Dynasties

A New Dawn From A Different Land

As the fiery hue of a new dawn rose over Isla Nublar, the aftermath of the night's hunt became clear.

The remains of a crested herbivore was strewn around a small field of tall grasses, which were broken and flattened from a passing herd treading upon them-or perhaps even a struggle. The limbs were torn and crushed off, bone splintered and fragmented, intestines torn. Aged blood becoming of a clotted, rustic hue stained the lush grasses.

The damage was belonging to broad, crushing jaws.

Roberta lay nearby, breath slow in a torpor, dried crimson and strips of flesh still within her jaws.

Whilst the Queen slept, fatigued from the night's hunt and belly full, the Bull was awake, broken jaw attempting to grasp and scrape the scraps of flesh that yet remained. The Spinosaurus' muscular tongue slipped pasted his scaled lips, twisting and turning to lick upon the exposed bones and lap up any meat.

One things good about Roberta having fed first was that her jaws made feeding far easier.

She ruined and softened the flesh.

But it came at a cost.

The Bull was feeding upon whatever she decided not to eat-which was not much.

But it was something, and even something so small was better than nothing.

Once more did the Bull's emerald eyes flicker to Nublar's sleeping Queen, serpentine pupils constricting into thin slits.

She was not like the others.

She was larger.

She was stronger.

She was dangerous.

But the Bull noticed the vivid scars that ran upon her neck-and the wounds that would surely scar due to his taloned hands. The old scars looked like it was almost made by him. Or something of his kind. Whatever he was. Something large with powerful arms and strong claws.

She was different from the others of her kind the Spinosaurus fought before on Isla Sorna.

Back home, in his old territory, it was rare for females to have scars from fighting.

He noticed it was mainly the males that carried scars upon their snouts and jaws and necks.

Teeth marks.

But Roberta had scars from something big, and large, with powerful arms.

Perhaps there was another, like him, on this island?

Perhaps this large female killed it, the thing that was like him?

If she did, she was more dangerous than the Bull thought.

Because it meant she could kill something like his kind, just as he could kill her kind.

Briefly, once more, did Sorna's Spinosaurus think upon killing the sleeping Queen.

To eliminate the threat.

To eliminate his rival.

But that would hinder his own survival, for his ability to kill would be hindered with his broken jaw and hand. And she would not be able to hunt, with her hindered sight and injured leg.

As much as the Bull hated to admit it-he could not survive alone. At least, in the current condition that he was in.

Roberta was a dangerous thing, but she was also a curious thing-an object of curiosity.

Savaging enough scraps as he could, the Bull rose to his full height. His neck craned, and his head turned-then his whole body-towards the sleeping Tyrannosaurus. The Spinosaurus lumbered towards the sleeping female, Roberta's muscular chest expanding as she slept, a rumbling snore escaping her crushing maw.

The Bull, upon approaching slowly, cautiously, carefully, craned his neck downward, emerald eyes focusing upon the scars upon her hide.

They looked like they were from his claws.

But they weren't.

Curiosity sated, the Spinosaurus then turned away, and lumbered towards the eaten kill. The brown-red hued male then carefully laid down, not wanting to irritate his arm. Jaws gaping in a tired yawn, the Bull then settled himself down to sleep, cream underbelly becoming flush to the earthen ground.

As the Bull lay down into a torpor, the Queen began to rouse, which was indicated by a sudden change in breath.

A rumble escaped from her scaled throat, and her amber eyes opened, pupils shrinking to combat the rays of the dawn.

A new dawn.

A continued reign.

If only for a day longer.

Roberta slowly rose to her feet-if with struggle-for age and injury were taking their toll.

The female Tyrannosaurus shook herself, aged scales rippling as she attempted to wake herself.

Her beady eyes blinked swiftly, weight shifting to better acclimate herself in the early morn. With a deep, guttural rumble, the Queen craned her neck, surveying the area. Her eyes fell upon the dismembered kill, to her rival. While she could not see them well, her sense of smell could certainly pick them up.

The scent of blood and death, and the scent of something else.

Her rival had quite a strange scent.

A scent of somewhere vaguely familiar, as if ingrained into the Queen's memory, of a time long ago. She remembered very little of her territory when she was young. A different place, different from this island that was her domain now, for many years.

Perhaps he came from her old territory? Wherever that was.

Whatever he was, at least some sort of familiarity came from such a strange creature as he.

Strange, like the White One.

But he smelled different from all the other creatures she faced.

None smelled like he did.

A strange, pungent, masculine odor.

It made Roberta shake her head, and caused her nares to flare, snot spraying forth.

As foreign as he smelled, a part of him still smelled like home.

Home, in a land she could barely remember.