Food for the Twisted One

Rime gazed at her reflection, distorted as it was in the fractured, algae-covered unmelting ice of the horrid place that she and her kin had been stuck in since before she had hatched. Her hide was pale, she knew that much, with even lighter splotches over her back and tail, and bold dark lines on her neck and throat. It gave an only slightly clearer indication of her appearance than the distorted reflection that the ice gave her in the cold place. Her gaze focused on the darker shadows behind her. It also reflected everything that was wrong with this place.

Her head swivelled towards the shadows. The cages where the first of her kin had been kept. She stepped forwards, growling under her breath as her claws passed over a fallen chain. How foolish of the ones that came before, to believe that they could have contained them forever.

She sniffed delicately at the rusted metal of the cages that had once housed the first of her kin. She’d heard the stories. How they were grown and born unnaturally outside of the shell, and tested on and twisted into shadows of their former selves. All that was left now were ghosts. Always more ghosts. She cocked her head, peering into the dark depths, the light from the front of the holding room casting long shadows where the bars of the cages impeded the light from going any further.

Some of the cages still held the bones of her kin, and even bones from the dacen and albertos. Some held bones from others that she had never seen before, until recently when the doors opened and the strangers flooded the halls. Even the halls that were literally flooded. She’d always thought that the strange creatures held in the unmelting ice with fused front and hind limbs were deformed, until she’d seen a living one swim through the water.

Rime shoved her head against the metal, listening for any sign that there was give or that the metal would break. Nothing yet. She sighed to herself. One day. One day the metal would weaken enough that the bars would part, and they could collect the bones to join the others.

There was one such place on the floor below that all the bones were eventually taken to. The “Grave of the Ancients,” another sacred place that the strangers had invaded. They disrupted the bones of the dead with their careless footsteps. They caused unrest in a place where rest was paramount. It made her hide itch.

She brushed up against another of the cages, scratching a spot on her ribs that her foot wouldn’t quite reach and in doing so, stained her hide orange with rust. Her quills rattled against the bars, echoing dimly through the barren holding room.

She remembered the first time that she’d been taken to the Grave. Basalt had told her to take a bone from their meagre meal and, without further explanation, taken her to the level below. It had been a difficult journey. She’d still been quite small, and the bone that she was taking was hard to hold onto in her teeth and claws. When she looked back on the memory, Basalt had been walking quite slowly for her to keep up, she’d realised. Pausing so that she didn’t fall too far behind. She hadn’t realised until some time later that they were also going slow so as to not be noticed. Nidhogg could have been around.

When they finally made it to the Grave of the Ancients, as Basalt had referred to it as, she was told to add the bone that she’d brought to the pile. It was...staggering how many others were already there. The lights that hung down from the ceiling cast warm light down onto the ground, and upon shelves and shelves of bones of shapes that she’d never seen before. It was even more than that, though. Bones piled up on the floor between the shelves as far as she could see, and of all shapes and sizes. Bones that had been stripped bare of flesh, bones that were bleached, bones that were as hard as the concrete that they walked on.

This was where they all eventually came to rest, Basalt had told her. This was where the humans had kept the bones, and where the humans had eventually been brought to rest as well, delicate as their tiny bones had been. One day, their bones would join with those that had come before. It might not be her that brought them down, but someone would, and they would join their kin in the long sleep. Their memories would mix and meld with all those that had come before, and if she ever needed guidance, she could come to the Grave and speak to them. If there was an answer, then she would hear it in the voices and wisdom of all those that had been brought to the Grave. One day, if it was not time yet for the doors to be open, then she would be brought to the Grave as well, and her voice would join with the others.

At the time, it had terrified her to think that there were so many ghosts down there. She hadn’t wanted to go back. Now, like so many other things in the facility, it was almost a source of peace and comfort. She didn’t go down to speak to them often, so as to not disturb their rest, but sometimes she went when she needed some comfort. The hours that she spent awake were very long, and resources were very lean. Sometimes, the voices of the dead were more comforting than the harshness of reality amongst the living.

Rime blinked, and she was no longer in the past but back in the wretched shadows of the holding room. Dried blood on the walls and tables, both old and fresh. Old water stirring slightly with the quiet whir of a filter pump. That awful hum that could always be heard in the walls and from the lights. And the bones that she couldn’t yet reach, because they were locked away behind the metal bars that the humans had left them to rot behind. What stories they would have when they could finally join the others in the Grave. It tore at her heart, knowing that they weren’t at rest yet. Not fully.

Not...she glanced up, her eyes hard. Not when there were so many disturbances still coming through. The footsteps that she heard were much heavier than some of the others that had come through. They were the sound of someone large, someone confident in themselves, or who cared little about the consequences of their invasion. She doubted that any of them really cared. They were just here to sight-see. To gaze at the misfortune of her kin and to move on. It didn’t sit well in her stomach.

Rime made her way towards the footsteps, shoving a table out of the way. The metal legs shrieked against the concrete as it shifted, crashing to the ground with the metal buckles on the leather straps clattering against the hard surface. Rime all but ignored the sound as she made her way through the holding room into the room adjacent - full of delicate little containers made of unmelting ice, bright lights, drains in the floor that were stained with old blood and unknown substances. She wanted it to make as much noise as possible. She wanted the newcomer to know that they weren’t alone down here, that there was another, massive carnivore to contend with.

Passing by the lights in the laboratory, her shadow cast just as long a line across the floor as the bars did in the cells. Maybe that would be daunting enough for whoever the newcomer was to decide that it wasn’t worth continuing on and they would turn back. Ultimately, though, she knew it wouldn’t be. The sounds of their footsteps lead towards the descent down into the lower levels. They were another sight-seer.

The owner of the heavy footsteps was one of the strangely proportioned carnivores. A long snout and longer, thick arms that ended in large, hooked claws. She had a coating of thick, pale feathers, sharply contrasting with the dark and then pale colouration on her extremities. Large, for the other suchomimus that Rime had seen passing by, but she was still bigger.

“Get out of here, stranger,” Rime rumbled as she neared.

“Susurrus,” the stranger replied, flatly correcting her. She didn’t seem to care at all that Rime was larger than her, and Rime snorted. She didn’t care about the stranger’s name, she just wanted her gone.

“I’ll be out of your quills soon.” Rime stepped forwards, barring the elder suchomimus’ path. That seemed to get the suchomimus’ attention. Susurrus clacked her teeth together, the feathers along her spine bristling. “Get out of my way.”

Rime glared at Susurrus, pale eyes burning at the self-importance of this intruder, barking orders as though she owned the facility that she’d only just set foot into. Susurrus glared back, purple eyes full of barely-contained, simmering fury.

“You don’t belong here.”

Susurrus rolled her eyes, exasperation dripping from her voice. “Right, and all of you do, locked in here for the rest of your lives and creeping around in the dark.”

Rime rumbled a growl. She didn’t creep.

“Get out of my way,” Susurrus repeated, “before I make you.”

Rime doubted very much that Susurrus could make her do anything. Rime was bigger, younger, and undoubtedly stronger. She hissed quietly, preparing for a fight, only to suddenly deflate when Susurrus continued.

“You’re so keen on keeping me from going on with my business, but you’re letting him through?”

Rime glanced down, confused. A feathered utahraptor, black and white with a collar of some sort around his neck, was happily moving past the larger carnivores seemingly without a care in the world. He was already gone before Rime could protest, carrying on his merry way. Rime snorted and backed down. Whatever. The suchomimus would just tromp around with her heavy footsteps and alert Nidhogg of her presence. She could feed the beast, but her bones would not be permitted to join the others.

Susurrus sniffed and tilted her muzzle upwards, looking entirely pleased with herself that she’d gotten the acro to back down.

Rime watched until Susurrus disappeared, swallowed by the blackness that led to the cold place and Nidhogg’s lair. Then she turned, retracing her steps. Back through the room that smelled like death and preservatives that was full of medical equipment and painfully bright lights. Once upon a time, the odd shapes of the delicate unmelting ice had fascinated her. Now, they were simply objects that took up space on the cold stone counters.

She kept to the side of the corridors that she passed through, avoiding eye contact with the older acros that she passed by. She didn’t mind fighting with the intruders, but the other acros were her family, mostly. At the very least, they were others that she lived with, and it was easier to get along with them when they didn’t want to tear her hide.

Maybe she would find Basalt. They always made her feel better.

Basalt had made their home out of one of the empty cages in one of the observation wings. The door had rusted itself open long ago, and the floor was always dry and warm. No one contested them for the space, which was always a blessing when she wanted somewhere quiet to retreat to.

“Basalt?” Rime called as she drew near. No one contested them for the space, but it was always polite to announce one’s presence before they got too close.

The large acro raised their head. “What is it?” The vibrant orange of their mouth flashed in the darkness when they spoke. The question was simple, but their words were soft.

Rime hesitated at the mouth of the cage, shifting her feet as the silence drew on. She didn’t know how to express her anger, she was just angry.

“Come sit,” Basalt rumbled, turning their nose towards the empty space in the cage. Rime stepped forwards, easing herself down on the ground next to Basalt and resting her chin along their back.

Basalt craned their neck and gently groomed along her spines, and Rime let herself enjoy the quiet. Basalt didn’t seem to mind the silence. Sometimes, there were no words to express. Sometimes you just needed someone else who understood.