The Neophyte

The following is a flash fiction inspired by the idea of an intelligent dinosaur civilization; the flash is at least a few years old, but I have gone through it, edited it, and added to it for this post. Please enjoy.

I feel wind course through my feathered crest as I bolt across the plain. My clan has tasked me with the hunt today. The raid on our home by a brutish beast has left us tired.

Exhausted.

Skittish.

I cannot help but turn my gaze over the plain as I run. Running is freedom. It is a gift. But the freedom is smothered by fear and caution. Nothing feels right.

I was too young to defend our home yesterday. I was ordered to guard the females and the children. I did as I was told.

But I was not proud. It had to be done. But my spear could drink no blood.

I had shepherded the non-fighting remains of the pack into a reinforced cave we had claimed, and from the mouth of the cave, I watched. I watched Rra’gaash leap with his powerful legs into the air and land on top of the Thick-Chest. I watched Rra’gaash’s latching claw dig deep into the titan’s back – perhaps right between the ribs. The feet of the Thick-Chest stomped the plain, kicking up dust and grasses, and his short tail had thrashed at the air, like a swinging log.

From my charge, I had watched the Thick-Chest roar in pain as Rra’gaash sunk his teeth deep into his neck. The Thick-Chest screamed and waved a massive club above its head, attempting to dislodge Rra’gaash. In that moment, it had failed to notice the three other hunters of my pack sneak up from behind. What I’d have given to be among them.

I watched their whistling sticks unsheath with powerful flicks of their tails. Each sunk deeply into the side of the Thick-Chest. It stormed and howled.

Rra’gaash only tightened his jaws on its neck.

I watched the Thick-Chest flee into the darkness, leaving behind its club. As it left the outskirts of the village, it was only then that Rra’gaash loosened his grip and fell to the dirt. The blood stain around his mouth was beautiful.

Now I track its scent. This is my test, to kill the wounded beast. I smell blood upwind, and I push harder, faster than I ever have before.

Within hours I find a watering hole. Many have been there, including my quarry. I sniff the air eagerly and see one of the whistling sticks. It is half sunk in the mud and small waves of water lap at it. I pry it from the muck and take in the scent of blood beneath the smother of mud.

Not too old. I am close.

I lean down toward the water and lap at it, quenching my thirst for the moment. This is the furthest out from my clan’s hunting grounds I have ever been. Who knows where I could get my next drink?

I taste the blood on the breeze and I continue my hunt. Soon, I am upon him, but he is not alone. There are four of his kind, including him.

I creep low to the ground, but my gait is awkward as I move through the dried grasses. I hold my breath and shift the blades as silently as I can. I hear him speaking in a language I cannot identify. My clan knows little of the Thick-Chests beyond their aggression.

I am close enough now, mere strides away, peeking out from between golden blades. I see him, his chest pockmarked with welts and bruised, crimson holes. He is smaller than the others. He gestures as another one of his kind studies his wounds. My quarry winces and roars as his companion pokes at a whistling stick wound in his side.

My quarry hurls a heavy, clawed fist at the inflictor of his pain, and then barks something. I cannot make it out, only the urgency.

I panic.

He rises to his feet and points in my direction. I sink deeper into the grass. I feel my pulse quicken. I realize it is not at me he points, but the direction from whence he and I both came.

Back to the clan.

I carry little on me but a whistling stick and my teeth and claws. There is little I can do now. He is well-defended. I slowly reverse from my current position. I must get a head start.

My feet brush past dried grass and onto hard, cracked earth. I creep back, further still.

I feel something crack beneath one of my feet. Worse still, I hear it. I dart my eyes towards the Thick-Chests, and they are alert now.

I do not clear away in time, and one of their heavy clubs sails through the air and strikes my head. I bounce along with it upon the ground several times, following the trajectory. I shake away the pain and dizziness as best as I can as I try to rise to my feet, but I am not fast enough. I feel one of their large feet strike me right in my ribs. Pain jolts me to awareness and I thrust the whistling stick between my claws at the source of the pain and feel the resistance as it snaps in half, digging deep into the foot.

Another kick sends me flying.

I land on the ground, hard. My breathing is like wildfire in my chest. But I see the Thick-Chest, a large one, fall back in agony and I watch blood gush from its foot. His massive maw and rows of teeth are exposed as he cries out as crimson dances from the waving foot.

I begin to crawl. I must keep moving.

Soon I feel strength returning to my legs and I am on my feet. I dart off, hearing the thumps of their clubs bouncing along the ground, each one missing me.

I was a hunter, but now I am a messenger. I return to the clan, but each second is agony. I feel hot blood staining my green and orange skin. I feel it dampen my feathers. I press on.

I do not know how I make it, but I return to our hunting grounds. My legs give out from under me and I collapse a few strides away from the communal fire. I feel dryness in my mouth, but I am conscious of dirt and mud clinging to the foaming drool bubbling from between my teeth.

I can barely breathe now. My chest feels sticky from where I was kicked.

Rra’gaash approaches me. He looks concerned, perhaps angry that I came back in such a state. In my last few moments, I tell him about the Warband on the way to the clan.

I feel like my chest is on fire. My eyes begin to close.

The last thing I see before my final sleep is Rra’gaash looking down upon me. He looks… thankful.

Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed this world of intelligent dinosaurs, inspired loosely by the concept of the Dinosauroid, please let me know. I have another story I have written that I will post later.

In the meantime, if you want to support me and my work, consider visiting my Ko-fi page or commissioning me.