More Than You Can Chew

There, upon the shore she could see them. A collection of bodies huddled against the sand, hulking forms of the euoplocephalus shielded the smaller bodies of the oviraptors from the harsh seaspray of the ocean. The water lapped at her face as she slithered through the current like a serpent, observing the strangers; which were going far too close to the shipyard for comfortability. Heron dipped her body below the cool surface of the ocean and kicked her feet to propel her closer to the shoreline; several heartbeats had passed by the time her claws made contact with wet sand and her body began to rise from the water. Surprised faces snapped to look in Heron’s direction as she shook the water and salt from her feathers, she hoped she looked as imposing as her father and as graceful as her mother, cold blue eyes stared back at them in what she hoped was an even expression.

“What are you doing here?” Her voice was one of silken anger all the while maintaining eye contact with the small troop which had dared to leave their safe little dome and intrude upon her home. The shipyard was no tromping ground for them to control. Feathers raised and flared under the gazes of these strangers, making her small sleek body appear ever so slightly larger.

“Planting!” Chirped one of the oviraptors, a pale grey and white scraggly one with purple paint which formed wing like markings over his back. Meanwhile his friend, a black and white oviraptor with highlights of red paint and holding a bag of seeds, at least had the sense to look nervous. Heron paused, she had seen both of them before… The scraggly one was especially familiar, she believed his name was Maol while the nervous one she believed was called Pokie…

“We are following orders of Queen Rhys.” Rumbled one of the guardians, grey and white with flecks of darker colors… To Heron he looked much like a dog. As well as incredibly dirty to boot. Heron shifted back, a safer distance away from the dirty strangers. Hound, she recalled the whispers of other islanders about this one’s nauseating loyalty and occasional aggression.

“Well. Go plant elsewhere, this land is occupied.” Heron humphed as she fluffed her beautiful dark coat, observing from the corner of her eye as her wet silky feathers caught in the sun. She thinks her father would have roared at them if he were here, however Fade had taught Heron better manners than such brashness… Not that certain brothers would be opposed to such noise. Though before Heron could pat herself on the back for a job well done, a second hulking form stepped forward with her clubbed tail angled ever so slightly- ready to swing.
Okay. Maybe this wouldn’t be as easy as she thought… She was suddenly regretting not running home to get her aunt or one of her siblings. Or even her father.

“We have orders to plant here. To plant every inch of the surface we can reach, and you will not impede that-” growled the guardian, crest flared high to make her seem larger and more imposing than she already was.

A grunt from the nearby ferns which lined the shore broke the forming tension like a snipped string. A form emerged from the shadows, sunlight speckling his scarred hide like slivers of light upon the hide of a mighty shark.
Guerilla. Infamous among the islanders who visited Atlantis for his aggression, experience and resolve and boy did he show it in the way he moved. Every step spoke a story of power and experience

Oh shit.
A slow breath. If Heron backed down now, then she would show these puny Atlanteans that her bask could be pushed around. She would stand her ground and hold strong for her bask. 

“Continue planting. I will handle this.” Grunted the iguanodon as he lumbered out of the shadows of the looming palms. In response the dark suchomimus flared her feathers and puffed out her chest in challenge; if they wanted her home, they would have to go through her first. In response to her threat and held ground the iguanodon rose up onto his hind legs to loom over her like a bear and bellow- the sound rattled in her ears. Neither moved to back down from their opponents, even Heron who was dwarfed by the sheer size of the iguanodon before her.

Heron made the first move, rushing through the sand with the sense of invincibility only carried by youth, the older iguanodon was surprisingly quick to move as well. Sliding through sand in a spray of sharp grains, he dodged away from her inexperienced charge and used his much larger body to slam it into Heron’s far more petite form; sending her careening across the sand, however she refused to tip over. She dug her claws into the ground, anchoring herself and using her tail to distribute her weight. Heron’s head swung back around to face the iguanodon, hissing at him in a way she had seen the older members of her bask do several times before during disputes. Then, she moved. Expecting her speed to be enough to catch him off guard, however it was not enough. Guerilla met met her charge with a swing of his right thumbclaw, glancing it off her feathers when she suddenly ducked her head down and leaving a thin gash in its wake. A growl scratched the back of Heron's throat and her eyes narrowed as she stalked around him. Unfortunately, Guerilla had grown tired of the games. With startling speed he launched himself head first at Heron and rose onto his hindlegs as she retaliated. 
Hooked claws scrambled for purchase upon that tough and scarred hide as her teeth snapped at his throat then-
Pain.
Pain rippled through her side like a hot iron.

That pointed thumb claw sunk past her feathers and into flesh, dragging down her side in a searing line of agony. Heron reeled back, feeling the claw dislodge as her body once more collided with the ground, the sand beneath her body becoming sticky with blood as a shriek startled the nearby birds into a frenzy. She wailed and cried, flailing her limbs as a hulking weight pressed down upon her before lifting-
Was he leaving?-
Through a filter of salty tears she saw his silhouette raised up onto his hindlegs. Oh. He was going to crush her. A whine built in her throat as she pathetically squirmed over the sand, attempting to use her hind legs to push herself to safety away from the impending force which would surely crush her ribs and any other bones his weight landed upon.

However, the blow never came. There was no crushing weight, no shockwave of pain. Instead the mighty iguanodon remained up on his hind legs, seemingly staring something down. Heron writhed , despite the pain, and tried to angle her body to see. There, she saw him. Haloed by the sun and blurred by the tears in her eyes. Fade, her uncle, loomed like a being of war and rage with heaving sides and flaring nostrils. His eye angled to see Heron and where she sprawled in the bloody sand- it seemed someone had heard her shrieks and arrived to aid.

A growl rattled in the chest of the scarred male and Guerilla hesitated, seemingly wary of quarreling with a fully grown and scarred male suchomimus. He stepped back, and each step he took back Fade forward to Heron’s side.
It was okay. She was okay.
Uncle Fade was here.
Was he saying something? His voice rumbled in her ears but she was oh so tired from the fight and bloodloss.