Strive to improve. Strive to be the best. Hone yourself like a fine earthbone blade so that you may cut deep into the enemy when the time comes. You will be notched, you will bend, and eventually you will break.

-From Vocationals: 2:1-4

Time passed, and so did those hatchlings that were, by their death, clearly proven to be weak. And the neonate was not amongst the fallen.

What was interesting to her was that some of those that hadn’t survived were some of the more brutish of the brood, confirming to her that Tok had meant a more complete meaning of the word strength when he spoke of it. It seemed that, for some, their initial advantage in size became a detriment.

They couldn’t maintain the intake that they needed to survive. Eventually finding it hard to fight off the multitude of others that were squabbling over the same resource. It served as further evidence that she was on the right track as far as finding her niche and overcoming her stature.

Like the others, she grew explosively, doubling in size in the first twenty days, though that only added to the pressures to compete for food. A larger frame meant a greater need to eat. It was an issue for all of them.

She continued grazing, relying less on regular meals and more often catching insects and nightcrawlers as she explored her surroundings. But she found herself having to expand the area in which she roamed. Not just for more prey, but also to avoid the others. They too had started branching out, which led to occasional squabbles that she would rather avoid.

So the neonate traveled even farther away from the nest. Though she did so with care after her encounter with the kingbill.

That was why she started to prioritize the use of the canopy more. It pleased her Instinct, even though it forced her to slow down while she got used to navigating up there. And it kept her up above many of the predators that prowled through the undergrowth.

She needed to stay ahead of her appetite. It helped her grow, it gave her energy, and it cleared the fog of hunger from her thoughts.

All three were crucial.

She knew that she had to rely on technique more than pure brawn. She would never survive if she just tried to out muscle any of the others. She had to learn from the sidelines first.

Good. Adapt.

What was more, they all grew stronger. The squabbles growing more and more deadly. Which led to more of the weak culling themselves out of the brood.

One hatchling, who had slashed and bit at the smaller hatchlings viciously, had spent so much time fighting others off that he didn’t eat enough. Too focused on not letting any of them eat that by the time he turned to eat the other apexes had finished off the food and left.

Several hatchlings seemed to overestimate their abilities based on size alone, trying to pick on others that were too close to their own size.

While they had won the scuffles, it was at the ultimate cost, albeit days later as their wounds became infected. Their skin and scales went dull, the slashes and bites oozing stinking rotting pus, the very skin itself flaking away before they eventually became too weak to move.

And in spite of the threat of infection, Biter and Slash were constantly going at it. Fortunately for the dueling pair, they only ever landed glancing blows. Even at their tender ages, they could easily tear each other apart.

Slash spun like a whirlwind, forcing Biter to jump back, hissing.

He charged forward, his technique near perfect.

Hips twisted, shoulder rotated, bicep propelling the forearm forward, claws hooking to lacerate.

And Biter still dodged, stepping into it and grabbing his arm, her own hips twisting, throwing him.

He nimbly landed on his feet, toeclaws digging into the dirt as he charged again.

Snap!

He had to pull up short as Biter’s powerful maw made an audible sound, gnashing on the space he had just vacated. She used the reversal to begin her attack.

And so it went for hours.

The neonate didn’t think that they were holding back. Not with the speed and viciousness they were fighting with.

They are both just that naturally talented.

Learn! Her Instinct snarled, sliding into her eyes and helping her keep track of it all.

It seemed both were trying out new methods of camouflage too. They had stripes of green paste smeared on their bodies in a few places.

Perhaps to hide their smell? She would have to explore her botanical options at some point to.

The conflict made her concerned for her own prospects. She would die if she fought either. Part of her hoped they would kill each other.

Such a loss would be a boon.

Not to the brood, idiot neonate. The snappish reply from her Instinct stung more than if it had come from someone else. Challenge! Make me stronger. Find a way!

She hissed thoughtfully at that. Combat was one of the things she couldn’t afford to do. Not yet.

They all feared infection. It added tension to the squabbles that was felt by all of the hatchlings. As more died, even Biter and Slash started to dodge attacks. And the neonate always made sure to skulk nearby to watch, seeing new and better ways to move, to duck and weave, and to regard any strike as possibly fatal.

That came into play much more than counterstrikes, as the others started focusing on her as a weak link every time she tried to feed. Thinking of their own survival. Expecting her to try to fight back.

She was frustrated by it at first, until she realized that it was helping her hone her reaction time and teaching her the fundamentals that practice alone couldn’t manage.

She still got small cuts and bruises though, and each one filled her with dread. Her nightmares became full of her body going gangrenous and necrotic, the flesh sloughing off, the white bone beneath becoming visible. What was more, as time went on, the amount that a difference in size played as a determining factor in how much food each hatchling could acquire started to fade.

“Water is the source of all life. It quenches thirst, it washes the corruption from the body, and it houses the most ancient bloodlines of the endless ring,” Tok said during one of their lessons.

He showed them how to pay homage to the gods with it. A ritual bath, a scrub with sand, a bask in the light of the sun. She took to this fervently, desperate to do anything to keep the infections at bay, her wounds clean. And any favor with the pantheon was just an added bonus.

She saw it wasn’t enough though if the wound was too severe, a male who bathed multiple times a day got mauled by the bully male. It didn’t happen as quickly, but the infection did sink in.

He willingly surrendered his life to the Provider when the pain got too bad. Tok had made it quick.

The slightly smaller individuals became sneakier about how they fed, or became quick, darting in and ripping off portions before dashing out of reach. That meant they were getting faster and faster, able to outpace her in her own attempts. And still she struggled, ever desperate to go faster, to keep going.

To sprint!

She craved to enjoy it again.

Faster! Her Instinct always snarled from her legs.

Her thighs and calves became taught with muscle, and she ran through the treetops at night, trying to keep away from the others, to keep her nocturnal training a secret. To master the canopy and moving through it.

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I need every edge I can get.

So long as it cuts. Her Instinct hissed.

She would have ruminated on it more, were she not facing her own issues. She was quickly falling behind in size compared to the others. This was all in spite of her complete mastery of her camouflage, her true talent.

Her skill there was much greater than all the others, letting her move and shift her pattern so that she stayed hidden at the same time. Despite that, she was falling behind her broodmates, starting to starve. The problem was that the food was always placed in the open, away from cover, and there was no other way except dashing out to get close enough to eat.

And the other hatchlings could still smell her. That was becoming a major issue.

It kept her fed, it kept her alive, but she was in a strange transitional size where the insects and smaller creatures were too small for her, and the larger ones would turn her into prey. And she was using too much energy in her training. Not enough of it was going to fuel her growth. But the neonate worried that if she stopped, the lack of skill would be what killed her.

Trapped forever running just to maintain my position. This will be the next thing that cuts out the weak.

Her Instinct grunted in agreement from the back of her mind.

That would be fine, but the neonate felt like she was one of the ones getting cut. Pain started to rack her body, which screamed for more food. Despite her best attempts, she was easily knocked away or viciously attacked when the Provider brought a fresh kill. And it took too much energy to catch insects to justify the effort, especially with the brood decimating the population of them.

Even trying the other strategies she had seen work yielded mediocre results. It was because she was the smallest specimen left, and by a growing margin. All of the other hatchlings that were close to her size kept dying off. And the others were becoming more and more dangerous. She couldn’t just mimic them and expect to compete with her weaker body.

Find a niche. Her Instinct insisted, and while she vaguely understood the concept, her hindbrain didn’t have any details on how exactly she was supposed to do that.

She had found that she could eat the berries on the island and supplement her diet with those. She had been painstaking in hiding this knowledge from the others, not needing competition there too.

But she had to eat something more.

She was starving.

Survive.

Tok dropped the smashed and bloody remains of a medium sized crocodile onto the nest. As he did, a Greenscale leg and tail dangled limply in his massive jaws, signaling that another of their peers had died. The Provider tossed his head like the kingbill, tossing the corpse in his mouth, swallowing after positioning it to his liking.

He always consumed those that failed to prove their worth, and seemed to have something of a sixth sense of when it happened.

He crunched lazily, heading off away from the carcass as the fittest rushed it, gorging frenziedly. Blood dripped from his left forearm, a terrible rent in his thick hide. It was only after looking at it in horror that she reevaluated, considering the Provider’s massive scale. It only looked so bad because Tok was enormous.

She watched him walk off, ripping an entire bush out of the ground as he went, one with variegated white and green leaves.

Why did he do that?

Feed! Her Instinct hissed from her empty belly, gnawing at her insides with hunger. Yanking her legs towards the tumult of the others ripping into the thick hide of the crocodilian.

Her stomach snarled indignantly.

Drool slid down her muzzle, spattering onto the ground below. Her tongue flickered out. She could smell the pungent blood of the beast.

She had to eat. But how?

Biting the kingbill’s tongue.

Fragrant crocodilian blood.

She looked at the beast’s mouth, and her eyes widened.

The blood! Mask my scent.

She had to move, now!

Compete!

Her yellow eyes looked from one of her peers to the other. Looking for an opening to dart through. She crept forward, closing her eyes to mere slits, hiding the bright yellow of them that would give her away.

Hide in the mouth…

She moved around one male, who was face deep in the bloody meat of the crocodile’s hind leg. He paused and she froze, but it was only to swallow before biting in again. Two females hissed at each other, snarling and splitting their attention three ways between eating, swiping at each other, and keeping an eye out for others. She stuck to the shadows, making her way closer… closer… closer…

She ran in, clambering into the mouth of the beast. She couldn’t fit!

It was the first time she was too big for something. But that wouldn’t matter. She shifted her lower half’s coloring to hide better and stared at the massive tongue. Most would be fighting over the easier portions anyway, so she took a chance. Tearing free gobbet after gobbet. Using her claws and mouth to rip into the soft meat of the tongue. Shredding, tearing, gorging herself as quickly as she could.

Meat! It was so much better than the insects and berries she had been scraping by with. Fresh, juicy, unctuous, and sweet.

More! Her Instinct demanded and she obliged with gusto.

She kept an eye out as she gulped down huge chunks of flesh, barely chewing, getting as much down as quickly as possible. Mid bite, through the snaggle toothed grin of the dead reptile, she saw another rushing at her, hissing and snarling.

Her bully.

The one who always targeted her, flashing a pattern of black and red they had all started using for challenging others. The one who’s wound had eventually killed that other male.

Shit!

She tried to get away, stumbling back out of the mouth, hissing. Trying to dazzle the other hatchling with a sudden bright prismatic flash of her scales. He jerked at the sudden vibrant display.

Fight! Her Instinct gnashed from her claws. She had to slow him down. An injury would do that.

Her hate for him boiled up and she snarled.

Like Slash!

She remembered.

The neonate stopped her retreat, letting the bully close the distance in one stride. She planted one foot, twisting at the hips, her shoulder rotating.

The bully blinked in surprise, still dazzled by her ongoing display. He clearly had thought she would keep running. She could see him pulling back. His eye already closing in preparation.

Too late.

She snarled, bicep shooting her forearm forward, and her claws connected just behind his temple. Slicing through scales. Blood welled. Mostly superficial cuts. For the moment.

Now!

She hooked her claw at just the right time, still mimicking Slash. She felt her middle claw dig in, tearing into the eye. Felt the eyelid part. Felt the hot gel burst as she drove the strike home. The sticky wetness of her fellow’s blood spattering against her arm and shoulder from his face.

She paid for standing her ground though.

He snarled. Fear welled inside her and she tried to jump back. His slash went along her ribs, his size making up for the lack of technical skill. His claws dug deep and even though she had known to dodge, he still almost disemboweled her. Aiming for her guts.

Sharp icy pain ripped through her as her own hot wet blood poured out.

No! Nonononono! Instinct flooded her with fear. Despair. The pain almost washing away with the amount of both. Life! Live! Must live!

Her squeal was high pitched, and she fell wetly to the ground, forcing herself to try and scrabble away. Staggering. Feet churning the earth and her blood into mud that mashed into the open wounds on her chest and made her lose traction.

The male kicked savagely, and she squealed again. She managed to sweep his leg with her tail, knocking him to the ground. His empty socket splattered into the mud when he fell.

He staggered up. His one eye closed and oozing grossly. She had already pulled herself far out of the engagement. Limping away as fast as she could, whining gently and placing her hands over the cuts along her ribs. He started to follow.

Frantic she searched and grabbed a stone, throwing it at him and hitting him right in his bloody socket. Making him howl in agony.

She kept staggering. Gasping as she tried to process this disaster. Tried to comprehend the pain.

Live! No!

Others watched her leave. She could see the expectation in all of her broodmates’ eyes.

She would die.

It didn’t matter that she had eaten her fill, she had been effectively killed. The infection would finish her in time with a wound this grievous.

She was in shock.

She couldn’t hear the desperate screams of her Instinct. Staggering into a sapling and leaning there. That, or some part of her just didn’t want to acknowledge them at that moment.

She saw Biter. Smeared plants on her body. On old wounds.

What?

She met the apex’s eyes. She snarled at the neonate and shoved her on her way.

“Go die, runt.”

She stumbled, looking down, seeing the messy hole that had been created from Tok ripping up the bush earlier.

Was that important?

Her Instinct was still in shock at her imminent death.

Curiosity won.

If she was going to die, might as well sate that as well. Who knows, maybe Tok would appreciate her being so close to hand all things considered. Her meat would be fresher for him. And she would rather he have her than one of the beasts of the swamp.

The resignation of it quieted the thrashing drives within her.

She staggered forward, blood dripping onto the ground.