"SPECK? SPECK wait!"
Heralding the opposite side of the jungle marched Riptide and his fleeing little brother, Speck. At least to Riptide he looked the part; the storming thuds and whipping white tail made it appear as if the younger spinosaur wanted nothing to do with his brother. And he was right.
Nevermind the injuries from his and Fossil's duel, Speck simply wanted to be alone. His emotions were wavering on the edge of his sanity, and every time a drop tipped his chalice of life, fresh tears would surge at the base of his eyes. And, for a 'brute' whose emotions dictate everything, that was something he couldn't risk Riptide seeing.
"Just — ugh!" Riptide growled, whacking away a branch that slapped into his face before proceeding on. "Speck! Talk to me!"
Speck briefly peeked an eye over his thorny sail, examining the green scaly form of his brother driving past the shifting conifers and back on his tail. He would not quit! So the male darted off the road, quickly maneuvering around several uprooted rocks and under enough low-hanging trees to trap a long-neck in place. He knew no longsnout wouldn't adhere to a path too thick for their sail and face to fit through. And, with the pointed rocks protruding out from the unleveled soil, it would surely leave a mark for his unwanted guest.
He knew Riptide was not that desperate, anyway; a word or two wouldn't matter hours from now, and it shouldn't in anyone's eyes. Nor would this be a caring matter. Speck figured all Riptide wanted was to prove that his actions were well and just. That, through and through, he was the bigger brother because he was there to 'mend his sorrows'.
Speck quickly snarled under his breath. Nothing has ever been that way since Able died.
Once at the base of the small hill, the youngster skidded to a halt and peeked behind him. It didn't look like anything followed. Where the longsnout ran erected a fresh line that split the shrubbery in two, and left a few scraps of loose scales, but nothing more. He waited a little while longer, studying the foliage to ensure his word before exhaling in relief. At long last, Fate had left Speck alone to relieve himself of—
"Phew!"
Speck whirled back around, and his soul plummeted. Just as he feared; an exhausted-looking Riptide stood proudly before him, grinning from fin to fin. His body rocked about, knocking off leaves and earthen meat that smothered his dear face. "W-Wow," he then chortled, out of breath. "You... are faster than I thought..."
Nothing but a grunt was all Speck uttered. He wasn't interested in talking and was already whirling back around to head back the way he came.
"You know I will not stop following you." The older longsnout grunted aloud, deliberately stalking after Speck's bobbing tail. "How else am I supposed to check up on my little brother?"
Speck's legs suddenly buckled; the spotted male staggered forward with a surprised grunt, claws wavering out to hold his footing. That pain he ignored, the one blow by Fossil that touched his abdomen, was growing. Confused, the youngster stumbled into a tree, hissing aloud as he struggled to reorient himself. His eyes shut, both nares flared in desperation for air, and his teeth bared outward as if trying to fend off an invisible foe. It wasn't working. But, just before he could greet the earth, his brother's darkened shape slipped over his neck, catching him by the bulk of his front teeth.
"W-Woah, easy," Riptide growled, easing Speck to the earth. His nostrils contracted, sniffing an all-too familiar scent of liquid metal running down the youngster's legs. The carnivore's eyes widened. "By the stars... I didn't realize he did a number on you. Here..." He slapped the ground with the fin of his tail. "Lay down for me. I'll fix you up."
I'm fine... Speck wanted to growl, suddenly fighting his brother's grip to escape. Riptide sensed this and tightened his jaws, a vicious snarl rippling into his younger brother's body in warning. The pressure and the pain — it all worked in unison in forcing Speck to stiffen up with fear. "Lay down, Speck." ordered Riptide.
There was no debating against that.
Speck obliged wordlessly, hissing as he succumbed to his brother's demands, and surrendered to the ground. Try as he might, there was a small part of him that was glad Riptide was helping, although there was little chance he'd admit it in his presence. Through a small slit of his eye did Speck watch him treat him, first by licking the wounds to ease the leaking blood—
"Hold on."
—Then applying a mysterious plant that smelled like honey. Speck felt his brother's footsteps trail toward his tail end, then toward the right before returning to his side with the scented plant. His nostrils twitched once the familiar scent reached him, and he licked his lips in anticipation. Their mother used this plant often when they were younger, and it always worked wonders. Sick, hurt, scratched, bitten — it didn't matter. Aye, there was no exact name to it, much to their disappointment, but they always knew it by smell, and that's all they needed to know they'd be okay.
A sticky substance suddenly pressed into Speck's side, forcing a sharp growl from his muzzle, then a sigh.
Mrrr... That's a little better. He thought briefly, renewing his focus to watch Riptide. Though the blood continued to ooze from his cuts, the pain had numbed away. They just need time, Speck assumed, watching Riptide apply another strong lick to the space before standing back up. The youngster rumbled his thanks, hoping that was all.
But that wasn't Riptide's only concern.
"Why are you acting like this?"
The longsnout's purrs stopped. Of course, he'd strike up a conversation with the fresh-kill of the family. He really won't leave me alone, will he?
"Speck..." Riptide stepped toward the front of his body, only to watch his brother wheel his head away and snarl. "Talk to me."
Speck scowled again. What would it matter if he spoke his mind to a longsnout who didn't care for his opinion? Let alone a longsnout that could very much hurt him by testing it? It's not like he would listen anyway, He thought, staring off into the distance. He'll dip his tail in a leech-infested lake and call it a sheer inconvenience rather than using his brain. Or blame the innocent little hatchling who warned him over and over again-
No, that's Jagger. Riptide would just find something ancient to say to rouse my spirits. But they have long gone-
"You need to say something," Riptide spoke through his thoughts, pausing briefly to turn to him. "You've shut us out for months. Going to that river and such. Nobody knows what's wrong, not even me. If I'm the problem, then tell me, Speck. Roar at me if you must!"
The poor dinosaur tightened his claws into the earth and bucked his head downward before his heart could give. He won't understand. He forced himself to think. Nobody will. He doesn't deserve your tears; he won't care for them. Just toughen up, or you will become exactly like Fossil sees you to be. He'll leave you alone soon.
But that terrible sensation was returning. Even in his strongest suit, nothing could hold back the flood of emotions rampaging within his saurian heart. Speck tried blinking fast and breathing soft enough for his brother not to notice. He even tried directing his eyes in a different direction. But the longer he listened to him, the deeper his heart went. And the stronger those guilty waves became.
"I... brushed you off last time..." said Riptide as he began siding his resentful brother. "I'm not doing it again unless you tell me what's going on."
Nothing again. Riptide flared his pointed nostrils, briefly staring off into the twinkling forests and sighed. Curse you, Cora, for making me do this, he mouthed to the wind.
"Guess we're sitting here all night—" he plopped onto his underbelly besides the stunned longsnout. "Well... at least this isn't an awful place to rest. It's quiet. I can see what you enjoy it so much."
Speck growled faintly, but didn't stir. With no words to say, and no urgency to run, he was as helpless as he was when Riptide found him. He couldn't snap at his brother either — he mended his injuries. The last thing he could do was hope some wasted time would boost Riptide's disinterest in this endeavor of his. As for Riptide, the elder longsnout fought his every instinct to stand up and walk away; he needed Speck to give him something. Anything. It wouldn't just be useful for his sake or Speck, but for them all.
It may even sever the knot between Fossil and him.
So they sat there in silence, together, watching the world go by ever so slowly. Hearing the soft breaths that slipped from their muzzles and the dead leaves that shifted about under their aquatic tails. Their eyes trailed skyward, seeking the gentle white clouds that grazed the midsummer skies, then north to the twirling emerald leaves that patterned the ancient earth. They inhaled in unison; wisps of earthen musk and flavored needles drew into their lungs, coaxing their bodies and unwinding their spirits. Little bugs fluttered by in the sun's glow, often batting their wings against both longsnouts' scales, but they didn't care. The world was at peace here.
Speck was at peace, too; his tail had finally slumped to the ground, and his muscles eased into the ground as if part of the nature he enjoyed so well. Riptide smiled. It felt good to enjoy a world that welcomed their silence, breathing life as they do themselves. It was precious, so much so that even Speck forgot his brother was there witnessing it with him. He turned his head, realizing Riptide's robust frame, pointed snout, and razor-sharp claws, before returning to himself. His eyes closed, every cell from within relinquishing his withheld emotions that pieced together every inhale and exhale. Riptide listened, thinking Speck was turning his attention away once more to enjoy this moment further.
But he wasn't expecting a voice to follow.
"Spectacle," he said.
A chill suddenly ran down the elder longsnout's sail. Riptide's head dipped to the soft, hoarse voice of his little brother, and tilted, as if in disbelief.
"What?"
"He... named me Spectacle," Speck whispered. "B-Because when I hatched... I didn't look strong enough to survive."
Riptide fully turned to Speck, watching the smaller spinosaur fidget with his claws in embarrassment. His glowing eyes remained low, aware that he was watching, but he spoke on. "Mother said I was his little... 'spectacle'. But I..." Tears soon welled up at the base of his eyes. "I-I don't deserve that name anymore."
The green longsnout's eyes softened. He shifted an inch closer to the whimpering longsnout, but kept quiet and enough of a distance to let the longsnout continue to speak.
Speck sniveled again, coiling his claws deeper into himself in a desperate attempt to relax. But try as he might, even a contempt predator like himself fell victim to the deepest regions of his heart. Even from a distance, I could feel it falter and crack like glass to a foot.
"I spent half my life... b-believing that if I gave up enough happiness to please everyone, I'd feel the same in return."
He paused, looking back down upon his claws as fresh water morphed his vision into a blur. "B-But if I disappeared one day... if I was the one who went, and not Able..."
"We would've searched the ends of the earth for you," Riptide chirped, drawing his tail closer into his brother. "You're no less than any of us. Why would anyone ever give up on you?"
Speck finally turned to him, a mournful whine splitting the tense air between the two males. His body shook again.
"No... no, you wouldn't."
Riptide's heart sank. Whimpering softly, Speck continued rubbing his claws together, struggling to fight back tears. Speck burst into tears, sinking his head to the floor to break down. His body convulsed in agony and he shut his eyes, tears streaming down his face.
"I-I'm not a S-Spectacle..." he wept, "because I will n-never be g-good enough..."
Speck squeezed his jaws shut, sniveling under his breath and shuddering as the emotions took over. It didn't take long for his brother's tail to suddenly work around his body and squeezed in, tight. Speck felt Riptide's upper body pass over him, and a soft, amble pressure suddenly apply to his forehead. A warmth found his body, then a wet, loving lick that brushed over his salted cheek. It only made the poor dinosaur weep louder, snuggling into his brother's arms as he fell apart. Alas, nothing felt more precious than pressing into the embrace of someone you love.
"I didn't know," Riptide muttered, nuzzling his little brother softly. But that was all he could manage -- he was beyond stunned to force anything more.
Riptide swallowed, resting his head against his little brother's skull to feel his hiccups and snivels against his breast. His eyes lowered to the puddle Speck had gazed upon, examining his reflection in the trembling frame, and sighing. He wasn't Fintail. He wasn't the creature who know what to say or what to do; Riptide was only filling a role that was impossible to fathom. Already had Cora and Fossil warned him of his father-figure-like attitude, but he didn't expect it to turn like this. All of his actions were for a reason, a fear he knew, deep down, would come true. But this was one he never saw coming.
"I never wanted to hurt you, I..." Riptide puffed his nostrils out, easing his brother by spooning his tail. "I-I didn't want what happened to Dad and Able to happen to you."
Speck whimpered quietly, burying his face under his brother's shadow. Again did Riptide spoon his brother's flank, feeling his soft shudders easing up against him. The carnivore nuzzled around his neck, taking in Speck's scent while monitoring the puddle that looked him back.
Riptide sighed. "I don't know what I'm doing, either. I thought being Fintail would fill the hole in our hearts... but it's not. If there's anyone to blame for Able's death, it's me. And you..." He closed his eyes. "Maybe I pushed you too far."
Speck didn't react any different. So Riptide adjusted a second time, relaxing his head against his little brother beneath him to talk. "I used to be like you, you know," he breathed. "I wanted to make everybody happy, because it made me feel good inside. But not everybody wants to do the same back. I learned that the hard way. You... you can't go out and please everybody. That's one of the worst ways to lose yourself... believe me."
Speck whimpered, looking away shamefully. His brother scowled under his breath, his deep emerald eyes glowing with interest in his brother's guilt. "I... I understand you're not very outspoken, but saying 'yes' to everything... the world will play you around like a fish in a trap."
"Even if they're older?"
A thought came to his mind, and the elder longsnout scoffed. "If I told you to jump off a cliff, you would do it?"
Speck turned, his eyes wide with confusion. Riptide began to grin.
"Am I wrong?"
Speck shook his head.
"See..." He extended a claw to the speckled dinosaur. "Love and submission should never be the same thing. How are you going to survive if you just want to make them smile... and not you?"
Speck shifted uncomfortably from Riptide's embrace. "Just say that I'm pathetic. I already know I am."
"Are you?" Riptide dipped his head. "You've lost to Fossil twenty times, and still continue to challenge him."
"Because you force me to do it."
"I don't, actually," Riptide grinned. "I only ask. You're the one who keeps agreeing to it."
Speck exhaled shortly, letting his eyes fall back to the ground in silence. Riptide pressed against his shoulder, comforting the little dinosaur beside him.
"I understand if this isn't the life you want," Riptide grunted. "And I'm sorry if I am the cause. But I need you to keep being brave for me. For all of us, now that Able's gone. Fossil's just going to keep pushing you around, and Jagger's still going to come up with stupid ideas that make you feel bad. And I'm going to keep making mistakes. But that's only on the outside, Speck. Don't let anybody change you, you do that yourself."
He leaned forward, licking Speck's cheek and winning a purr from the youngster.
"I love you, Spectacle."
Speck rumbled back. He leaned his head into Riptide's neck, feeling his brother puff up and lick the tip of his snout lovingly. The two nuzzled one another, tails wrapping one atop the other, claws in hand. To the two carnivores, this was more than a show of brotherhood. This was love to its greatest perfection — this was storge at its finest. And the entire world beamed at the sight of it.
"You are always enough for me," his brother whispered, breaking away from the nuzzle, "no matter what. And because of this, I am going to love you and protect you until the end of time."
Speck rumbled in thanks but didn't show it. Truth be told, his mind had wandered elsewhere, to a rather... deeper thought. His claws coiled into himself, and he exhaled a much-needed breath, ready for what was bound to be said. "C-Can I tell you something?" he started quietly.
His elder brother's eyeridge raised. "Of course! What's on your mind?"
Speck inhaled quick, then nodded. "There... there's something I think you deserve to know—"
Both theropods suddenly seized up. Oh no. The slit of their pupils shrunk into oblivion the moment a terrible sensation rippled beneath their underbellies. Without a second to waste, Riptide shifted his body over his brother, holding him down before the instinct to run took command. They only had one warning; a vicious growl echoed the ravine, rattling their spirits into submission.
Then the earthquake struck.
Speck gasped as the ground beneath him rose and fell, rose and fell, jolts and jerks throwing him around like a ragdoll in a hungry storm. The trees above thrashed throughout the waves of chaos, some crumbling to the ground with a lifeless thump. Speck watched the puddles splash violently against their beaches, rocking about with each tremor that passed them by. Ahead, the earth seemed to crack like twigs under the rolling waves. Stones burst like mountains and valleys fell into invisible sockets beneath the surface. But the wrath of the world only began after a terrible scream shot out into the heavens, then an ear-splitting boom. The mountain behind them exploded in a crescendo of rock and smoke, spattering the rolling earth with nature's deadliest blood. The ground shook for a minute longer.
And then everything stopped.
Speck hadn't realized his claws were digging into his brother's scales and loosened them apologetically. Riptide quickly gave him a lick of reassurance, already hearing his whimpers resurfacing from the grave.
"A-Are you hurt?"
Speck trembled in confusion. The ringing muffled his brother's voice, enough to not even hear his words as clear as he'd hope. Speck tried to speak to himself; he still couldn't hear a thing.
"Speck?" Riptide noticed it himself not long after. He tried roaring to his brother, but it made little difference. The ringing prospered, crushing their thoughts, their voices, their feelings, and all. All they knew was shock, and nothing more.
"I've never felt one like this before..."
Once he forced away his fear, Riptide pushed his snout into his brother's abdomen, helping him up. Both of their legs were quaking from the prior disaster, but they tried to surpass it, taking slow steps into the trees. Their eyes peered upward as an ash cloud swelled in the sky, turning the crystal blue day into night. Riptide could only swallow.
We need to get home. Now.