Chapter 3: Third Day in New World
The sound of deep, rumbling voices woke me from my sleep like distant thunder calling through dreams.
Through the dim lava-light of early morning, I could see the massive silhouettes of my parents moving about the cave like ancient titans orchestrating dawn, and I caught fragments of their conversation floating through the air like worried whispers.
"...too early to tell if he's truly delayed..." Emberheart's voice carried a note of worry sharp as a blade cutting through morning calm.
"...give him time, beloved. Some wyrmlings bloom later than others..." Scorchclaw's response was patient but thoughtful like a wise mountain considering the changing seasons.
I kept my eyes mostly closed and listened, a habit from my human life that apparently carried over into my new existence like luggage packed for an unexpected journey. They were talking about me, obviously, and their concern made my tiny stomach twist with anxiety like knots tying themselves tighter.
"But at his age, Blazefang was already producing proper flame flame spark , why he lacking" Emberheart continued like a mother comparing children to impossible standards. "And Infernotail could roar loud enough to rattle the cave walls. Rider Rex barely manages smoke wisps."
"Maybe it's because he is not... Sigh forget it, stop worrying about it. Look at another perspective he is more intellectual than whirling of her age ,It's okay if his developmental is delay , he is ours, and that's what matters most," Scorchclaw said, stopping before completing his word like a speaker catching himself before revealing a secret.
Different. There was that word again, hovering unspoken like a shadow. It was starting to feel like a brand burned into my identity like a permanent mark of otherness.
"Rise and shine, little brother!" Sparkwing's voice boomed through the cave as she bounded over to where I was pretending to sleep like an energetic earthquake with grace. "Training day!"
I opened my eyes to find her grinning face inches from mine like a friendly mountain suddenly appearing, her amber eyes bright with excitement like twin suns celebrating dawn. Small puffs of smoke leaked from her nostrils as she spoke like tiny chimneys celebrating life.
"Training day?" I asked, sitting up and stretching my small wings – wait, did I have wings? I looked over my shoulder and saw tiny membrane flaps along my back like promises of flight waiting to unfold. Definitely not wings yet, more like the whisper of what might someday soar.
"Every third day is training day for wyrmlings," Sparkwing explained as she approached, her larger form moving with graceful precision like a master dancer performing ancient steps. "Papa and Mama teach us the skills we need to survive and thrive as proper T-Rex."
"What kind of skills?" I asked, though part of me was already dreading the answer like a student facing an exam he hadn't studied for.
"Fire breathing, hunting stances, territorial calls, prey tracking," Blazefang rattled off as he strutted past like a peacock displaying his credentials, his perfect crimson scales gleaming like polished armor. "Basic stuff that any wyrmling should know."
The emphasis on 'any wyrmling' wasn't lost on me like a subtle insult wrapped in instruction.
"Come along, little flame," Emberheart called from across the cave like a warm invitation wrapped in maternal love. "Time to see what you're capable of."
The training area turned out to be a large underground chamber deeper in our cave complex like a hidden colosseum carved from living rock, with a high ceiling and multiple levels carved into the rock walls like nature's own amphitheater.
Scorch marks covered every surface like battle scars telling stories of countless fire-breathing practice sessions, evidence of generations learning to breathe flame.
Several pools of varying temperatures dotted the floor like natural hot tubs, and I could see training dummies made from fire-resistant materials positioned around the space like patient sentries waiting for combat.
When step in found another female tyrannosaurus waiting for us .
"Rider" sparkwing whisper in my year . " Meet big sister Emberdance "
Emberdance was impressive even by T-Rex standards like excellence refined to its purest form. Her build was leaner than my parents', clearly optimized for speed and agility like a race car designed by evolution. Silver-red scales caught the light as she moved like liquid metal flowing through space, and her eyes held the sharp focus of a natural predator like twin daggers of amber awareness.
"So you're the little one with the unusual coloring," she said, circling around me with professional interest like a scientist studying a fascinating specimen. "Interesting. Your scale pattern might actually provide better camouflage in certain environments."
my different appearance might be advantageous rather than defective, this new sister not seem bad in character like two nasty brother.
"Surprised by your own sister's beauty? You are too late – she already has a mate, same for me. No disappointment though, you have a third sister, more gorgeous than both of us. Only trouble is she's a training freak. If she falls for your charm, don't worry – we dinosaurs are allowed to have marriage between siblings to preserve the purity of our bloodline," Sparkwing teased me with a gentle rumble of laughter like thunder enjoying its own joke.
I was a little surprised to know dinosaur customs, and found it somewhat weird to think about like discovering alien social rules in my own backyard.
"Now then," Emberheart announced, drawing everyone's attention like a conductor raising her baton. "Let's begin with basic fire breathing exercises. Blazefang, demonstrate proper form for your little brother."
"Why would I? He should learn himself. Isn't all dinosaur knowledge born in their instincts?" Blazefang protested like a star being asked to perform for peasants.
However, under his mother's glare that could melt steel, he performed unwillingly like a reluctant actor taking the stage.
He stepped forward with obvious pride, positioning himself in what I could now recognize as a classic T-Rex stance like a statue coming to life – legs spread for stability, neck arched like a bow drawn for battle, head tilted at the optimal angle for flame projection.
"Watch the breathing pattern," he instructed while showing off like a teacher who was also a performer. "Deep inhale through the nose, hold for three seconds to heat the internal chambers , exhale out spark"
I saw a stream of bright orange glow accumulate at his swollen throat cartilage, moving like a combustion engine piston building pressure inside a living furnace.
Bright flame erupted from his jaws like liquid sunlight given form, reaching nearly fifteen feet before dissipating into heat waves.
The heat washed over me even from a distance like standing near a benevolent bonfire, and I could smell the sulfurous scent of proper T-Rex fire like the signature of our species.
"Excellent form," Emberheart approved like a master craftsman praising perfect technique. "Infernotail, your turn."
Infernotail's attempt was less controlled but more energetic like raw power seeking its own expression. His flame was shorter but burned hotter, with a distinctive blue tinge at the center that spoke of temperatures that could melt stone like ice.
"Good intensity," Emberheart praised like a mother finding silver linings in every cloud. "Only range control is lacking – practice on it."
Then all eyes turned to me like spotlights converging on a lone performer.
"Your turn, little flame," Emberheart encouraged like a gentle push toward destiny. "Just do your best. Ease your nervousness – it's okay for first tries to fail."
I positioned myself the way I'd seen my brothers do, trying to mimic their stance like an actor studying his role. The pose felt awkward with my smaller body, but I managed something that looked approximately right like a rough sketch of perfection.
Deep breath in through my nostrils. I could feel... something... warming in my chest and throat like a small star being born inside me. Hold for three seconds. Now exhale with intent like launching hope into the world.
A few wisps of purple-tinted smoke emerged from my mouth like shy ghosts afraid of the light, so faint they were barely visible in the lava-lit chamber.
The silence that followed was deafening like the quiet after lightning strikes.
"That's... progress," Emberheart said finally, her voice carefully neutral like a diplomat walking through a minefield.
"Is the smoke supposed to be purple?" Infernotail asked . "I've never seen purple flame before."
"Neither have I," Emberdance admitted, studying me with professional interest like a scholar discovering a new type of fire. "Purple flame would indicate a completely different combustion process... but why so..."
"Okay, okay, stop questioning your little brother," Emberheart interrupted like a referee stopping a fight before it started. "He's done his best for his first day. Let's move on to the next survival skills each of you should be compulsory to be aware of. Emberdance, teach your wyrmling brothers more in detail about hunting stances."
The hunting stance training didn't go much better like trying to paint masterpieces with broken brushes. Where my brothers moved with natural predatory grace like dancers born knowing every step, I stumbled and struggled to maintain proper form like a marionette with tangled strings.
My tiny arms seemed even more useless when trying to balance during attack positions like decorative accessories on a war machine, and my tail kept getting in the way like an unruly serpent attached to my spine.
"Lower your center of gravity," Emberdance instructed as I wobbled through what was supposed to be a pouncing stance like a tower built on sand. "Predators need stability above all else."
I tried to adjust, but immediately toppled over sideways like a tree cut at the base, earning snickers from Blazefang that stung like tiny needles of embarrassment.
"Maybe he's not built for hunting," Blazefang suggested with false concern dripping from his words like poisoned honey. "Some T-Rex are better suited for... other roles like picking leftover meat."
"What other roles?" I asked, struggling back to my feet like dignity trying to reassemble itself.
"Nest-tending," Blazefang replied with barely concealed mockery sharp as broken glass. "Food preparation. Cave maintenance."
"Blazefang," Sparkwing's voice carried a warning edge like a blade being slowly drawn from its sheath. "Everyone has different strengths. Perhaps Rider Rex's talents lie in areas we haven't explored yet."
"Like what?" he challenged like doubt given voice.
"Intelligence, for one," she replied firmly like bedrock refusing to budge. "He asks more thoughtful questions than most wyrmlings his age. And his observation skills are exceptional."
It was true that I'd been watching everything with intense focus like a scholar absorbing every detail, trying to understand not just the techniques but the underlying principles. My human analytical mind was still functioning like a computer running in my dinosaur brain, even in this new body.
"Intelligence won't help him in a real fight," Blazefang muttered like storm clouds promising rain.
"Intelligence has won more battles than raw strength ever has," came the voice of the massive Tyrannosaurus lazily lying on the cave floor like a mountain taking its rest, observing our training with closed eyes that opened just a little bit to teach us.
In front of father's massive voice rumbling with authority like thunder speaking from the depths of earth, no other voice had the courage to sound against his words like silence bowing before a king.
Blazefang and Infernotail, both my brothers, could just quietly nod their heads like students accepting wisdom they didn't fully understand.
The rest of the training session continued with exercises in territorial calls where my voice cracked embarrassingly compared to my brothers' impressive roars like a broken trumpet trying to play with a full orchestra – and basic prey tracking, where I actually performed slightly better due to my intense focus on detail like a detective reading clues others missed.
As the session wound down and the family began to disperse like birds returning to their separate nests, my mother approached me with a gentle expression like moonlight touching water.
"Walk with me, little one," she suggested like an invitation to discovery. "I want to show you something."
She led me to a smaller chamber I hadn't seen before like a hidden library carved from living stone, one filled with carved stone tablets and what looked like preserved artifacts. The walls were covered with images of T-Rex in various poses and activities, creating a visual history of our people like an ancient comic book telling the story of our ancestors.
"This is our family's memory chamber," mother explained like a curator opening a sacred museum. "Every T-Rex family keeps one, to preserve the stories and wisdom of previous generations."
I stared at the carvings in fascination like a child discovering treasure. Figures of T-Rex breathing crimson flames were etched into the rocky walls like frozen moments of power and glory.
What grabbed my attention was a painting of T-Rex with different colored flames – not just orange and red, but blue, green, and even purple, breathing from their mouths like rainbow fire made manifest.
"Purple flames," I said, pointing to one particular carving like Columbus spotting land. "Like my smoke."
Emberheart nodded slowly like ancient wisdom acknowledging truth. "We are crimson flame creatures in the jurassic world. Majorly, T-Rex produce crimson flame heat, but as for other colors, I heard stories of very few T-Rex in our recorded history who have produced different colored flames. Those who did were... special. Different. Often misunderstood in their youth."
"What happened to them?"
"They became great leaders of their time, whose flames could burn through skies and mountains like cosmic forces given physical form."
"Great leaders, like father, ruler of the T-Rex tribe?" I asked, hope blooming in my chest like a flower finding sunlight.
I was delighted to know that my different flame color was not that bad.
She paused, studying my face carefully like reading a precious manuscript. Smiling at seeing her little kid's happy face, she suppressed a hint of regret between her tongue like shadows dancing behind sunlight.
"The point is, little Rider Rex, that being different doesn't mean being lesser like a rose thinking it's defective because it's not a daisy. It often means being destined for something greater than anyone expects."
"Do you really think so?" I asked, hope creeping into my voice like dawn breaking over mountains.
"I am confident" she replied with absolute conviction like bedrock speaking truth.