More Questions Than Answers

Scavar's nose was buried in the sand, snuffling at a scent that had caught his attention just an hour or so ago. It was fading fast, and the headstrong bull wasn't too keen on allowing something this interesting to slip from him. His eyes narrowed, and his large form lumbered across golden sands, the shadow of the massive red rock arch stretching across the coast in the setting sun like a foreboding animal.

Behind him was a trail that he'd left himself, scraping from that long nasal horn of his and heavy footprints that disrupted the ripples of sand, following a.. much smaller trail of footprints. The theropod had been moving briskly, and if it wasn't for the strange scent that clung to the imprints, Scavar would've been inclined to write them off as nothing more than a youngling who'd wandered away from home. That wasn't terribly uncommon, but the last time he checked, younglings didn't smell like that. His nostrils flared, puffing sand away from his nose once again as he picked his head up from his place at the ground, raising upwards, and parting his jaws in idle curiosity. His beak clacked shut with more force than he'd intended when the wind bore no answers to his silent questions, and the young bull shook out his frill in his distaste for this excursion. Maybe it would've been better to drag Whittaker along.. that little freak had quite the nose on him, that's for sure, and he would've been more than helpful. Alas, Scavar hadn't wanted to track down his little companion for something that might've been nothing more than his imagination, as he was starting to consider as a possible explanation to the oddity.

Nevertheless, he carried on. There was definitely something here, and he'd be damned if he didn't find it before the sun set and he had to return to his herd. Imagine that, being lost out here away from his home. What would he tell his father when he finally returned? How would he take such reckless behavior? It was dangerous out here alone, especially for someone like him. He was formidable, for sure, but not quite the match for an Albertosaurus or something like that. For every small carnivore that he could fend off, there was a much larger one waiting just around the corner. That didn't seem to deter him, however. Life was nothing if you never stepped outside of your comfort zone, though he did wonder just what he could consider that comfort zone anymore. He found more enjoyment in these long treks towards the unknown than any kind of familiarity within the valleys. Sparring with the other bachelors was fun, sure, but so was getting into copious amounts of trouble with his dearest friend.

The beach yawned on like an endless desert, if the desert was covered in saltwater and crags instead of just sand. The footprints veered left and right, zigzagging in an unpredictable pattern that had the grey bull nearly confused. It was running like it had somewhere to be, or like it had been spooked. He couldn't tell, he wasn't a tracker. He could barely follow the scent trail as is, considering the fact that he wasn't really designed for something like that, being herbivorous and all. His sense of smell was quite good, sure, but it wasn't the same level a carnivore's would be at. The only thing he really needed to smell was whether a plant was poisonous or not, or where his family had gone off to.

His trailing train of thought was snapped back to the task at hand when a single feather fluttered across the trail towards his feet, startling the bull for just a moment before he bent down to investigate. The air from his nose puffed the feather upwards for a moment, before it drifted back towards the sands it was skittering across to begin with. Its color was vibrant, quite a deal different than the ones that he was used to seeing from the feathered ones here on the island. It wasn't fluffy down or thick coverage meant for warmth, these seemed to resemble the primaries that the Utahraptors sported, although it wasn't made for flight. This discovery was perplexing, and his brows furrowed in his study of this strange, bright feather. His head lifted towards the direction it had come from, and his path diverged. A grumble sounded in his throat as the brush gave way to a secluded cove, something small and out of the way, and just barely big enough to house him. The tops of his frill's horns scraped the ceiling, and he had to duck into an uncomfortable angle just to get inside, which probably wasn't the best idea. What if this mystery feathered beastie was still inside? What if it had sharp teeth and sharp claws, and worst of all, it was hungry? What would he do then, in a space that he could barely turn around in?

Lucky for him, that didn't seem to be the case. Within was a small sprout, a little green thing that had been haphazardly dug out and pushed into the ground. There wasn't anything remarkable about it, save for the little pink tendrils that came from the very top of the stem. The leaves were large and broad, despite the sprout's small size, and there was an aroma coming from it that he could only describe as sweet, nearly like the scent he'd been following, though without the clinging creature smell. Crouched as well as he could, he shuffled forwards, shoulders scraping rock walls and horns catching on overhangs, which resulted in uncomfortable pulls that had him grumbling once more.

As embarrassing as it was to admit this, it took a lot of willpower not to eat the damn thing. The sweet scent and the small size of the plant was quite appealing, honestly, and it was taking everything in him not to just take a nibble. This was more important than his stomach! There was something up here, something incredibly wrong, he just wasn't sure what. The cove offered very little room for his investigation, and Scavar had to bend his knees and nearly lay down just to get a whiff of the plant before him, which didn't respond very well to his disturbances. In a puff, little particulates escaped from those pink fronds, catching him off guard and encouraging him to scramble backwards — as well as he could with such limited movement, at least. Aside from the brief sneezing fit, however, there wasn't anything dangerous about that little outbreak. Not that he could tell, anyway. Maybe it was slow acting, and he'd know in the next few days or so.. what a terrible thought, Scavar.

Either way, his last course of action was to get the heck out of that cave! It was so small and cramped, nearly claustrophobic in its size. He didn't like it one bit, especially not when there was a strange little plant in there puffing spores at him. That wasn't the best way to spend the evening, and he didn't find the odd little beast that had supposedly been responsible for this weird little thing! This was a fruitless endeavor. Once his head was free from the cove, the bull plopped down on his hind legs, sitting not unlike a dog in his contemplations, staring at the cove's entrance as if the answers would jump up at him out of the blue. He was never good at mysteries, and this seemed like quite the big one! He'd need someone with a bigger brain for this.. or the other half of his own. He'd have to tell his little Cryolophosaurus friend all about this and see if they couldn't put their heads together and figure this out. If anyone knew anything about anything, it would be Whittaker.

Rising from his space, the rapidly setting sun informed him that it really was time to leave this alone. He needed to head home, and he only had a few hours to do that before folks started getting worried, and that was the last thing he needed. Another final glance to the cove, and he was off, back the way he came with nothing more than new questions in his head. He'd have to remain in the dark.. for now. There were answers, he just wasn't sure what they could be. All in due time, however.. all in due time.