A Startling New Friend

Herion should have known. When one’s morning begins as a standoff with a hungry carno, the day can only get worse from there. Of course, the alternate would be no day at all, so Herion supposed any kind of luck at all, bad or good, was something of a blessing. But now, standing on the beach, staring down a ridiculously-coloured feathered creature with the sharp teeth of a carnivore, Herion found himself developing a petty grudge against fate.

He had come down to the shore to wash carno blood off his horns, not get even more blood on them! The waves gushed across the sand, back and forth, back and forth. It would be a relaxing sound, had Herion been in his own company. Instead, it was setting him on edge. He wanted to be able to hear this strange creature (or hear if there were any more).

The sinuous head was cocked toward him, a dark beady eye peering at him from vibrant red plumage. The crest on the creature’s head, also bright red, flicked up and down in apparent curiosity.

Herion stood his ground, assuming battle stance. “I’ve already won a fight today,” he said evenly, “I don’t really care to have another.”

The creature blinked at him.

Herion blinked back.

The creature clattered its beak, then raised itself to its full height and spread its feathered arms. “Then tell me,” it declared grandiosely, “How wonderful I am!”

Herion blinked again. “How... wonderful you are?”

“Indeed! How wonderful I am!”

Herion was confused, to say the least. He had only just met this creature; he didn’t even know what it called itself, if it was even disposed toward giving itself a name. He also didn’t know that he wanted to engage in this conversation any longer. It was... taking a slightly weird turn. It didn’t appear to be threatening, but perhaps this entire interaction was somewhere designed to wear him down and steal his alertness. He glanced toward where the palms and vines of the jungle leaned out over the sand, scanning the blue-ish humid shadows for any sign of movement. When there wasn’t, Herion discovered he couldn’t quite bring himself to walk away or scare the creature off. It wasn’t causing any harm.

The creature was still blinking at him expectantly, apparently not upset in the slightest that Herion was taking his time replying. Maybe it thought he was simply trying to find the right words? But there was one problem: “I’m afraid,” Herion said, “I don’t know you well enough to comment on your personality.”

The creature made an exasperated sound, rolling its eyes toward the cloudless sky. It stamped on the spot, sinking a little into the soft gold sand. “Who gives a clam about personality! My friend, am I not magnificent? Gorgeous? Nothing less than a vision!”

Herion wanted to ask if perhaps this creature had been eating bad oysters and had lost his mind, but he resisted. “Uh,” he said intelligently, “I... suppose?”

This was apparently an incorrect answer. The creature fluffed up its feathers, waggled its tail, then bowed up and down dramatically. Herion was just starting to wonder if this creature was actually a threat, when it skittered up to him at full speed. Before Herion could get too worried, however, he realized it was dancing. The brightly-coloured creature wound around him in an elaborate movement of arm waving and claw kicking, flicking its long tail. Sand tossed against Herion’s sides, rippling his skin.

When someone was dancing around you, intent on getting your attention, it was difficult not to look at them. Herion supposed the creature had a point. Its range of colours was certainly eye-catching: though its head feathers were red, the cheeks were white. And the red morphed into bright yellow that then continued at the mid-section, then into greens and blues toward the tail. The edges of the feathered wings spanning along each arm were lined with that same green, breaking up the yellow here and there. And there were black flecks across his patterns too, some large and some small collections of smatterings.

The underside of his tail was blood-red, as vivid as the carno-blood still smeared on Herion’s horns. The end tuft was blue but it was also green; a perfect separation-yet-mix of colours that gleamed in the beach sunlight. And if one looked closely, one could see various shells and sea glass woven amongst the feathers themselves. The beak was pointed and sharp, obviously adapt at maneuvering, and was a flattering beige. The arms were strong and the clawed fingers themselves were much more impressive than those of even an alberto (Herion had seen one once, dead, fortunately, not far from this very beach).

Herion nodded to himself, yes, overall quite impressive.

The creature stopped in a shower of sand, fixing Herion with an intense stare. “Well, don’t just stand there! What do you think!?”

Herion cleared his throat. “Well... You’re certainly unique...”

“Unique, yes, yes, that’s true. What else?”

“The way the light catches your feathers is quite remarkable.”

“Remarkable! Why, yes, I am.” The creature spun in a slow circle, watching Herion’s face until it had to swing its neck back around so it didn’t twist its own head off. “Tell me more, kind sir!”

“Your... ornaments are... ingenuous.”

The creature stopped, mid-spin, mid-head-turn. “Ingenuous.” He sounded like he was spelling the word out, testing how it felt. “Ingenuous.” The creature threw up its feathered arms and pelted across the sand again until it was face-to-face with Herion. “I can be friends with you.”

It was very matter of fact. A statement, not question. Herion had a sinking feeling. He was a rather solitary traveler, but this creature he had stumbled upon seemed intent on changing that. “Just one more question,” Herion couldn’t help but ask, “What exactly are you?”

The creature fluffed itself up and raised its long neck so it looked taller. “Why,” he announced, “I am — a Neuquenraptor!”