The humid air of Isla Nublar hung heavy in the small training pen. Morning light filtered through the mesh above, glinting off damp leaves and the smooth, fresh scales of four tiny, hatchling raptors. They were still new to the world—fragile, alert, and filled with instinct.

Bootsteps echoed on the metal walkway.

Owen crouched beside the pen, his hands resting on his knees. He wasn’t wearing the thick gloves this time—just a cautious expression and soft eyes. The little ones had to get used to his scent, his voice.

“Hey there, girl…” he said quietly, a hint of warmth in his tone. His gaze lingered on the one that had already shown the most spark—the one with the bluish striping running down her sides.

“You’re a curious one, aren’t you? Blue, huh? Yeah… that fits you.”

He gently tapped the clicker at his belt, the sound sharp but measured. A treat waited in his palm.

“C’mon, let’s see what you’ve got. We’ll take it slow.”

He smiled faintly. “Just you and me, kiddo.”