⋯•● 5 YEARS EARLIER ●•⋯
SPECK COULD kill it... if he wanted to.
Instinct was a powerful thing to a youngster. It is impossible to explain as a living creature, I, myself, can hardly account for it. But the potent sensation was there, alive, wriggling underneath the longsnout's spotted scales just as the fish's hide did to his underclaw. Intense, but satisfying — like the aroma of excitement or the rich flavors of warm, saurian meat. Something about trapping prey beneath the confines of two malevolent claws made a predator's heart sing. Spiteful, surely; the word did toil enough to renounce his greedy intentions.
But he couldn't help himself. It was in his nature to be spiteful. To be lustful. His kind were bred-killers, after all.
Yet, beneath all that wealth and hunger storming beyond the boom of his dear heart, came dread. Sorrow. Fear.
That maybe this feeling wasn't as promising as he had hoped.
Speck kept staring at the fish in thought, watching its gills raise and fall, tail thwapping against the wrist bone, eyes wide open as it drowned in a sea without water. Catching it was not to motivate his hunger — he had eaten a fair share of meat earlier on in the day.
It was anger. Dreadful, helpless anger. The kind you feel when you learn you've lost. And you lie there in shame, hearing the rumble of your enemies laughing their tails off at your weakness. That feeling when you know you are not good enough... like a dumb fish caught in a predator's clutches.
That kind of anger.
Just a few minutes earlier, Speck was forced into a sparring challenge. There wasn't anything wrong with fighting — this was customary for their kind. But had this been a duel between two idle strangers, Speck would have felt better. He had seen enough herbivores and carnivores rip into each other over the years, courtship being the most common reason of all. And his interests sparked from the promise of brutality — two eyes would glint when the sweet stench of blood slithered into the ancient air. Speck figured that was his primal side talking.
But sparring? Sparring only made life a living hell. It became a learning experience for the weak. And there were no benefits — you either lost your dignity or you lost a pound of flesh.
So it was difficult to remain positive when Riptide, his eldest brother put his two most hateful brothers at each other's throats: him and his older brother, Fossil.
He could reimagine the battle from start to finish: Fossil was enjoying the fight for a reason completely opposite of Riptide. The pale longsnout's maw frothed with the juice of his kin, jaws curled upward to mock every futile attack his adversary made. And there was no more fear in his posture — in just a few brief minutes, everyone and everything had turned into a joke. He danced. He hopped. He spun on his heels like a frog in the rain.
That alone made Riptide growl.
On the other end staggered Speck, the spotted black-and-white longsnout charging in like a headless fish. And no matter hard he tried, Fossil would reward the youngster with a bite to the shoulder or a tail whip to the chest, throwing him to the ground like a rag-doll.
Fossil would laugh.
And Riptide sighed.
The brothers were aware age played a factor. A minute long difference between hatching was like a year-long span between mammal relatives. And, to Speck, he feared this was the only reason everything looked so bleak. He'd always look to his older brother, Riptide, for help.
But the longsnout could not interfere. He had to let it happen.
The pain lasted minutes. Fossil walked away unscathed — a few bruises and bites — while poor Speck limped away in tears, his flesh reduced to sharp, jagged cuts, deep wounds, and tarnished blood. He blamed himself, mostly. Even if he hadn't looked back to see what his brothers were thinking, he knew Fossil was snickering, and Riptide...
Speck growled, coiling his claws into the fish. He'd never live up to his father's name. It was impossible at this point. And, like this innocent fish beneath his bleeding claws, he was stuck.
Weak.
Hopeless.
Pathetic.
His eyes began to blur up with tears. Speck truthfully came out to the river to see how innocent he was. Just to see how much of a coward his elder brother, Fossil, saw him to be. How much of a disappointment he was to the rest of his family. And it showed here more than ever: he couldn't kill the fish. No matter how much his instincts begged him to stab its gut, he couldn't pull through. And, through one painful exhale, Speck released the fish back into the water.
And broke into tears.
⋯•●:●•⋯
For Riptide, nothing about what happened was good.
From the wild, beastial growls to the clicks and cracks of tooth and talon, instinct had driven two longsnouts into madness. It fed off emotion, like wildfire, poaching their souls until their hearts burned right out. Even a spectator, like himself, fell victim to it, too; the uneasiness of a challenge spoiled Riptide's snout far worse than the saurian blood swelling beneath it. Their swipes were growing erratic, every bite mark far deeper than the last, every bitter cry twisted with pain. And the look on their faces...
It made his skin crawl like nothing else.
It may have finished, but the damages lived on. Speck had run off somewhere — the scent of his blood was stronger than anything else, worrying Riptide to some extent. But it was Fossil that gathered his attention the most; the silver longsnout purred under the smooth shade of the forest, a bone sitting by his side, and his claws raised skyward to lick away the youngster's blood.
Riptide hated seeing him grinning like this. It was sadistic — he was only there for the fun of it. And he didn't care for Speck; the first thing he did was sit down and laugh it off.
"Another one bites the dust!" Fossil rumbled, kicking the bone to Riptide's feet just for him to stare at. "That was too easy."
The eldest longsnout growled, crushing the bone into splinters. Just like the arrogant prick that he was, he thought harshly.
"You should give me more of a challenge, adamfo," Fossil snorted, standing to greet his older brother walking toward him. "You know, like a three-horn?"
"And that's why you won't get it," Riptide hissed, bumping his brother away to examine the spilled blood Speck left behind. He inhaled deep — Riptide was certain he was limping — that could risk trouble from any outside threats. But he wasn't quick to leave. He still had to deal with Fossil who continued to scowl at his growing frustration.
"I'm sorry?" His snout wrinkled, eyes following after his brother. "You expect me to do, what? Play nice? We're predators, Riptide, there's no law against showing a little dominance."
"I do not care how you took Speck down. I care about what you did when you finished it," Riptide hissed from below. "And clearly you're still too stubborn to think about that."
Fossil scoffed. "A win is a win."
"It's a dirty win."
"And that bothers you?" Fossil's lips raised, astounded by his sudden resentment. "You'd rather me hold back against someone who's clearly weaker than me?!"
"Younger," Riptide corrected.
Another wordless snarl left Fossil's throat. "I thought age didn't matter to you."
"And I thought I told you to watch it!" Riptide barked, darting his head forward until he and Fossil were eye to eye. The two stilled for a moment, listening to each other's growls, watching puffs of steam snake from their snouts, hearts thumping louder than the voices they invoked. Even still, that was short lived.
"If you care so much, go be the bigger brother and tell Speck to toughen up," Fossil finally growled, whirling away from Riptide. "It is his funeral, not mine. It's not like he's going to say anything about it. Or ever."
"He's your brother, too."
A cold tuft of wind breathed into the two frozen longsnouts, the bright emerald leaves above them trembling to the touch of silence that now settled between them both. As specks of sunlight danced across Fossil's muscular build, the albino longsnout's tail dipped, eyes sinking to the ground in despair. He couldn't respond to Riptide, he did not think there was a need. Deep down, a part of his heart did falter when Riptide called him out on his frustration. And he begged it to be forgotten, but Riptide persisted on, taking a slow step toward the challenged male.
"You won't check if he is okay."
Fossil didn't turn. "He'll walk it off."
"Will he?"
"Stop it," Fossil growled, turning back to lock onto the green and black-coated longsnout. "You snarl at me as if I am always the one to blame. Stop acting like Fintail, you're not him!"
Riptide flared his nostrils, his flesh twitching in reflex. "None of us are like father," he admitted softly. "That is why I need you to step it up and stop acting like the rest of us are burdens."
"I never said I was," Fossil gnarled through his silver fangs. "I still care."
"And Speck?"
"He doesn't love me," the longsnout spat in resentment. "He loves you. You soften up for him when the rest of the world won't. You heed to every whine and complaint; now he latches onto your rear-end like a leech."
"To mu, Fossil. Enough."
"He doesn't deserve attention, Riptide."
Riptide's eyes narrowed. "And you do?"
"I-" Fossil snapped his jaws shut before he could burst. "Stop turning this on me, he's the pathetic buruta that you put on my life, and I'm driving him around like a flea in dung. He doesn't care, so why should I-?!"
ROAR!
Riptide suddenly snapped, rocking the earth of his untamed bellow. That was just enough to startle the albino longsnout a few inches away and allow the eldest control of the fight. Even if he didn't show his submission, that single step back made Riptide's inner heart burst with confidence.
But it burned like hellfire within Fossil's.
There was no exact judgment in what his brain ordered next. Without care, without reason, with no sense of dignity, the albino predator darted forward, jaws jolting wide and aiming right for Riptide's throat. But his carelessness got the better of him — a tingle tail swipe whacked Fossil straight into a tree, dazing him. He tried to push off for another attempt, only for Riptide's own jaws to fasten onto Fossil's neck and squeeze. The two brothers wrestled back and forth, the earth quaking beneath their every step, nature watching intensely from above. Fossil roared and gasped, losing air from the strength of his brother's bite, and started squirming. And once Fossil's guard lowered, the green longsnout kicked away his right foot and slammed Fossil to the ground, trapping him.
They both knew it was over from there. And without any more need to drag it out, Fossil stopped struggling and surrendered to fate.
Satisfied, Riptide relaxed his jaws, licking the blood off Fossil's neck, and stepped away.
"That was stupid."
"Rrr..." Fossil growled from the earth. "It was a lucky shot."
"Lucky?" chirruped Riptide, a smile slowly crawling across his jaws. "Nothing was lucky about that. But I'm glad you tried."
"Well, I will win," panted the albino spino from the ground. "I know I will... eventually."
"But until you do-" Riptide swished his tail tip over Fossil's snout, watching his eyes go cross-eyed. He tried to protest, but the tickling of his snout only made Fossil gasp before sneezing hard. Riptide chuckled, wandering off into the forest with one last say: "I still keep my end of the cave."