Post by Mandonga on Aug 7, 2019 2:44:36 GMT
January 20th, near a portion of open river that feeds into a grove almost over taken by thorns. Open to anyone))
The great lumbering gait of the massive bull sent small clouds of dust swirling about his flat heeled feet before the wind carried it away. Each stride was mindlessly done, mimicking the last actions with flawless precision. It was simple, front foot, back foot, right leg, left leg. A walk that had been done everyday of his existence and would be repeated until breath no longer heaved his sides.
Mandonga slowly angled his massive head right then left, searching the openness around the river before centering to focus on the gleaming water below. The bank now had a large rut dug into its side from the daily routine of the bull going for water. It mimicked the small divots left by the boars and deer that also shared this stretch of land with him. They had quickly learned that the behemoth now owned this section of grassland and that keeping a low profile around him was a good choice. Which reminded him.
Beaked mouth rose from the water's surface, small droplets falling from his smooth chin, as his amber eyes scanned the horde of flying things in the distance. He wondered, slightly, if that had been, or still was, the rhino who thought to challenge him. If the creature was dead then it was one less he would need to worry about. If not, lucky for it. It didn't matter either way. Things died, and things lived. All that mattered was who did the living and dying. And, as far as the ceratops cared, it was he that should be alive. Thus his head lowered once more and he drank his fill, ignoring the small rat creatures as they slowly crawled away from the bank.
Just as the bull turned and was making his way back up the muddy bank and scent caught in his wide nostrils. He paused as he flared the thin membranes to better in take the smell. What was that? Sudden fear welled in his body, but that fear only fueled his anger. It was a fear that came from being alone, alone was exactly what he wanted to be. He crested the bank and turned to face the wind, head raised with eyes searching. Was it just a phantom scent?