Ah, atta girl.

“Ah, atta girl. Keep low. You’ve got this.”

Those words rummaging through the young Cryolocolophosaurus stood by another’s side. It was her father. She had a uniquely close bond to him. Who would not want to be close to another like themselves, named Frog. Of all creatures. Then again, her name was Nightingale. So melodious and precious.

The air was thick, like a sauna due to the rainfall for the days prior. It felt like it was never going to end. The forest had been dense but felt like a large blanket covered the areas within the last few days due to the rainfall. The liveliness of creatures was few and far between, trying to protect themselves from the waters as well as predators on the prowl. The storm had rolled in from the coast, moving inland.

Frog had been helping Nightingale with a hunt and key points to hunting. Teaching her the ins and outs of being a carnivore, so to speak. Sometimes it was successful, and sometimes it was not. Depending on the prey, was really how it would go down. No pun intended.

As a youngster that Nightingale was though, Frog was pleased with how well she was understanding the concept of a hunt. Not every creature was a friend. That was something her mother taught her. And, of course, another story for another time.

This time, it’s about her bonding with her father. It would create a great memory for Nightingale to have for the rest of her life, especially in the case of survival by hunting things.

They appeared similarly towards the colors upon their bodies and a couple of their marks; however, Nightingale was nearly the same size as Frog was even at her young age. Does that mean she will grow taller? Who knows. Only time will tell at this point.

Either way, today’s adventure was ….who knows. Nightingale had no idea yet.

“Come on, Night,” Frog would speak in a comforting tone to his daughter as his skull nudged forward. “Let’s head this way and see what we can gather or hunt, a’right?”

Nightingale cooed with a happy grin. Her tail swaying excitedly behind her as her red eyes grew big at the idea of what was going to happen with her father today.

She enjoyed her father dearly. Even though she was a follower like him, she loved to follow him of all other creatures within the areas she had explored. Nightingale kept up with her father, Frog.

After a little while. Something strange was in the air. But what?

Frog perked up and stopped to lift his skull into the air. Sniffing hard. His nostrils flaring at the inhales and exhales. “Hmm… smells, fruity?” Turning his head, he looked over to Nightingale. “What do you smell, kiddo?” His posture showing curiosity as his tail swayed. The fruit smell lingered ever-so-lightly within the other aromas.

Nightingale paused in her steps as her tail continued to sway excitedly behind. Her talons and toes were wiggling anxiously as she, too, lifted her snout into the air. Taking in some inhales and exhales as her nostrils flared like her father’s. However, she could not quite identify the scent. The only scent she truly noticed was dirty. If that’s even the right word for it, she thought before she would respond to her father, questionably, “Dirt? Are there fruit in the dirt?” She was genuinely curious and unsure.

Frog let out a small chuckle. Shaking his head as he gave her a confident loo with his response, “yes you’re right, perhaps I missed the dirt smell. Let’s keep going.”

Frog didn’t realize he missed the aroma was strongly of dirt. It was not quite sand, simply it smelled wet. Which makes sense, it did rain the night before. Duh, he thought to himself as the pair continued forth.

Nightingale looked around cautiously as she stood at her father’s side. Taking in the various other scents. The rain from the night before skewed some of the scents. Smells were literally drenched with a coating of the waters that fell from the sky. She could really only smell wet dirt and rain.

It was a lovely smell, the rain. The pitter-pattering of the rain drops falling on to the ferns and trees near their home is so peaceful. The part that Nightingale was not a fan of was the clashing of lightning and rumbles of thunder that were so abrupt anyone would become frightened.

As the duo approached a few feet further to a more, open area of the dense forest they were trekking through. They both looked around at the same time but in opposite directions. How cute, Frog thought, taking a note toward that simple gesture the two had just done.

Once they both glanced around and took in the scents within the area. Still, Nightingale could not tell what it was she was smelling in comparison to what her father had been smelling. Mayhaps it was just a fluke for her. She was young and this was all a learning experience for her.

“Well,…” Frog questioned, looking over to her in a curious gaze.

“I don’t.. I don’t smell anything different, Pa.” She did a little wiggle at her words, she did not want to disappoint him but she wanted to learn from him too. Her body shuddered a little and lowered.

Seeing her reaction in this way nearly broke Frog’s heart.

Before he could reply, Frog looked around once more.

The area was open, almost like an oasis but one that would be found within a jungle. The ferns were damp as ever, leaning only a couple of inches to the sandy looking grounds. A light breeze was felt and disappeared, making the trees sway gently. There were no creatures on the land before them. However, in the small looking water, almost pond-like, there were fish. How many, they were not sure but it was something to do. Most importantly, to do together.

Frog thought, ah close enough. He gave a little chuckle before he decided to say something to his daughter, who had appeared scared of sorts.

“It’s a’right dear,” Frog gave comfort in his tone, he leaned closer to her; their skulls merely touching before he leaned in more to give her a soft nudge. “Cheer up, let’s try for some fish,” he pointed with a loosely dino-finger toward the waters.

The water was a soft blue, and anyone would be able to see through it. The ferns nearly teasing the edge of the shore, or what mini shore this was. A few fish were seen, swimming around within the waters. Bubbles and ripples of their movements every so often would be seen at the surface.

Nightingale giggled with a soft smile as her father nudged her. She followed him to the edge of the water.

They both stood and waited. Gazing at the fish’s movements before trying to catch anything.

Ah, atta girl. Keep low. You’ve got this,” Frog whispered; soft enough for Nightingale to hear but silent enough to not disturb the fish they were about to feast on. Or perhaps become friends with, knowing Nightingale.

The thought of befriending a fish made both of them bellow out giggles, almost forgetting what they were doing.

Luckily, the fish were not fazed by the duo.