ORIGIN

Shoving its way out of the chrysalis was an infuriating process. It was claws that broke free first, then its head, sending quartz chunks onto the jungle floor. Brother gripped the sides of the hole it'd made and heaved its bulk out. It was infuriated; no one was supposed to be able to kill a predator. This predator. Him.

But, he was better than most, yes. He'd re-emerged after being hunted, that made him stronger. Better than those he hunted, surely. It had to be.

Most importantly of all, he was starving. There had to be something to eat, to consume nearby. There must be. There had to be.

He would not die of starvation. He refused.

Nothing sparked. Instead, the gembound stalked through the jungle growth, hungry and clumsy. Determined to find a meal.

At first, the spinosaurus kept soldiering onwards. It was hungry and needed to eat now. It didn't have time for friends, it needed something non-thinking to devour, or maybe a particularly annoying thinker to wolf down instead.

Then, it stopped dead in its tracks. Had that Squalfang just spoke? And more importantly, had it not eaten him when it had the chance? And why was it not the usual colour? Where were its frilly bits? It said it was friendly? This required much more thinking than his peanut sized brain and starved stomach would allow. Instead, Brother turned to look up at the odd Squalfang; moving closer through the jungle to squint up at it.

He tried, and admittedly failed, to not think about how much this creature would fill his belly and instead considered the large gembound for what he saw before him. Big. Oddly him shaped. And teeth, big ones. Perhaps it wouldn't miss those tiny arms, they didn't look useful and there was a bit of meat on them--

Brother shook his head, "Hungry." He grunted at the Strange-Squalfang.

He didn't consider himself much of a follower, or a kid. Brother didn't consider himself much of anything, simply a leader and a predator; a complete oxymoron of himself as he trotted to keep up with the larger Rex-The-Odd-Squalfang.

Brother grunted a sound that vaguely sounded like agreement or approval; truthfully, he'd never considered what his diet was supposed to be. He was hungry, he ate. The leafy foliage he'd seen sycthorns and pugnas eat simply didn't have much appeal. That, and he'd never successfully eaten a fish, that would require catching one, which he had not.

"Brother." Another grunt, this kid spoke with the same tone and cadence as a caveman.

Determined to be of some use, he reached for that same energy that let him hear the heartbeats of other. He really reached, but as he craned his head, he heard nothing but the footsteps of Rex, not even his heartbeat. Brother imagined Rex would have a big heart, powerful, that thrummed as heavy as his footfalls. He was starting to salivate.

Hunger had never felt so oppressive before; he'd had the patience to sit next to Sibling while it consumed whole meals before Brother would have a scrap. But now, he was certain it'd take everything in him to not snatch the meal and consume his sibling too.

"Starving." He gruffed in Rex's direction; as if a single word could express the complexity of his hunger.

The first question seemed to inspire a rare urge within Brother, the urge to talk. Despite the hunger souring his mood, he nodded. "Sibling. Love Sibling-thing. Has many shapes. Sibling very hungry."

They weren't eloquent words, but it was certainly the most it had spoken willingly, without a sense of needing to. But, it was true. He did love his sibling, even if it was greedy. He was greedy too. They were perfect siblings.

Brother first watched Rex-The-Odd-Squallfang as he dropped low; he'd seen some of the other wildlife on Lacerta do this. Something must be close. The spinosaurus followed suit, perhaps unaware that his brightly coloured sail poked far above the foliage -- after all, nothing else on the island that needed to hunt had a sail. There was nothing to learn from.

He followed in Rex's steps, unable to hear what the Odd-Squallfang was hearing. For now, the larger gembound was his guide as he followed in his much larger footprints through the jungle. Yet, as patient as he was in the following, the moment the signs of food came into sight, he couldn't help himself any longer. He was starved.

Breaking through the foliage, he snapped at the first thing that moved. Jaws snapped shut on air, once, twice. Then, they snapped onto something with flesh and fur. Something he could eat. So overcome with the relief that he wouldn't starve, he hadn't noticed his catch was a prickleback. He took one big bite before a strange, odd-tasting sensation hit him.

The fur- he'd bitten into its fur.

Brother made a wretched hacking, trying to get the fur out of its teeth. Surprisingly, he didn't seem upset by Rex's motions or words; no, this was a learning experience, and he'd come here to learn. He had to, to survive. "Yeth--" Brother lisped as he stuck his tongue out and scraped the fur from it with his claws.

"Not like me. It has not eaten me--" Yet he paused, turning his head this way and that. Then, no matter, it didn't seem important for now -- not to mention he was still starving.

He turned his attention to the now-skinned prickleback. Wolfing it down as if it were the only meal he'd ever had. Yet it did little to settle his hunger, even as he tucked into the most nutritious parts of the meal. His stomach still ached for something, for what?

Perhaps the sounds of calling would be a more satisfying meal. Brother looked towards Rex, trying to meet his gaze, then looking in the (admittedly wrong) direction of the noises.