Fowl play

The stagnant waters of Isla Kela's wetlands baked in the warm sun, filling the air with that familiar bog smell of decaying plant matter. The humid air invited an abundance of bugs to buzz around and fly through fine clouds of mist rising from the warmed pools. The canopy above threw mottled shadows in a nice shade of green onto the surfaces below, and the jittery shapes in the water scattered wildly when a tiny suchomimus fell into the waters with a splash.

Kicking his legs to right himself up in the water, Dante protested with indignant squawks and chirps, but his parent, a large mass of mossy brown feathers, simply shook their body and ignored the hatchling's demands. Before he could reach them to climb back onto their back, they had already turned to wade through the murk and away from him.

Dante was just a hatchling, but the moment he could swim and explore, his mother deemed him grown up enough. When he saw his parent not react to his call and increase the distance between them, it dawned on him that his early days of resting on his mother's snout whenever he wanted were no more. He'd still find protection and care, he's certain of it, but he knew he won't be coddled anymore.

With his last few calls for attention being ignored, he stopped treading the water and stayed still. Light enough to stay buoyant, he contemplated what to do next now that he was left to his own devices. At least as much contemplation as a baby dino could muster, as the first and only thought in his mind was how fun it would be to chase after the damselflies flitting from reed to reed.

He watched the insects for a little bit, before snapping at them. They were just a little too quick for his narrow jaws and the insects dodged his attempts to catch them with graceful manoeuvres. Regardless of whether he swam after them or ambushed them when the insects sat down on the damp lily pads, he failed to catch even one of the nimble damselflies.

It was a decent game to pass the time, but Dante grew bored soon enough. Returning to float on the water to spark thoughts in his tiny skull, he wondered if they even tasted good. Did he ever get to eat one before? He can't recall. So far his parent was the one who provided meat and fish scraps that kept him fed.

Right. His mother walked off and he was left alone for now. He lost sight of her and didn't know where she went, so he couldn't even steal from her unnoticed if she happened to hunt something. Disgruntled chirping escaped between Dante's teeth when he realised he'd have to hunt his own food. With that realisation, he didn't even want to chase bugs anymore if he had to eat them. The appeal was lost, but the thought of food was left in his mind.

He dropped his snout under the water surface and looked around. Fish were tasty. Maybe one of his favourites if he deemed every fish equal in taste. He'd watch the fish swim in their small schools between all the roots and vegetation. Just one quick movement to test his theory, they were out of his reach in the blink of an eye. He couldn't get close enough to snap before they were gone.

What's the point if he was too slow to get to chew on them? After chasing bugs above surface, he should have known he'd be too slow for the minnows as well. His snout was just a little too short yet, and he didn't swim as fast with little limbs like his.

Raising his head again to breathe in, he admitted he can't stay under water long enough either. Fish were off the menu unless he actually wanted to put effort in a proper underwater hunt. Which he didn't. Defeated and out of immediate options he returned to doing nothing. The boredom was worse than his hunger, now that he couldn't climb onto his parent and play with their feathers.

As if on cue, a duck feather floated past him on the water's surface. He stared at it skim past him and snapped at it. Chewing on the quill made an interesting crunching sound between his tiny teeth, and the edges were still fluffy until he dipped it below the surface. He was distracted for just a moment when the feather's owner paddled past him. Dropping his new toy, now soaked and tattered, he eyed the water fowl swim along.

It wasn't really the adult duck he was curious about, but the dozen of ducklings that followed it. Dante, at his young age, was nearly the size of them, just longer and narrower. He was debatably less fluffy, and undebatably less yellow too. Yet undetected he slowly followed them, unsure which one to look at.

There were way more chicks than would be reasonable for one brood. The ducklings created a yellow and black carpet of fluff behind the adult duck, who quacked insistently for them to follow. Maybe half of the ducklings were those of strangers? It wasn't so weird for water fowl to share or even steal their babies from one another, right? Still, the sheer amount of babies following one sole duck was impressive. Even Dante couldn't help but stare. There were so many, too many for Dante to count on his claws.

As he slowly trailed them, he narrowed his eyes.

One duckling going missing surely wouldn't be noticed.

Had he eaten bird before? Maybe. His mother made sure to rip meats into small pieces for him when he was fed. It's hard to tell the shape of the animal in that case, but there may have been feathers before. His curiosity piqued and the drive to chase in his spine, he followed the fleet of ducklings now with purpose.

It may have been his dark coat or the way he laid low in the waters like a crocodilian, he wasn't noticed by the watchful parent when he closed in. The ducklings were a noisy bunch of squeaks and high-pitched chirps following the contrasting trumpeting of their sole protector. Those at the rim of the group paddled harder to avoid Dante when they noticed him nudge closer, but it wasn't hard to pick one out who didn't react fast enough.

The moment he surged forward to get his teeth on a duckling and grappled it with his sharp claws, every other bird scattered. It was chaos as other ducklings fled in frantic splashing and Dante couldn't really see anything. He wasn't too sure what he was doing, holding tight onto his prey and biting whatever part landed in his mouth. Toppling over in the struggle, they both ended up head down into the water with the duckling's panicked peeps silenced and Dante's legs kicking air.

Dante felt the pride swell up in his chest. He was slaying a thing! He's being a real hunter and fighting for his food. He can't wait to claim his prize once the struggle is over.

Still submerged, in one swift moment he felt a harsh pain that knocked the air out of his lungs. Another hit landed on him that loosened his grip on the duckling and it slipped away. Resurfacing, he gasped for air, but before he could make a noise he was instantly pushed down again. A large beak bit him harshly and tore at his fuzzy feathers, and he finally understood what was happening.

With the duckling freed and frantically joining the others, the parent duck stopped its assault on the suchomimus hatchling. Indignant quacks cussing out the predator accompanied the duck as it swam back to its fleet of ducklings. It didn't even spare the hatchling suchomimus another glance as the birds were on the move again, paddling away from him.

Resurfacing, stunned and bruised, Dante had to accept defeat. No duck meat for him then. Stretching his neck and retreating between the dense reeds to hold onto for a bit, he whimpered. Everything was sore, but he'd be okay. Who knew ducks could pull such harsh punches?

Oh, where was his mother when he needed her comfort? Now that he rested between the leafy vegetation and grumbling, it would be a good moment for her to show up. On second thought, the best his mother would likely do is lecture him. Grumbling into himself, he shook his body in an attempt to expel the pain, and paddled out of his hiding place.

Lesson learned. Prey has parents too, and they fight mean.

(1452 words according to Ellipsus)