Apr 13, 2011 19:24
The evening of the twelfth was quiet. Certainly, an occasional screech tore through the skies or a roar rumbled from far off, but compared to the previous few days it was calm. Most of the dinosaurs were gone; defeated, eaten, who was keeping track anymore? Certainly not the natives of Vatheon. Those who had survived had hidden, burrowing themselves away behind doors and make-shift barriers, praying for the end.
They call it the eye of the storm, the point at the center of a tropical storm at which the winds die down, the skies clear and the weather becomes calm.
They call it the eye of the storm because it is not the end; behind the eye lies the strongest part of the storm.
The evening of the twelfth was quiet, but the morn of the thirteenth started with low rumbling and then a roar. And another. And a third.
Deep in the forest, something shifted. It was massive, tearing down trees as it turned. The Giganotosaurus did not understand what had brought it here. It did not understand a lot of things. But there was one thing that it understood. It was hungry.
And it was not alone.
Down by the pirate ship, another form shifted. This one too was massive, agitated by the translucent pirate spirits that surrounded it. The Tyrannosaurus let out a loud roar, snapping at the closest. Its rage only intensified when its teeth closed on nothing but air.
And finally there was a third.
The Spinosaurus' body was shadowed slightly by the faint glow coming from the working half of the coral. It cocked its head, nostrils flaring, before it turned, its powerful tail smashing into the dimmed half of the coral, tearing through it like it was nothing. Satisfied slightly, it lowered its head and roared, soon joined by a second and third low rumbling roar.
Behind the eye always lies the deadliest part of the storm.
!event