Two Brothers and a Little Sister

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         "Do you smell that?" Darksteel sniffed the air as a breeze wafted by

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         "Do you smell that?" Darksteel sniffed the air as a breeze wafted by.

         "Smell what?" Skylynx glared, tired of smelling burning sulfur every time a breeze from the Toxic Wastes would rise. Darksteel was one to prank his brother.

         "I smell Predaking- but there's something smaller with him."

     Skylynx grew interested and sniffed the air himself. While they had no visible noses, natural sensors within their systems called olfactory sensors (similar to audio modules) allowed them to smell. Of course, Predacons could catch scents much easier than anything else in the galaxy, it seemed.

         "You're right-" he admitted, "Why does it smell familiar?"

         "I don't know," Darksteel shook his helm, "but I'm curious to find out."

     The two brothers left the surface, though not going far to find their king in his home, trying to balance a tower of energon rations in a storage unit above the ground. He thought he had them balanced, closing the door with a sigh of relief- only to have to catch the three he had stacked as they toppled over, swinging the door wide open. The king sighed, setting them on the counter instead.

         "Predaking?" Skylynx's beginning of an inquiry made the leader jump, knocking a cannister to the ground, "Are you alright?" the younger beast raised a brow.

         "You seem jumpy-" Darksteel nodded.

         "Just-" Predaking could tell they could sense his nervousness as they inched closer, like stalking cats. He gained his composure and growled at them, making the two shrink back, "I'm also irritable. I suggest you two go with the rest of your brothers. I'm sure they need watched over while I think of where else to look for these missing femmes."

     The two looked at each other with curious optics. They both thought the same thing: what's that smell?

         "Is that why you have a foreign scent to you?" Skylynx tilted his helm along with his brother, watching as their king stiffened. There was no hiding it, and he knew. The Predacon leader only wished he could have been more prepared.

         "You must swear on your very sparks," Predaking hissed, "I believe I've found these femmes- well, femme."

     Their interest piqued; the two grinned, urging Predaking to tell them of this sister- or sisters. He told them to quiet down but they were to excited, soon the little squeaking of the Predacon femme interrupting their petty argument about who would show her Cybertron first. They stared at the wide mouthed beast form of this creature in mild horror.

     It squeaked at them, running around their pedes like an obstacle course before wrapping around Predaking's and taking a nap.

         "It is- a pet?" Skylynx hoped.

         "No," Predaking sighed, picking up the Predacon femme, her tail wrapping around the entire length of his arm and down to his pede. "I do not know how she came to be, but I found her in an abandoned mine used during the war I once fought in. Before my time, of course. She's a form of youngling, like what humans call children. They grow bigger, and smarter. They learn to speak and write among other things."

     Darksteel sniffed at the youngling, stumbling away when she snapped at him in her light recharge.

         "Quite unnerving when she rests without closing her optics- they simply dim to a dull crimson." he cringed.

         "I've found she will mostly be in a state of rest," Predaking noted, "Unless something peaks her interest or she is frightened. Yet constantly alert, as if pretending in order to lure an enemy or prey."

         "She is certainly a unique figure-" Skylynx stepped closer to this creature, as interested as Darksteel, but he too was snapped at. "She is protective of you."

         "No," Predaking shook his helm, "You both were about to step in that shattered energon container."

     They both looked down, their pedes wet with the blue fuel that kept them alive.

         "She can sense danger, though sometimes it is irrational because of how she's learned so far- of which I don't know the extent of. Assuming she has been living for awhile already." Predaking let the femmeling transform in his arms as she settled, an arm and pede hanging as her optics dimmed again, but she still stared blankly into space. Predaking moved so the other two wouldn't step in the broken glass, and they were able to stroke the back of this tiny Predacon, which made her hum cutely, wings twitching.

         "What is her designation?" Darksteel grinned, scratching between her wings, which were apparently ticklish as she woke up and started to giggle.

     Predaking frowned, a bit embarrassed he had not chosen something to call her by yet.

         "I have been unable to find a designation suitable for the youngling," he admitted, "nothing seems to fit that I can think of."

         "It can't be that hard to name a- a youngling-" Skylynx experimented with the new term. "Though I'd think she'd have one chosen by now."

         "She's not exactly like us or our brethren, brother," Darksteel noted, simple but understanding of simple things, "she is not even on my level of thinking capacity, and that's not very high, I will admit."

         "You're to humble, Darksteel, even I admit you have a good processor for battle strategy," Predaking told him with a relaxed expression, these two having gained more of his trust with their reaction to the femme still in his arms. "You are right, though. She is very unlikely to have a designation chosen."

     It was the two smaller Predacons turn to be stumped as they tried to think of what to call this tiny thing. Skylynx thought Abyss sounded perfect considering her seemingly never ending gullet, while Darksteel suggested Nightmare- because she reminded him of a nightmare he had about a giant scraplet. Neither pleased their king as he stared at the little being in his arms. Once again he was at a loss, and she needed a designation before he revealed her to anyone else, accidentally or not.

         "(Y/D)," he suddenly decided, "It's befitting of a growing femme."

     The three looked to each other, coming into a silent agreement. They watched as the femme fell into a light recharge again.

     Yes, (Y/D) was perfect.


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Dewclaw is the seemingly useless claw seen on the front paws of canines. In some breeds it is actually used as a form of opposable thumb to hold bones and meat in place as they chew. This is the name of my OC, the Predacon youngling. I chose it because she herself, as a femme Predacon, seems rather useless. Feel free to use it if you prefer!

Note: Sorry for the delay of her appearance, I will place the picture of her design in this chapter (hopefully in the near future)

Note: Sorry for the delay of her appearance, I will place the picture of her design in this chapter (hopefully in the near future)

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