Decorations for the Herd

The pale, wine colored Styracosaurus picked her way up the mountainside with slow, unhurried steps. It was unclear whether it due to age or temperament. Wrapped around her neck was a large cloth bag cobbled together with the remnants of a cloth banner. It had a crude strap and frayed edges. Up ahead, a small, dark green Utah skittered among the rocks, looking for bugs. He kicked up stones as he went, never in one spot for more than a single breath.

Something shiny caught the Utah’s eye: an old, plastic gemstone that once adorned the side of a now ruined advertisement for a mountain resort. He picked it up with his talons and scampered back down the hill toward the old Styrac.

“Mom, mom!” He peeped, holding up the stone for her to see. “Look how shiny!”

Gertrude chuffed with delight. “A wonderful find, Little Moss,” she praised.

Moss slipped the gem into his mother’s bag and skittered back ahead.

“How long till we’re there?” He asked as he scaled up the top of one of the rock formations and perched at the top like a meerkat. Gertrude paused to take a mouthful of berries along the path.

“It’s just over the top, sweetie.”

The two were about to reach the top when Moss froze. He clacked his teeth together and made a sound akin to barking. Gertrude knew the sound – danger. She shook out her crest and sharpened her nose horn along the rocky path. Moss clamored down from his perch, chittering nervously.

“What is it?”

“Carno, I think. I can’t tell.”

They continued along the path. Moss was still young – his identification of other dinosaurs wasn’t the best, but Gertrude still took his words to heart. A few more steps, and she saw what he’d alerted to: a sandy colored Carnotaurus lay flat along some stones by the path, sunning herself on a patch of stone. Her pelt was the same sandy shade as the rocks, and she could have been mistaken for one herself. The Carno lifted her head when she heard them, bleary eyed with sleep.

“Mmmm?” The Carno asked with a yawn. Her feathers were fluffed up in all sorts of strange ways, almost like she’d woken with bedhead. She shook herself, confused to have run into other dinos in such a far off place. Gertrude sniffed, trying to get a read on whether the Carno was friendly, and whether she would remain so. Moss curled his claws together nervously, glancing between the two. When the Carno made no immediate move to attack, simply looking frazzled, Gertrude relaxed.

“Are you going to the spires?” The Carno asked, yawning again. That was the only thing that was up at the mountaintop. Moss yawned back reflexively, then nodded enthusiastically.

“Yes,” Moss said, excited at the possibility of having a friend come along. The Carno’s eyes lit up with equal hope.

“I was just on my way there! Do you want to go together?” She sounded young and excited, and appeared unbothered by the fact a huge Styrac was following a tiny Utah. Moss was right on board with the idea.

 “Yeah! We’re going to collect fun things to bring to the herd! For their nests! I love decorating them. I’m Moss! That’s my momma, Gertrude!”

The Carno bounced after Moss. “I’m Seashell!”

“Seashell?” Moss echoed back, “Like the ones on the beach? I love the beach!”

Moss turned to Gertrude. “Can Seashell come along? Pleeeaseee?”

Gertrude chuckled. “Sure. We can all go together.”

Gertrude followed the two laughing dinos. The Carno was clearly not a threat, judging by how she fell so comfortably into racing up and down the remaining hillside with her son. She appeared alone, too, which was a good sign to Gertrude. She could take a Carno of that size by herself, and Moss was fast and nimble. The two youngsters clamored around the stones, kicking up dust.

Eventually the path flattened and opened to a small plateau. Rocky red spires twisted and pointed to the sky. Among the cracks in the stones were ribbons of vines, adorned with red and white flowers. Translucent crystals scattered the bottom of the spires and fractured the afternoon light into streaks of rainbow. In the distance, Gertrude could see where a river carved its way up into the mountains, disappearing out of sight.

“Ooooh!” Moss and Seashell said in unison, racing off to explore. Colorful birds squawked and scattered as they passed, leaving plumes of feathers in their wake. The two rummaged among the stones, snapping up beetles and flowers and anything that looked shiny and interesting. Gertrude paused her slow pursuit of them to peer at some larger crystals looped around the base of a passing spire. If she could break them, they would make beautiful decorations.

“These are so pretty!” Seashell said, voice muffled by the many flowery vines she’d gathered. Moss appeared equally entranced, considering his arms and mouth were filled with the same. They raced each other to Gertrude and bounced around her with glee. They watched with deep fascination as Gertrude lowered her head and slammed her horns against the crystals. It took only that single swing to set them free, scattering chunks of the white stone across the ground. Moss immediately went to start picking them up, completely unphased by the thunderous noise it made when Gertrude swung again.

“You live with herbivores?” Seashell asked Moss as she picked out a crystal piece and helped set it on the pile that Moss was making. They were all sorts of sizes, but she could only get the larger ones. She didn’t want to get the smaller ones stuck in her teeth. She’d done that before . . . and getting tiny rocks out of her teeth was a horrible experience she didn’t want to live through again if she could help it.

“Yeah! Mom found me all alone in the woods! Not all of the herd like me, but that’s okay! Momma and Dadda and their friends are all I need! I’m really really good at keeping a look out so when I see bad things I chirp and bark and that makes the dinos who don’t like me like me more! I like to climb trees and pretend I’m a bird when I’m playing look out!”

“I wish I could climb trees,” Seashell lamented, plopping down for a rest.

Moss looked her up and down and peeped, “Where are your arms?”

Gertrude shook crystal dust off her head and chastised the little Utah. “Moss, don’t be rude.”

Seashell didn’t seem bothered by the question. She lifted her little arms, buried under all her feathers, and flapped them. “They’re right here! Look!”

Moss tilted his head. He really thought she didn’t have any. He sat down next to her, looking sad, and agreed, “Oh yeah, not climbing arms.” Seashell gave one last sad flap, and the two sadly watched a beetle meander past.

“Now now,” Gertrude said, shaking her shoulders to make sure her bag was secure from the eventual weight it would have to hold soon. “You may not be a good climber, but I’m sure there’s something else you’re good at, Seashell.”

This snapped the two out of their moping. “Oh yeah!” Seashell exclaimed as Moss started to shovel crystals into Gertrude’s bag. He was careful to crush as few flowers as possible. “I’m a fast runner! If we were in the plains, I would show you! But there are so many rocks here . . . Last time I ran too fast over rocks, I tripped.”

Moss winced. “Ouch. That sounds horrible. Did you hit your head? I hit my head when I was a kid. That’s why I have this little dent.” He pointed to a place on the left side of his head, where a small inward curve, about the size of a small dinner plate, rested.

Gertrude usured the two along as they talked. There was a cave she wanted to look at. It often held glow in the dark mushrooms that could be used to make bright paints, which made useful markers when moving through the woods.

“I did, but my feathers protected me! I tripped down a hill once! But didn’t get hurt.” Seashell continued.

Moss was captivated. “Wow! I wish I had feathers! Then I wouldn’t ever get a bump again! I would be so strong!”

The cave opening had changed from what she remembered. Several rocks had tumbled over the entrance, so she’d walked by it at least two times. Either a landslide or earthquake had toppled the rocks. Luckily, the entrance was still large enough for her and the others to fit through. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could see the blue mushrooms glowing in the dark, also illuminated by a paler green glowing cave moss. From deeper inside, the distant sound of water droplets echoed in the cave.

“Wow!” Moss and Seashell said in unison. “I didn’t know mushrooms could glow!”

“Are they safe to eat?” Seashell asked, eyeing one of the mushrooms, which was tempting her. Gertrude nodded.

“They’re sweet. Like fruit, if you’re had it before.”

Moss and Seashell went about busying themselves with mushroom picking – at least, that’s what they said they were going to do. Gertrude suspected more mushrooms would be going down their gullets than going into her bag for the journey back. She chuckled to herself as she gathered up swaths of moss to add to the top of her bag, which was followed by the mushrooms that were gathered by both Moss and Seashell.

By the time they were done in the cave, the sun was starting to dip behind the mountains. It wasn’t quite near sunset, but the long shadows cast into the plateau suggested it would come sooner than later. They followed the path back to where they’d met, and Gertrude rumbled happily.

“Thank you for your help,” Gertrude said to Seashell, to which Seashell nodded her head. “It was fun!”

“Are you going to stay here?” Moss asked, and Seashell nodded.

“I’m going to explore some more. I’m sure there are more caves to find!”

“Awww, well maybe some day you can come play with the herd!” Moss suggested, seemingly oblivious to the fact that a herd would probably not want to see a full-grown Carno they didn’t know roll up on their territory.

“Yeah, maybe!” Seashell replied, equally enthused and unaware.

Gertrude chuckled quietly to herself. “We best be going, Little Moss,” she said, bumping him with her snout. “I hope your travels are safe, Seashell.”

“I hope yours are too!”

Moss gave one last wave goodbye, and then scampered down the mountain toward the forest below, leaving Gertrude to tread, ever patiently, after him.