You are in the swamplands of Europe, 348 million years ago.

The damp air of the Carboniferous forest was thick, smells of decaying ferns and ozone filling your lungs. You were stumbling through a shallow marsh near the edge of a vast, misty river when the first movement caught your eye.

You saw it move near a fallen log. A Pederpes, maybe 40 centimeters long, with a long, slender body and feet clearly designed for land, but still possessing a fish-like gait. It ignored you entirely, focused on a large, prehistoric insect. It flicked its head, its eyes clearly adapted to the air. It moved with a clumsy, yet functional, walk that felt intimately familiar, like seeing a distant ancestor learning to take its first steps.

Not far away from you, the water turned into a quiet, muddy pool. Two more Pederpes were interacting near the bank. One, with a more robust body, sat on the edge of the bank, its five-toed feet dug into the mud for leverage. The other was partially submerged, its paddle-like tail still moving in the water, but its limbs keeping its head above. They didn't exhibit the fast, aquatic motion of fish; rather, they were pausing, sensing the new world, as well as you staring at them...