I'LL BE WITH YOU

Just like with "Bambi", I'm willing to bet all of you have seen Don Bluth's "The Land Before Time" at some point or another in your lives. I remember seeing it myself, when I was little; I still own the stuffed Littlefoot from my babyhood days, and just the other day, I bought the special edition DVD, so now I'm free to watch it any time, as many times as I like.

The death of Littlefoot's mother is just as sad and tragic as Bambi's mother's death, if not more. It's tough to determine which death is the saddest; with Bambi, it all happened so suddenly, and he never found his mother at all, while on the other hand, with Littlefoot, there was the agony of actually finding the body and watching the death itself take place.

James Horner's score really helps to set the mood, too. Man, does that guy know how to bring tears to someone's eyes.

Story (to an extent) © unicorn-skydancer08

All rights reserved.

"Mother! Mother!" Littlefoot's frantic cries echoed eerily through the ghostly gullies, nearly drowned out in a roll of thunder, while dark clouds overhead shed torrents of ice-cold rain.

The little longneck rushed about the desolate area, searching everywhere for his dear mother, whom he had last seen battling the bloodthirsty Sharptooth, before the great earthquake separated them all from one another. The whole face of the earth seemed to have changed from the severe seismic eruption; many places that were once smooth had become rough, jagged mountains replaced level valleys, and cracks wide and deep enough to swallow an entire brontosaurus marred the land, stretching on for miles.

"Mother!" Littlefoot yelled out again, his voice ricocheting back to him, loud at first, then progressively softer and softer, before fading away altogether. Yet there was no answer, and there was no one around. It seemed he was the only dinosaur left in the whole world. Littlefoot tried to swallow his panic, tried to force his fear down his stomach.

His mother had to be around here somewhere, and she had to be all right. She just had to be; he couldn't bear to think otherwise.

Presently, the young longneck came across a wide chasm, which he used all his strength to leap across. He only barely made it to the other side, and with a loud grunt, he hoisted himself up onto the edge. As he stood there, catching his breath, he glanced around and called once more, "Mother? Where are you?"

At last, a hushed moan sounded, in the not so far distance. Littlefoot turned his head to one side—and there, on a large protrusion of rock, lay a big dinosaur with a mile-long neck and a mile-long tail. Lightfoot recognized her immediately. "Mother!" he gasped. Without hesitation, he hurried to her as fast as he could, struggling to make his way down the steep, stony incline without falling. He thought he would never reach her quickly enough, and when at last he did, she did nothing but lay deathly still, her head hanging listlessly over the edge of the rock, moaning in what could only be described as agony. Her wounds from the battle with Sharptooth lay wide and raw, and her blood mingled with the rain.

"Mother?" said Lightfoot tentatively.

A low groan was the only answer he got.

"Please get up," he pleaded.

Slowly, wearily, vainly, his mother struggled to rise. "I…I'm not sure I can, Littlefoot," she said in a faint voice.

"Yes, you can," Littlefoot urged her. "Get up!"

Breathing raggedly, his mother used every ounce of strength she had left to heave herself to her feet. But the effort proved to be too much, and only three seconds later she came down again. The rock beneath her ended up crumbling to pieces under her weight, and she fell her entire length on the cold, wet earth, her enormous head landing close to Littlefoot's.

Littlefoot could feel his insides burning like fire, though his body trembled with cold. Fear threatened to choke him on the spot. He knew his mother had been badly hurt—precious few dinosaurs got through an encounter with Sharptooth unscathed—but the sight of her made him realize her condition must be more serious than he thought, far more serious.

Lightning flashed overhead, casting a gloomy blue-white light over Littlefoot and his wounded mother as they lay there together. Almost without realizing it, hot tears flooded Littlefoot's eyes, flowing forth to mix with the icy rain. Knowing death was not far away for her, Littlefoot's mother opened her dying eyes, and focused all her fading energy on her son.

"Dear, sweet Littlefoot, do you remember the way to the Great Valley?"

"I guess so," Littlefoot sniffled. "But why do I have to know? You're gonna be with me!"

He rubbed his tiny nose fervently against his mother's large, scaly nose, and a hint of a smile graced her face. "I'll be with you," she promised him, "even if you can't see me."

Littlefoot didn't understand. "What do you mean, if I can't see you? I can always see you!"

"Littlefoot," his mother whispered, so softly that he could barely hear her over the pouring rain and rumbling thunder, "let your heart guide you. It whispers…so listen closely."

Then she closed her eyes, tilted her head slightly to the other side, released one final breath…and never moved or spoke again.

"Mother?" said Littlefoot timorously. "Mother?"

But it was too late.

She was gone, to where he could not follow.