Dododex

ARK: Survival Evolved & Ascended Companion

Running on dinosaurs: Chapter 2: Echoes in the ferns

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The days bled into weeks, marked only by the rising and setting sun and the constant, primal scream of the jungle surrounding me. I, Maya, was still alive. Still foraging. Still surviving. My makeshift shelter, carved into the roots of a colossal fern, was my sanctuary, however fragile. I clung to it, to my routine, as anchors in this turbulent sea of prehistoric life.

One sweltering afternoon, while scavenging for edible roots (a risky endeavor, often guarded jealously by small, raptor-like Compsognathus), I heard it. A sound that sliced through the monotonous symphony of the jungle and sent a jolt of adrenaline through my veins.

A scream. Human.

My breath hitched. The sound was ragged, desperate, echoing my own terror from weeks ago. I stayed frozen, roots clutched in my hand, heart hammering against my ribs. Hope, a dangerous and unfamiliar feeling, flickered within me. I wasn't alone.

Cautiously, I crept towards the sound, the familiar weight of my salvaged machete reassuring in my hand. I navigated the tangle of ferns and gargantuan trees, my senses on high alert. Each rustle of leaves, each chirping insect, sent shivers down my spine.

The clearing was small, choked with vegetation, but the scene it held was anything but. A young man, maybe a few years older than me, was pinned against a massive tree trunk, a Deinonychus circling him like a predator toying with its prey. He was covered in mud and blood, his clothes torn, his face a mask of pain and fear. He clutched a broken branch, attempting to fend off the dinosaur’s razor-sharp claws.

My hand tightened on the machete. Logic screamed at me to retreat, to protect myself. But the echo of his desperate cry still rang in my ears.

I charged.

Screaming a wordless battle cry, I swung the machete with all my might. The blade connected with the Deinonychus’s flank, drawing a screech of rage. The dinosaur, momentarily stunned, turned its attention to me, its yellow eyes burning with malice.

The man used the distraction to scramble behind the tree, panting heavily. I braced myself, adrenaline coursing through me. The Deinonychus was fast, agile, and now, thoroughly enraged.

The fight was brutal and short. I managed to land a few more blows, but the dinosaur was relentless. Finally, I saw an opening and plunged the machete deep into its throat. The creature roared, a sound that shook the very ground beneath my feet, then collapsed in a twitching heap.

Silence descended, heavy and thick, broken only by my ragged breathing and the man's choked gasps. I turned towards him, my chest heaving, the machete dripping blood.

He stared at me, his eyes wide with a mixture of shock and… something else. Something that wasn’t gratitude.

"Who are you?" he croaked, his voice raspy.

"Maya," I said, still catching my breath. "Who are you?"

"Reid," he replied, pushing himself to his feet. He was taller than me, broader, with a sharp, calculating gaze. He looked me up and down, his expression unreadable. "Thanks for the help," he added, the tone flat, devoid of any real emotion.

I waited for him to offer more, some sign of camaraderie, of shared experience. But he remained silent, his eyes scanning the jungle, as if assessing escape routes.

"You're welcome," I said, the words feeling hollow. "I have a shelter nearby. It's not much, but it's safe."

Reid finally looked back at me, a flicker of something akin to suspicion in his eyes. "And what do you want in return?"

His words stung. I had risked my life for him. And this was the thanks I got?

"Nothing," I said, my voice hardening. "Just thought maybe we could help each other out. Surviving alone out here is… difficult."

He scoffed. "Difficult? You seem to be managing just fine." He gestured towards the dead Deinonychus. "Besides, I prefer working alone."

His words were a slap in the face, a clear rejection. But they also ignited something within me. A defiance. A realization.

I wasn't alone anymore, but I was still fighting for survival. And now, I had another predator to worry about.

"Fine," I said, turning away. "Good luck."

I started to walk back towards my shelter, the weight of the machete feeling heavier than before. I could feel Reid's eyes on my back, watching, calculating.

As I disappeared into the ferns, I knew one thing: Reid wasn't a savior. He wasn't an ally. He was a threat. And in this land of dinosaurs, the most dangerous creatures weren't always the ones with teeth and claws. Sometimes, they wore the face of a survivor.