FINTAIL

𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍

⋯•● ONE WEEK LATER ●•⋯

THE GENTLE forest suddenly stirred to a tremor in the earth. Bristles beneath the aged conifers jostled up and down, giving in to the weight of two predators locked in battle. Below, rodents and bugs of all sorts fled to the shrubbery for cover, nearly crushed by the savage stomps and tail whips of these grave challengers. I, an observer to the rarest circumstances, was fortunate enough to be spared from these terrors, contentedly watching from above. For safety reasons, of course. And, more or less, for the pleasure of entertainment.

Flashes of silver and obsidian sparred for dominion in the heat of the morning sun — skulls grinding against bone, fangs nipping scales, claws and jaws bashing against the flesh that preserved their worth. From above, I could feel the thuds and booms of their dispute, like mini earthquakes leveling the surrounding earth. Their roars shook the mighty morning sky again and again, frightening the birds and any prey that looked to travel this way.

Such chaos would terrify even the most belligerent of humans. It was a good thing the past had no precedents to place authority over nature.

For a while it looked equal — each impressing the other with a scored hit and a snort of frustration to follow. It didn't last long. In that brief second of annoyance, the larger longsnout forgot to heed his promise to hold back and attacked with no remorse, bruising and battering the startled longsnout until his snarls turned into yelps of pain. One headbutt later, the smaller longsnout collapsed onto his underbelly with a hard 'Oof!', a soft whimper slipping from his jaws. Above him hissed his aggravated brother, jaws trembling over the weakness of his prey.

"Get up."

The black and white longsnout growled softly, then whined. I was certain he didn't expect a headbutt to hurt this badly.

"Get... up, Speck," Fossil sneered his brother's name, stepping onto his tail. "I barely hurt you."

Speck kept quiet. He fixed his eyes at the albino spinosaur, letting a hiss push free from his larynx and enter the tense space between them. Briefly did Speck's eyes glance to his left; Riptide was there, surveying the sparring session in absolute silence. Fossil noticed him, too, forcing his growls to subdue itself as an act of self-composure.

"Hrr... Riptide said no teeth or talons from me," growled the longsnout, studying his younger brother's snout with annoyance. "You're lucky. I'm sparing you the trouble of making this worse than it already is."

The silent carnivore flared his nostrils, shakily standing back up. He coiled his talons together, glaring at his elder brother, fury ablaze within the eyes. Without voicing anything, Fossil can read his lips; stop lying.

Fossil's teeth clenched. Part of Speck's reaction was true — Fossil wasn't being soft for the sake of his kin. Riptide forced this on him, and, even now, his older brother's sickled glare continued to hang over him like a storm cloud in the sky. But it still bothered him that his youngest still refused to put up a fight and, instead, blamed him for the fallout of his failure. Fossil's claws curled into the earth. What kind of predator has complaints over fairness? Over care?

Fossil lashed his tail at the ground. "You think what killed Able is going to pity you? Or any of us?!"

Speck's eyes narrowed.

"Go ahead," spat the albino longsnout. "Sit there; let that monster rip your cursed scales off and feast on your insides while you gripe in your grave. Because that worked for our brother, didn't it, runt?!"

Through a ground-rattling roar, Speck charged into Fossil, colliding shoulder to shoulder with the larger longsnout and snapping his jaws onto his neck. Fossil grimaced, but didn't retort; it hurt to feel Speck's fangs dig into his scales, but he gave him the benefit of the doubt just for Riptide's sake.