The following is a preview of The Book of Dalin, a project I began in 2005. Dinosaur civilization.

The Book of Dalin

(preview)

Dalin sat in front of the tiny stream. This wasthe third week he had endured without food, and in all that time hehad not smelled a single living creature. Hunters sat upright, whichallowed Dalin to take the weight off his feet and still be straightenough to play his flute.

His backpack was off to his left. It felt good totake it off for a while. Inside he carried his books, a water flask,and the metal restraints that had covered his teeth and claws so manyyears ago. Pieces of an old life, everything Dalin had ever known.

A dried-up floodplain devoid of trees surroundedhim. Nothing but horizon as far as Dalin could see. The land had beenlike this for weeks. No trees. No plants. Endless ground punctuatedby the occasional rock. Hunger was the only thing that thrived here.With nothing to distract him, Dalin could feel himself gettingthinner with every step he took.

Dalin closed his eyes as he played, shutting outthe land, forgetting where he was and what he had to do to survive.

Playing the flute reminded him of times when hewas happy and full. Memories of lush forests when he slept throughthe entire night without his empty stomach keeping him awake.Memories of his owner listening to Dalin play. He missed the sound ofhis owner reading to him, the feel of his scales against Dalin’s ashe lay curled up next to him on one of the rare nights when no oneelse was around. Those memories felt so distant and hazy Dalinsometimes doubted they were real. So long ago, another life, almost adream.

His hunger and loneliness came through in hissong. Slow, measured, and absent of abrupt note changes. If hungercould be heard, it would sound like this.

His only substantial meals came from eating otherhunters. They were just as desperate for food as Dalin. Years ago,Dalin would only go a week or two without eating. Now he could go aslong as a month.

Dalin played on, forgetting the uncertainty ofwhere the next meal will come from, the possibility that he couldeasily go another six days without eating, and by the time he foundsomething he might not be strong enough to kill it. Even when themusic was depressing, it was easier to face than the future.

He drew out a long, solemn note. It filled theempty floodplain, giving it life for a single breath. Then the notefaded, leaving bare, dead soil from horizon to horizon in its place.

He inhaled.

His breath caught.

Behind him...

Hunter scent.

Dalin jumped to his feet and spun around in onemotion, taking the flute from his mouth and holding it at his side.He crouched halfway between defense and attack posture.

In front of him stood a female with a beautifulsnout, tapering gracefully to the nose. The scales around one of hereyes were black, contrasting the brown over the rest of her body,which faded to a pale white around her underside. Her ribs showed,and her plumage had fallen out in most places. Her thin tail was tothe side, held perfectly still. She looked good for a hunter on thebrink of starvation. Dalin involuntarily hid his tail from view,embarrassed to let her see how thin he was. His feathers had beenplucked as a hatchling, so his hunger always showed.

Every breath he took filled him with her scent.The uncertainty for the future scratched his bones. Gradually thefemale did not smell like a fellow hunter. She smelled like a way tostop the pain.

Dalin had just enough presence of mind to set theflute on top of his backpack. She followed his every movement, butonly with her eyes. There was no comprehension in her stare.

Dalin crouched offensively. He raised his toeclawsand stretched the claws on his hands out. His calves and thighssqueezed, preparing to leap in any direction.

His opponent copied his movements, spindly musclesrippling under thin, scaly flesh draped over bone. Several fluffyfeathers dropped from her arms. Soundlessly she leaped, forehandsaiming for his throat, one toeclaw pointing at Dalin’s chest.

Dalin jumped to the side and leaned back on hislegs, holding his tail stiff and his claws up. He opened his mouthand hissed at her. She moaned at him. Dalin croaked in reply.

She circled him slowly, holding her mouth open andposturing with her teeth and claws. Dalin made fake jabs, daring herto close in. The longer he breathed her scent the more painful movingbecame as his body was forced to eat the very muscles Dalin used tomake a kill. They circled each other, widening and closing the gap asone made a move and the other backed off.

Dalin barked and slashed his claws at the airbetween them.

She dug one of her toeclaws in the dirt andbackslashed. She bent at the waist and opened her mouth at Dalin,making no noise. They circled again.

Dalin continued breathing her thin scent, reekingof malnourishment and fear. Her scent flowed from his head throughthe rest of his body, intensifying the pain. Just lifting his thighto take a step sent searing misery up his spine. Flexing his hands,his bones seemed ready to snap off if he moved them too quickly. Thepain merged his body into a single purpose, and his mind drowned init.

The look in her eyes changed. The same absorptionof pain was happening to her as well. Her body shook from it, and itcame out in her scent. The female leaped for him. Dalin leaped ather. They collided, thrashed, and pushed off each other. When theyregained their footing a few paces apart, they turned and faced eachother. Dalin was not injured. Blood trickled from the inside of oneof the female’s thighs.

She leaned back for another strike, keeping theweight off that leg. Dalin crouched back, shaking. He breathedthrough his nose to get more of her scent; it kept his body unifiedin pain, and he didn’t feel it so long as his whole body was inagony.

She launched at him. “Skreeeeaaaaaaak!”

The noise startled Dalin. It was not an attackcry, or a scream meant to distract him. This was a piercing shriek ofdesperation. A pathetic, pleading sound not like a hunter but astarving, abandoned hatchling begging her mother to feed her. The crywas so endearing that he wanted to let her kill him.

Dalin hesitated.

She rammed him.

He toppled and landed flat on his spine. Hisopponent was over him, mouth open, charging for his neck. Dalin’shand rose, and all the strength in his shoulder drove it into hersnout.

Slishhh—

His claws burrowed into her muzzle just before herteeth touched his neck. She whipped her head back, trying to yank hersnout away, but Dalin shoved deeper. He pushed her to the side,trying to force her to the ground. Wherever he pushed she had tofollow—the pain moved her more than Dalin’s strength. She jumpedback, pulling Dalin’s shoulder out of joint, but he flexed hisclaws and forced her to come back to him where he forced her head tothe other side of his flank and pinned it to the ground, her hindsection still standing.

Dalin rolled to one knee, keeping his hand burieddeep in her snout. He opened his mouth and reached for her neck underhis arm, but she whipped her head back, overextending his shoulderagain. Dalin heard his shoulder pop as he was dragged closer to keepher from tearing it out.

She dropped her hind legs to the ground, pointingher feet at him. She kicked both feet at once, and all six of herclaws drove into his stomach.

“Saaaaaahhhhhhh!”

She flexed her killing claws up and down, dicingDalin’s scales and burying her toes in his hide. She whipped herhead back again. Dalin clenched his hand and found bone. He grippedher skull from the inside, pushed all his weight on her feet, androlled on top of her, spearing her snout with his other hand.

She hissed as Dalin flexed his claws all around,oozy, gishing sounds coming from both sides of her muzzle as muscleparted and his claws scraped bone. She bucked, trying to throw himoff. Dalin kept his feet off the ground, pushing all his weight onher legs, keeping them folded. Her killing claws stabbed his abdomenagain and again. Dalin pulled his left hand out of her, wound up and—

Out the corner of his eye he noticed her handsmoving toward his snout. He raised his head and torso, and both herhands struck his shoulders instead. The shock made Dalin jump,pulling her head up. His other hand tore out of her snout and rippedoff a strip of her lips, exposing her teeth. She dug into hisshoulders and twisted the muscle around. Dalin screamed. She sliced,dug, and twisted deeper, faster. Dalin went blind with pain. She hadfound his shoulder sockets and her claws were scraping, digging,prying them.

Dalin squeezed his shoulders, wound up both handsand shoved them deep into her neck, howling in agony.

She didn’t scream. Didn’t remove her handsfrom his shoulders. She lay with Dalin resting on her feet, his handsburied in her neck, her hands in his shoulders, her toeclaws deep inhis abdomen.

Blood poured from Dalin’s shoulders and ran downhis arms. Most dripped off his elbow, but some continued down hisforearm and to his claws, where it mixed with her blood. Dalin’shands were getting hot from all the blood flowing over them. Herbreaths became quick and shallow.

And then, the wild in her eyes was gone. Themadness of hunger died before she did, and she looked at Dalin notwith hate but with sadness. She released his shoulders. Her legs gaveout and Dalin fell on top of her. His nose landed in the pool ofblood by her neck. The smell made Dalin’s stomach growl, and hisbones shivered in hunger. He propped himself up on his elbows andlooked her in the eye.

She gasped and coughed blood in Dalin’s face.

She coughed again.

And again.

And again.

The pulse in her neck faded.

Dalin lay there for a moment, and then he slowlypulled his hands from her neck. The blood flowed abundantly. He feltdizzy and rolled off of her—

—and landed on his shoulder.

“REEEEEEEAAAAAAAHHHHH!”

He tried moving his legs to stand up and take thepressure off it, but his abdomen stung when he tried to move, andDalin writhed on the ground, trying to move, trying to get up but thepain folded him. He curled up and lay still next to his kill, pantingthrough his nose as his shoulders bled and wiggled in and out ofjoint at will. Blood shot out from his shoulders in time with hispounding heartbeat. The blood from his other shoulder ran down hisback and over his chest. In no time he was lying in a large pool.

More pain. More agony. His stomach scratched hisspine and forced him to uncurl. The effort knocked Dalin’s eyes outof focus. He raised a leg and brought himself upright to one knee.

“RRRAAAAGGGH—RRRRRRHHHH!” Then he couldn’tscream anymore. The pain lodged in his throat and suffocated him.

He dropped to his hands and knees, head hangingover the ground. Blood rolled down his arms, wrapping around them andpooling under his claws. He swung his head up and looked at his kill.

food

His stomach growled. The growl spread through hismuscles and strangled his heart. His head pounded.

Dalin lifted his hand. He screamed in a mix ofanimal and leafeater sounds and painfully moved it forward. He leanedon it, gritted his teeth, and lifted the other. He screamed again ashe set it down in front of the other hand, leaned, and lifted theother. He crawled to his kill, streaking bloody handprints throughthe dirt, keeping the dead hunter in sight.

FOOD!

With the scent of meat this close, the pain becameso intense he became numb to it. He leaned back and pumped his legsand stood over her. He slashed her abdomen open with the killing clawon his foot, and then reached inside and gobbled her lungs, liver,heart, intestines, tasting nothing.

As his stomach filled up, so did his pride.

He won.

He deserved to live!

The entrails completely gone, Dalin took her legin his mouth and ripped it free of the body. It felt good tear itoff; made him feel stronger than he really was. He dropped the legand stood on it with one foot, tearing meat and feathers from thebone. Four bites and five swallows later, the leg was nothing but wetbone.

The pain of starvation slowly gave way topleasure. Pride. Joy. He was eating. He would live! He feltunstoppable. The more meat he tore from her bones, the more his bodyrewarded him.

Yes! More! Keep eating! You’re strong! You’repowerful! More!

Dalin peeled muscle from her arms, her back, herflanks, devoured the strings around the neck. The pleasure mountedup.

Dalin knelt over the river and looked at his face.His lips, jaws and throat dripped with blood. He had streaks aroundhis eyes. His hands, chest, and shoulders were completely covered.Every scale had changed from deep maroon with green stripes aroundhis joints to bright crimson.

It did not look unnatural. He thought he lookedgood like this. Strong. Powerful. A hunter.

He dipped his hands in the water. Blood gentlylifted from his claws and flowed with the current, making a redspiral that vanished into the stream some ways off. He washed hisclaws below his reflection. He rubbed his hands together and splashedwater up his forearms, a skill he had learned to master even thoughhis hands were not good for scooping anything.

It was pure, fiery agony to move his shoulders,but he had to clean himself.

He cupped his hands together and threw water overhis chest and his face. Blood streaked down his chin. He splashedagain and rubbed his muzzle with his palms.

He opened his eyes. Maroon scales so dark theywere nearly black stared back at him from the river. With just a fewsplashes of water, Dalin had changed from a killer mad withstarvation to a placid, tame theropod. This face, the one staring atDalin right now, the clean, placid muzzle, had just looked at afemale of his own species as meat instead of a potential companion.Without the blood, it was hard to remember that he had just devoureda living creature to save his life.

So what if she was a fellow hunter? If there wasone thing Dalin had learned since he ran from Omica five years ago,it was that there is no one out there to trust. Not the leafeatersand certainly not hunters. They were equally dangerous.

Dalin looked around at his hind section. His tailwas blood-free. His back was clean. In the time he had spent eatingher, his shoulders and abdomen had stopped bleeding. Dalin couldbarely move his arms.

Dalin stood. His abdominal muscles seared, soDalin panted and raised himself slower. He turned, observing whatremained of his rival. Now he looked at her with regret.

His owner had once told him that there was a timewhen hunters did not do this. In the long-ago past, if two huntersmet they might join together in the hunt. A pair of hunters couldbring down larger prey. His owner had said that there used to belarge, unintelligent leafeaters out there walking in herds, nearlydefenseless, all the food a hunter could want, and two hunters wouldeat enough to raise a clutch of eggs.

Today, food was so scarce that not even joiningwith another hunter would change that. Taking a mate did not increasethe odds of survival, rather decreased the amount of food one couldeat.

She was food. Nothing else.

Dalin walked to his backpack and sat down on hispubic bone. He reached for the flute, thankful it hadn’t beenbroken during the fight.

His shoulder slipped out of joint. Dalin clutchedit with his other hand, and his shoulder popped into join again.

He felt hot liquid.

Dalin sucked air as blood bubbled out between hisclaws and flowed down his arm. Dalin held his shoulder tighter,remembering the medical books his owner had read to him years ago. Heclenched his limb, trying to keep pressure on it, but the blood justkept flowing. His hands were not meant to hold blood in—they weredesigned to set it free.

Dalin dropped his hand. The blood flowed the sameas when he held it. He whimpered, wishing his owner were here,wishing someone out here cared whether he lived or died.

He looked at his hand. He couldn’t see thescales on his fingers for all the blood covering them. He opened hisclaws to grab the flute, and the blood made a stringy web. Dalinwhimpered and raised the hand to his face. He licked it clean. Moreblood ran down his stomach and between the folds of his genital slit.

His hand was runny and sticky after licking itclean, but it would do. He took the flute, raised his arms, andplayed a few slow, deep notes, hoping that keeping his shoulders upwould slow the bleeding.

Dalin began by playing his favorite note pattern,letting it evolve into whatever it wanted. He was still pumped upwith hormones from the kill, which made him feel powerful.

Dalin consciously pushed the feeling down. Heconcentrated on the music. He refused to let the pride of a killsatisfy him.

This meal only delayed his death. Every mouthfulextended his future one more day. The food in his stomach wassatisfying, but in another week he would return to the same state ofagonizing, bone-scratching hunger.

He was happy to forget the future.