[Comm] Sweet Surprise, a Dino Story ft. Narrator, Employee

Crash. Sliiiide. The Narrator’s nonchalant rumbling turned the thin wall of the musty building into a new area. Nosing the remaining shards of glass from its path, the Narrator thrust its noggin forth. Its eyes blinked sideways, doing nothing to repel the darkness inside. It sniffed the air instead. A curious musk indeed. 

An obtrusive head nuzzled the Narrator aside, the visually offensive sight of the Employee emerging without warning like an unexpected flatulent, its fearful hazel eyes catching the reflection of the light from the room before. As the Employee sniffed, it bobbed its head overly emphatic than necessary, bringing thoughts of hunting to the Narrator. 

“This flowery scent,” began the Employee, turning–though just a shadow to the Narrator–to face its co-explorer. “I remember it.”

Two snorts expelled from the Narrator, the first dismissive and the next derisive. 

“A foolish premonition,” the Narrator growled, voice deep like a final boss. “I have never before stumbled upon such a quaint aroma. This is no doubt the machinations of the apes.”

The Employee tilted its head sideways, testing the smell from different angles. 

“No, I am certain,” the Employee countered with unusual assurity. 

The Narrator’s jaw unclenched as it saw the outline of the Employee’s twiglike neck. The acro’s ire only festered when it heard the clinging of the Employee’s claws upon the clear rocks, and a melody of jingles followed. With longer arms–easier to chomp on, the Narrator might remind–the Employee dragged into the sunlight a box of unusual trinkets of the ape’s society. Perfectly arranged in rows and columns, with little space in the box unused, were clear rocks shaped into containers–vials–and an amber substance within. Each one was topped with a soft, black cap. 

The Employee extended a sharp talon and looped it around the handle of one such vial, lifting it from its case. The deep, golden liquid inside slowly oozed as the vial rotated in the Employee’s grasp. 

“How stupid you look now,” the Narrator laughed. “You believe you have ever seen vials such as this before?” The Narrator triumphed in victory. 

The undeterred Employee used its other claw and punctured the black cap of the vial, withdrawing a talon drenched in the viscous amber goo. Its nostrils flared incredulously. 

“I was not wrong!” the Employee declared. “This is syrup.”

The Narrator’s eyes dulled. 

“Syrup,” it repeated, the light of its glory lost to history.

 The Employee’s long tongue darted out to taste the syrup. 

“Oh my!” it chirped. “You must try!”

The Narrator sighed. The room where these syrups had been found was first discovered by the Narrator, so why did it feel like Employee was the one who had gained prestige? It shook its head and turned around, leaving the Employee disappointed at its apparent disinterest. A sigh beat against the Narrator’s bladed teeth. 

“At least try it?” the Employee begged. 

The red-feathered tip of the Narrator’s tail slapped the vial to the ground. Then the maw of the Narrator turned and it lapped up the syrup from the ground. The beast stifled an impressed smirk, but the Employee saw how its eyes had lit up just a touch. 

“Who is to say that this is called… syrup,” the Narrator begrudgingly said–but not asked, for asking would imply it was curious, but it was merely entertaining the Employee’s interest. 

“Well!” the Employee peeped, “I know where to find this in the forest!”

The Narrator rolled its eyes. 

“Once again thinking that clear rocks with syrup grow in the forest, you naive little scavenger,” the Narrator chuckled. 

“Just follow me,” the Employee offered, shaking out its fur in preparation to return into the chill air. “You’ll see.”

The Narrator followed the cryolophosaurus with long strides. 

“It wasn’t exactly the same as my recollection, but it was very similar,” the Employee’s excited voice explained as the wind tore up its words, making it impossible to clearly hear. 

But a comparable smell to the syrup still on the Narrator’s tongue flew in from somewhere on the currents of the air, and the Narrator breathed it in wistfully. How much there was still to discover, both in the lost world of the apes as well as the forsaken realm of the wilderness! The Employee’s tail accidentally whipped across the Narrator’s face as the Employee excitedly halted before a fine tree. 

“Behold!” the Employee declared. 

The Narrator gazed upon the recently-budded survivor of the winter, a sturdy maple that had taken an early start preparing for spring. The Narrator scoffed. 

“Trees,” it murmured. Yet it couldn’t deny the scent emanating from it. 

A pittering scrape of the Employee’s claw against the bark followed. 

“Hm, it isn’t working,” the Employee muttered. “I know this used to work. Too much time spent in the city…”

The Narrator squinted its eyes, wondering what the Employee was straining to do. But truly, as the Employee’s claws nicked the bark, a droplet of the tree’s syrup leaked out, its smell irresistible. 

“Move aside,” the Narrator growled. 

The Narrator chased the Employee aside with its bulky head and clamped down onto the bark. Shaking with the intensity that would make any lesser critter squeal, the Narrator pried the bark from the tree, and a trickle of syrup began to drip out. 

“Ah, beautiful nectar!” the Employee sang, leaning forward to lap at the syrup from its source. But as the first drops splat against its tongue, it recoiled. “B… Bleh.”

The Narrator, never considering to ask why, leaned into the tree and drank of the nectar. It clicked its lips together. 

“A more… mature taste,” it remarked. 

The Employee sighed and gazed up at the tree’s new sprouts, a thoughtful nail tapping its chin. 

“Just because it’s natural doesn’t mean it’s tastier,” it pondered. “It’s not as good as I remember it. The lost apes probably took the syrup from the tree and… enhanced it. Brought out its flavor while suppressing the bitterness. Somehow.”

Eager to indulge when the other had been disappointed, the Narrator sucked out the maple syrup like a delicacy. 

“It takes someone with a refined palette to appreciate such exquisite notes,” the Narrator boasted. 

The Employee smiled. At least the Narrator had this to lift its spirits. As they returned to the city, they negotiated how they would ration out the syrup they had discovered for the foreseeable future.