Hybrids: An Indoraptor Story ✓

Instinct

||𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟏𝐭𝐡, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟎||

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

"Hhnn..."

The cruel taste of the past was still fresh to the tongue. Salty. Sweet. Thick. Warm. Along with the flavor of the river's mighty waters that soaked my hide, cold and quick, before aimlessly thundering downstream.

I groaned to the wind; I have never felt so helpless before. Anguish stabbed into my abdomen. Nausea wreaked havoc throughout my skull. And a soreness throbbed ruthlessly within my talons; the poor bone had been locked to the log for hours.

Now I could barely bend them.

My sapphire eyes opened into the folds of burning tears. The air was cold and dark here, fuming of a stench familiar to death. I tried to move, to speak or cry out in the night.

But I couldn't. I was too weak to try.

The river loosely played with my tail, nudging and flicking the poor limb to and fro with the rolling waves. My throat muffled a whimper, head dipping over the log as I shook.

I was in so much pain.

Just a slight breath was enough to widen the cut. Panting did no better; I could hear my inners grind and squish together, free copious blood oozing from the neck to the afterbelly. My breath hitched.

No wonder he was called Ripper.

Still frozen to the ground, I tilted my head to the right of the log, blinking back tears to focus on something else. Poor Blink was sprawled out on the beach a distance away. He was alive, courtesy of the little twitches and shortened breaths he took in the moonlight, but even he was far too injured to stand. His scent mixed with my own, and even in our lonesomeness I couldn't help but fear for each other. Blood was a stench known by many, drawing predators and prey of all kinds to its source.

It is a universal beacon of food.

And, after lying for hours in its puddle, something was bound to follow.

That's when a shadow fell over me.

My quills raised. I ceased my breath, gazing into darkness with wide, bulging eyes. Another cold breeze trickled over my scales, just before another dark shadow swept over the river.

Above you, a voice hissed. Something is watching...

I didn't need to look to know. Their odor wasn't of feathers like that of crows or vultures. The shape reminded me once more that beasts like us now thrived in this world. Nothing of the modern age, but of a time before time itself. And, once a third massive breath hushed the trees to silence, my brow wrinkled, and my jaws tightened.

Scavengers.

The fleshy pterosaurs were first to declare bids to the feast, circling just inches above the canopy. But they weren't focused on Blink; the Scorpios Rex's blackened hide blended in with the shade perfectly. All they saw was a damaged white hybrid lying limp upon a log. Standing out above all else under the speckled moon.

The perfect prey.

I growled in defiance, hearing their squawks strengthen in sound. No. I w-won't die... like this. Rrr... g-get up...

My begging eyes sought help. For someone beyond the forest walls to come pull me from this nightmare. But all I saw in all directions was simply nothing. Nothing watched. Nothing listened. Nothing came.