You are in the floodplains of China, 160 million years ago.

You were tracking a small herd of enormous, long-necked Mamanchisaurus through a dense thicket, when the vegetation suddenly parted. It wasn’t a predator, but something far more imposing in its sheer, thorny design.

Partially hidden in the shade of a large fern was a Tuojiangosaurus. It was roughly seven meters long, built low and heavy. Its head was remarkably small and low to the ground, munching casually on soft ground vegetation. The creature’s back was covered in an impressive array of about 17 pairs of bony plates and spikes, shifting from rounded shapes near the neck to tall, triangular plates over the hips.

As you stood frozen, the wind shifted, and the dinosaur noticed you. It looked at you with a low-slung, herbivorous gaze, its bony plates seemingly pulsing in the dappled sunlight. It slowly turned its body, presenting a clear display of its armored side. But the real threat wasn't the plates on its back—it was the business end.

The beast swung its tail toward a nearby fallen log. Four pairs of two-foot-long spikes arranged in an outward-pointing, 45-degree angle, shattered the rotted wood with a deafening crack.

You must have spooked the Tuojiangosaurus, so what do you do now?