Drakefangs Gift

Cold.. why was it cold! Drakefang hissed from his makeshift den, hissing at the cold. While the snow wasn’t as heavy on the beaches, what drakefang assumed was a cause of the ocean. The Cryolophosaurus slowly pushed himself out of his home, and stretched his body out. His tail swayed to the side as he leaned forward while his leg extended behind him. With a satisfied groan, the young carnivore turned and stepped along the shores. Watching as small bits of ice sat in the sands as the water brushed against it and retreated. After a moment of thought, he turned his head towards the tree’s, where the forest prospered. Where old memories and regrets lay. He had to go, to hunt, to get fresh water. Much to his dismay, and yet it was for a chance of survival. His talons tracked through the sands, before he could solely feel the cold dirt, and the crunch of the frozen snow. Pulling his lips back to curl into a snarl, bearing his teeth, frosty air escaping with his breath. This is where Pathfiner lived. That old broken memory, the pain that clawed at him he would never admit.

As he carefully wondered, as he cautiously attempted to slowly step through the tree’s. He had to look for scent marks, anything that could tell him he was too close. And once he caught the scent marker he noticed she puts it to remember where her home is, she always marked a tree. He’s watched her before, craving into the wood of the tree, scraping the bark off of it. He wasn't sure how she would withstand that, if her horn had any feeling in it like his claws. He was sure it would hurt if it broke. But there was no need to think of that, no need to wish that upon her, not with those hatchlings following her. She never hurt him, he hurt her. For a moment, he paused, turning to look back at the mark on the tree, a memory finding its way into his mind. Without thinking, the young male sprinted off, rushing through her home, and the forest. Ignoring the gross crunch under his toes of the snow, as he used his nose to find his way.

After what felt like a very long run, he wasn't sure how long he had run. He stopped, exiting the forest and crashing into the snow. Looking upon the now, wide open field. Why was he doing this? He didn’t need to do this.. But something wanted him too. He wasn't sure what. Would his parents be ashamed of him? He hoped he would never know the answer to that, as they probably have no idea who he is. But that didn’t matter, what mattered was once his lungs caught up with his legs, he was using his arms to push himself up again and once again, run. This time it was much easier to run, to run and get to where he could see the old ruins. The rumored old dens of some ancient, most likely non existent, hoomans once lived. That place had a lot of nice trinkets. Why rush to them? Why need them? He should be stocking on prey, carcasses, Moss filled waters. But here he was, slowing down as he approached the rubble. He had been here once in his youth, on accident when he chased a small flying dinosaur here that stole his mouse.

As he slowly entered, he looked for the ground. His eyes searching, scanning, eyeing anything and everything. Looking for a shine, an item, something. He wasn't sure, he didn't know what it was, but he would when he saw it. The small glimmer of something in the distance, against the snow, caught his eye. Before he rushed towards it as if hunting a small predator. His teeth lashing out with force, biting down on top of it. Only to get a mouthful of snow, rocks, and small sticks. He lifted his head, and spit them out. Shaking his head and coughing out. Before looking down, he  noticed the small shining item. He wasn't sure what it was, but it shined. This was it. He scooped it up carefully, and began his journey back the way he came.

Once the sun set, he finally returned to the forest. The Cryolophosaurus hesitantly waded through the snow, which had become a little more deep sense his rush through in the morning. He found himself, staring at the den in the bushes he could see. He knew it was hers. The smell was all over it. The dead flowers gave it away, withered to the winters touch. Hesitantly the young male stepped closer, lowering his head as if expecting the other to rush out of her home and stab him with her horn. But instead, none was home. Must be out forging, glancing behind to make sure none approached, he quickly dropped the small gift, and skittered off like a rouch to find a place to hide.

As nightfall hit, finally movement stirred, the male watched as a female Styracosaurus with her odd young, following her. The two hatchlings were playing and chasing each other into the home, as the female Sty stopped, pathfinder, looked around, smelt the air, listened, before lowering her head and gently taking the item in her beak. With that, Drake fang slowly backed up, and stalked away. Making sure the small hatchlings' laughter was louder than his footsteps. As he made his quiet escape, he broke into a sprint. Moving through the tree’s, the bushes, the logs, all the way back to the beach. Once there, he sat down. His sides heaving as his lungs once again had to catch up with him. His mind racing, did she see him? Smell him? Did she know he was there? She couldn't know he was there, none could. He was a big mean predator! He shouldn't be interacting with herbivores! Yet here he is, doing just that. From a safe distance.

Tonights thoughts, would have to wait to haunt him in his dreams, along with his empty stomach, as he slowly returned to his den.