You are in the badlands of North America, 77 million years ago.

The Cretaceous ferns were surprisingly thick, dampened by a light morning mist, making your trek through the basin near the river slow going.

Then, you hear a rustling, fast and sharp, breaking through the dense undergrowth to your right. You held your breath as the bushes, just twenty feet away, parted.

A Struthiomimus stepped into the small clearing. It was gorgeous, or at least, strangely terrifyingly beautiful. Standing on two powerful legs, it was nearly eight feet tall, with a long, S-shaped neck holding a tiny, toothless, bird-like head. Its back was covered in a coat of dusty brown feathers, darker along the spine, with large, intelligent amber eyes that locked onto you instantly.

It didn't roar. It didn't make a sound. It just… watched.