Hybrids: An Indoraptor Story ✓

Hunter-Gatherer [Pt. 2]

||𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟏8𝐭𝐡, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟎||

"You were up late, Tangerine Corps."

"Huh?"

"Last night," repeated the bearded Owen Grady, who hobbled beside the wandering trainer with a smile on his face.

Which was odd.

But, just to make amends to it, he adjusted the strap on his gun in order to appear more friendly and puffed out his chest to put a stride in his step. In all honesty (to Click) it didn't help much; the poor male's confidence still took a skinny dip into his deeply hidden fears. So he sighed aloud.

"Couldn't sleep."

"Saw that," Owen scoffed, "Bold of you to take one of their dogs."

"What?"

"Don't worry, I didn't tell. Just curious, that's all. And a light sleeper, too."

Of course he was spying on me, Click thought to himself. He shouldn't have expected anything different; no secret escapes a military person, especially if it wages with their interests Still, Click kept his facial expressions as unorthodox as possible; he couldn't show Owen his true intentions.

"Borrowed."

"Yes. Jake's Moffery's dog, he named him Granger."

"Hm," Click's eyes widened with wonder, now focused on the German Shepard he took out a day ago. "He seemed more like a 'Six' to me." Turning back to Owen's untimely stare, Click forced down a swallow, and answered him.

"Thought I had a trail on something," he replied. "Could've been an edmontosaurus herd. They-" Click waved a hand in a circle, "-probably trekked around these regions. And, judging by the footprints I found near the highway a few miles west of us, they were here. A while ago, but still here."

"You didn't let us know?"

"Everyone was asleep. And, as it seems right now, we're walking in the wrong direction."

"Oh," Owen's eyes lowered. "Did you at least change the tracks for the dog, then? So we don't walk off somewhere?"

"Um... yeah," Click answered weakly, confused about the question. "Yes. But... I'm sure we'll find something better where we're going."

Owen snorted, nudging Click playfully. "Yeah, I'm sure."

Upon offering the raptor trainer a solemn grin, Click watched Owen wander back ahead toward the rest of the strolling group. Leaving Click just enough time to stall himself back to Jameson, who now weighed a massive backpack over his shoulders.

"Jesus, Tom," he wheezed. "Can we switch? This is killing me."

"You'll live," he slapped the top of the bag with his hand, winning a groan out of the pained male, "it's just a backpack."

"Full of stupid dinosaur-traps!"

"Hey... at least you're pulling our weight for this trip," he snorted with a wink. "My dear hero; thank you for your service."

"Oh shut-up," Jameson grunted. Looking ahead to make sure of the massive gap between the group and themselves, he turned to Click and whispered: "He talked to you, didn't he?"

"He spied on me yesterday, yes," Click growled, flipping his own rifle down to examine. "Which I hate. But... I should've expected it, that nosy sailor--"

"He seems too buff to be a sailor, he could've been something else."

Click frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"