You are in the riverbanks of North America, 220 million years ago.

The air in the Late Triassic swamp was thick, hot, and smelled of sulfur and decaying vegetation. You knelt by the murky riverbank, scanning for dinosaur footprints, oblivious to the unnatural stillness of the water.

You moved closer to the edge, focusing on a small theropod footprint in the mud.

Suddenly, the water exploded. A three-meter-long body lunged with terrifying speed, its needle-sharp teeth aimed for the bank. A Rutiodon, a master of ambush and armored in thick, bony plates, had been lying in wait to catch you off guard and drag you underwater.

You scrambled backward just in time, falling hard, as the creature slammed its jaws shut, grabbing not me, but the sturdy limb of a fallen cycad near your leg. It thrashed, its powerful jaws, designed for gripping slippery prey, tearing through the foliage with brutal efficiency, as you watched stunned, having nearly become its meal…