Half

Greylander plodded along behind his sire, still a little wobbly and unsteady but determined all the same to keep up with the surly male he was following. It became kind of fun, trying to jump from footprint to footprint that Odysseyr left behind, but it was less fun when the male turned his head over his shoulder to give his young prodigy a hard look. The hatchling was making noise, and while it might not be as much of a problem when he was around a larger herd, they were alone here, and Odysseyr did not want to have to fight to protect them if the sounds drew the attention of a carnivore. Greylander risked being snatched away by a predator, or stepped on in the scuffle. It was better for him to be quiet.

And… quiet Greylander became after a stern snort from Odysseyr, and bowed his head slightly under the dull green gaze of his sire before continuing to plod along in a much more reserved and stoic fashion. After a bit of walking Greylander wrinkled his muzzle and raised his head, walking more stiffly like Odysseyr seemed to as they strolled through the stand of trees. He did not have the blue streaks on his face like his sire did, but he could still pretend he was grown up.

But soon enough that, too, became boring, and Greylander could no longer be quiet.

“Where are we going?” he asked, interrupting their quiet journey. His legs were starting to get tired.

Odysseyr sighed heavily to himself. Hatchlings. “We’re almost there.” His voice was short, gruff, and left no real room for argument. Greylander snorted to himself, disgruntled, and continued to follow the big bull. It seemed he was not going to get a real answer any time soon; not from Odysseyr, anyway.

The answer became evident soon enough when sounds from ahead of their path caught the hatchling's attention. Voices, coming from what seemed to be a small clearing in the trees. They would be able to talk soon, maybe with other styracosaurus!

Odysseyr confirmed as much when he lowed quietly, announcing their approach. A softer voice greeted them in return, accompanied by a small but enthusiastic honk. Smoketrail had no idea who they were greeting, but happily followed Pisces’s example.

His enthusiasm diminished slightly when he saw who was approaching. Emerging from between the trees and parting the undergrowth was a massive bull with brilliant blue streaks across his face, his black horns long and sharp. Each step he took was with purpose and authority, and Smoketrail found him… intimidating.

“It’s alright,” Pisces soothed her hatchling as she turned her beak towards him. “This is your sire. And... ” She glanced back towards the approaching bull, her eyes squinted slightly to sharpen the somewhat blurry shapes that approached. “It looks like he’s brought you some company.”

“Pisces,” Odysseyr rumbled. He crossed their nose horns for the briefest moment before he drew back. “Do you mind watching this one for a while? I know he’s not yours -”

“You know that wouldn’t matter to me anyway,” Pisces teased. “Of course I’ll watch over him. Smoketrail should get to know his brother.”

The hatchling styracosaurus were now peering at one another, curious. Smoketrail had small spikes along his back and tail that Greylander had never seen on a styracosaurus before, and similarly Smoketrail had never seen another styracosaurus with a cluster of small, bristly quills at the base of their tail.

“My brother?” Greylander asked, tilting his head back to look at Odysseyr. “But that’s not my mother -”

“I’ll be back for him soon,” Odysseyr replied gruffly, ignoring his hatchling's confused look. He did not feel like explaining matters of the heart or herd at this exact moment. He turned his hard gaze down to Greylander. “Stay here with Pisces. She’ll take care of you while I’m gone.” It would do good for Greylander to have someone to play with as well, and he trusted Pisces to look after the two of them more than he did Theresa.

He left without another word, Greylander staring confusedly after him as his sire retreated.

“Smoketrail is your half-brother,” Pisces explained, her voice warm and gentle by comparison. She beckoned Greylander over, and at the same time, nudged Smoketrail to go and meet his half-sibling.

The two sized each other up for a moment, comparing one another. They were about the same age, not having spent long outside of the egg, and they were almost the same size - though Smoketrail’s tail was a little bit longer than Greylander’s. Both were a grey tone, Smoketrail much lighter than Greylander, and of course there were those odd quills that Greylander had. They were similar too, though. Both had pale markings along their bellies, and both had dark points. Smoketrail even shared Odysseyr’s eye colour. That was apparently enough for the two of them to conclude that they were, indeed, brothers.

Pisces watched the two with a sort of gentle amusement in her gaze as the two young bulls stretched up on the tips of their toes to see who was taller between the two of them. Perhaps she could even convince Odysseyr to bring Greylander for playdates more often. It would be good for them to have each other.

Their competition naturally progressed to roughhousing. The pair of them bumped their snouts against one another with no real intention to hurt the other, just to spar. When that was not quite enough, Greylander reared up on his hind legs - it was really quite a funny scene, considering how small he was, but Pisces managed to not laugh aloud - and he swatted at Smoketrail with his front feet. Smoketrail responded in kind, his slightly longer tail helping him to balance a bit better as he pawed at Greylander’s feet and chest.

It was just a test at first but the more they played, the more comfortable they got with one another, the rougher they got with their play-fighting. It was not long before they were nipping at each other’s frills and feet, hitting their crests together, doing their best miniature imitations of an adult’s grunt, and generally kicking up leaf litter as they attempted to toss one another around.

This was the case until Smoketrail pulled away and started to dash around the small clearing. Greylander landed back down on all four feet with a huff, watching with a puzzled and somewhat upset look on his face. Had he hurt Smoketrail? He had not meant to, they were just playing.

Smoketrail did not run far though, and came to an abrupt halt before he turned back to Greylander and honked at him - a challenge. A chase! Greylander hurried to chase after his brother, tossing his head as he raced after him. Smoketrail honked again, a delighted sound this time, as he ran around the clearing and around and over Pisces’s limbs. When Greylander caught up to him, their roles switched: Greylander ran, and Smoketrail was the pursuer, and back and forth they went.

Pisces watched with the same gentle look the whole time as they ran around and played with one another, developing both fighting skill and bonds that she hoped would grow to last throughout their childhood and beyond. Odysseyr was a lonely old bull at heart, as much as he pretended to prefer his own company, and she did not want to see his sons end up the same way.

It was only when Smoketrail announced that he was tired that Greylander gave up and sat heavily on the ground, panting but pleased with himself. Pisces hummed in quiet amusement. That seemed like enough play for now. A nap sounded lovely, both for them and for her, though she would stay awake to watch over them while they rested.

“Come settle down, Smoketrail,” Pisces called to him gently. Smoketrail wandered over to where Greylander sat, his own legs a little wobbly as well, and plopped down on the ground beside his brother, content.

Pisces nudged a bit of bedding around the two of them, encouraging them to rest now that they were comfortable and tired. A story would help them rest, she thought. “Have you ever heard of the Great Horn?” she asked.

Smoketrail and Greylander glanced at one another before looking up at her, the answer plain on their faces: they had not. Pisces laughed quietly and nudged their bedding a little closer to them. “Well… “

Pisces turned her head up towards the sky, watching as clouds drifted lazily by. “The island rests on a great styracosaurus’s frill, and its horn is so big that it reaches the sky… “