Attack! Read online

  Published by Era Publications

  220 Grange Road, Flinders Park, SA 5025 AUSTRALIA

  Text Copyright © Josephine Croser, 2007

  Illustration Copyright © Katharine Lahn, 2007

  eBook Editor, Rodney Martin

  eBook Designer, Nathan Kolic

  All rights reserved by the publisher

  eISBN 9781740491037

  Educational consultants:

  The publishers wish to acknowledge and thank the following academics and teachers who coordinated school trials and feedback on this series:

  Lisa Speed and her literacy team (Victoria), Cary Roberts, Kiernan Houlahan and Kay Neeson (New South Wales), Ian Hodder and Alana Girvin (South Australia) and Dr Kathy A Mills (Queensland).

  Written by Josephine Croser

  Illustrated by Katharine Lahn

  Chapter 1

  Dagger-mouth kept still. He was lurking.

  Lurking was Dagger-mouth’s best skill, and right now he was lurking among the tall plants and listening to the sounds around him.

  Nearby a group of duck-billed dinosaurs was grazing. They sometimes called to each other with their flutelike sounds. To the ears of Dagger-mouth, the sounds were the ring of a dinner bell.

  “My dinner,” thought Dagger-mouth hopefully.

  In fact, it was a big hope, for young Dagger-mouth had never yet caught anything to eat.

  Of course he had eaten. A growing tyrannosaur got madly hungry and would eat whatever it could. But so far Dagger-mouth had eaten only leftovers from the kills made by older tyrannosaurs.

  Not that they invited him to share. No way! Dagger-mouth had learned to lurk and dash in quickly at just the right moment. Sometimes he could snatch a mouthful as a big tyrannosaur gulped down a mighty chunk. Sometimes there was a fight between others that gave him a chance.

  But sometimes another young one, as hungry as himself, would appear from nowhere. If it dashed in, faster than Dagger-mouth, well, all he’d get then was a mess of bones or just an angry snarl and a slash from very sharp claws.

  No wonder lurking was Dagger-mouth’s best skill.

  Just then, one of the duck-bills moved aside from the others. It was not the smallest one (which would have made a good start for Dagger-mouth) but neither was it one of the biggest.

  Snipping and chewing, it was soon standing out from the group. Alone!

  A tussle broke out between two other duckbills who had chomped into the same plant.

  “Attack!” said Dagger-mouth to himself. But he didn’t move.

  Several duck-bills raised their heads to watch the tussle.

  “Attack!”

  Dagger-mouth waited. His eyes went back and forth from the duck-bill that stood alone to the others in the group. And he scanned the ground, over and over, to see how far he’d have to run when he charged.

  A hunter does not wait. A hunter must seize the moment. A hunter should not keep lurking and watching when a good chance comes.

  “Next time,” thought Dagger-mouth, as the lone duck-bill rejoined the group. “Next time I’ll be quick. I’ll open my jaws and rush in for my first mighty attack.”

  Chapter 2

  Next morning the gentle fluting duck-bills had vanished. Dagger-mouth heard the odd rustle among the plants, but he saw only lizards and beetles. A splash near a pool drew him closer. A crocodile was basking on the mud.

  The crocodile moved. The attack-fire inside Dagger-mouth began to burn.

  Stepping slowly towards the pool, the tyrannosaur leaned forward. His tail’s weight balanced him as he crept, step by step, forward.

  Dagger-mouth moved with a waddling walk. Each new footprint was in line with the one behind it. Left foot. Right foot. Left foot …

  Oops!

  Dagger-mouth’s clawed feet were not made for mud. His tail swung hard as every muscle in his body fought to hold his balance. A cry came from his throat, and his two small arms beat uselessly in the air.

  Right foot. At last it was down, firmly, finding a rock beneath the mud, but a splash from the pool left Dagger-mouth in no doubt. Once more he had failed. There’d been no attack.

  Dagger-mouth needed several steps to turn carefully and retreat from the mud. Before he had gone far, a chorus of frogs started up behind him. They seemed to be laughing, mocking him.

  Stupid good-for-nothing frogs, thought Dagger-mouth.

  And he just kept on walking.

  * * *

  The sun was hot when Dagger-mouth stood at the edge of the tall plants. Before him stretched a wide, flat plain.

  Herds of herbivores migrated across this plain in their search for food. A rolling cloud of dust in the distance showed where a herd was on the move now. But it was too far away for Dagger-mouth.

  “One day you won’t be so safe,” he almost cried out. But in fact he only snarled, for that was his only way of telling the world that he was hungry, angry and getting tired of learning how to attack.

  Something else caught Dagger-mouth’s attention once the herd had moved on and the dust had settled. Brilliant patches of orange and red played round the top of a distant mountain. A tall column of dark smoke rose to the sky from its tip.

  Dagger-mouth’s eyes were trapped by the spectacle. He’d seen the mountain before, of course, but never looking like this. But even as he stood watching, something deep within him seemed to answer the question he always asked: no, this would not be a good thing to attack. The fire and smoke would not take away his hunger.

  The thunder of feet sounded behind him. A great cry of alarm was followed by a grunt of triumph.

  Dagger-mouth’s nostrils danced. He could smell blood.

  Once again it was time to lurk and try for some leftovers.

  Chapter 3

  He did not see her at first. His need to eat was greater than any thought of caution. With jaws best suited for tearing out great chunks of flesh, it was hard work tugging and pulling at the remains.

  She came and fed, too, at the carcass.

  He snarled, of course, when he was nearly finished. He even stepped closer and lifted one foot to show his claws. But she just snarled in return and turned her attention back to the remains.

  He finished first and moved away, taking care to keep back from the large tyrannosaur who had made the kill. While it seemed to be sleeping off its feed, it might still want to defend what it had earned for itself. Dagger-mouth crept towards the nearest clump of high plants for his own rest.

  When he woke, she was nearby — not sleeping, as he had been, but resting with her small arms on the ground, ready to push up should she need to stand quickly. He eyed her with suspicion. Something about her eye told him that her best skill would not be lurking.

  What would it be, then? Running? Charging? Defending her kill?

  He wondered if she had yet made a successful attack all on her own. Perhaps not, as she looked smallish. But he guessed that she was one of those forward young ones who would charge in behind a large one. Dagger-mouth had seen this happen. Of course, the main killer could turn and show anger with its great gnashing jaws. But if they were quick, the young ones would have the experience of being part of the attack itself.

  This was something Dagger-mouth had not yet tried himself. When it came to it, waiting for leftovers always seemed to be the best plan.

  Without snarling or grunting a greeting of any kind, Dagger-mouth heaved himself up from the ground and began to walk. He heard her do the same and follow. Not wanting company, he walked faster. A companion would eat half the leftovers he managed to find!

  Perhaps they could attack together. But Dagger-mouth did not like the idea. He had a deep sense of wanting to go alone.

  Perhaps he could let her get ahead and then fo
llow her. Perhaps he should watch what she did rather than what the big ones did. How simple the charge looked for those who were huge and powerful. Had they started out lurking, the way he had?

  Only one thing was certain to Dagger-mouth. It didn’t matter how big a meal he had from other predators’ leftovers, he never felt satisfied. The need to attack — and triumph — burned and burned inside him.

  Chapter 4

  Dagger-mouth walked back in the direction of the pool, and the young one followed. He paused for a while near a clump of magnolia trees, and she paused, too. She did not grunt or call to him. She just stayed near, in his space.

  Later he returned to the edge of the plain, and still she was there. Perhaps she felt safe near him. Now that was a new thought. His inside feeling always told him that he belonged on his own. He shook his head and then, with a burst of loud, raspy noises, he coughed up a bit of gristle and spat in onto the ground.

  The small one didn’t even look his way. Suddenly Dagger-mouth’s problem was solved. Whether she was close or not, he would just ignore her the way she ignored him. Easy!

  The great hot sun was creeping down to the edge of the sky when a huge shadow darkened the air around him. Dagger-mouth shuddered. It was only a giant pteranodon making a final swoop before nightfall.

  But when night did come and the air around grew dark, a sense of uneasiness stayed with Dagger-mouth at first. He stood very still and stared across the plain at the rim of the fiery volcano.

  Then, above him, the moon came out, and countless brilliant stars shone as they always did. But Dagger-mouth hardly noticed them, for once the sun’s light disappeared its warmth went too.

  And as the air’s coldness sucked the day’s warmth from Dagger-mouth, it sapped his energy. For the long hours of the night neither the young tyrannosaur nor the volcano held any interest for him at all.

  Chapter 5

  Dagger-mouth woke to a frightful rumpus. Heavy feet were trampling, and a skittish herd of duck-bills cantered by.

  Crash!

  An explosion of grunts and cries filled the air.

  Crash!

  What was that sound?

  Then the more important question hit Dagger-mouth: what was making that sound? And did it mean danger?

  Crash!

  Dagger-mouth didn’t wait to find out. Leaning forward to raise his tail, he turned away from the noise and waddled off as briskly as his heavy frame would allow.

  Behind him in a clearing two tall pachycephalosaurs were challenging each other with full-on head rams that sent shuddering shock waves through the surrounding area as well as down each other’s spine.

  Dagger-mouth was well out onto the open plain before he stopped. A quick glance to one side showed that his young companion had come the same way. Oh well, thought Dagger-mouth. He’d decided what to do about her: nothing at all.

  The sun was well up in the sky and many dinosaurs were on the move by now. And not far in front of him was another of those migrating herds. They were triceratops again — not too many of them, from what he could tell, but enough to make a cloud of dust. Now that could come in handy!

  Out here there was no place for lurking, and Dagger-mouth was starting to think like a hunter at last. He watched for a while, and a picture came to his mind of another time when he’d watched. That time he’d definitely been lurking. Safe among the plants, he’d watched as a huge tyrannosaur waited for a herd to pass by. At the end of the herd there had been a few slow ones that had fallen back a bit. Perhaps they were too old or too young — Dagger-mouth’s mind didn’t worry with details like this. But the picture was there of waiting for the last part of the herd.

  At last the time and place seemed right: not even one fern to tempt him into lurking, and a plan already formed in his mind.

  How could it not work this time?

  The dinosaurs’ feet thundered as the herd moved on past him. Dust flew into his eyes and nostrils, but Dagger-mouth just snorted and waited.

  It felt good waiting. Every muscle was tight. Every nerve was ready, every claw and tooth keen and sharp.

  And the sun’s warmth on his back had charged his muscles with fresh blood and energy.

  The bulk of the herd had passed by.

  Dagger-mouth’s focus sharpened on the last few stragglers. One was slowish but very big — too big for a young tyrannosaur’s first charge. A group of three came next, and then, a bit behind them, came one more, smallish and stumbling as it tried desperately to keep up.

  Dagger-mouth tested the ground with his feet. He opened his mouth wide in a great shark-like grimace.

  Then, judging his moment and not even wishing for an instant that he could hide and lurk, he charged out towards the feeble triceratops.

  Dagger-mouth kept perfect focus on his prey. His eyes were totally linked to it.

  What, then, blurred his vision from one side? What was it that was cutting in towards his own path?

  And what was happening to his prey, now tumbled sideways in an awkward sprawl, with extra limbs and long tail straddling it?

  That young tyrannosaur!

  Swifter than him, she’d beaten him in the attack.

  And powered by her triumph, she turned as soon as he arrived, greeting his open-mouthed charge with a quick slash to his cheek with the claws of her tiny arm before sinking her teeth into his side.

  The bite was too quick to be well placed. It drew blood without giving great injury.

  Yet as Dagger-mouth limped back across the plain, he didn’t even know if he would have let her win or would have challenged her for the prey. For, as the young one had turned on him, a bigger, more cunning tyrannosaur had loped in to claim the kill for himself. And neither Dagger-mouth nor the small one was going to argue with him.

  Chapter 6

  Crash!

  The noise-makers were still at it, but Dagger-mouth barely noticed. His heart was too heavy with other matters.

  King of the predators — that’s what his heritage was. Perhaps king of the predators for all time!

  What if he never learned the skills to attack and triumph? It was a dismal thought. It stayed with Dagger-mouth for most of the day.

  But as the sun crept low again and the shadows of pteranodons passed over him, something changed inside him.

  Perhaps it began with the gnawing hunger that was gripping his innards again.

  Perhaps it began when a pteranodon dipped low and cast its shadow and Dagger-mouth looked at it squarely instead of shuddering.

  Perhaps it was seeing the successful attacker swagger back, looking disgustingly full and arrogant.

  Perhaps it was seeing the swift young tyrannosaur, hungry-looking and exhausted on the ground.

  Perhaps it was something of all these things that made Dagger-mouth feel strong and determined as he stared at the fiery volcano that night. Once more he fixed his focus firmly.

  It was as though the fire of the volcano burned with the fire inside him and gave him a sense of courage and power.

  Perhaps that’s why, when the moon came up and the stars came out, and a brilliant body made its path across the sky, Dagger-mouth did not notice it at all.

  Chapter 7

  The earth shook.

  As the giant meteor, many kilometres across, crashed into the planet, it disappeared in an explosion of energy.

  Dust and steam rose into the air. They went up and up as great mountains of cloud that built and toppled and billowed and spread until they surrounded the whole planet.

  A blanket — that’s what the clouds were like.

  But not a blanket that gives protection. Not a blanket that gives warmth.

  This blanket was a smothering blanket. It smothered the earth below it. It kept out the sun’s precious light. It kept out the sun’s precious warmth. It kept in the smoke that rose from volcanoes, so that the smoke mixed with the dust and made the cloud thicker. And made the earth darker.

  Dagger-mouth slept for a time. It seemed natural to
sleep when it was dark.

  But hunger still gnawed inside him. His eyes felt hot and he coughed, but no lumps of gristle emerged. He just coughed, on and on.

  Dagger-mouth felt cold. Coldness always made his legs heavy and slow. But some dream (if that’s what it was) of being strong, of trying harder, made him push with his legs.

  Yes, they were working now.

  With little light to guide him, Dagger-mouth let himself follow his ears. The stream that fed into the crocodile’s pool — he could hear it now.

  As he moved, a scent came to him. Of course. The young one had been nearby. His mouth nudged the raised mound of her back. She groaned and stirred a little. Then she slumped and was still.

  Dagger-mouth took his time. Step by step he moved towards the water.

  When his foot stuck in the mud he knew that he was near.

  He waited for a bit. It would take all his strength to release the foot and turn.

  But this was a good place to be.

  It had been too quiet back near the small tyrannosaur.

  Here there was movement.

  Not just the water. Yes, he could hear the water.

  But he could hear other movements too.

  Splash!

  A crocodile …

  Something slithered past his leg. A lizard maybe or one of those quick little furry things he used to see but never really noticed.

  Ha.

  Something was moving close by. Dagger-mouth closed his burning, runny eyes and tried hard not to cough.

  Whatever it was, it had stopped, not far from him.

  So many things were moving about here near the water. King of the hunters — that’s what he was. Not long now and he’d have one of those things, and the gnawing pains inside him would ease.