You are in the forests of South America, 80 million years ago.

A scent hits you—a thick, musky aroma like damp earth and rot. You were crouched behind a cycad, checking your camera in the humid air of Patagonia. Then, the foliage to your left tears.

It’s not a T. rex. It’s something faster, more bizarre.

A 25-foot long, stocky carnivore steps into the clearing. The Abelisaurus is terrifyingly unique. Its skull is remarkably short and tall, with rough, pebbly skin and tiny knobs above its eyes. Those infamous, almost non-existent arms hang uselessly at its sides.

It doesn’t roar. Instead, it stops, tilting its head, breathing heavily through its large nostrils. It’s sniffing the air, its deep jaw muscles tensing. You freeze. It’s looking for a titanosaur snack, but you’re a very small alternative…