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The little monkey-faced dinosaur had made sure his family members were safe in their burrows before he trailed the three stick figures through the cave again, and out into the forest. He knew the bad beast was somewhere in the woods, and he wanted to warn them. He hung behind and shadowed them for a while, saw them reach their big, noisy creature that carried them swiftly through the woodlands. The noisy creature was dead. It was torn to pieces, strewn everywhere, broken beyond saving, and would no longer play, run or carry anything anywhere, ever again. The little dinosaur knew the bad beast had done the damage. The beast was evil that way. It loved to destroy things. All kind of things, moving or not moving.
He was about to show himself and alert the sticks they were in grave danger, when he sensed the beast was also nearby, too close. So, he remained hidden in the higher branches of the trees, looking down at what was happening below him.
He witnessed the bad beast’s attack, saw his friends shooting at it, and screamed and hopped about in the tree in frustration, because there was nothing he could do to help them. He was too small. His claws and teeth, too weak. He had tangled with the bad monster a couple of times already, and knew he couldn’t beat it; not alone, anyway. He and his family were terrified of the beast. It had killed and eaten many of his family since it had come into their forest.
All he could do was watch the sticks as they fought, and worry about them. One of the stick beings was hurt, and he felt so bad for it. But it wasn’t the one he knew and cared about, his true friend, so he wasn’t as upset as he would have been. Still, he felt bad for the wounded stick creature.
After the attack, the stick beings rushed away between the trees and he had a hard time keeping up with them in the dark. He lost them a few times, and found them. He got sleepy at one point and, unable to help himself, snuggled into a wedge in the branches and fell asleep. He awoke when the day’s sun was bright around him. Then he remembered what he’d been doing when he fell asleep. The sticks! Where were they? Had they escaped from the beast?
It didn’t take long before he caught up with the stick creatures again. The wounded one appeared sicker. It was no longer walking on its own, and the other two were dragging it behind them.
The little dinosaur was about to let his friends know he was there, when the bad beast showed up again. This time it was hiding among the trees, glaring out at its prey, the sticks. But it didn’t show itself to them, or attack again. He saw that it was badly hurt and was still nursing its wounds. One of its eyes was gone, and the beast whimpered in pain as it watched the sticks, and swayed. The little dinosaur almost felt sorry for it, but then remembered the cruelties it had subjected him and his family to, all of its kin it had tormented or devoured; the awful things it had done to the other forest creatures. The beast deserved all the pain it now had.
Then, strangely enough, the beast stealthily moved back into the woods, and disappeared. Maybe it was afraid of the sticks’ fire tubes. They were noisy, but seemed to actually hurt the beast. Why, now the beast had just one eye to see out of. That should slow the evil thing down. But now he didn’t need to warn the sticks of the new danger. For now, the beast was gone.
The small dinosaur observed the sticks for a while longer and, sure they were okay, he slipped into the forest. He’d been gone too long from his cave, what with the beast still on the loose, angrier than ever because it was now hurt. He was concerned for his family’s safety, so he headed home. He realized that, unlike his kind, the stick beings could take care of themselves. He’d been disappointed, in the end, they hadn’t been able to kill the beast, for that was the reason he’d revealed himself for the first time since he and his family had gone into hiding, and fetched the sticks...to rid the forest of the big beast once and for all, before it killed any more of his brethren.
Perhaps the sticks would kill the bad beast the next time.
On his way home, he ran into another big beast. There was a second one! It was lying in wait, and nearly captured him. He escaped only because he threw rocks and sticks at the monster, distracted it, and he moved quicker. Once they’d run into the first big beast, he and his kin had been so careful, in the caves, to always find and smash all the beasts’ eggs so there would be no more, but they must have missed some.
The second beast wasn’t as large as the other one, but it was as much a threat. He knew it would get bigger and hungrier in time. It would find his clan in their burrows and consume them, as the other one did.
Catching his scent, the second beast chased him before he lost it in the forest. The beasts were clever, but he was smarter. He could hide in tiny spaces the big ones couldn’t get into. But to be extra safe, he took the long way home to his lair, after making sure the beast was no longer stalking him. There was no way he was going to let one of them eat any more of his family.
Could be, it was time to leave their home and find another place to live. His family was growing so rapidly now, and the small ones had to be protected. They couldn’t run as fast as he and the older ones could. One hungry beast decimating his kind was bad enough, but two? He had to get his family far away.
Now that he had warned the stick creatures of the new beast danger, he could leave. The stick creatures were on their own.
But when he entered his burrow hideaway so deep in the woods, he discovered the bad beast, most likely the one the sticks had scarred, must have been there first and butchered all his clan, even the little ones. It had slaughtered them out of spite, not need or hunger, because the bodies, in bloody pieces, were scattered everywhere, and not many had been eaten. Had it been revenge for his kind destroying the big one’s own eggs? Probably.
His family had all gone to a land he couldn’t follow them to. Had any survived? He didn’t know. The little dinosaur experienced a grief he never had before, and tumbled into a black hole of anguish, crying and rocking in the middle of his bloodied home. What would he do now...now that he was alone?
It was then he remembered, with a spark of hope, the nursery, and scrambled into the adjoining shaft where the eggs were. More anguish. The beds were full of broken and crushed eggs. The fiendish monster had been thorough. The little dinosaur then became angry...it hissed, snarled and whirled around in frustrated circles, vowing to get back at its tormentor. So angry! So angry! He didn’t want to keep running away and hiding. Those monsters would always find him. He wanted to end them forever, so they’d never be a threat to him and his kin, ever again.
But, wait! Perhaps there were survivors buried beneath the broken eggs.
The little dinosaur began to frantically dig around in the destruction, and after a long time of salvaging, was grateful to uncover a small grouping of still-intact eggs. He gathered them together one by one, and gently carried them further into the cave, where the passageways were too narrow for any of the bad ones to squeeze their big fat bodies into. As soon as he was able, he would find another home, one where the dead would not plague him with their sad eyes and soft cries, and transport the unborn to it. He and his kind would start over again. A new home, so hidden the predator beasts would not find it, if there was such a place.
In the meantime, he must warn the sticks that the beast they’d wounded was still alive, on the rampage and craving blood, and there was now another one. The sticks would take care of both of them for him. He’d seen how they’d fought against his enemies in times past, and he’d seen their power. They’d vanquished all of them that had come before. All of them. The sticks were his last hope.
When he was sure he’d hidden the eggs as well as he could, he took time to rest, knowing when he regained his strength, he would go in search of the sticks. He knew just where to find them.