You are in the grasslands of North America, 10 million years ago.

The dusty Texas wind was biting, but the heat of a Miocene morning was already starting to rise. You crouched behind the thick bark of a hackberry tree, your camera trembling slightly.

Earlier, you had heard the low, guttural snorts—a sound like a deer, but far deeper and more resonant. Then, you l saw it.

The creature was magnificent. About the size of a large, stocky whitetail stag, its coat was a light, dusty brown, built for speed in the open grasslands. But it was the head that stopped your breath. Rising above the eyes were two curved horns, reminiscent of a pronghorn's. Yet, dominating its face was a single, long nasal horn that split perfectly into a 'Y' shape, like a living slingshot crown.

A male Synthetoceras, you identified the creature. He wasn't browsing alone. Nearby, a smaller female with much smaller horns—or none at all—was browsing on tough foliage.

The male stopped, turning his strange slingshot snout towards the wind. He was hyper-alert, his long, ungulate legs tensed to bolt at the first sign of danger. He gave another snort, shook his head so the Y-horn caught the sunlight. You froze, knowing that if you made a single sound, the entire herd would vanish into the savanna. He was a survivor of a world 10 million years past, yet right here, you felt the intense, living presence of an animal that bridged the gap between modern deer and the fantastic, impossible shapes evolution had once crafted.