Runt the Utahraptor

The tribal politics of these large carnivores are majestic, and frightening, to behold.

Runt glanced from his opponent to their prize, a ripe young female ready for the taking, and right back to the utahraptor across from him. The leader of their pack never liked Runt; it wasn't in the nature of a raptor to be accepting of imperfect specimens, and Runt was a head shorter than the others. It didn't help that the leader had taken three of the females for his own, leaving only three more for the remaining four males.

Runt could have opposed the second smallest of the males, though he would still have been at a disadvantage, but instead he squared off against the second most formidable hunter in their pack for a much prettier female. They had screeched at each other for nearly fifteen minutes already; it was time to stop flaring feathers and start drawing blood.

Runt charged first, his opponent stepping back to ram him sideways, but never did such an opportunity arise. Runt jumped into the air at the last second, twisting around in the air to smash his tail against the other male's skull. The dramatic maneuver beat blood from the utahraptor's face and drew the attention of all the others. His opponent was still dazed when Runt hit the ground, and the smaller utahraptor bit into the other male's tail at its base, rending the scales and skin away by shaking his head furiously, until eventually the spine was severed, the tail dangling from the rest of the body by now useless muscle. As Runt stepped back with a taunting screech, his opponent turned around, only to trip on his own tail in doing so, leaving himself exposed and on his back. Runt leaped forward, his claws slicing into the other utahraptor's neck, a fatal blow.

Fighting within the pack was sanctioned, but not killing; reserved that had always been for their prey alone. The leader stepped forward to end Runt for his insubordination, screeching for attention as he prepared to set an example. What was more, the insubordinate utahraptor had seemingly been eating at the neck of his kin for a moment, and this disgusted the leader of the pack, who charged forward with righteous fury. Runt spat the blood of his previous victim into the leader's eyes, sidestepping and thwacking the leader's legs with his tail, tripping him. The leader's throat was the next to be sliced. Four females, all Runt's, with the remaining two males too intimidated to oppose him: it was not enough. He turned to watch the two couples, even the females trembling in fear as he approached with claws soaked in the blood of his own species. Runt reared up when standing above the two males, who lay in front of their females, an obvious demand for deference. He was being deceitful. The moment they lowered their heads, Runt spun his body completely around, his tail simultaneously snapping both their necks.

Six females, all his: it was not enough.