Frozen Rivalry

The icy ground was an adjustment that Turbo found difficult to adapt to. The cold, wet air nipped at his scales uncomfortably, and it was harder to find food. His beloved blackberries did not even grow anymore, the familiar bushes looking pathetic and dry, as if their life had withered away as the cold arrived. From his grumpy snort, the air condensed, forming delicate clouds at his nostrils while he used his snout to shove the snow aside. The tip of his curved beak scraped at the tough ground, satisfyingly forming a resistance when it clashed into hidden roots of the hibernating life underneath the frozen soil. It was nothing specifically tasty, but it was food nonetheless. Turbo clasped his beak around a particularly thick root, giving a firm tug. He leaned backwards, pulling firmer and firmer until the root gave way and snapped in a familiar way. As he chewed, the styracosaurus lifted his head to survey his surroundings. The tough material ground between his teeth, the movement repetitive and nothing more than instinctual routine for the herbivore. 

As he swallowed, he brought his head back down to seek more. He shoved little hills of snow aside, forming little ditches that revealed the patchy ground, ugly and pathetic under the frozen surface. Bringing his forelimb forward, Turbo scraped further at the snow, his nostrils flaring as they sought any further scent of edible material. Perhaps it was time to try another spot. Annoyance brought the male’s eyelids down as he lifted his head once more. 

A dark shape caught the corner of his gaze, still and baited. Turbo stared, angling his head to focus. The dark shape contrasted severely against the snow, but the glare from the sun betrayed him, concealing the details of the shape. It was nothing more than a blob, no different than the environment itself. 

Perhaps it had little patience to spare, or perhaps it had been waiting for far longer than Turbo had been aware. The shape charged forward, a familiar flash of orange presenting itself upon the threat's sides. Instinct carried Turbo’s legs without thought, and he sprinted with all his might. He should have known better, though. Long, powerful legs dominated his shorter, stout limbs, and the carnivore closed distance with long strides. Despite both being of similar age, just as young as the other, she only needed one step for two of his. 

Turbo swerved, dodging the broad head of Gourd. It was as if time itself crawled at a snail’s pace as his green eyes bore into her glowing orange ones. He was all too familiar with her brutish way of moving. Her reliance on strength and power, simply unwilling to consider other tactics. The carnotaurus would never make a meal of him. He would make sure of it. His legs kicked off the cold ground, spraying snow around him as he weaved and dodged, and Groud thrashed and swayed in her attempts to knock Turbo over. He would not let it happen, though. He could not let it happen. 

Suddenly, the ground seemed to lose all traction. A startled grunt echoed from the styracosaurus as his forelimbs folded beneath him, and his hind legs followed suit. The ground was extremely cold, and as he moved to pick himself up, he simply slipped again, as helpless as a hatchling. Turbo had no time to respond further. Gourd crashed into him, and for just a moment, he could have sworn the grunt that rumbled from her chest was not out of hungry malice, but shock. He spared no time to attach emotion to her. Gourd did not deserve it. Turbo’s teeth pressed tightly against eachother as he rumbled furiously at his attacker, swinging his head back. He wouldn't see that the carnivore was working to stand up herself. His angry jab only caused her to lose her balance, and the carnivore’s heavy body fell onto him. Then a loud crack echoed through the field, and Turbo’s entire body stung, stabbing colder than he had ever felt in his life. He tried to scream, but nothing broke through the muffled water that surrounded him. His stubby limbs thrashed, the disoriented styracosaurus working to right himself. He could not even tell if he was upside-down or rightside-up. 

Finally, his horned head broke the surface, and his beaked jaws parted in a loud gasp for air. Coughs shook Turbo’s body as he continued to flail around, his breaths coming out in quick, jagged huffs as the cold threatened to strangle him. At the corner of his eye, he could see Gourd as she too mimicked his thrashing, grunting and bellowing. Distress? Anger? Confusion? Only a glimpse of her fiery eyes translated a clear emotion: anger. Anger at the unexpected plunge into icy depths? Perhaps anger at Turbo? He felt a contrasting burn of contempt claw its way through the freeze. The brute only had herself to blame for this. She chased him here, and she was the cause for their predicament. Shivering through his panting, Turbo clumsily worked his way toward the nearest plot of land on the other side of the river. His legs were numb, and he could only tell they were moving due to seeing their muddy shapes underneath the surface of the icy water. 

He felt something press against his back. As he swung his head around to investigate, a shocked bellow rumbled from the herbivore as he spotted Gourd close her jaws against the base of his tail. It hardly hurt, for the cold water numbed the area. He would not let her win, though. Perhaps she was hoping for an advantage in the freezing water, but if that was what she thought would get her a meal, the carnivore was dead wrong. He would make sure of that. The herbivore kicked his back legs, his brows furrowing with rage as he propelled water into the carnivore’s face. Gourd’s glowing eyes squeezed shut, perhaps reflexively, and Turbo could tell she was struggling to keep her grip on him. Finally, one good kick to the face, and the carnotaurus leaned back, giving Turbo the opportunity to grasp his forelimbs at the bank of the river. He pulled snow into the water as he scrambled to grip the edge, and while inadvertently, he managed to use the predator’s broad face as leverage as she swooped back in for another grab. He pushed his hind legs off of the tip of her snout, pulling himself onto the land. Icy water dripped from his scales as he looked back, green eyes locking on the brown-and-orange carnivore. A sense of smugness couldn’t help but creep into a smirk as he watched the carnotaurus scramble at the bank as well. Her large feet clawed and scraped at the snowy ground, but he could tell she was struggling to get leverage. It served her right for her assault! Yet once again, he had escaped her. Perhaps he should feel bad to see her shivering and getting louder and louder in her growls and grunts the longer she took to succeed her own escape, but Turbo simply didn’t feel she deserved his sympathy. This was her fault, and she would enjoy the consequences.

With a final snort, Turbo turned, galloping from the scene. He knew Gourd well enough to know she’d eventually escape the cold river. She was, in his mind, simple and stupid, but he knew just like him, she was a survivor. He had no doubt upon seeing her again in the future.