still ready to continue fighting. The sharptooth growled, and initiated the next round.

Littlefoot watched, transfixed, as they exchanged blows. Soon, it became clear that this was an unfair battle. Whenever the parents tried to hurt the sharptooth, whether with horns, tails, or other offensive body parts, the attack passed through him like mist. In response, the sharptooth used his own variety of physical strikes and nearly each one landed painfully and agonizingly. While the struck parent struggled to recover, the sharptooth moved in to do more damage or turned his sights on the next vulnerable target. The others tried their best to intervene but the most they could do was annoy and provide a distraction. Each blow zapped the parents of their strength. Meanwhile, the sharptooth's actions gained only more energy, more drive, more life.

"Littlefoot, what's going on?"

Littlefoot started, only realizing now he stepped fully out of the hole. The others were currently following him out one by one, with Ruby the last to pull herself up. Cera stood next to Littlefoot, breath hitching as she too observed the battle.

"He's hitting them?" Cera continued. "How's he hitting them?"

"That can't happen." Petrie gasped. "He supposed to be ghost."

"I don't know." Littlefoot said. "He couldn't before but then he somehow understood Cera's dad was insulting him and now he can hit others but they can't hit back."

"He can understand leaf eater?" Cera squeaked. "He never gave an indication of doing that before!"

Chomper sniffed and winced fearfully. "Guys…I can smell him. None of the previous ghosts had any scents but this one does. That's not good, is it?"

There was a chill from all present.

"He has smell now?" Petrie said. "Oh, when things going to start making sense?"

"Some say you never feel more alive than when you're angry." Ruby said. "But what if that sharptooth's anger is making him more alive and giving him the power to fight back?"

Ducky covered her mouth. "And if there is someone with a lot of anger, it is that sharptooth, oh yes, yes, yes. If that's making him more alive, then our parents-"

Spike inhaled sharply and whimpered worriedly. Then his gaze flickered to the battle and he almost screamed. The others turned just in time to see the sharptooth slam his muzzle against Mama Swimmer and swing her into the air. She went sailing before landing hard on the grass. Battered and exhausted, Mama Swimmer groaned as she tried to push herself up. The sharptooth coldly approached and turned to slap her with his tail. Mama Swimmer twitched and groaned but her body soon gave out.

"Oh no, Mama!" Ducky cried.

"How dare you!"

Mama Flyer swooped in low, throwing branches she swept up from the damaged trees. The sharptooth observed the sticks fall toward his eyes and pass through them, clinking on the earth. He growled at the implications of that attack. Before Mama Flyer realized what was coming, the sharptooth bowed and his tail struck her back. Stunned, she fell. Mama Flyer feebly flapped her wings, only for the sharptooth to close in and head-butt her hard. When Mama Flyer landed, she didn't even twitch or attempt to get up.

"Mama!" Petrie shrieked. "Don't hurt her, don't hurt her…"

The sharptooth hovered over Mama Flyer ominously, teeth prominent. Before he could strike, Mr. Threehorn and Tria rammed his legs from either side. Their horns nearly got tangled when they went through the sharptooth but that got the latter's attention. He kneed both of them on the forehead, making them stumble. Dazed, the couple backed away as he abandoned Mama Flyer in favor of slinking toward them. With their throbbing heads, the pair struggled to maintain their concentration. After several seconds of consideration, the sharptooth's red eyes snapped toward Tria and he moved to her as fast as sky fire, mouth opening.

"No!"

Face alighting with a familiar terror, Mr. Threehorn intercepted the sharptooth's attack. The sharptooth stopped opening his jaws in surprise and they slammed into Mr. Threehorn's frill and neck. Mr. Threehorn toppled against Tria from the impact, sharp teeth scraps clear against his skin, unconscious. Tria gasped, eyes slightly unfocused from her head taking much of the force of her mate falling against her, and she struggled to return to her feet.

"Topsy…" Tria glared at the sharptooth. "I'll…you won't get to them…"

Annoyed, the sharptooth walked by and struck her neck hard. Her head shivered and she tried to stay focused, but soon she collapsed like her husband. Cera staggered forward a few steps, the others barely stopping her from getting into view. She stared at her parents fixedly, unable to suppress a whimper.

"Daddy," she said. "Tria. Please be alright."

Now bereft of any other obstacles, the sharptooth shifted his attention to the two elder longnecks. They had been standing to the side, breathing hard, exhausted. The sharptooth narrowed his gaze. Out of all of the parents, he seemed to hate these two most of all. The sharptooth approached, and Grandpa and Grandma Longneck whipped their tails defensively. They went through him without garnering a reaction. He whipped his own tail against their chests, drawing terrible out cries of pain that made Littlefoot flinch.

"Grandma," he said. "Grandpa. No."

His grandparents weren't the type who gave up easily but the sharptooth didn't show mercy either. For every failed strike at the sharptooth, he replied with a head-butt, a punch, a kick, and even a tail whip. He didn't hesitate to scratch with his claws, relishing every sound of physical distress he could force out of them. Grandpa and Grandma Longneck got up every time but each blow made their movements and retaliatory attacks feebler. It was clear to Littlefoot who the winner of this brutal battle was going to be and what the victor shall do to his fallen adversaries.

*Again.* Littlefoot thought faintly *Not again…*

Unbidden, unwanted, each exchange of blows brought back a terrible memory. A tail slap struck Grandma Longneck in the side, making her topple. She saw Grandpa Longneck engage the sharptooth and scrambled desperately to her feet – scramble like she did when trying to get out of a gorge, after the tree Littlefoot brazenly climbed across cracked in a sudden earthshake.

Even as his wife came to his assistance, Grandpa Longneck gasped when the sharptooth hit his chest with his head. Grandpa Longneck stepped away, struggling to draw in breath, so tired – almost as breathless and tired as when struck by that fatal ailment, whose only cure was so far away and Littlefoot thought he might never get it in time.

The sharptooth slammed into Littlefoot's grandparents a second time and their legs gave out. They tried to get back up but exhaustion pinned them down – pinned down like Bron's leg had been pinned by a giant rock and he could only watch fearfully as molten rock slid around him like a river, his son and his friends almost too small and helpless to save him.

The sharptooth dug his feet into the earth and took his turn kicking both of Littlefoot's grandparents, cutting across skin, drawing blood. They struggled but soon they could only jerk at their immobile legs, wincing in exhaustion and agony as the sharptooth continued kicking. He only ceased when the grandparents could only keep their lengthy necks raised a bit off the ground. The sharptooth shifted to examine his handiwork. A rumble came up his throat and he pulled back his teeth. Grandpa and Grandma Longneck watched him, so drained they could only muster a bit of fear – so drained like that terrible night, that horrible stormy night when he watched the life leave his mother, and he had been unable to help her in anyway except to follow her word and get used to a life with her absence.

The sharptooth snarled and reared up high. In slow motion, the sharptooth swooped down. Grandpa and Grandma Longneck curled near each other, shutting their eyes. Drool seemed to fly from those merciless teeth as they rapidly neared those lengthy necks, coming closer, closer, seconds from terminating these two lives…

"Stop!"

The sharptooth's jaws ceased inches from those necks. He turned his head in shock to see Littlefoot standing in plain view on the distant hill. Littlefoot shook, eyes wet, teeth gritted in anger.

"It's me you want!" he shouted. "It's me who hurt you! They have nothing to do with what I did to you – nothing! Leave them alone..."

Silence. The sharptooth stepped away from the elder longnecks, attention focused solely on Littlefoot. Grandpa and Grandma Longneck also watched Littlefoot, terrified, their worst fears playing out before them. They shook their heads pleadingly but Littlefoot didn't meet their gaze. He took a deep breath.

"If you want your revenge," he said, "then follow me."

Without looking back, Littlefoot turned and ran. Despite the exhaustion from earlier, he found the energy to move quickly. When those heavy footsteps started to follow, Littlefoot didn't slow down for a second. He mentally charted a route through and out of the valley, dodging around trees and between undergrowth, hoping to slow down his pursuer, to delay whatever fate awaited him until he had the sharptooth right where it might make some sort of difference.

Then he became aware of six forms appearing on either side of him, keeping up with his pace as easily as though it was second nature to them. That was because they were his friends. Littlefoot gawked.

"What are you guys doing?" he demanded. "You've got to-"

"Don't you dare!" Cera glared. "Don't even finish that sentence!"

"Me so scared." Petrie whimpered, but his flying was steady. "But me scared of losing Littlefoot even more."

"He probably wants all of us anyway." Ducky said reasonably. "But we will find a way out. We always have when we are together."

Spike grunted and nodded, giving Littlefoot an uncharacteristically piercing, determined stare. Littlefoot's chest clenched and he had to breathe before he replied.

"Okay. But Chomper, Ruby, he doesn't have anything against you. Get away while you still can."

"I won't abandon a friend in need!" Chomper said fiercely. "I can speak sharptooth and my sniffer can warn when he's coming. You need me!"

Ruby nodded. "If me and Chomper were in your situation, you five would help us as we would help you. You are all as much my family as my family is my family. Of course we wouldn't leave you."

Littlefoot closed his eyes, but tears leaked out. "Thank you…"

Whatever shall happen, whatever awaited them, the seven dinosaur youths continued running into the perilous unknown, determined to face it, together.

Next time…

An Unwelcome Reunion Part 2