The Land Before Time
Triceratops Thicknose, the oldest inhabitant of the Great Valley, looked with displeasure at the Sun, hanging outrageously low over the horizon. Usually, lying down with his head to the east as was his custom, he would not wake up until the shadow of a lone, sprawling larch tree growing among the thick ferns stopped falling on him. But now, the shining disk was still tangled among the fleshy leaves of his future breakfast, and its bright rays were hitting him right in the eyes. The reason for his interrupted sleep today was simple: almost from dawn, the Valley had been filled with such piercing sounds that they seemed to even wake their own echo, reflecting off the mountains surrounding this
paradise.— Mo! — shouted Littlefoot to his friend, who had finished eating and was now splashing and jumping out of the water purely for fun. The interested plesiosaur swam closer. His land-dwelling friend briefly told him his plan.
— Can you pull me out of the water?
Mo, half-emerged from the water, nodded affirmatively and laughed with a trilling sound: by weight, he was about equal to Littlefoot, but even at his young age, he possessed simply extraordinary strength.
Littlefoot grabbed four vines at once with his mouth, which turned out to be rather unpleasant tasting, and for a test, tugged on them several times. The plant, coiled around a thick branch, showed no sign of detaching from it. Then he scrambled up the heavily leaning trunk, made sure that sparkling, amused eyes were watching him intently from the water, and, swinging back and forth a few times, jumped. The tree shuddered: fifty kilograms of squealing, or rather, mooing through tightly clenched jaws, flew through the air. At the farthest point, already far from the bank's edge, the vines, taut as strings, couldn't hold and snapped. Littlefoot, having barely managed to take a breath, crashed into the water with a deafening cry. Before he could even get scared by the lack of familiar ground under his feet, he felt a powerful blow to his stomach from a hard snout, almost lifting him out of the water. By the time Mo, laughing heartily, pushed his dazed-with-pleasure friend onto the bank, Cera and Ducky were already standing by the tree.
After boosting his already jigging-with-impatience girlfriend onto the tree and handing her a vine leaf, which she clenched so hard her jaws turned white, Cera stepped aside. Gathering courage, Ducky took a running start and launched into flight. On the vine, she flew silently, but, letting go, she gave herself free rein: her ear-piercing scream almost turned into ultrasound, temporarily deafening the sensitive Mo. Because of this, he hesitated a bit, and the little saurolophus, who decided not to deny herself the pleasure of a ride on a scaly back, had to paddle her feet in the water longer than she would have liked.
Muffling a squeal and closing her eyes in fear, still clutching the useless leaves in her teeth, she tumbled head over heels down the slope and fell right into the foul-smelling mud, where she sank up to her belly. Seeing the angry Cera, struggling to get back to dry land, all the others burst out laughing in unison. As she rolled on the grass, barely managing to scrape off the clinging dirt, a small winged shadow flitted across the ground. Flapping its wings desperately, a small pterodactyl named Petrie landed on a suitably sized branch. Catching his breath with difficulty, he began to chatter rapidly:
— Spike very bad, sick, Spike sick!
When Ducky, awakened by Littlefoot's cry, ran to the lake, Spike, who had been lying side by side with her, was still asleep — he, like old Thicknose, never woke up so early. But now, as he lay motionless with wide-open eyes instead of, as usual, devouring everything growing on the ground, it was indeed very surprising and even a little frightening. The friends surrounded him and began vying to ask what was wrong. Spike, in response, only shook his head from side to side, demonstrating that he wanted neither to eat, nor drink, nor play. Littlefoot approached him and, jokingly, nudged him in the side covered with dense, leathery growths.
In response, Spike hissed something short and indistinct, pressed himself even harder into the ground, and looked apprehensively at the adult dinosaurs beginning to gather, concerned by his behavior. Stirring Spike up seemed like a good idea to Littlefoot: in addition, Cera, who was in a far from cheerful mood and not planning to fuss around an immobile dinosaur all day, willingly joined him. With combined efforts, Littlefoot and Cera, with the more moral than real help of the bustling Ducky and the concerned Petrie hovering above them, flipped the hissing and resisting Spike onto his back and stepped back a few paces in bewilderment. The adult dinosaurs smirked, exchanged silent glances, and, slowly turning around, went about their business. Spike, writhing his whole body, finally managed to get back on his feet and, after a few clumsy jumps, disappeared noisily and with a crash into the fern thickets.
— What's that on him? — Littlefoot asked Cera in confusion.
Cera approached him and, tilting her horned head, looked under his belly.
— Well, — she drawled. — You have one too. Probably. Right here.
She lightly touched the fold of skin between his hind legs and continued doubtfully.
− Only it's probably very small. Like this.
She pointed to a thick twig about two centimeters long lying nearby.
— We should go after him! — Petrie said, furrowing his brow.
— You're right! — Littlefoot said firmly. — What if it hurts him! Did you hear how he hissed?!
on his side and his long, thick, springy member, which had so astonished them a couple of minutes ago, was fully visible. He warily shifted his gaze from one to the other until it settled on Ducky. She had dealt with a hungry Spike more than once, completely uncontrollable and sometimes even unbearable until he filled his stomach, and she knew how to behave with him. Of course, Spike hadn't eaten anything since morning, but, besides hunger, there was something in his gaze now that made Ducky hide behind Cera's front leg and made the latter lower her head into an instinctive defensive position. Spike's dark brown member grew even larger, a transparent droplet appeared from the opening on its crimson head.
— Still, I wonder what's wrong with him? — Littlefoot, curious, took a few steps forward. The baby stegosaurus got to his feet and tensed up — it was obvious he would run away as soon as Littlefoot made another move towards him.
— I don't know, — Cera hissed in reply, lowering her head even more. — But I don't like it!
As if by agreement, without taking their eyes off the tense Spike, they turned and walked back. Every few steps, one of them would glance back — Spike was lying on his stomach and occasionally made convulsive movements, sliding back and forth on the ground. He picked up some fern from the ground with his teeth and began to chew — Littlefoot considered this a good sign.
That evening, Ducky, for the first time in a very long while, was going to sleep alone, without Spike. Yawning, she, out of habit, said "Good night!" towards the hole he had dug himself, filled with fresh leaves, and fell asleep. Something nudged her nose. Half-asleep, she swatted with her paw but missed, and a moment later felt another soft, hot touch. Taking a deep breath of the familiar scent, she struggled to open her eyes. Right in front of her nose hung a tense member, pointing straight at her face.
— Phew! — Wrinkling her nose in disgust, she lifted her head and met the pleading gaze of big eyes. Spike made an incomprehensible plaintive sound, which Ducky took for an apology. He opened his mouth several times and licked the air with his big tongue, looking meaningfully at his friend. Ducky timidly stuck out her tongue and carefully licked. Spike trembled all over with fine shivers and nodded his head with a satisfied, ear-to-ear smile. Ducky licked again, kissed the head, and licked her lips, mentally shrugging: no taste, hot and hard, with a familiar smell. She didn't really care, but if Spike liked it... She began licking the shaft and head, soon noticing that Spike trembled the most when her lips touched the base of the head. To caress its entire length, she had to take several steps each time: finally, Spike jerked so violently that she, frightened, jumped back.
The next morning, Littlefoot woke up because someone was pushing him. Cera had been attacking him with her head for some time and was clearly in a bad mood. As a true triceratops, she valued her honor highly — yesterday's united laughter at her still rang in her ears.
— Spike is back. — She grumbled at him.
The first thing they came across was a large white spot, clearly visible on the brown earth. Cera sniffed it and sneezed. This woke Ducky, who was curled up in a ball, but Spike continued to sleep soundly. Littlefoot noted to himself that yesterday's "thing" between Spike's legs was gone, and he sincerely rejoiced at this. Cera, who approached Ducky, hadn't even opened her mouth before she sneezed again, so hard that tears streamed from her eyes. Guessing the reason, Ducky rushed to the lake to wash off the traces of the night's "adventure." After rinsing thoroughly, in an excellent mood, she ran back. From afar, she saw Cera and Littlefoot talking to a contented Spike, who was devouring fern with appetite, and between whose legs his club was dangling again. Ducky sniffled and fainted.
— Listen, Littlefoot, — Spike's adoptive mother, Ducky's birth mother, who had already spoken with her daughter, began cautiously answering his, naively direct, question. — What happened to Spike, for us living in the Great Valley, only happens to adults. I raised him from the moment he hatched from the egg, and, of course, I know a lot about him, but I'm still not from his tribe. — She thought for a minute. Littlefoot shifted impatiently from foot to foot. — Perhaps it's best for you to take Spike to his relatives. Especially since they are not far from here right now, I'll explain to you where they've stopped. Hurry, because they don't stay in one place for long, like you and I…
Cera walked and thought about which Spike she disliked more: the former one, who would stop at nothing upon seeing a beautiful flower, usually growing right on the edge of a cliff under the nose of Sharptooth, thereby getting himself into trouble and dragging everyone else into it, or today's one, either lagging behind or sidling up, and continuously sniffing her. Pretending not to notice him, she sharply swished her tail several times, hoping to hit the curious snout, but he, obviously, deftly dodged. The natural fury inherited from her ancestors was breaking down the barriers of decency and friendly relations one after another. Pride did not allow her to call out to her friends. Her eyes filled with blood, Cera deliberately slowed her pace: she would deal with the insolent one herself. Finally, waiting for the moment when Littlefoot and Ducky disappeared behind a large boulder, Cera turned to face Spike and, thrusting forward her three noticeably sharpened horns, charged at him.
Sp-i-i-i-ke! C-e-e-r-a-a!
— Littlefoot!
The soft female voice addressing him, completely mismatching the massive head on a long neck, made him tear his gaze away from the spectacle of Spike mating full force with his squealing-with-delight girlfriend.
Spike is so happy! — He said doubtfully in response.
That's just how we are made, Littlefoot, — the big eyes with long lashes slowly blinked. — Spike's condition will pass soon, and he will be the same as before again, until he becomes fully grown. But for now, it's better for him to stay with us. It will be dark soon, if you like, stay the night here.
Littlefoot was not averse to agreeing, but, glancing at Cera, who was desperately gesturing outside the field of vision of the stegosaurus who had sympathetically inclined his head towards him, he politely declined.