CORA WAS a rather fascinating creature to study. She wasn't like most of her kin — the shrewd males who regularly bumped heads with one another, or those needy females — like her dear sister, Ripple — who relentlessly sought other longsnouts in the blazing heat of the swamp. Still, any male would see Cora to be a physical wonder, no less; her bright turquoise splotches and black web-like markings made her glisten in the dark, alongside a few small specks of pink dredged above her massive sail. Added with her build — from the muscular bulk of her torso to her rounded hips — no male longsnout would resist taking the leap to impress her. But, oddly enough, it was her imagination that outweighed her instincts, so much so that embracing nature was no longer her passion.
It was art.
She didn't know it had a name. Nor did she care if she had an audience — though I begged to differ whenever I came across the humble longsnout at work. Yes, it wasn't as extraordinary as humanity would soon show millions of years ahead of her time, but it was still entertaining.
At the moment, Cora was drawing strange lines with a pointed stick in the mud, rounding backwards and forwards, slashing high strikes, then waving low. Her sapphire eyes would widen and wane, a deep purr emanating from her throat as the painting grew in size. Soon the cut extended further, longer, splitting into systems, channels turning into tendrils, tendrils into thinner lines until she could no longer draw. Once her arm settled, the female longsnout took a step back and lifted to two hind legs, admiring her work from above.
It looked like a dead tree. Perhaps one that overgrew its roots or tumbled over in a rainstorm? It looked eerie, especially with the weird rounded oval she marked at its base. Cora scoffed, lowering back down and wiping her design away with one quick swish of her tail. She then planted both claws into the mud. It was cool to the touch, squishing and popping like the bubbles of a lava pit, yet smooth against her scales. No wonder most mammals enjoyed bathing in this treatment — she would've done the same had the summer sun been relentless.
But what mud offered more than just the freshness of its flesh were signs. The warming of the earth, the cooling of the air, the changes in pressures, seasons, and scent.
Even the warning of predators.
The mud began to tremble not long after this thought came to show. She felt it; the heavy thuds of a giant lumbering oaf rippled through her fin. But it didn't bring about fear — for one, her enormous size would make any predator turn away. And, for two, she could identify this predator by heart, and snorted in appraisal once his scent caught onto her nostrils.
"If you're looking for me, I am over here!"
"Oh!" Riptide, her eldest brother, suddenly poked his green head through the ferns and gawked proudly at the female. "Cora! I didn't expect to find you here!"
"I come and go," she smiled, noticing a strange set of injuries marked on his hide. "You seem to be busy."
"And you seem to be enjoying yourself," he purred back, quick to notice her muddy claws. "Not that I'm here to interrupt your... whatever you're doing."
"I am still not so sure what to call it yet," Cora said, licking her chops as she waded back to the rockier grounds where Riptide stood. "I will make up something when enough time has passed. But, you're not here for me, are you?"
"No." Riptide's tail twitched from behind. "Have you seen Speck? I've been following his scent for a while. He definitely strolled through here, but I have yet to see a trail."
"Not that I know of..." Cora's head whirled around in circles; the forest looked the same in every direction. It even smelled the same: the rich overturned earth, the dead leafy residue in the mud, and the sour streaks of yellow tree sap polluted the surrounding air. Not to mention the bugs, too — they nagged at her neck, those bloodthirsty vermin.
But that wasn't the whole point. The female imagined finding Speck would be easy, but not even she could see through the thick haze of jungle, let alone sniff out an odor. She figured dismissing Riptide would be the more viable option. Then again, it would be foul to leave her brother with nothing to work with. So she replied: "He might be by the river."
"The river?"
"Yes!" she chirped. "That is usually his safe space to sulk around if things ever turn south."
The green longsnout frowned at first. His pointed snout grazed over his right shoulder to peek upon the churning emerald forest before returning to Cora, perplexed. "How do you know more about that than I do?"
"Oh, he doesn't tell any of us," Cora grinned a toothy grin, "but I just know. I'm observant. He always has that leafy musk on him whenever he travels there. At some point, things become predictable."
Riptide sighed. "Hrrr... Right."
Cora's eyes lit up. That sigh was just enough to provoke an upheaval of worry into the female's dear soul. I sensed it, too — there was something in Riptide's voice that felt off. For Cora, it was natural to recognize the emotions of any male, and not soon after she saw the sudden doubt flood over Riptide's face was she quick to question it.
"Did... something happened?" she asked. Riptide growled, both claws folding — right over left — and huffed out a breath of steam. He was hesitant. Worrisome, too. Cora could smell his uneasiness rising like the smoke of a volcano, and quickly draped her tail over her brother's, urging him to speak. It worked somewhat — had it not been drenched with mud, maybe he would've appreciated her kindness more. Rumbling quietly, Riptide stared into her bright eyes for a second of solidarity, exhaled, then glanced away.
"Do you think I'm being too hard on him?"
"On who? Speck?" Cora blinked in surprise. "Trust me, you're the last sibling who's gotten on his bad side. It's Fossil and Jagger who are the problem."
"It's not just that..." Riptide fumbled over the words. "Ever since... father died, and mother stopped... helping, I-" He sucked another round of air through his teeth. "I've... tried to help him grow out of his scales. And after what happened today, I feel like I am just forcing him back into it."
"What-" Cora stopped short, her snout wrinkling upward with shock. "You made him spar again? With Fossil?"
Riptide groaned wordlessly, lowering further into his sister's shadow. "It... sounded like a good idea. At first."
"Curse the stars." Cora's turquoise jaws tightened. "I am not the one to judge decisions in our pack, but this was perhaps the worst. He may be the same age as us, but he's still our little brother. And throwing him into the pit like that, especially with Fossil!"
"I know, I know." The longsnout pushed the blunt, scaly end of his claws against his snout, trying not to reveal his building embarrassment. "Kafra, I wasn't thinking straight, Cora. I keep making things worse..."
And then her heart sank. As did Cora's streaking blue tail, which now drooped alongside every being of her crippled confidence. She was always close to Riptide; their conversations and inner spirits were as equal to the blood running deep within their veins. Cora was his shoulder angel, as he would be to hers. But hearing him degrade himself before her very eyes frightened her more than anything ever had. She didn't know what to do. Or what to say. Or how to resolve this hopeless challenge that burned a grave into Riptide's heart. And, as his younger sister, she felt it, too.
She could hear his heartbeat slowing and caught his grey eyes sinking even lower to the earth. The energy within was dissipating faster than the smile on his snout, and he sounded less level-headed than he used to be.
Simply put, less happy.
He was going to whimper, Cora could tell. But she didn't need to think twice to recognize the blight unfolding in his life. She knew, as the eldest of the clutch, there was a responsibility to maintain, not just for oneself but for the pack. And, as pack leader, you stand for everything — tradition, leadership, honor, trust, even the littlest of promises. Riptide was the first — the epitome of his father's wishes, and the beacon of his mother's dreams. But he was also vulnerable, stubborn, caring, too — and only now was it starting to show.
Cora's eyes widened; Maybe this was a good start to try and solve his insecurity. She was the second oldest, she could help!
"Hey," Cora motioned her snout just low enough to nuzzle the flesh under Riptide's snout. "Just because father is gone, and mother is sick, doesn't mean you have to take their place. You're our brother, too."
"The eldest of the clutch, no less," Riptide admitted with a faint smile. "Mother always called me the bravest for being the first out of the egg."
"And you still are."
Riptide then swallowed. "I just have this terrible feeling that something bad is going to happen. Soon. I-I don't want to lose anyone else in this family."
"You won't. We have each other, and you have us."
"Hmph. Tell that to Fossil and Jagger. And Ripple."
Cora groaned. She almost forgot about her younger sister's constant disappearances. But she didn't have to wonder for long. All of a sudden, a faint roar rattled the stilled air that settled between them, winning a gasp out of the male and a groan out of the female. Just the thing Cora needed to ruin her day.
"Curses. That's my cue," the female scowled, fully stepping out of the mud. "She probably threw herself over that hidden cliff again."
"Is that right?" laughed the longsnout, bowing his snout and shoving Cora by her hip, almost knocking her into the mud. Cora gasped, her talons scrambling for the earth to hold fast. Confused, she then looked back at Riptide's wide-eyed gaze. Her heart fluttered.
"No."
"Yes!"
"No, no!" she yelped as he ran into her, toppling the female into the mud with him. The cool earth splattered all over her and Riptide's scales, turning them both into dark rolling shapes of chaos, but neither one cared. They wrestled against each other, Riptide playfully nibbling on her sail, while Cora growled, struggling to escape his gnawing teeth. Eventually she broke from his grasp — both jaws fastened onto his calf just as her feet found solid earth. Lifting upward, she hurtled her brother off balance and back into the swampy depths with one massive splash. By the time Riptide resurfaced, Cora was laughing hysterically on the surface.
"Haha! H-How did I beat you?!"
"Y-You-" Riptide growled, unable to lift himself from the weight of the sloshing soil. "Rrr... I played easy!"
"Sure you did! Here-" she reached down, her jaws soon sinking into the fragile scales of his green-tipped tail, and pulled back, drawing the embarrassed male back to solid ground. Riptide grunted, continuing to brush off the mud, but it didn't seem to match the sudden annoyance that grew when her tail slapped another wave of mud into his face. Riptide groaned.
"That isn't fair."
"Because a female flipped you on your back like a turtle?" Cora clicked. Riptide rolled his eyes.
"Had it been on land-"
"It would've ended the same, I know."
"What?"
She then drew toward him, rubbing her snout against his neck to take in his scent, and nuzzled the space behind his head, just as Riptide would do for her. To my knowledge, this was a longsnout's way of showing love, an act only Riptide and Cora, and their youngest siblings, seemed to hold on to. Storge, as you humans call it, is not the intimate love you share when two mates draw to one another, but the one you feel when you embrace the warmth of your family and friends. It's an emotion unlike any other — unbroken, unpained, untamed by any mortal enemy. While others give into futility, few press on, preserving their compassion for as long as they could manage. So the two youngsters tickled each other's scales for a time, rumbling and cooing, laughing and grunting, before Riptide broke even, licking her snout in thanks.
"W-We'll be okay, right?" he then asked, the worry quickly retiring to his eyes. "All of us?"
The muddy turquoise longsnout looked down at him and smiled. "I'm sure of it."
"Even mother?"
"Especially mother."
"And Speck-?"
"Yep."
"Fossil?"
"Maybe."
"Jagger, too?"
"Alright-" she suddenly bit into his shoulder, much to his chagrin, and shoved him right back into the pit.
"I knew you would- Mmph!" Riptide plunged head-first into the mud again, leaving his tail flapping erratically in the air. Cora laughed to herself, watching her older brother escape the pit, a snarl rising upon his brown-splattered face. "Arrrr... Great."
"At least you know where to wash yourself!" Cora giggled, pointing her finned tail toward the river. Riptide couldn't help but moan.
"You're annoying."
"Always," Cora chuckled, licking his snout one more time, Riptide doing the same. And, as Riptide struggled back out of his failure, Cora hobbled away, wondering what madness life had in store for her.