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springfallendeer · 3 months ago

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False Flyer: 001 - Failed Hunt

First (and maybe only segment, undecided) of a new-ish AU in which humans live alongside all manner of prehistoric creature. Borrowing from the concepts of "Selkies" and throwing in aspects comparable to Primal (in the sense that its humans with dinosaurs but nothing in the timeline is accurate to the Earth as we know it).

Humans dawn costumes of an "Idol" (A dinosaur or other creature) to transform into it. Sometimes being a giant version of something small, or a small version of something giant. Lots of variation. I won't go into a WHOLE lot of detail now, but hey. If for some reason this takes off, I'll have to continue with it.

CW for descriptions of gore, assault, attempted murder, attempted cannibalism, cannibalism mentions, and overall just "Things get hunted and die" themes.

Midday.

An abnormally large female velociraptor lurks among the underbrush. Her amber eyes fixated upon her completely oblivious prey; a large, heavily muscular swine.

The hefty creature idly grazes out in a small patch of grass. Its wide nose and cloven hooves make short work of soil as it searches for tasty morsels beneath the ground.

Roots. Grubs. Fungus. Anything remotely edible is readily gobbled up by the beast goes about its business. All the while it absently moves closer to the invisible line that will spell the difference between its continued survival, or a quick and brutal end at the talons of the nearby predator.

About a dozen more accurately sized velociraptors hover just behind their giant leader. Each of them equally fixated upon the lumbering frame of their designated prey.

Surely, such a large swine would make for a feast. The organs alone would be more than enough to fill their little bellies. And they have been promised their fair share for their cooperation with this greatly important task.

The giant female carefully moves beneath the cover of the bushes.

If she wants this hunt to be successful, then she must remain downwind. If the swine catches even the faintest sniff of her or her companions, then it will waste no time in making a quick getaway. And if it crosses over the border that divides the territory of the raptors from the territory of the tyrants, then the hunt will be as good as lost. For she cannot dare to cross over the threshold herself, for fear of the retribution that could come her way should she be caught trespassing.

Brown and white feathers ruffle somewhat in concentration. The iridescent sheen covering the darker portions of her plumage absorbs what little light manages to find her beneath the cover of the foliage.

Long, hooked claws anxiously tap against the soil as the female moves into a more optimal position.

She has managed to draw remarkably close to her target.

The blistering brand of the hook-claws can be easily spotted on its haunch. Still fresh and tender from its very recent application to the swine’s flesh.

She is in the near prime position to deliver her first and most important strike. But she is acutely aware of the fact that the creature will try to run the instant that she has pounced upon it. So she must try and find a way to encourage it to turn about so that it faces a more desirable position.

Suddenly, she breaks her silence.

“Re-ree-re-reeee”

Quick, short bouts of squealing rumble from the depths of her throat. Broken only by quiet gruffs and the odd snort where needed.

She mimics the friendly call of a swine, hoping to pique the curiosity of her prey.

If she can only get it to lift his head and turn sideways, she will coax it into the optimal position for a pounce. So long as she can keep it facing away from the border, then there will be few issues in landing this kill even if the beast manages to sprint for a while with her clinging to it.

The oversized hog lifts its face up out of the soil and grunts, naturally curious of the sound.

It then offers a series of quick snorts in an attempt to communicate its location to what it believes to be a nearby companion. Namely to communicate that it has found food and thus its visitor should come to it, as opposed to the other way around.

“Re-ree-re-reeee”

The giant velociraptor responds in kind by repeating her earlier friendly call. Though this time she does so louder in order to create the illusion that the imaginary hog has moved closer.

The swine reacts in turn by turning ever so slightly to peer in her direction. As now it can verify the direction that the sound has come from.

The happy snorting that follows the change in position can be seen as proof enough that the hulking swine has not yet caught on to the ruse. More-so when the beast proceeds to shove its snout back into the soil in order to resume digging for food. Though now it is doing so under the assumption that there will soon be a hungry companion joining it for lunch.

Alright.

This is the best possible setup for a successful hunt, given the circumstances.

The hog is now standing in a desirable position. And though it is alert, it is completely relaxed due to the belief that an ally is within the vicinity.

It may even try to run in the direction of its fictional friend once the attack is sprung, on the assumption that there will be someone nearby who can possibly help it escape predation.

The giant female tenses her body as she hunkers down in preparation for a pounce. She must calculate the distance between herself and her intended target. There is no room for error.

The smaller raptors crouch and tense as well. Each of them is patiently waiting for their leader to make the final move and initiate the hunt.

But a sudden disturbance sends the swine charging in the opposite direction.

That being the unexpected arrival of another abnormally sized velociraptor. This one even larger than the female, and equally interested in hunting. Though he is completely disinterested in going after the freshly escaped swine.

No.

This dark feathered male has his sights set on something else.

That being the speckled female that stands completely flabbergasted in the bushes.

A guttural chuckle escapes the male as he casually approaches the bushes.

His is a deep and broken voice. One reminiscent of stones being violently rubbed together under intense pressure. Interrupted only by an airy wheeze as the abomination of a hook-claw struggles to use its voice.

The terrified female stands completely still and silent, as if hoping that her lack of a response will somehow trick the male into believing that she is not there.

“I see you~” He maliciously chortles, lowering his head ever so slightly so that he can peer directly into the eyes of his petrified prey.

Constricted amber irises clash with the dilated icy eyes of the crazed cannibal.

“I see you~!” The male repeats, this time with more enthusiasm as he steps closer to his still immobile prey.

A dribble of saliva glints in the sunlight as the cannibal suddenly lunges forward, confident in his ability to overpower and capture the less experienced female.

He charges into the bushes, jaws snapping as a feral snarl emanates from his chest.

His teeth catch something covered in feathers. But as his eyes catch the sudden movement on all sides as the inhabitants of the bush break off in every direction in order to escape, he swiftly realizes that he’s missed his mark.

The female darts past him at a full sprint.

He is left behind, momentarily stunned with his jaws clamped on the body of the small velociraptor that he has unintentionally killed.

Not that he minds the quick snack.

A few quick motions of his jaw and he’s able to arch his head back so that he can swallow the body in one go.

He need only bite down with a sickening crunch to sever the wings and legs from the remainder of his meal so that he can hastily devour what remains.

Blood dribbles from his muzzle as the power of his jaws forces the small body to burst within his mouth.

He cannot help but purr in delight at the fresh taste of gore upon his waiting tongue.

The sudden gush of fluid makes it easier for him to swallow the unfortunate little raptor. Feathers and all.

Then he darts off in the direction of the female, all the more intent on hunting her down now that he’s been able to wet his appetite on one of her little pets.

Try as she will and try as she might, she cannot escape him. He is a master in the art of turning the predator into prey.

But to her credit, she at least makes him work more for his meal than most of his previous victims.

She bobs and weaves through the underbrush, sticking to tight quarters in hopes of cutting off his ability for an ambush. She confines herself to obstructed paths and takes every opportunity to turn back in the opposite direction so that she can throw him off of her trail. She intentionally moves onto difficult terrain. Anything and everything that she can think of to hopefully create distance so that she can eventually escape.

Unfortunately for her, though, her tricks would only really work against a normal predator. Not a fellow Idol with enough cognitive function to be able to effectively plan ahead.

He recognizes her attempts to restrict his movements using tight paths. So he elects to maintain the chase safely from the sidelines, where he has more room to react to any sudden changes in her trajectory.

He realizes that she is trying to evade his gaze by relying upon the cover of the undergrowth. Therefore he is able to make an educated guess of which way she will go during her desperate rush to escape him.

He notices her mistake when she rushes onto uneven terrain that is difficult to traverse. Ergo he makes sure to properly pace himself so that he can maintain his energy while she foolishly runs herself to exhaustion.

Once she begins to slow, he picks up the speed. Because now he knows for certain that she has worn herself out enough that even if she turns around to face him in a fight, she will not be much of a challenge.

He confirms as much upon breaking the distance, when he lunges forward with a pounce to easily pin her on the ground.

Not without a scuffle. She still has some fight left. Which he takes notice of the instant that she turns to snap her jaws in his face in response to the weight of him on her flank.

Unfortunately for her, his reaction time is quicker. He only has to crane his neck back to avoid what would have been a painful reminder of this hunt. One that likely would have doubled as a permanent reminder, seeing as she had elected to aim right at his eye.

He reflexively blinks in response to the heat of her breath as it wafts over his eye. But because he ducked so efficiently, her little hooked teeth never actually came close to grazing his beautiful face.

He, however, is more than close enough to wound her in retaliation. Which he does by first digging his elongated toe claw into her upper thigh. Thus he assures that even if she did manage to throw him off, she would not be able to make it far due to the placement of the wound.

He then worsens the damage by quickly ducking down so that he can tear into the freshly created opening, effectively crippling his prey.

“Augh!”

The female releases a pained shout as her assailant rips into her leg.

She reflexively tries to bite him again in response. Only to have her face shoved into the ground by a well placed kick.

Well and truly pinned, she can do nothing but groan in pain as the male continues with his attack.

He applies pressure with one leg to keep her head pressed into the dirt. Whereas the other is only used to help him with his balance while he violently tears apart her thigh, quickly working the small puncture wound open to encourage excessive blood flow.

With each bite, he yanks feathers from her flank. The sound is not unlike that of fabric being abruptly ripped at the seams. Quick and violent, while leaving the victim acutely aware of the damage being done to her exhausted body.

By the time that the violent attack finally comes to a pause, the female is left as a whimpering, bleeding mess. While the male is free to loom dominantly over her, confident in the fact that he has well and truly succeeded in this hunt.

Clumps of feathers stick to his bloodied muzzle.

He elects to humiliate his prey further by pausing for a moment so that he can clean his face. Which he does by idly wiping his mouth on the side of her body.

He uses her feathers as a napkin, leaving her further covered in her own blood as she lays pathetically beneath his feet.

Satisfied with his work, he takes his weight halfway off of her.

As in he steps off of her side. One foot settles in the soil while the other remains firmly planted upon her head.

“Caught you~” He gleefully chortles, leaning down to fully look the pathetic creature in the eye as he ponders his next course of action.

He elects to lean down towards her neck. Where the thread that holds her Idol together can be easily seen.

An excited purr echoes in his chest as he carefully clasps an end of string between his jaws.

One swift pull is all that it will take to reveal the true form of his victim. And it will fully seal her fate, as she will be left laying beneath him as the pathetic woman that she is.

No claws. No feathers. No pointed teeth that could be used to tear into his flesh.

Just frail skin and useless limbs that will not be able to provide her any protection when he goes in for the final blow.

“Don’t!...” The female pathetically whimpers, her voice escaping her as a pained and pleading gasp.

The plea gives him pause.

Not because it has moved him in some way. No. He has absolutely no intention of giving up this meal.

He pauses because of the laugh that abruptly rolls through his body.

How amusing it is that she thinks that she can make him stop. As if she specifically could achieve what no one else could do.

Not her friends. Who he also tracked down and devoured while they were out on these asinine hunts.

Not her siblings. Who proved to somehow be even less competent than her, despite being more experienced with combat.

Certainly not her mother. Who once stared up at him with those same beautiful, amber eyes.

He hopes that hers will taste just as sweet when he pops them on his tongue.

Another laugh overtakes him.

No. She will not be the voice that somehow manages to break through the madness to warm his icy heart.

She will be the same as anyone else that he has hunted. Just another pitiful cry to soothe him into a comfortable sleep so that he can recover from the hunt. Another warm meal to fill the ravenous void in his stomach until he can track down someone else.

Another beautiful trophy to be added to his memories. Equally prized, and therefore, completely fucking meaningless in the grand scheme of things.

“Any last words~?” He mockingly asks, anticipating yet another pitiful plea for mercy. One which he would immediately ignore for the sake of satiating his own sadistic desires.

He stares down into those pretty eyes of hers as he waits for her response. Only to be confused by what comes next.

In a flash, her terrified expression warps into something defiant. It would seem that despite being brutally torn open and exhausted, she is not completely without the warrior's spirit.

Her jaws fly open.

Not to cry out for mercy. Not to beg for her life.

Not even to speak.

Instead, she releases a shriek. A loud, unsettling shriek that even manages to make the feathers on the back of his neck bristle in fear.

Not in fear of her, mind you.

But fear of the sound that he hears in response.

The shriek that echoes through the air in response to her unexpected cry of defiance.

Reflexively, he looks towards the sky. Towards the source of the sound.

She shrieks again. And her call is once again answered by the beast that has taken notice of her voice.

His pupils constrict in terror as he finally realizes the dangerous situation that he has found himself in.

The dangerous situation that she has put him in.

Without meaning too, he reduces the weight that he has on her face.

He lifts his foot.

Not a lot. Not even enough to properly take his foot off of her face. And yet he still somehow gives her all of the room that she needs to deliver additional retaliation.

With a sudden burst of strength, she pushes her head out from under his foot so that she can clamp her jaws down on his leg.

Hooked teeth pierce the thick scutes that would otherwise protect his flesh from damage. And though she lacks the physical strength to properly crack the bone beneath, she is at least strong enough to hold him in place.

Reflexively, he tries to kick.

He tries to free himself so that he can turn tail and flee. Because now, he is the one being hunted by the thing that is coming down through the trees.

He stomps on her wrist with his free leg while yanking the other backwards.

She calls out in pain as her wrist breaks beneath the force of his body.

Multiple teeth are ripped out of her body and blood splatters on the ground beneath her face.

And yet somehow, she remains defiant.

She remains determined to assure that he cannot evade his hunter.

Now missing a fraction of her teeth, she lunges at him again; this time clamping down on the uninjured leg.

Just as with the previous, her teeth effortlessly pierce his natural armor. And this time he cannot properly kick her away because of the damage that she has done to his lower extremities.

Still, this does not prevent him from trying.

“Let go!”

He tries to kick her off as he hears branches snapping in the distance.

“Let go!”

He tries to kick her in the face to free himself. All the while he can see from the corner of his eye how the leaves bristle in the wind created by the other hunter as it descends from the sky.

“Leg go you idiot!”

He rakes his claws along her side, desperate to find some means of forcing her to release him before the predator can reach him.

But she holds firm in sheer defiance of his demands, unwilling to let him escape with his life when he has so mercilessly assured that she will not leave with hers.

Before his next plea can escape him, the wings descend.

One moment, he is standing over the wounded female. And in the next, he is yanked off of her; his body clasped firmly by a long beak lined with dozens of pointed teeth.

A pained rasp escapes him as the air is forcibly squeezed out of his lungs by the strength of the bite.

After that, the only sound that escapes him is that of his body being violently thrashed against the ground.

Side to side. Up and down. With the mercilessness of a bird bashing a fish against the side of a tree to kill it and break up its bones. Until blood suddenly explodes from his mouth as the violent mauling results in his insides haemorrhaging.

Then all the more violently until his absolutely mangled body goes completely and utterly limp.

Only then does the oversized tropeognathus drop his lifeless corpse on the ground.

Only then does she pause and take in the brutality of the scene that she has not only stumbled upon, but played a part in creating.

As her chest heaves in desperate need of air, she stares down at the mutilated body of her prey. Well and truly dead, with absolutely no chance of it being an act.

Stomach ripped open and limbs crumpled. Mouth open with organs spilling out. Half stripped of feathers and absolutely covered in blood.

Just like the poor female, who had been unable to crawl away before his body could burst.

Now, only half of the blood on her body has come out of her. The rest has been splattered upon her as she laid there and helplessly watched while the cannibalistic male was exterminated.

Tears pour out of her eyes and seep into her feathers as the trauma of her experience fully sets in.

She trembles and she whimpers, curling into herself as she lays pitifully on the ground in front of the trope.

“You’re alive.” The tropeognathus states. Just to try and reassure the velociraptor that she has well and truly survived her harrowing experience.

But her words are only responded to with a barely repressed sob as the wounded female further curls into herself.

“Hey! Relax! You’re alive. He’s gone.” She states, repeating her earlier sentiments. Somehow failing to understand the larger scope of the consequences that this incident will have.

“It hurts!...” The velociraptor whimpers, her voice a broken slur due to the damage done to her mouth.

She’s lost half of her teeth. And so blood and drool bubbles from her mouth with each noise that she attempts to make.

“You’ll heal.” The trope replies. Only to gaze upon the smaller creature in confusion as they pathetically shake their head.

“No!... No.” The raptor murmurs.

“It won’t… I failed my hunt.” She sobs, completely and utterly distraught.

Distraught because this victory has only assured a longer, more drawn out death compared to what the cannibal would have done to her.

Even the tropeognathus, ignorant to the rules and customs of the hook-claws, understands the severity of that statement.

“You were hunted by the cannibal!” The flier exclaims in response, completely bewildered by the asinine idea that the youngster was going to be punished for a failure that she could not avoid.

She then glances down at the mangled corpse of the cannibal.

The thread of his Idol is visible. Still somehow intact despite the horrific mauling that he was put through.

She calmly dips her head down to clasp that thread with her beak, so that she may tug it loose.

When she does, the Idol falls away. And suddenly the giant velociraptor is left as what he well and truly is.

A very dead man.

One marked with the hellish consequences of his cannibalistic nature. Boils and rashes and septic skin. Now made all the more horrific by the bloodbath that was his cause of death.

After taking in the truly horrific sight of the monster, she proceeds to rip off one of his legs.

Specifically, the leg that has been marked with the brand of the exiled. A marking which will prove that the leg belonged to the now dead cannibal.

She then tosses that mangled limb towards the trembling velociraptor.

“Take that to your elders. Tell them that you’ve failed your hunt, but the cannibal is dead because of you. If they cannot consider that an equivalent, then I pity you for their foolishness.” She states.

She then stands idle and watches as the wounded female tries her hardest to stand. And though her wounded leg nearly buckles under her own weight, she does eventually succeed.

Once she’s standing, her Idol falls away. The image of the brutally mauled speckled raptor fades, revealing the battered body of the woman that lay hidden beneath. With her thigh torn open and nearly stripped of skin, and half of her face horribly swollen from the number of teeth that have been violently yanked out of her jaw.

Even one of her arms lays useless at her side. Swollen from thumb to forearm and completely without use due to her wrist having been broken.

If given time and care, her wounds would heal. Her teeth would grow back. She would eventually regain the ability to hunt.

But that was all reliant on whether or not her clan decided to give her the respect that she had rightly earned by playing such a valiant part in bringing the cannibal down.

With her working arm, she reaches to pick up the mangled leg that has been tossed her way.

She glances up to lock eyes with the flier. All the while tears of pain and fear roll down her bruised and swollen cheeks.

Then she turns to leave. And the tropeognathus silently watches as the battered woman haphazardly limps off into the wilderness, one slow and agonizing step at a time.

She remains there until the raptor disappears into the distance. At which point she drops her head once more to collect what remains of the cannibal’s body.

She picks it up to take it with her as she leaves for her home. Intent on bringing it along as proof of the victory that has been had today, so that she and the many other victims of this horrible monster can finally breathe a sigh of relief.

#reblog

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