Scenes From the Early Muricene, Part 1

A pregnant female cave rat (Rattus troglodytes) sits at the bank of a subterranean stream. She can hear the quiet sound of raindrops hitting the ground many meters above her. The noise fades as the minutes tick by, and the water level falls noticeably. Soon, she will be able to cross to her nest, which she and her mate built on the opposite side. He passed away a few weeks back, but not before they'd raised four litters of healthy pups, plus another group of six or so still on their way. All around her, clumps of foul-smelling archaea dot the exposed rock. While these prokaryotes are toxic to her species, they are the primary food source of the local isopod population. She knows that once the rain fully dies down, the woodlice will emerge to feed on the biolfim, and she intends to be waiting when they arrive.

On a tropical grassland somewhere in the northern half of Loxodia, palm-grasses dot the hillsides. While most are protected by a defending legion of A. arborealis, one individual was unlucky enough to be born a mutant. The poison in its sap is nearly five times as potent as that of its neighbors - so strong, in fact, that it kills any mutualistic pill bugs that attempt to make their home there. Unfortunately, the army of invading isopods is not so susceptible to this particular toxin, and hundreds of them now begin to climb its stem. With both its lines of defense undermined, this palm-grass stands no chance against the horde. The others in the area will go undisturbed; while their symbiotes will remain on high alert as long as they can smell the defoliators, the latter's meal will satisfy them for a few days, long enough for the army to wander far from this particular patch of savanna.

A pair of Apteryx grandis crosses a skystalk meadow in the middle of Ailuropia. It's breeding season, and the rest of their herd has formed a massive communal rookery in a valley a kilometer or so away. These two, though, have come to this spot since they were a young couple; the female stumbled upon it during her first year as a mature adult and, noticing there were far fewer rats here than in the valleys, refused to lay her egg anywhere but here. Her mate did not understand her reasons but remained devoted to her regardless. He now leads the way to the same patch of soil where they raised last year's chick. They've reared over a dozen young here, some of which are adults now. In a day or two, their oldest three or four female offspring will bring their own mates here; it's the start of a new colony, one that will balloon in population over the following years as the rest of the herd realizes the safety it provides. These two will never see it happen, though, for both have been infected by a mosquito-borne bacterium that will cause them to decline rapidly over the next few months. Their age has weakened their immune systems to the point that they'll succumb not long after their final chick leaves their care.