You are in the forests of North America, 205 million years ago.

The air in the forest was heavy, wet, and smelled faintly of sulfur and pine. Sunlight barely pierced the dense canopy of giant conifers, leaving the forest floor in a greenish gloom. You had been walking for hours, chasing a phantom trail, when a flash of movement made you look up.

At first, you thought it was a bird. But it was too big.

It was moving rapidly across the undergrowth on two long, slender legs, its posture upright. Its skin was mottled indigo and brown, almost blending perfectly into the shadows of the ferns. It looked remarkably like a dinosaur—a fast-running, theropod. Yet, it lacked the menacing teeth you expected from a hunter, and its skull was strangely rounded, with a long, narrow snout that appeared perfect for picking at plants or small insects.

You blinked, wiping sweat from your eyes, watching it navigate the terrain with incredible speed. It halted, turning its head with a sharp, bird-like motion, staring directly at you for a second with intelligent, archaic eyes. A low, strange chirping noise—almost like a high-pitched bird call—came from its throat.