Author's Note: Well, well, well... what is this you see? Am I really continuing a story you thought was already done? To tell you the truth, I've always wanted to return to this world and continue the storyline I started last year. When the opportunity presented itself, it seemed like the perfect time to make a comeback. For those that have read A Grief Observed, I hope you'll find this just as good, if not even better, but I'll let you be the judge of that. All I can really say is that I'm very pumped up to get the following chapters out as soon as possible. Just to be clear, you do not have to read AGO to understand the plot in this one, although it is recommended you have read the prequel.

Disclaimer: words in italics stand for flashbacks.

This story is for the Gang of Five June 2020 prompt challenge.

Chapter 1:

Bron tried to block the slight heaviness and quiver in his chest and allowed himself to rock on his heels. He avoided eye contact with his deputy, fearful of letting his emotions get the better of him. He had not been brought up to be a leader and now that the duty had been forced on him, he was always careful enough to have a positive outlook.

If his companion noticed the signs of doubt he showed no sign of it. ''No doubt about it, something must be done. We lost six last night circle and the recent cooperation between predators and the vultures responsible for sabotaging our food supply has everyone on the edge. Moral is dropping and the more vocal protesters have even started to question the legitimacy of the leadership. I fear a revolt is inevitable.''

That did not surprise Bron. People who allowed emotions control how they behaved would eventually cost the lives of others around them, and that was something he wasn't about to permit. ''Let it be clear that I will not force anyone to remain here against their will. If they have made their decision to leave, then their fate is out of my paws.''

When he received no reply from his deputy, Bron decided to continue uninterrupted. ''Make no mistake, Arlo, I'm not saying we abandon them completely. We need each other more than ever. Our solitary days are coming to an end, and we must adapt.''

''As you will, leader,'' Arlo said. ''But may I remind you of our little project, the contingency plan in case something goes wrong? You know how it peeves me to leave things unfinished.''

''How could I forget? You've been reminding me of that since the raid we suffered from few days ago.''

''Doesn't hurt to be practical, no?''

Being overzealous did, though. Bron was glad to have someone by his side who knew more about management and inspiring people with words. Arlo was also one of the more skilled and experienced in the herd. If there was to be a fight, you'd want him to guard your back.

But Bron knew better than to rely on brute strength and devil's luck alone. Wounds would heal in time, but there was no cure for being a pompous moron and he flat out refused to let arrogance cloud his judgement.

You'd think that it wouldn't take a lot to win the confidence of those who followed you. Just tell them what they want to hear, keep them content and don't let them accidentally kill themselves. But there was more to it, far more. You had to inspire them or they'd find someone else to fill that spot.

It usually ended in one of two ways: either they made the right decision to oust an incompetent leader, or they'd end up killed by following a false one. There was too much to lose in either scenario and since it was too big of a gamble, Bron didn't even consider it. What he did consider was placing competent people in positions that suited their talents, and for those that did not fit the criteria, there was always something else.

At first, Bron had been little skeptical about such approach, but Arlo had vouched that nothing bad would happen as long as everyone did as they were told, and so Bron was forced to consent. It was not that he didn't trust the longneck to do his job, rather that not all were as trustworthy. But Arlo had a plan for that, too.

''Why not place trusted members in key positions around the herd? Some to watch the border, others to mind the more menial tasks. And for those that are left? Well, they'd make themselves useful by reporting any dissidents that may one day possess a threat to the herd, and should they opt to oppose you one day, we'd know in a heartbeat.''

Some might have considered that a massive violation of privacy and even betrayal – Bron included – but it got the job done, and since Bron didn't have any alternatives, he'd allowed it, although begrudgingly.

It turned out to be an effective measure. Now that Bron didn't have to worry about potential insurrections within the herd, he could focus full-time on keeping them happy while he let Arlo handle the more clandestine operations he couldn't be seen performing.

''No, it doesn't, and your approach has worked out so far.''

''I'm glad we agree on that, leader,'' Arlo said, with a hint of mockery.

It was the first time since the start of the conversation did Bron look Arlo in the eyes. Even now he stood at attention, even though Bron had forbid such formalities when it was just the two of them. Dark gray with prominent brown eyes, Arlo was a large specimen even by their standards. After all this time Bron was still unable to tear his gaze away from the deep scar that ran down diagonally across his entire visage.

Rumor had it he'd suffered a nasty blow while in mock combat that left his right eye completely blind, but that wasn't the only one. More prominent theory suggested he had earned the scar in a fight against three predators twice his size. Bron didn't know how much of those rumors were actually true or if they were complete fabrications, and since Arlo had refused to speak about it, Bron had to respect his decision and make no mention of it.

''Please, Arlo. I've told you already that there is no need for such formalities while it's just us. You can drop the act.''

Arlo merely laughed. ''Force of habit, leader. It can't be helped.''

Bron caught the glimpse of distant figure out of the corner of his eye when he was about to reprimand Arlo for the hundredth time. He turned to acknowledge the new arrival. He had an idea who it was, and was not at all surpised to see the familiar face he'd wanted to see. There, standing right at the edge of the glade and overlooking the valley below, stood none other than his foster child, Shorty.

He should have suspected him to eventually seek him out. Shorty had been craving for his attention for some time now, but due to his status as the herd leader, he had little time to spare for leisure time. Bron kept faith that once things settled down, he'd have more time for the small longneck. It wasn't too long ago that their relationship was anything but professional.

Shorty had been left an orphan after the catastrophic earthshake struck the world with such ferocity it appeared all hope was lost. Bron had been searching day and night for what remained of his estranged family, when he'd met Shorty and dozen other children with him. By some miracle, some of those children had later been reunited with their lost families, while the more unfortunate had quickly been adopted by childless couples. Everyone except Shorty.

The night after the herd had been amassed, Bron had taken Shorty away from the rest of the herd to talk privately about his upbringing. It had become clear fairly quickly why the child was so disheartened and lost. Bron had lost numerous friends over the years, some of those even from his childhood and moving on had not been easy. But it was different with Shorty. Whereas Bron had retained his father and younger siblings, Shorty had lost it all in a very short period of time. Such a loss was beyond devastating.

Looking at Shorty, Bron was suddenly reminded of his own history and the wonderful times he'd had the pleasure to see. He'd lost his mother early into his life, and not a day went by that he didn't think of her. By now, he was more or less over it, but there would always be a hole in his heart that could not be mended. Soon he'd been plessed with a mate and unborn child of his own, but what came after had torn it all apart. He prayed that somewhere out there his own child was still alive, but there was no way to be sure of it.

Bron had come to the conclusion long ago that he'd likely never see his dear mate again, and when the news of her passing had been uncovered, he'd started to lose the last of his dwindling hope. Azura was something else, all right, unlike any female he'd ever met. Her first impression of him was anything but pleasant when Bron had accidentally pushed her into a pool of mud. It was a complete mistake on his part, and had Azura been least bit vengeful, she would have killed him.

''Look at what you did, you dimwit!''

Bron was like in a trance. He could hear the angry words, the meaning behind them and the murderous look addressed to him when she received no apology or even a word out of Bron for that matter. Without another word, she left him there gaping like a fool. Lost in thoughts, Bron chased after her, completely oblivious to the looks he was receiving from everyone else.

She must have heard him approach, for she turned around and regarded Bron with disdain and a hint of mild curiosity. She was likely expecting him to finally apologize for his behavior, but had that happened, it would have been another story entirely. In the end, Bron had only managed to antagonize her further with one simple, yet gauche question.

''What's your name?''

It became eerily quiet. No one spoke for a long time, it almost seemed like everything around them had simply vanished without a trace. Without warning she swung her tail around and smacked him hard on the face. ''Seriously? Is that all you have to say?''

Bron didn't dare to follow after her once she practically ran away from the scene, one of her close friends right on her tail.

Right now, Bron could honestly say it had all been worth it, and it hadn't taken long before admiration replaced pain, like it had never been there in the first place.

Their relationship gradually began to improve once Bron finally mustered enough courage to apologize for his rudeness, and once she let go of her initial hostility against him, a whole another different side to Azura surfaced. They still fought from time to time, but would always make up in the end. Then the day came when Bron had asked her to become his mate. She'd been rendered speechless, which Bron was sure to savor to the fullest while it lasted. At the end of the day, both their families had rejoiced the new union, and Bron couldn't had been more happy.

They were much simpler times, but now they were just memories of the life he once had. Bron had taken his childhood and early adulthood for granted, and now they would never come back again. Everyone would get only one chance, after all, and Bron had consumed and lost his sooner than he would have liked. Now there was no more time for childish games or the like. He had a job to do, and an important one as well.

Too many looked up to him to even consider failing. They'd surrendered their lives for him to keep alive, and whether or not he'd make good on that promise he would do his very best or die trying. His father had always said it was better to get busy living than busy dying, and he'd taken that to heart. How he missed the wise old longneck with every passing day, but there was no reason to wallow in the past.

Shorty had still not moved from his spot, visibly apprehensive to take another step. Bron nodded encouragingly at him. At last, Shorty seemed to understand he lacked the time for now and he disappeared beneath the wild vegetation and out of sight. He'd have to talk with Shorty about it later and ask forgiveness. Before he turned away, Bron noticed three young longnecks – all of them around Shorty's age – come into view and make their way through the growth, following after Shorty while smiling ominously.

Bron did not like how it felt, but he could not do anything about it right now. Maybe he was merely imagining it, but there was something eerily sinister in the leading child's eyes, like it was almost predatory. Bron had seen that kind of sight only twice in his life.

It was the feeling you had when something bad was going to happen.

Shorty felt trapped. He swayed on his feet while his mind raced through all the possibilities. Uncertainty and self-doubt sweeped through the length of his elongated body, desperate to find answers. He felt worthless and unappreciated, like everyone around him seemed to think so. Apart from Bron, that was. The truth may have been hard to face, but there was no running from it.

What happened with Bron only few minutes ago was like a punch to the gut. Shorty was so afraid of the possibility that even his father figure was starting to harbor similar feelings towards him as the rest of the herd did. But as quick as the thought came up, Shorty dismissed it. No way in hell was Bron going to start ignoring him over something so trivial and unfounded. He'd been nothing but supportive and as a result, the only saving grace in the herd.

Shorty knew the reason why he couldn't spare as much time for him as he used to. His position as a leader demanded his utmost attention all the time, and he couldn't be blamed for something out of his reach. But still part of him wanted to hate Bron for it. It was immature of him, but Shorty could not afford to ignore his feelings anymore. Sure, his new life was not as bad as it could be. He had everything he could ever want: safety, food and the like. It wasn't the problem.

The real problem was that everyone outside of Bron seemed to view him as nothing more than a loose end. They'd change the topic every time they'd see him lurking about, and Shorty knew they were whispering things about him behind his back. Things that no one in their right mind would ever dare speak. And when he confronted them about it, they only hated him more. He was the pariah of the herd, a person that was generally despised by even those that had done far worse things before joining.

The cold truth that no one wished to say was that they didn't know him at all, and therefore had no right to judge him based on wild rumors. All they did was jump to conclusions, and Shorty was tired of being branded a freak of nature. Shorty stomped the ground, and mud flew all over the place, some of it even splashed on him, but he did not care. He'd have to take a bath on his way home.

Home. It was a foreign word, one that did not hold any meaning to him. He had a home once, a real home where he was welcome any time. But it had all been taken away from him. Maybe the reason why he was despised and distrusted by the herd was because they didn't know anything about his past. The only one whom Shorty had opened up to was Bron, and even he knew only a fraction of the full story.

He had been unable to speak about his past with Bron, in spite of of how much Shorty trusted the grown-up. He had no desire to think about those awful days of his life, when food was scarce and he had to keep one eye open every night whilst he slept. Some days he couldn't even bring himself to fall asleep because of how terrified he was. Shorty wanted to bury that part of his past for good. They were far too painful to relive.

But Shorty wasn't stupid. He knew that Bron at the very least suspected there was more to it, but out of respect had decided it was best not to pry. That had increased his appreciation for the adult, and made Shorty solemnly swear that one day he'd tell the full story in detail.

He sighed and started to get up. There was no point in staying here and waiting for something interesting to happen. Watching his own reflection had gotten terribly boring within few minutes. Perhaps he ought to use this opportunity and take the bath right here and now. It would save him the trouble for not having to do it later, and he'd still have some time before settling down for the night.

Before he could jump in the water, there was a loud rustle behind him. It seemed something interesting was about to happen, after all. Just not the kind Shorty hoped for.

''Well, well, well… look who we have here, guys,'' said a crude voice that instantly made Shorty's blood run cold. He recognized the voice.

A lone longneck emerged from the shadows and started towards him, displaying a wide grin. He was little taller than Shorty and much more bulky. Either the child liked to exercise or was just born with extremely good genes, Shorty didn't care at all. He was the last person Shorty wanted to see today, least of all here.

From behind him came two more longnecks, exchanging knowing looks and making faces at each other. Shorty had hoped it was someone else, but to his misfortune, he'd gotten the worst scum in the world.

''What, pray tell, are you doing here all alone, Shortsy?''

Shorty wished to be somewhere else. He'd heard more than enough about the awful nickname the trio had made for him. Most definitely not out the goodness of their hearts. He refused to acknowledge their presence, but that would only make them try harder to get under his skin.

''What? Can't even talk anymore? Are you that pathetic?''

''Shut up, Buck,'' Shorty said, swallowing hard.

''Hey, the little hatchling does speak!''

Buck turned away and burst out in laughter, gasping for air. ''Good one, Willow!''

More laughter. They certainly were enjoying every second of putting him down. Or as they liked to say, ''Putting the freak in his place.''

''But for real, what is a freak like you doing in this herd in the first place? You don't even have a real family, or friends for that matter,'' Buck said, mockingly.

''I hear he's so smitten with the leader that he's desperately hoping for solace from him. It's pathetic, really… I don't understand what he sees in you. You're nothing but a weakling.'' Willow continued.

It hurt to hear those words, but Shorty was damned if he was going to give them the satisfaction. Everything that came out of their mouth was load of rubbish. Although the third one in their group hadn't yet said a word, but continued to laugh with his peers. Shorty's rage was replaced by curiosity. He stopped to pay attention, furrowing his brow and releasing it in bewilderment.

The boy whose name he did not know, suggesting that he had joined up with Buck and Willow only recently, did not look entirely comfortable in their presence. It almost seemed like he was forcing himself to act a certain way to please his new friends. His body language may have expressed open hostility, but the look did not quite reach his eyes.

If only the same could be said about the other two. Shorty was afraid he'd revealed his true emotions, but when Buck and Willow did not take any notice, he sighed in relief. Asking for them to pay attention was a lost cause, apparently.

After another hurtful comment, Shorty could not take it anymore and started in the opposite direction, his bath long forgotten. But he couldn't block out the hurtful words from reaching his ears.

''Heck, maybe your mother didn't love you either, for she's not here to defend her precious little freak of a child!''

Something inside Shorty snapped, and before he even noticed, he was sprinting at full speed at Buck, more enraged than ever. His nostrils flaired, eyes protruded and muscles quivered. Shorty didn't know where the sudden strength came from, but one minute he was staring Buck coldly in the eye, and in the next he was towering over him while the bully lay on the ground, crying in pain.

For Shorty, it felt like an eternity passed before he was pulled away by the boy he did not know. There was no sign of Willow anywhere, and the boy directed him away from Buck with surprising gentleness. Shorty followed his gaze and only then did he realize the true extent what he'd done.

While Buck had been hollering insult after another just few moments ago without a care in the world, now he lay silent at Shorty's feet, breathing weakly while fresh blood engulfed his entire face and dribbled to the ground. Shorty looked down at his feet, and sure enough, they were covered in blood. Somewhere in the distance, a loud cry echoed through the valley.