You are in the deserts of Mongolia, Asia, 75 million years ago.

The sun was already punishing in the morning, turning the Flaming Cliffs into a blinding expanse of red sandstone and shadow. You were carefully brushing fine sand away after a stumble down a dune, when a low, vibrating huff sounded just over the ridge.

It wasn't a growl, but a rhythmic, breathing sound—the sound of an animal with a hefty, barrel-shaped body trying to move quickly.

You froze and watched as a Protoceratops—only about six feet long, but with a massive, bird-like beak and a thick, shield-like bony frill—stumbled over the crest, ignoring you entirely. It wasn’t alone. A smaller female, perhaps, trailing behind it, was digging frantically at a patch of sandy soil nearby. It seemed you had walked right into a nesting colony.

The first one, a likely male with a prominent, thickened bone over its eye sockets and a distinct, rounded nose ridge, stopped abruptly. It eyed you, its large, black eyes (suggesting it was comfortable in this bright environment) blinking slowly. The frill behind its head looked imposing, even if it was meant for display rather than defense, vibrating slightly as it gave another huff.

It was both intimidating and... ridiculous. It lacked the menacing horns of a Triceratops—it was just a "first horned face," a "weird little guy" with a tremendous amount of attitude.