You are in the shorelines of Europe, 215 million years ago.

The air above the Triassic lagoon was thick, humid, and smelled intensely of sulfur and decay. You were navigating the narrow shoreline, the limestone crunching beneath your boots, when the silence was broken by a collective hiss—a sound like dry leaves scattering on concrete.

Looking up, you saw a flock of pterosaurs bursting from the mangrove thicket to your left.

They were smaller than you imagined, perhaps only a few feet in wingspan, but fast. They didn't glide like the later, larger pterosaurs; these flew with rapid, jerky wingbeats, their long, stiff tails acting as perfect rudders. A dozen or more swept across the open water, their sharp, needle-like teeth perfectly suited for the small, silvery fish they were hunting.

One of them dove shallow, its beak snapping shut around a glistening fish before it even fully touched the water. It didn't stop to eat, rising immediately to join the chaotic, shrieking flock as they wheeled around a rocky outcrop.

For a moment, you were completely surrounded by this primitive feeding frenzy, a whirlwind of leathery wings and sharp, avian-like movements…