Part 10: Ablaze at the End
The heat was unimaginable. Embers bounced between the trunks of trees as they cooked ablaze within this thicket from Hell; the heat felt like being trapped at the center of a volcano, enough to kill you alone. Tyran coughed as smoke filled his lungs. He was desperate to find an escape route, but none came to him. To his left, more burning trees, to his right—all the same. Thoughts flooded the young rex’s brain—he knew he couldn’t die here. If there wasn’t a way for him that was visible, he would make one. Tyran ducked his head down low, baring the large and bony top of his head—as he charged directly ahead of him. Slamming into a massive thicket of burning trees, flames singed his scales and embers floated onto his feathers, stinging and burning like multiple superheated mosquito bites in perpetuity—but it wasn’t going to stop him. Tyran’s charge collapsed the burning trees, and he stumbled as he hastily bolted over the fallen trunks—crushing them with his footpads, of which were burned from having to touch the seething flame.
The fire started small, but then grew into an unimaginable forest fire—stretching for miles as each tree in this infamous, dry, leafless forest was set ablaze, charring to ash as the smoke rose high into the debris covered sky. Birds, pterosaurs, small herbivorous dinosaurs and mammals like Purgatorius were caught in the terror, falling victim to the fire’s tendrils—of which burned them to bones within seconds—but Tyran prevailed, keeping his head down low to avoid the awful stench of the smoke that permeated this burning grove. His feet slammed into the ground loudly with each footfall, echoing through the fire as the young rex charged with tenacity—determined to persevere through this. Yet through all of his unbridled will to escape, there was no exit—only fire, and more charred trees for miles. Tyran stopped in his tracks briefly, fire all around him as trees collapsed behind him and smoke covered the sky, preventing viewing of anything but the flame; there had to be a way, Tyran knew this—he refused to meet his end here.
The Tyrannosaurus rex looked to his right, noticing a cavern-like pathway built of burnt collapsed trees—and what looked like the edge of a cliff at the other side. Not wasting a moment on calculation, even though his predatory brain oh so longed to—the rex charged, tossing his head up to break through some of the collapsed trees, making room for his large form with his step. His tail swaying back and forth Tyran rammed through the tunnel, bursting out on the other side—but what lay before him was not a cliffside, but a hill! And even better, at the far north of the hill, through a final thicket of burning trees—a hill lead up to a massive plateau of rocky terrain. Tyran knew the signs of dryness meant some sort of treeless environment lay ahead, and that he had all the strength to persevere up to that point.
The tyrannosaur lifted his tail up high and lowered his torso, attaining a balanced stance, before charging down the hill—a claw of fire singeing the back of his tail painfully as he made his way down. Feathers on the tyrannosaur fell off, burnt away and others blew off into the wind, as Tyran stormed down the hill with all of the wrecking power of a male Triceratops—slamming into a grouping of trees as he tripped on his way down. The young rex bellowed in shock and annoyance as he stumbled, slamming into an oak and destroying a grouping of downed trunks—chips of the wood launching into the air in the hundreds as Tyran fell down, his underbelly grazing the muddy ground.
Blood dripped from the rex’s maw, and streamed from his sides and underbelly as he struggled to stand—lifting himself up with his powerful arms and thighs, but before he could finish—a tree already unstable and nearly twice as big as Tyran uprooted from the fire near its roots, and aimed to fall directly on him! Battered, exhausted, starving, dehydrated, wounded—but still determined, the Tyrannosaurus set off again—knocking down trees with his shoulders as he desperately tossed himself away from the collapsing timber…Narrowly escaping. The tree collided with the ground, exploding into five different sharp fractals—and sending chips in the dozens into the air and onto the ground. Tyran landed on the left side of his ribcage, nearly breaking three of his ribs, as he coughed out blood in pain—clinging to life with all his might as the fires began to weaken his body. Tyran closed his sapphire blue eyes, his body desperate for sleep—but his will determined to survive—and all knowing that if he were to rest now, it would be the end.
The tyrant used what remained of his might to hurl himself back onto his underbelly, and from there pressed up once more with his thighs and arms—standing yet again…Blood streaming from his face, ribs, stomach and thighs. Tyran looked up, his eyes dazed and brain dizzy as he struggled to even see where he was to go. The fires grew larger, the smoke stretching nearly sixty-feet into the sky as the blaze spilt for miles—encompassing nearly the entirety of the forest, save for some patched. Smoke was all that filled Tyran’s snout when he breathed in, and ash made him cough—which hurt his body even more from his already damaged ribs. Yet, all of this—all of this pain it would not be enough; Tyran will not go down, no. In this journey, everything he has been through—all of the knowledge he has learned and all of the pain he has endured—he has come into his own. No matter how much pain is thrown at him, the rex won’t go down—he won’t quit, he will shatter his limits again and again until he reaches his goal. As long as Tyran’s body exists, he will.
The Tyrannosaurus rex, birthright fit for the Golden-Land—stood up to his full height of twelve-feet, and stretched his body to his maximum length of forty feet, slamming his skull into a nearby tree to regain his equilibrium—destroying the already burning trunk in the process. Tyran then, with slow—limping steps that gave the impression he was on his deathbed, began to move forward once more—only twenty feet away from the hill that would save him from all of this. Each step felt like the serrated teeth of an Acrocanthosaurus or Dakotaraptor digging into his flesh, as blood streamed from his thighs profusely. Every step embedded into the mud a large theropod footprint, the talons of the tyrannosaur digging through the mud with every step to help maintain his balance. His right leg feigned, forcing him to put nearly all of his bodyweight on his extremely weak left leg—but he did so, with enough determination and tenacity to put to shame the greatest beasts.
Trees fell down behind the great tyrant, as smoke blinded his olfactory bulbs, and the sizzling of the flames blotted his hearing—forcing Tyran to rely solely on his eyes; luckily, the pathway ahead was directly in-front—just a hill remained, that was it. A hill, to peace. A hill, to survival. The young rex limped towards the hill, and looked up at the grassy and clay that rolled dow from it—the heat from the fire all around him forcing him to pant endlessly. The tyrannosaur took a deep breath and pressed forward, fueled by his willpower solely as he clambered up the hill with one leg. There were no calories left in his body, his throat was dry from severe dehydration, and his fat reserves were all but gone—muscle next to come. The tyrant fell on the slope of the hill.
Blood stained the rocky slope, as he fell to his belly, attempting to crawl up by his arms and legs—his stomach muscles and ankles having given out underneath his own weight. Tyran gave his last bit of strength, his final ounce of stamina—and lunged himself to the top of the hill, barely rolling onto the rocky clay plateau. He had escaped the fire, although it burned with heated passion behind him for miles—it could no longer affect him. The young rex crawled with no stamina left over to a slightly cold portion of the rocky plateau, it filling him with endorphins as it cooled off his burning body. The Tyrannosaurus however, did not feel at ease; something was wrong, there was a scent—that he just couldn’t put down, yet that bothered him eternally.
Tyran, some more energy returning to his body as he rested opened his eyes—looking around, almost out of pure instinct as this scent persisted. No…No….No it can’t be. The looming figure of a 14 foot tall and 43 foot long behemoth hovered over Tyran, its shadow in the night casting Tyran into near perfect darkness. The rex knew who it was immediately—Acrone. Without hesitation Tyran attempted to hurl himself to his feet, but Acrone rejected his attempt—head-butting Tyran’s stomach with his bony head crest. The Tyrannosaurus coughed and spit out a glob of blood from the ram, using the momentum to roll over onto his feet and stand up—barely.
Acrone looked down upon Tyran, enraged that the forest set on fire and his meal was allowed to escape, but equally pleased—as Tyran’s current state wouldn’t even be a fair fight for him. The young, bleeding tyrant still feigned his right leg, standing hunched over whilst he backed up across the rocky flat plateau. Acrone, like the sick and sadistic predator that he is, slowly followed Tyran—chirping and trilling with his deep booming voice ever so often, stalking Tyran to the edge of a cliff. Tyran almost tripped, but regained his footing—some rocks falling down into a massive gorge. The young rex looked down behind him, seeing there was a massive drop off the cliff that none could survive from. He realized there would be no escaping this fight—only two options—live or die.
The Tyrannosaurus rex, blood dripping from his wounds and creating rather large puddles across the ground—placed his right foot down, despite the immense pain this act caused. Adrenaline began to pump through his body at rampant amounts, the fight-or-flight sense activating to an extreme perhaps never seen before. He had no calories, no hydration, was weak, wounded, and now stood before the terrorizer of his parents and cause of his potential siblings death. For all he knew, he was the killer of his family. Tyran’s sapphire eyes stared to meet the dark-green eyes of Acrone, a fire burning in the former’s like no others. He had no escape, he had no other choice—but to give it everything that remains, and end this killer. Avenge his siblings, by shattering his limits. It was the only option—all that there was. Nearly all feelings of pain vanished from the rex’s body, as he slammed his right foot down into the rock with a loud thud that echoed for two miles—and bared his teeth through his lips, his feathered back blowing in the warm wind from the nearby fire.
Acrone trilled to Tyran, placing his right foot back as he prepared for the tyrannosaur’s next move. Tyran, fueled now solely by his will to survive, and amped on his determination to avenge his fallen relatives—stared into what had to have been the soul of Acrone. Step, step, step…Break. A bellow, unrivaled, destroyed the eardrums of Acrone—as it pulsated throughout the land rippling for miles. The Acrocanthosaurus ducked his head from the all encompassing roar, and then proceeded to look up at Tyran in fear. A jaw was open, a brow was furrowed, and a set of powerful legs were propelling a massive—bleeding body towards him. This was it, nothing to hold back—all to give. Tyran vs Acrone, for the sake of survival.
Whatever it takes.
^Thank you three! The next chapter is the legendary battle. Will Tyran survive? He wasn't in The End 2, so who knows...
Whatever it takes.
GORILLAGODZILLA - This was extremely evocative! The imagery you created with your description of the fire and the wounds Tyran suffered were amazingly vivid and neat! I like how you had small interludes to describe what Tyran was feeling and thinking! Superb work! Thank you so very much for taking the time to continue sharing this wonderful story with us! :)
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