Dynasties

Untitled Part 4

One knoll among flooded grassland, two apex predators upon each opposite side of the aforementioned knoll, and one carcass in between them.

That was not a good combination.

Even more so, when said apex predators were as heavily injured such as they were, and thus, lazy.

And grumpy.

And stubborn.

And just plain old.

The pair rested quite a long time, but their fatigued slumber could only be subdued when their stomachs were not rumbling.

And their stomachs were aching, and empty.

Indeed, Roberta did not know how long she slept, but by the time she opened her honey hued eyes, circular pupils adjusting to the red and orange hues of the rising sun peaking over Nublar's forested mountain ranges and turning the soft and fluffy clouds colors of fire, she knew she had slept for far too long.

She slept so much, she was fatigued.

Her muscles were weighted and weak.

Her body felt sluggish.

Her eyes were having difficulty staying open.

She even felt the fatigue in her bones.

When Roberta breathed, it felt as if the damp and earthen air of the former storm was attempting to suffocate her. All she smelled was muddy water, damp earth and decay. Insects were beginning to buzz around her kills, various worms and grubs writhing upon the soaked earth, disturbing the bent grasses. The blood upon her kill long washed away, exposing pale flesh that had yet to be uneaten.

The musk of the storm only appeared to heighten the stench of decay. While to the Queen, it brought a sense of comfort, for when death was thick in the air it meant food was present, the scent was almost too much. It was suffocating, coating her throat and seeming to press against her lungs. The air still sported a thick and heavy atmosphere of high humidity, despite it being so early in the morn.

Perhaps the suffocating air would dissipate in time?

The Queen struggled to rise, her body sore and leg strained. She almost fell as she did so, her toes pressing into the damp earth and uprooting shallow, wiry grasses. Shaking her bulky head in an attempt to regain her bearings, Nublar's Tyrannosaur then began to look around, pupils small and nostrils flaring.

Her rival was still there, on the other side of the knoll.

He was just laying there.

Staring at her.

It was a stare Roberta did not shy away from.

Rather, she stared right back.

A silent war began to ensue between the pair.

Each were attempting to make the other back down. Back away from the carcass that was between them, upon the crest of the knoll.

Roberta's amber eyes narrowed intently upon the Spined Dragon, her pupils small. A heavy snort escaped from her nares, wisps of morning mist escaping from her. A low, guttural growl rippled from her throat, vibrating the air. Her taloned toes dragged against the ground and uprooted the earth with her good leg, as if an angry bull getting ready to charge, her broad jaws snapping shut, an echo ringing out.

The Queen of Nublar was thirsty. Oh, so, very thirsty. Her mouth was dry, and her tongue was parched. The grasslands below the knoll were still flooded in waters yet unsoaked within the earth or driven into the sea. Water was right there, just down below.