You are in the deserts of Asia, 70 million years ago.

The air in the Mongolian valley was thick with heat and the smell of damp ferns. You have entered a lush riverside plain, a stark contrast to the barren dunes of the Gobi.

Moving through the towering conifers, you see a herd of Saurolophus. They were massive, easily 30 feet in length, shifting between walking on all fours and balancing on their powerful hind legs. Their skin was a tapestry of sandy browns and greens, textured with small, pebbled scales, and running down the center of their backs was a subtle ridge of darker skin, similar to a crest.

You freeze in astonishment, watching a particularly large adult, with a prominent, bony spike extending from the back of its head, feeding on a horsetail plant. You could see it is using its broad beak to shear the vegetation off before crushing it with a massive battery of teeth that buzzed in your ears as it chewed, while seemingly oblivious to its presence.