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

The humid, salty air of the late Triassic lagoon thickens around you, smelling of sulfur and wet shale. You crouch behind a limestone boulder, trying to remain as still as the arid landscape. The water is calm, a greenish-blue surface stretching out toward the Tethys sea.

Suddenly, a shadow darts across the sand—a 3.3-foot wingspan of dark brownish-red, fur-covered membrane. It’s an Eudimorphodon.

The pterosaur doesn't fly with the grace of a modern bird. It flaps rapidly, its long tail—ending in a diamond-shaped rudder—stiffening to help it maneuver. You hold your breath as it passes, noticing the 110+ teeth crammed into its short, 6-centimeter jaws—and the fish dangling in between, the sharp, pointed fangs at the front of the jaw securely holding the meal.

It’s a chilling sight—a long, conical snout, yet with specialized multi-cusped teeth designed to grab and crush. The small, winged predator turns its head, its bright eyes scanning the shoreline.