This story shouldn't have more than one, two or three more chapters. Thanks KaylaDestroyer, Buckrocks, AL, goldenpuon, and tigey wigey for reviewing this story!

Ah, yes, Parisa has returned. All's well that ends well, eh?

No, I fear not.

I don't own Ice Age!

Oh! So I made a Fictionpress account (sarmichwakko) and I'd really really really be really really happy if you checked out my story Ashes of Promises... Obviously I can't make you...But please...If you have a moment and you're on ...Guess who will love you forever if you review her story?

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No more delays! Read on!

By the end of the week, all the members of the herd had made miraculous recoveries. Though he still walked with a limp, well, at least Buck could walk. And talk. Unfortunately, this would be a totally cheesy and unbelievably stupid story if

a) he was FULLY recovered, and

b) the herd was magically out of the woods, so to speak.

Nope, no-sir-ee, there was lots of trouble to come. I may as well add some foreshadowing to his story, so I'll give you a little clue: Rudy was out for blood and Parisa had a growing sense of foreboding.

Rudy wasn't the only danger out there, oh no. There was something far more dangerous on the prowl, something dark, old, and mysterious. Something that hadn't stirred for centuries, perhaps since the dawn of time. He sensed something, something good and pure. He was hungry, and he thirsted for blood, and it was dark. Now was the time to strike- oh, how he despised the light! With a hacking cough, the formidable being rose, shaking dust and plants off of it's scaly back as it did so.

The creature (it can only be described as such for the moment) flicked it's dry tongue, using it to sniff the air.

Water.

Water was life. Simple as that.

A prehistoric bird screeched and flew off at the sight of it. Had Rudy been that deep into the valley, he too would have felt a cold shiver down his spine. The creature chuckled, a truly terrifying sound that sounded like rocks grinding together and splitting apart.

He would get the angel, or the child, no difference. He would finally regain his throne as the most feared. Something he had not had for a millenia, or two...So long that he/it could not even remember.

He was hungry...Very, very hungry.

Even hungrier than Katniss Everdeen. (Now is when you say, "I see what you did there!" unless you didn't see what I did there...Which would make me kind of sad...)

Yes, I suppose this is all a bit melodramatic, but hey, I'm just the narrator; go blame the dinosaur...thing.

Anywho, perhaps we ought to check on Parisa and the herd, eh? So we shall.

Just as Parisa had begun to ponder whether or not this whole mission ordeal was over, our beloved weasel threw her for another loop. The herd was preparing to go back to the world of snow, and Parisa was wondering if she should go back to the Big House yet when Buck collapsed. Parisa had been keeping a close eye on him in case of something like this, so it could have come to her as MORE of a shock than it did. I mean, yeah if someone randomly keels over in the jungle and falls unconscious, you're going to be a little surprised whether of not you're prepared for it.

Seeing as there was no one else around at the moment, the angel checked his pulse hurriedly and held a slender hand beneath his nose to check for breathing. No heartbeat. Buck let out one final puff ofair before his lungs gave up the effort. Immediately and without thinking, Parisa tilted his head back and blew air into his lungs. She touched his chest with delicate, flitting fingers and pressed down, mumbling a prayer beneath her breath.

An onlooking dino swore he saw silver sparks fall from her fingertips. He later had a heart attack.

Buck's heart was beating again, but he was struggling to breathe. Parisa's blood ran cold at the feeling that coursed through her veins when her fingers brushed the weasel's shoulder. After another short prayer (in Latin, I might add) and a flurry of sparks that jolted the hermit back into breathing, she unfurled her wings and flew off with him, much like a flying monkey carrying Dorothy off to the Wicked Witch. A very pretty, graceful flying monkey that flew more like a bird that a monkey, but still. You get the picture. Actually, that wasn't a very good description- those monkeys were terrifying and flew like refrigerators with feathers glued on. Forget I said anything.

She dropped the unconscious weasel mercifully onto Sid's sleeping figure and was off again, the tropical wind ruffling her feathers.

I can make it in time, She thought, while the butterflies' wings whispered, "Hurry, hurry,hurry."