Childhood

The grasslands stretched as far as one could see, a sea of green and blue going on and on, and the herd of herbivores marched across it. A massive herd of perhaps 80 or 90 individuals, adults moving along in the outside while the youngsters are in the centre. The sky echoed with howls and hums as the group keeps every member in check. And such a parade rumbled its dusty path, slow and steady, towards the stream that crossed the plains.

The young squamataur watched them go from the cover of tall grass, shaking with barely contained excitement. He had never seen this much food before! Truly he would be able to feast for days with just one of them. And all he had to do was get up and take a bite! The grass under his head was getting a dark red from all the drool. Oh he couldn’t wait anymore! With an almost idiotic grin on his face, he flexed his limbs and lunged forward with all his strength.

He didn’t go further than an inch when a long, slender arm stopped him on his tracks.

His brother was at his right side, scolding him with a whispering voice. What was he doing? Did he want to ruin the whole plan? Everyone was in their positions as they decided. They would wait until the got close and confident enough. THEN they would attack. One after another they would jump. He was going to be the last one.

Yes, because he was the runt, the young one thought. With a disappointed groan he crawled back to his position and once again peered through the grass, while his brother reassured him one last time before slipping back to his own. He had a point, sort of. Thankfully the herbivores hadn’t heard them.

Eventually, the beasts reached the stream, and the squamataur’s spirits lifted. It was all as his brothers deduced. If the herbivores stopped to drink, they would inevitably lower their guard. They wouldn’t be able to react to their presence too fast, being that many. His eyes noticed movement far to the left. His other two brothers were getting ready. Good, all good. He could almost taste that gristly flesh already

But much to his dismay, the herd was barely paying heed to the water at all. Maybe five or six had indeed stopped to drink, but it was but a moment, and then they were joining the rest of the group. They weren’t going to stop! They weren’t going to low their guard! What do we do now? What do we do??”

Wait…Yes! A female and her youngster still remained in the stream. Unnoticed by the group, they were lowering their bodies to the fresh water and scooping it with long, broad tongues. The rest of the herd was pressing onwards. This was their chance!!

And his siblings noticed that too. In the distance, two figures had burst from the grass and were charging in the direction of the stragglers. One was the eldest brother Hroth, burly and massive and hairy like a bull Mumansi. The other was the second-eldest Dryrm, tall and scarred, with golden scales peppering his tauric half. He would have been a lady killer if it weren’t for his broken jaw, perpetually displaying sharp fangs in a corner of the mouth.

Both of them rushed at the objective, yelling and roaring and gesturing menacingly as they went. The female herbivore was quick to react and stood defiantly, tusks ready to pierce and gore. All the while the youngster gave a piercing, terrified whine.


The third brother saw this as his cue, and he nodded to the young squamataur before leaping forward to join the fray. He was the middle one, Aeglac, muscular yet strangely thin and flat of abdomen, brownish-blond dry hair sitting on his head like a mushroom cap made of straw.

The predators now circled and snarled at the great herbivore as it lunged again and again to strike. They snapped and clawed at the air, cracked their tails like whips, rose on their rear legs to further intimidate. Yet none of them seemed ready to attack the furious grazer.

They were just a distraction.

The young herbivore couldn’t withstand the fear and had run away from both the squamataurs and his mother, screaming its little lungs out in terror. Rushing through the grass blindly, not caring where to go, just run, run far away. And all this just led it to where the tauric beings wanted it to go. His time was now

The youngest brother, Grendel.

With a great burst of speed and strength he pounced upon its back. The prey stiffened at his attack and yelled even more than before, a high-pitched wail that could have burst its throat.

Grendel didn’t wait to see that. Throwing his hand over the creature’s snout, he forced it away to expose the young creature’s neck and bit strongly and deeply. Soon enough the youngster collapsed on the ground, flailing hysterically and gargling on its own blood. The squamataur simply pinned it down and waited. The corruption and the blood loss would make quick work of it.

And indeed, it soon finished.

Now the sounds Grendel heard were of triumph and joy from his siblings, and the saddened wails of the herbivores as the mother stood frozen in confusion and the herd returned too late for the strugglers. He watched the bleeding carcass with a certain pride. This was the second kill he had managed to do on his own, and it was big enough to provide meat for the four of them, at that. And it tasted so good! He couldn’t wait to try the stomach.

But as soon as he turned around, smiling with gore-stained lips, Hroth’s enormous figure had barrelled down on him and pushed him out of the way, making him roll on the tall vegetation. His other three brothers appeared shortly after. The bigger ones eat first, of course.

The young squamataur quickly got up and wasted no time in protesting loudly. He had made the kill! HE ALONE! He deserved to have the first bite! Why he always had to be the last???

As usual, it was futile. Hroth was larger, much, much larger than Grendel. He could crush him like a citroise if he wanted to. Even Aeglac intervened to stop his little brother, shaking his head at him in a worried manner. For this was the way the world followed, the way that had been beaten on them since birth, that they would carry to the grave. Might always made right, they had to follow that no matter what. And the runt right now had neither. He’ll get to eat when the others have had its fill.

A short pause, and in the end the runt lowered his head in submission, a hissing rumble between gritted teeth that acknowledged his position

He crawled away from the carcass, and watched with visible, disgruntled annoyance as his older brothers started to feast on the day’s catch.


One day, he thought to himself, things would change, and he would get the first call on everything. Just one day…