You are in the floodplains of North America, 195 million years ago.

The scent of wet ferns and ancient conifers filled the air of the Arizona floodplain as the twin moons cast long, silver shadows across the riverbank. You crouched low behind a thick, fibrous cycad, your breath catching in your throat.

Before you, in the pale light, a herd of Sarahsaurus had settled for the night.

They were a stark contrast to the massive, slow-moving sauropods you had imagined. At about 14 feet long, these Early Jurassic herbivores were elegant yet robust, moving in a mix of bipedal walking and casual, four-legged browsing. They looked almost like ground sloths, with long, slender necks and surprisingly powerful shoulders.

One of the larger individuals—perhaps a matriarch—was not entirely asleep. It stood upright, using its clawed forelimbs to manipulate a branch of a coniferous tree, the moonlight glinting off the surprisingly sharp, curved claws on her hands. The herd was relatively quiet, making soft, grunting noises and rustling sounds as they shifted.