FINTAIL

𝘛𝘞𝘌𝘕𝘛𝘠 𝘍𝘖𝘜𝘙

POOR THORN.

No loved creature should ever be isolated this much. Even if their instincts, and lineage, say otherwise.

I counted sixty paces along the inner walls of Thorn's chamber. The whimpering spinosaurus was on a roller coaster of emotions, dexterously rubbing the heart-shaped rock in between the three curved knives that made up his fingers. His tail loosely dragged behind him; he hadn't the strength to let it stand any more. More or less, he lacked the emotions to allow it.

"One... Two... Three..."

Counting seemed to help for the while. It was something he used to do whenever he wandered the ancient forest alone at night. Of course, this didn't help with hunting -- the noise was a dead giveaway -- but it did offer some slither of courage to best the hidden horrors. A shame, though; it took him years to realize being the biggest predator of the valley meant there was nothing to really fear. Just challenges.

But the last few days seemed to change that.

"Eight... Nine... Ten..." He paused at the opposite wall, securing his foot claws to the ground to feel for the smooth rock, then turned, resetting himself. "One... Two... Three..."

A few watchers might call it insane. But it was the most sane Thorn had felt in some time. He felt at peace with himself, even if the alien walls reminded him of his current fate. But, most importantly, he was keeping hope in the back of his head, a hope that, in a few days or less, he could go home. He could see his family, swim in his favorite pond, and rest on his side of the cave where the warm rocks laid. And a promise that maybe, just maybe, this nightmare would die like all the rest.

Just let time pass... He'd think, making another turn, hasten the dream. Then you'll wake up.

"Six... Seven... Eight..." On his 63rd lap past the entryway, Thorn froze. His head cocked sideways, the slit of his pupils retracting inward to a sudden realization. It was quiet. There wasn't any noise coming from beyond his cage, nor could he sense anything more than his pounding heart. He motioned to the entrance, still nicking the rounded edges of the heart-rock anxiously. Was it time? He thought, tail finally lifting in lieu of this. That oily creature, Tar'nex; he had told him of a time happening like this, and urged him to do something important. Escape? No, it was something else. So he echoed his words, forging each word upon his lips.

If you hear no footsteps outside, tap your tail five times to be sure nobody is there before you exit.

He turned his body, grunting as he skimmed his skull against the cold metal, and squeezed his flank upon the smooth doorway. Another awkward stumble made his legs stumble about, but he finally secured them to the floor, shoulder-width apart. Tilting his head forward to press an ear hole upon the door, the spinosaurus lifted his tail and finally offered the listening world three of five ear-rattling knocks.

THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!

He waited. But there was no response from the outside. Two more, then.

THUMP! THUMP!

His tail struck harder, echoing the chamber with a lousy thud. Surely someone would've heard that. But, like before, nothing responded from the outside. And that eerie silence made the youngster's scales writhe. Nobody was there... onto the next step.

Thorn started up, using the wall, and both claws, as support to return to full height. He was already questioning how he was going to escape the room; all of a sudden, the space beside him suddenly disappeared. Thorn let out a yelp of fright, flailing his arms about before gravity slammed him into the earth with a hard thud.