"Wrecker, is it?"
"So you remember that, eh?" The speckled club-tail blinked, swallowing his share of the lush thickets of a leafy bush, "Good to see that your brain is still intact."
"Slightly," I responded, bending my head low as I examined him, "That is your name, right?"
"They call me Wrecker, yes, even though my real name is Wzelkin."
"I prefer Wrecker," I grunted with a smirk, dipping my head as a gesture of respect, "It kind of fits."
"Because I'm a club-tail?" The herbivore snorted in amusement, "I don't find myself living up to that name three-horn. It's cliche, a derivative to my legacy. In any case I'm the exact opposite."
I took another mouthful of ferns and frowned, "How do you mean?"
"Well, Wrecker sounds more violent," He began, twitching his thickened tail as he approached me, "And destructive to all. How can I be such if my heart demands peace? I am not born solely to live impure or unjust. Though in the heat of battle I shall wreak havoc, if I must, but never forevermore."
I swallowed the tasty greenery, exhaling softly in response to his answer, then met his eyes, "I don't think you'd believe such a name could define so much. Names are just ways to better recognize another. It should not be the defining factor-"
"Aye, you speak correctly three-horn," He rasped, "But that is my belief on the subject, and thus I stand firm."
"Look, I hold no name," I grunted back, twitching my tail, "The past may have given me one, one that I may never know. But I act out of righteousness and kindness, and I speak the truth, all the time. And you trust me for that. Even if my name, whatever it is, may stand otherwise that isn't who I am. Your name shouldn't be defining you, friend. It's nothing more than a word."
The club-tail flared his nostrils, studying my eyes, then sighed. His tail thumped for a moment as he thought, before finally snorting hard.
"Fine. Wrecker. Just this time."
I smiled briefly, shaking my three horns side to side and flickered my tail upward.
"Isn't it fitting?"
"Shut-it three-horn, I said just this time," Wrecker growled, thumping his club into the ground in warning. Even though I respected his sudden outlash, mostly out of fear, I could sense a rising arora of joy and amusement out of this conversation. If anything, I felt proud of it, and smiled under my breath.
Despite our confusing start, we made a rather healthy connection with each other. Oftentimes during the day he'd check in on me, not in the way that was generally through greetings, but with cautious gazes. In some way I felt that he cared, unless it was for the herbs he used on me, for his eyes often fixated on the deep wounds that matted my damaged scales.
I could've been mistaken.
The moment hereafter was peaceful, quiet, and calming. Underneath the radiating white star I became accustomed to the rather actionless herd, watching them eat, sleep, play, and conversate. Nobody fought, nobody argued, nobody was overwhelmed with emotions or deprived of it. And, in some way, most of them cared for me. Some of the club-tails had mocking expressions, curious to know what made me different, why I smelled different, why I looked different. Some would chortle, as if unimpressed with my lack of protection, while others would stare in awe at the weapons upon my frill.
Even I didn't quite understand them.
Horns, as they were called, protruded toward the sky like a beacon of light, threatening to impale, yet silent and so humble. Without them, I was helpless. Without me, they could not function. We were together, one and the same. Yet I felt no life from them. It was as if they were missing something.
Something important.
It almost made me forget about what had happened beforehand, what had become of me. Why I was here. And, in truth, what still scares me now. And as I thought back, recalling my awakening, the questions began to grow, the fears began to settle, and my sanity began to tear itself apart. There was a reason, somewhere out there in the shallow, blood-thirsty world that I called home. Somehow I had to find it. Someday.
When my mind began to wrinkle, I turned away from the subject and back to my friend, speaking to his kind, caring for the young and the old as if they were his own. I was fond of his differences, not just the physical comparison of his armored backbone to my three horns, or the hair follicles on the ends of my own tail to his rugged tail tip. Rather it was the moral aspect, his kindness, his generosity. I could see it, even when I wasn't looking, through and through. The harshness of his words were merely made to consult my life, to urge me to live and grow and, well, survive. He had no evil inside him, no desperation as I had, nothing to really seek or gain. It made him innocent in a way, and wise.
And real.
Why can't I hold such a promise? Obtain a unique and honorable character as striking as himself? Alas, he had mended his dark and twisted wounds long ago before his prime, and too had commemorated his long-lost sins. He was ready for him.
I was not.
At least not yet.
And as I began to wander, past the pleasant club-tail herd, through the heralded trees that gleamed of gold and red, and into the unforsaken forest that whispered a strange name, the real reason behind it all began to squeeze at my lungs. The entity that had sought me in the meadowlands had returned, beckoned me to sleep, to submission, to look deep into the empty abyss of darkness within myself, and enter the land of woe. There was a storm brewing inside me, pulsing of broken ideas, shattered words, and crackled visions that I could not seem to revisit. All of it began to surge, and I couldn't understand why. My pace began to quicken as strange waves of emotion suddenly rampaged into my mind, all chaotic and frantic, scratching at my throat with the desire to escape. The wind began to howl the word, a cry into the dying sky, terrified, as I was, and helpless to save it's own skin.
Remember...
Remember...
Remember what you did...
It wasn't long until I came across a shallow river and splashed in, skidding to a halt and slammed my eyes shut. Absorbing the screaming and shouting, the roars and booms, the crackling, hisses, and broken voices that I couldn't explain nor repeat.
"N-No..." I weakly whimpered, shaking my head about, "N-no!"
Explosions sounded everywhere, cracking from below, shattering from above, and the sickening groans of pain and roars of an inevitable death. I whimpered loudly, scratching at the water that began to tremble beneath my paws, and rocked hard, unable to take it all in.
And let out a terrible roar.
The birds in the trees panicked, flapping away into the pink skies as my roar died down. And just as it had come, the pent up tension vanished.
And I was left alone into the river, weeping in silence. I could feel the tears form and fumble, even with my eyes still closed. I felt no pain, no fire, no anger. Then why did I cry? I couldn't say. But it wasn't something I was foreign to. It was a familiar feeling, an upsetting one. One entitled to remorse.
One born through mourning.
"Are you alright?" A female voice suddenly called, drawing me back into reality as I stared down at my own rippling reflection. The water was shifting, as was the ground, and for a moment I thought a tremor had begun without warning. But no sooner than I did a large long face slowly came into my view above me, and the vibrations I had feared paused. I weakly gazed up into the sky, now shielded away by the huge creature that had taken its place, and gaped my beak.
What is this? I wondered softly as my nostrils flared, What behemoth of a creature stands before me, concerned with my sorrows? The odor was unrecognizable, the wrinkled appearance even more lacking to me, which, in truth, made it all the more interesting. I noticed the female didn't have the armor or lumpy end of a club-tail, the swords of a three-horn, nor the speckled claws of a raptor. I had to assume the obvious of the beast, most generally based on her long neck stretching afar into the cold emptiness that surrounded us both.
I was so enamored by her acute size that I never realized she had posed a question, and through stammered, fumbling words I quickly, and faintly, answered:
"I-I'm okay. I'm just...taking a moment..."
"Three-horn, you screamed as if you were being attacked," She muled, stepping dangerously closer, her huge feet churning up waves much wider than my entire body, "I suspected a fight to be stirring here. But here you are...scarred, yes, but very alone. This is strange to find...And you're crying..."
"Oh, I..." I grunted with amusement, sniveling as I shook my head clean of the droplets, "I'm okay, I swear-"
"Are you certain?"
I heard those words before. My friend had said it, not too long ago. Urging me to speak about my sorrows, about my grievances. Begging me to tell him the truth. And I hadn't.
Now, I gazed up at her, my eyes wide with fear. She looked so imposing and threatening, yet her soothing, dire voice spoke like a stream of sadness and care, as did her small smile of wonder. She appeared entrusting too. Just like Wrecker. And to that avail I shook my head exposing the truth.
"No," I weakly answered, "No...I'm not."
"No?" Her eyes widened, "Isn't that stranger? Seeing a sympathetic three-horn befuddled by emotions is nothing short of rare in these parts."
"Rare?"
"Indeed. Or have you no knowledge? You brutes are fighting endlessly, battling like ants over a leaf throughout the mating season, demanding a sense of rule and purpose-" she sucked her teeth thrice and shook her head, "If you even had the slightest bit of normalcy inside that little reckless little frill of yours maybe you'd make some sense. But all you selfish bulls do is fight, and demand. And fight again."
"I...didn't know," I muttered, confused all the same.
"But," She sighed quietly, "I could be wrong. You don't appear as demeaning and as selfish as the others I've encountered. You sound different. You seem different."
"I feel different," I muttered softly, dipping my head as a reflex, "Though I cannot say as to what this difference is. I have nothing quite true to compare myself to."
"What is your name, little one?"
I flare my nostrils, shaking my head again before lowering myself down into the cold shallow rushing river beneath me.
"I don't have one."
"You were never named?" The female reared her head back with concern, "Goodness-"
"N-not like that, I...I just can't remember."
I leaned in close for her to look, pointing my claw at the large bulge beneath one of my horns. She lowered down through a groan, humbly and gracefully, then sniffed at it, slow and steady, and just at enough distance to catch a hint of blood. After a brief moment she lifted only her neck back up to her normal height, and cooed.
"I've seen cases like yours before, little one," she rumbled soothingly, "We called it Frog Lumps: the awful name courtesy of my inventive mate's brain. Happens to our elders when they don't know where to properly step. And, just like the bumps of a frog, they grow, swelling up with their knowledge as they lose theirs. I don't know where he came up with it, that silly little beast. He finds the humor in everything. I guess that's what makes him special."
I chuckled slightly, lowering down to the ground and sighed, listening in to the melody of the river, and the faint beating of my shattered heart. Once again the black void inside surged to the basin of my throat, constricting it as I sought a painful breath, and just as before I thought back to the grasslands from before, reviewing the memory. Recalling the sickening roars and cries, the moans and groans, and the screaming...
As if a horn had been put to my throat, all I could do was accept this revolting treatment and suffer in the wake of it's might. It'd grow stronger and stronger, like a virus, destroying all the senses I had left, until there was only one: agony. And, despite only meeting the long-neck, I broke down in front her, tearing up like a hatchling beneath the shadow of his mother.
"I don't know what to do..."
She didn't respond, only gazing down at me as she listened in.
"I've forgotten everything," I whimpered on, "My name, my herd, my family...if I ever had one. I've lost it all. But through these past few days I feel this...thing...pulling me back. Wanting me to remember. And I hear it, even still. The screaming, the crying, and the roars. They sound so distant, so helpless and pained...and broken. And the more I try to avoid it, the stronger it becomes..."
"Those are memories, three-horn," She whispered, "They're returning to you. But, by the sounds of it, you appear to be avoiding it altogether. Why?"
"I'm scared," I trembled, closing my eyes, "I'm...so scared...to look back, or even take a peek. I hear these things, these horrible voices, and I beg the skies to take them away, as far away as possible. So I could never hear them again. But they just come back, everytime, crying out for me. I...I don't want to succumb to it."
"Why not?"
"Because I..." I'd scrunch my eyes shut as another tear tumbled down my cheek, exhaled hard, then whimpered out my answer, "I think I did something terrible. All of it is coming to the surface, and... I don't know how to stop it..."
The long neck lowered her head toward me, watching me shiver and sob upon the grounds of the trickling river and nuzzled my cheek once, comforting me for a moment before pulling away, allowing me to open my eyes and gaze into her own.
"I understand your sentiment three-horn," She muttered, "You want to know, but you're afraid of what it can hold. You're afraid to accept. But, I fear you have to, one way or the other."
"H-How could you believe that?"
"The past, well, it's a place of sorrow," She began, "A place of guilt, of anger, and of mistakes. A place of death, a place of life, a place where things weren't as they seem. We've all suffered something back there, and when it grows on us we try to forget. It would become evident enough that the past is never forgotten. And like time itself, it never dies. That's why fighting it, like you are, won't make a difference."
"You want me to just accept it?"
She nodded, "Not all at once. Let it in slowly, like the flowing water beneath your claws, or the air that fills your lungs. Yes, it will scare you, it will upset you. It may even anger you. But the past is only here for us to learn from. It's never there to break us, because it can't hurt us anymore."
"That is true, yes. But how can you be so certain?"
"You're not the only one who's gotten frog lumps, little one," She chortled, "I had mine when I was younger. Scared for weeks on end when I finally understood that long-necks can swim. And, humorously, the ones following me every day were in fact my brother and two sisters. I used to think they were imposters, and even they went along with it. The silly numbsacks they were."
"How'd it happen to you?"
A crooked smile curled on her face as she thought back, "My brother thought it was a good idea to challenge me. And, at the time, I figured why not. He hit me on my forehead with a rock. My parents were furious at him, but alas, he got away, as always."
I grimaced at the thought, "Lucky."
"He was, yes," She sighed, looking up to the heavens, "Bastard was always clowning with me. I feel like he still is to this day...even though I know he's in a better place now."
I noticed her eyes shimmer and close, pulling back down from the skies to gaze at me, and, like Wrecker, her eyes examined the scars that riddled my body completely.
"Do you know what happened to yourself?"
I shook my head, "I do not. I have my suspicions, but it could be wrong. It's something I'm bound to find out, eventually."
"Don't you worry three-horn, it'll come," she grunted, "It'll just take time. And when it does arrive, let it in freely. It's a lot less painful than taking it all in."
"But what if it never comes?" I suddenly questioned, "What if it just teases me, as it has been doing for the past few days?"
"The length of time for a frog lump is uncertain. Mine took weeks. Yours, given how bad your skull is damaged, it could take longer. But if you wish for the truth, faster than the time given, I would suggest you follow us. There's a place, hidden in the mountains that we often visit. There, you can meet my friend Dreamcatcher. If it's the past you seek, all of it for that matter, he should be a helpful tool."
"Dreamcatcher?" I frowned, the name completely unfamiliar, "What is he?"
"A flyer," She would rasp, "We call them nightbreakers. They're more intelligent than us both, able to see things we can't, able to decipher dreams and nightmares. We travel to them every migration just to see if our future will hold its own. It's why we live so peacefully, without a worry in the world."
My sights gazed down at the soothing cold river before me, watching my reflection shiver under the slight ripples of the current, and felt my heart heave slightly. It too was disoriented, unclear, and brisk. And just like me, it too was broken. Maybe, just maybe, what she speaks of is true. There were no lies in her eyes, no fears to show, nothing of the sort. If anything, she had given me a real option, one that was enticing enough to accept.
Before I could speak further, a strange tremor began to start beneath me. I gazed at the watery ground, growing concerned as the shaking worsened, to the point where the water around began to shiver in fright. I hadn't the clue as to what was going on - perhaps a quake was my initial guess. But when the long-neck before me sighed with annoyance, perhaps recognizing this tremor as one of her own, my heart sank when the shadowed thunderous outcry of a male long-neck came charging into view, his enormous steps jolting the earth beneath me, and his eyes wild enough that I could see my own death in their reflection.
"Get away from her!" He roared, crashing into the river. I yelped, toppling over to my side as he trampled over my body, and if that wasn't worse, his huge flattened foot managed to find me, pinning me down long before I had the chance to understand what had happened. There was a slight pause in all of this where I exhaled, searching for a way out, only to find that he was pushing down upon me, his enormous weight and strength now being used as a weapon to crush me into pulp.
"O-okay, okay! I submit!" I cried out, feeling the huge foot beginning to press down on me. Even though it was simply a little bit of strength given, the pressure was enormous, creaking in my bones, my muscles, and all the organs inside me, enough to the point where I roared out in frantic horror, and in agony.
"Rumble!" She growled sharply with a lash of her tail, "Back away from the three-horn. I was having a pleasant conversation with him."
"You have pleasant conversations with other species?" He frowned, his foot still pressed against me, "Is that why you keep wandering off?"
"I wander off to eat in peace, because you loud-mouths can't seem to keep your throats shut about females. And perhaps this is the first impressive talk I've had that I've truly enjoyed."
"What's wrong with talking while eating?"
"Seriously, Rumble, step off the three-horn..."
"Why not? It's my job to keep everyone away from all dangerous creatures, no matter what they are," He grunted, leaning his head low toward me. Despite him not having the sharp teeth of a sharp tooth, or the claws of a raptor, his beady eyes were enough to scare me, to the point where I simply whimpered out my excuse to not die.
"I got clawed, scratched, snagged, broken, and killed by two alphas already," I whimpered, "Please, I really don't want to get pummeled by a third."
"Seems like you're an herd-leader magnet," the long-neck amusingly muttered from above, moving his foot away from my underbelly, "Is it because you keep talking to females?"
The female long-neck struck her mate with a swish of her tail, knocking him back and finally allowing me to inhale a huge lungful of oxygen.
"That's not funny."
"It is true though," He grumbled, gazing at his new bruise courtesy of her quick actions, "The females are lovely each year, and everybody wants to mate with one. Oftentimes it's the fighting that decides the true victor. I would've figured the three-horn himself would know of such play."
"I don't...actually."
"And I doubt that is how you found me," She rumbled, leaning her head inward and batted her eyes, "If anything you did the exact opposite and asked me that moonlit night like the little soft charmer you are."
"I..." The long-neck, Rumble, curled his tail inward, unable to turn away his shyness, "I mean I would've fought, if it had to be done-"
"Right. I like your toughness Rumble, as a herd leader, but to females, it's anything but that. Alas, this is a conversation for later, are you alright?"
"Yes," I finally grunted, shakily stepping back up to all fours in the shallow river, "Thank you."
"Where's your herd?" Rumble grunted to me, "It's strange enough to see you out here all on your own. This is long-neck territory. And the carnivores usually come here to feast."
"I..."
"He's simply strolling," She answered for me, lifting her head high to face him, "I engaged first."
"Oh, very well then," He flared his nostrils, "If you posed no threat then...I apologize for almost killing you for no reason. I'd just hate for anything to happen to her, or to anyone for that matter. I'll leave you to it, but Thyrah," He tilted his head to her, "Please come back. I think the others need you. Besides, we're gathering up to leave soon. We need all long-necks on deck."
She nodded, showing a brief smile, "I'll be there. Just give me a few more minutes. And with a simple nod, Rumble lumbered away, leaving the both of us, once again, alone together under the blue southern skies. I had faltered upon the hearing of Rumble's words, realizing that she was indeed leaving.
"I didn't expect it to be this early."
"We prepare for whatever happens," she chuckled, "The earlier the better. No need to deal with those flesh-eating sharp teeth or the little raptors. No need to brush through those terrible whitestorms. The first snow is oftentimes the worse, so we avoid it altogether. Sometimes that means being the first to the warm lands. If you head over with us, you'll see why."
"But Rumble-"
"He wouldn't mind," she cooed, "Besides, I'm tougher than him anyway."
I smiled briefly, bound to accept, before recalling my other friend: Wrecker. The club-tails thrived on behind me, as did him, and seeing me leave like this, let alone this early was shocking enough. He loved being with me, helping me, caring for me, being as good as any ordinary friend. And with that set in mind, I felt my heart give way, and sighed.
"I can't. At least, not now."
"Oh?"
"I have a herd right now, with the club-tails. They're looking after me for the meantime."
"Well, I won't argue with that," the long-neck purred, "They are protective. Not as large as we are but, still, defenders. And I respect that."
"Thank you."
"But if you ever change your mind, or wish to meet the flyers, do follow us," She cooed, slowly shifting away, "In a few days time we should be at the mountain pass. It's not too far from here, but you must catch it quickly. Word is that mountains are stirring again, which is why we're leaving so early."
"Understood," I grunted, "But how do I find you?"
"We tend to leave a trail," She grinned.
Before I could frown, her foot had lifted upward slowly, then slammed down hard. Even though the river had cushioned the slam, the ground beneath me still shook like a leaf in the wind, shifting both the rocks and the water itself. I had jolted yet again from the sudden tremor, but from where her foot landed a large crater, a footprint if you will, left in its wake.
"By feeling, by scent, or by sound, you'll know it when you find us. That is, if you choose to leave with us three-horn."
I felt my mind wander when she said those words, thinking back to Wrecker and his own herd. What would he say if I did leave? What would he think of me? If anything, taking a risk, as such, would mean losing the very creature that had saved me in the beginning. And I knew he'd be heartbroken if he discovered my intentions. Nevertheless, I dipped my horned head in acknowledgement toward the old long-neck, and smiled.
"I will consider it. Thank you...that means a lot."
"Don't mention it," She purred, moving further and further away, "Thyrah is the name! Come find me when you're ready. We'll be waiting."
I smiled, watching the long-neck vanish from sight.
And just as it had been, an hour before, the silence lifted.
And I was alone, beneath a setting sky.
'Accept the past,' I recalled her orders to me, looking into the darkness of the forest, 'Let it flow freely like the water beneath your claws, or the air that fills your lungs.'
'Accept the past....'
'Accept it...'
"I hope you're right Thyrah," I whispered to myself, turning back around and heading toward the club-tail herd.
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I awoke in the darkness.
Nay, this wasn't death's doing, for had it been I wouldn't be able to feel, or breathe. But this darkness was welcoming and memorable, and as I stood there, confused and lost, I felt a strange shiver rush through my body like an electrical current, forcing me to turn my head left.
Where a strange three-horn stood waiting.
The female, as I would soon realize, was as still as I was, watching me with curious eyes, sniffing my scent from afar, and filled with fear. But as I approached, hoping to better see this creature, her vision began to fade away, until, like my memories themselves, became a blurry, fizzed out creation of herself. I felt heartbroken to see a memory turn into this. If anything it made me feel even more lost and hopeless than I already had been. But in the grand scheme of things, I tried to make the best of what was given, and grunted in my native call.
She did the same, gazing at me still.
I repeated the three-horn call, staring at her horns, one in which seemed shorter than the other, perhaps from a fight. She snorted and shook her head from side to side, then nuzzled my flank as if accepting. Why did this feel real? Familiar even? As if I had done this before?
"I..." I wandered around her, examining her blurry image, even sniffing her scent from the backside, which to no avail brought up anything. Consumed with fear, I circled back to the front of the concealed three-horn, looking into her eyes and leaned inward, "I think...I know you."
I leaned in closer, pressing against her soft beak and tried searching her eyes, which were darkened by the emptiness that surrounded us. I pulled away a bit, the fear factor rising inside me and let out a soft whimper.
"Please..." I begged, "Tell me something."
The creature took a soft step forward, pressing her claw upon the top of my beak.
Before letting out a horrific scream.
I jolted awake in the darkness, my head swinging upward with frantic eyes of fear. But as I looked around, I began to notice that most of the club-tails were either roughly sleeping, or as wide-awake as I was. I tilted my head, still breathing hard, and noticed Wrecker standing besides me, his face staring off into the distance at the hidden darkness ahead.
"Wrecker?"
"It's alright, three-horn," Wrecker grunted, thumping his tail softly in anticipation, "I heard it too."
Another howl of the night echoed the valley, followed by more heavy grunts and vibrations from a pounding through the ground. It was as if a brawl was afoot, or perhaps a chase. I frankly couldn't tell in this darkness. I kept my head low, listening to the wild noises afar and grimaced softly.
"What is it?"
"There's no scent," The club-tail answered, "And the voices are distorted. Thus, I cannot say dear friend. But Shocker is looking around, so no need to fret tonight. If anything, it may be a hunt. The sharp teeth lumber about often in these pitiful woods."
"Sharp teeth?"
The club-tail nodded, "Ever fought one before?"
I shook my head, "Not that I can recall. I mean, I can't recall anyway."
"Ah yes," The club-tail pointed at his head with a smirk, "I forgot. But yes, the sharp teeth have a large territory not far from here. We always stay clear of it, it's crawling with them, like the bugs they are."
A small smile curled on my beak as I listened, dipping my head to his statement, "Have they ever attacked?"
"Thrice," He rasped, before another wild roar split the air between us. He swallowed for a second, looking behind him into the darkness, then turned back to me, "Thrice...yes. They...they don't take us for granted. See us as easy pickings, especially to the young ones. That always seems to be the norm of things, that predators overrule prey. But it's never that simple. Aye, we aren't stronger, nor are we as vicious, or as gifted as they are, but we are damn smarter. That's what makes us win, everytime."
"What about the raptors?"
"The raptors...huh..." He trailed off, clicking his maw, "I can't say dear friend. They're never this far north. And we've never fought them off as a herd. You, on the other hand, fought off a whole pack on your own. I find that impressive."
"I was being defensive, Wrecker," I snorted, tilting my head slightly, "They sought my hide first, long before I ever had the chance to prepare myself. Which makes me wonder too."
"Why wonder?"
"Usually these carnivores, the ones you speak of, track down their prey to simply hunt and kill. They travel in groups, in numbers, in packs. But when these raptors came at me, they weren't exactly at their strongest. There were only three. And when they found me, they looked surprised. And, with what you said, they never go this far north. It doesn't add up. To think that they'd come this far just to kill me, with such little strength in numbers. Either that or they found me this way. But, going this far is a stretch."
"Indeed," the club-tail flared his nostrils, "But if what you speak of is true, then there must be a reason."
"Yes," I grunted, thinking back to the lead raptor's faint words from yesterday, "There must be."
There was yet another cauter-waul that caught our attention, echoing the ravine several times, before finally falling quiet. The both of us laid still, watching and waiting within the darkness for something to arrive. But nothing had. In fact, nothing ever would.
The club-tail sighed, lowering his head to the ground and curled his tail around himself through a chest rumble.
"It's quiet, for now. I recommend you get some rest. You're tired."
I snorted with resentment, "As if you can tell."
"I can," He grunted, eying me from the ground, "Your eyes are red, and your head is bobbing. Now sleep."
I held my head firmly, not even realizing that I was losing myself. And, when all my focus locked onto my eyes, I realized that they too were burning up in the coolness of the night. Truth be told, I felt calmed, relaxed even, and with my tail still, my wounds stagnant, and no danger in sight, what better feeling to have than the notion of sleep?
All I could do was scoff briefly. He was much smarter than I realized. I decided to follow his orders: curling myself around in a comfortable position and lowering my head to the smooth earth, careful to point my horns away from his body. From the ground, I locked my gaze into the distance...
And waited.
Minutes had passed as I stared off into the void of the forest, the emptiness of the area growing like fungi within my soul. Why did I expect something to arrive? What was I expecting anyway?
What did I really fear?
As I began to drift away with the whispers of sleep calling from the darkness, a strange new smell began to waft into my nostrils. A scent I knew far too well, a primal one in fact.
The richest aroma of blood.