Editing Leape (section)

== '''6''' ==
''In which Penn gets spooked by a compsagnathus''

Penn woke up to the most chaotic sight he had ever seen. A large, sandy-colored dog— a labrador retriever, if he knew his dog breeds— was pouncing around the room, a semi-twisted sheet around its feet, barking excitedly, jumping up and down like a trapped rabbit. It was fleeing from something Penn hoped he never had to see again: an underwear-draped raptor that looked harmless, and yet was nipping at the dog’s heels as if the two were playing. To add to that, there was a cacophony of dinosaur noises coming in through an open door, mixed with the burning smell of eggs.

Running a hand through his dark hair, Penn propped himself up on his elbows just as the lab decided to leap onto his bed, fleeing the mostly-blinded raptor who scampered around the room in a frenzy.

''That’s one way to start the morning…'' Penn thought, stifling a yawn and looking around the room. The lab’s slobber consistently dropped onto the comforter of the bed, coming at regular intervals. The brownish-green raptor had finally shaken the pair of firetruck red underwear off its head, scraping its claws against the floor, giving its eye a good lick, like a lizard, before scuttling under the bed to haunt Penn’s dreams. He shuddered, pushing the idea out of his brain, moving his gaze away from beneath the bottom bunk of the room.

The lab turned its attention to Penn. Panting, the dog’s drool got all over the bed covers, tail wagging as his entire backside shook. A smile stretched over Penn’s face, and he got the impression he was grinning like an idiot. ''I never liked dogs… but this one…'' his thoughts trailed off, as the familiar voice of the Narrator whispered in his mind something about character development.

The door nearly flew off its hinges as it was opened, and a safari-looking guy fast-walked in. He wore clothes similar to Lethia’s—that looked quite like a boy scout uniform— but they were camouflage. He hadn’t noticed Penn in his hurry, and as his leathery boots thumped against the ground, he had an air of absent-mindedness about him. The man dug through a trunk that Penn hadn’t noticed the night before, muttering stuff under his breath all the while.

He turned around and was about to walk out of the room before his eyes widened and he saw Penn. He nearly dropped what he was holding— some sort of a large metal band— and gave a surprised shout.

“Who ''are'' you!?” he yelped, grabbing hold of the ring and holding it close to his chest. By now Penn could see his facial features clearly. His reddish-brown hair was neatly trimmed, the remnants of a beard on his face. He had large eyes— not unlike Maizie’s— that were green-brown, and he carried himself almost like a cat, slinking around, yet incredibly hyperactive.

“Um,” said Penn, unsure how to respond. ''What am I supposed to say, I decided to live in your basement?'' “Hi?”

“Maizie never mentioned there were ''two'' of you! Welcome!” He spread his arms wide as if showing off the bunk room. “I’m Philip Callaham! Maizie’s…” he paused, counting on his fingers. “Cousin!”

Penn gave him an odd look. Philip gave a sheepish smile. “Technically we’re third cousins— my great-great-grandma is the same as hers—and I never get to introduce us—me? us? her? who knows— to anyone, like, ever, so it took a sec to figure it out.”

Penn nodded slowly, considering it. ''That makes sense… I think.'' He was yanked out of his thoughts by the other boy’s chatter. “... I have a lot of chores and stuff I gotta do today, but you’re welcome to come with me if you want, although Belinda might not be too happy… but she’s old and can barely walk anyways, so we ''should'' be good to go and her hearing’s not great. Whattaya say? Wanna come?” A mischievous grin had spread across Phillip’s face. Penn had to think about it.

''Am I even up for socializing right now?'' The sound of the Narrator’s voice caught him off guard, but he swiftly ignored the snark of it. ''No, I think I am— besides, I don’t like you, so why would I follow the plot?'' A dramatic gasp came from the Narrator, and he couldn’t help but smile, which acted as a catalyst for Philip’s.

“So, that’s a yes?” he asked, eyes lighting up, excitement much like a ten-year-old being told he’d get ice cream.

“Sure,” said Penn before his stomach growled, the dog at the foot of the bed giving a bark in response.

Philip’s gaze leapt to the lab. “Sir Richard Owens!” he cried, dashing over to give the dog a good behind-the-ears rub. “You’re supposed to be guarding the chickens!”

The dog fixed his master with a questioning gaze as if he didn’t understand the command. Philip sighed. “You’re the best-trained animal here. Not as if we could ask Lassie for help, anyways.”

Penn’s brain halted in its functioning for a second. “There’re other animals than dinosaurs on this planet?”

“Uh, ''duh''. What, you think we’d eat terrible lizards for breakfast, lunch, and dinner?”

“Wait you eat—”

“No, no, there ''are'' other animals here. Like chickens and dogs and… well, actually, that’s pretty much it, but last week there was some excellent pterosaur jerky which Maizie helped with, so that was good. But you seem hungry! So let’s eat some eggs!” Thus and so, Philip started out the door, leaving Penn and Sir Richard Owens the labrador retriever to follow him.

Thankfully that day’s breakfast wasn’t dinosaur eggs— it was freshly collected chicken eggs from the coop outside. Penn hadn’t had time to talk to Lethia— he was told she was helping Maizie with oiling a few ankylosauruses, whatever that meant, and was glad he wasn’t around to mess with the scaly, armored things.

After breakfast, Penn half-followed and was half-dragged along behind Philip, who excitedly motioned and labelled each dinosaur at the place, almost instinctively knowing their names. The two passed through the same halls that Maizie had led Penn and Lethia through the night before, only in the sunlight, thanks to the window-like fixtures on the ceiling that let the warm beams through, Penn could see them better.

They seemed to be sectioned off according to their kind, many let out of their enclosures into a grassy meadow, dotted with small mounds of sand and pools of water. Ceratopsians— triceratops and protoceratops, mainly, although Penn spotted a few with what looked to be styrachosauruses, which looked similar to the triceratops, only instead of the vibrant reddish-brown, a pale teal, spotted with brown graced their hides. Their horns were different than the triceratops’ as well, with fourteen large horns framing their frill, alongside the nose horn. They were quite frightening, but according to Philip, were very gentle creatures. Apparently a group of them— which Philip had called a herd— had adopted a pachycephalosaurus at one time and raised it into believing it, too, was a styrachosaurus.

Meanwhile, a few duck-billed dinosaurs, not unlike Partricia and her son (whose name was apparently Trooper), were at the water’s edge, watching warily as a few of the young chased eachother excitedly. A few young sauropods, or long-necked dinosaurs, watched the playing triceratops, one of which’s leg was bandaged, as if it had broken, the other possibly being a support friend to it.

The field with the dinosaurs in it was cool, but what was cooler was where the carnivores were kept. Surprisingly enough, there wasn’t a whole lot of noise in the carnivores’ individual enclosures, where they were kept apart for “safety reasons” as Philip explained. The duo, followed by Sir Richard Owens, who happily was wagging his tail and giving an occasional angry look at a misbehaving dinosaur, passed several of such enclosures, where wary dinosaurs with various ailments were kept. Finally, the two reached the large enclosure at the end, where a few senile-looking carnivores lived.

“This,” said Philip proudly, keying in a pin to unlock the door, “is the Oldies’ Room. Because, y’know, there’s old dinosaurs here.” Penn looked around the room, spotting many shrubs and whatnot, and was surprised to see it wasn’t really a room, but a mostly-enclosed space; there were patches where nets which looked to be made of tightly bundled, dark brown, string, whose gaps Penn could probably wiggle through if need be, let in the bright sunlight. Under many of those laid older-looking dinosaurs. Their colors weren’t as bright as their younger relatives’, and more often than not, those that did have horns had broken and jagged edges to their defensory weapons.

Under a particularly large patch of sunlight, in a shallow pool of water, laid a large dinosaur with milky brown eyes. Its pupils were grayish, and she didn’t look like she could see very well. “BELINDA,” called Philip, walking towards the creature with a swagger in his step. The sail-like thing on her back rose and fell with each deep inhale, and she gave a huff of greeting as Philip approached.

“Hey, girl,” said the older boy, crouching down in the water, petting Belinda. Penn cautiously edged forward into the water, his borrowed waterproof boots and other clothes he’d been loaned after breakfast. Belinda gave a feeble roar at Philip’s voice, nostrils quivering, allowing the teenager to pet her.

Moments later, at Philip’s beckoning, Penn’s hand rested on the scaly spinosaurus’s nose. It felt like a scene straight out of ''How to Train Your Dragon''. Belinda was surprisingly well-behaved. She even nuzzled against Penn’s fingers. It was nearly six, according to his internal clock, but the hours worked differently on the dinosaur planet. According to Philip, there were eighteen hours in a day, instead of the twenty-four Penn had grown accustomed to and held so dear.

Philip’s neck snapped up from where he had had his nose touching the dinosaur’s. Penn heard him curse under his breath.

“Not again,” he muttered, dashing off, leaving Penn to run after him. Sir Richard Owens, who had been lounging beside a burnt-and-aloe-smothered carnotaurus, who also seemed to be enjoying the sun. Sir Richard looked up, blinking innocently, meeting Philip’s gaze. “Stay. Watch the oldies.” The dog nodded in understanding.

''Huh. What a smart—'' “C’mon!” And with that, Penn was dragged behind Philip as he ran past the carnivores, most of whose heads were perked up at the sound of the dinosaur.

“What- what type of dinosaur ''is'' that?” Penn yelped, being dragged along behind Philip.

“Can’t tell! We have to find him, though, it sounds like he’s near the chickens—” Philip was entering the pin for the herbivores’ section, where Penn had learned the omnivores also were housed, and gave a shiver “—don’t wanna relive the chicken shortage of two years ago.” As the door opened, Philip flew through the opening, Penn having no choice but to follow.

Within minutes, the two were outside in the slowly-setting sunlight. “We’ve got to get him AWAY from the chickens!” cried Philip, running off once again. ''Maybe I should’ve listened to the Narrator… there wouldn’t be as much running…'' Penn thought as he jogged after Philip.

'''Yes! You should’ve!'''

Penn grinned, despite the situation he was jogging into. ''But there wouldn’t be as much excitement!'' And with that, he rounded a corner, ending up at a chicken coop out behind the main building where there were quite a few feathers scattered about, a few chickens freaking out, and a trail of blood.

''Shoot…'' thought Penn, looking at the trail of blood, eagerness having left him. '''Should’a, would’a, could’a,''' the Narrator’s voice said, and, if the Narrator had been an actual person, Penn thought there would’ve been a smirk on whomever it was’s face.

Philip was already running off into the pines. “C’MON! We have to AVENGE THE CHICKENS!”

Penn mentally facepalmed, but followed quickly. He was on high alert, and everything seemed to spook both himself and Philip. Once or twice, there was the chattering of what sounded like a squirrel, but turned out to be simply a compsognathus, which scampered by quickly, its long neck straining after some small prey, whip-thin tail snapping from side to side in quick, jerky, movements. It disappeared quickly in the underbrush, and the two continued onwards.

The trees stretched up to the sky, their wiry limbs reaching out to one another, the quickly onsetting dusk combined with the clustered pine needles casting a darkness on the two. It became hard to see, which wasn’t helped by the mist rolling in through the trees. A buzzing noise filled the air, and a chill came over Penn, and his arms prickled with goosebumps. Philip was ahead of him by only a few feet, but Penn could barely see him. The two began to slow down, Philip pausing more frequently to look around for any signs of slain chickens, to find nothing.

“We… should probably get back,” Philip said, pulling his hat down further on his head, a slightly sheepish look on his face. “The chickens are probably still alive and thriving and anyways—” he stopped talking at Penn’s stiff expression, a worried look on his face. “What is it?”

“Do you hear that?”

Philip paused. “No. Hear what?”

“I don’t know. Something feels… off.” Penn shifted from one foot to the other. Goosebumps already dotted his arms. Goosebumps dotted his goosebumps. A chill settled fully on him.

“Well, it’s not like—” Philip stopped talking within a millisecond. “I feel it.”

A deep sound came upon the forest. It shouldn’t have echoed, but it did. It was low and dangerous, like a tiger’s snarl. Penn slowly turned around. He looked up in the trees. Two yellow, slitted, eyes glowered down at him.

A roar erupted from the creature’s maw, shaking Penn to his very core. He could hear nothing, could feel nothing, but his pulse and his feet hitting the pine needles. He was aware of Philip’s hand on his arm, and when it let go, but he kept going.

The dinosaur was behind him, chasing him, gaining on him, and then it didn’t matter. Air whistled past Penn’s ears, and he could hear again. He had leapt off a cliff in his haste, stupidly, unthinkingly, and as he plummeted to the waves below, his heart seemed to freeze and time seemed to stop. And things went down.