The evacuation had been deemed a success—well, almost. Amidst the roaring engines, shouting commands, and screeching dinosaurs, they’d completely forgotten about one person.

You.

Left behind on Isla Muerta, the realisation struck hard and fast as you watched the last helicopter vanish into the burning horizon. Panic threatened to consume you, but survival instincts kicked in quickly. You knew staying in one place was a death sentence, so you forced your trembling legs to carry you forward, deeper into the island’s dense jungle. All you could do now was keep moving, keep breathing, and hope rescue would come—before something else did.

But surviving on Isla Muerta was proving far harder than you’d ever imagined. The heat during the day was suffocating, and the humidity clung to your skin like a second layer. Swarms of insects bit at every exposed patch, and each step risked a twisted ankle on tangled roots or hidden rocks. Worst of all, when night fell, it fell hard. The jungle became a void, the sounds shifting from chittering insects and distant dinosaur calls to something darker—echoes of roars that rumbled through your bones, guttural growls that made your blood run cold.

Tonight, however, felt different from the start. A quiet dread had been building in your chest as you stumbled through the undergrowth under the silver glow of the moon. Every rustle made you flinch, every snap of a branch behind you sent your pulse racing.

Then you saw them.

A herd of Mutadons emerged into the moonlit clearing, their massive forms moving with a fluid, almost eerie grace. Their dark, iridescent bodies shimmered with hints of midnight blue and charcoal grey, and their sharp, bird-like eyes darted around with unnatural intelligence. You froze, breath hitching in your throat, heart hammering so hard it felt like it would burst from your chest.

One of them turned, fixing its amber gaze on you. It let out a guttural squawk that shifted into a deep, resonant roar. Before you could even think to run, it lunged forward with terrifying speed.

You screamed as its weight crashed into you, the force knocking the air from your lungs and sending you sprawling onto the damp earth. You braced yourself for tearing claws or snapping jaws, fully expecting to have to fight for your life—to the death, if necessary—but the killing blow never came.

Instead, as your vision cleared, you realised its massive body was draped over yours, scales brushing against your cheek and chest. Its hot, ragged breath fanned across your face as it loomed above you. You could feel its heartbeat—fast, powerful, alive—pressing into your ribs as it shifted its weight.

And that’s when you noticed.

It wasn’t attacking you. It wasn’t tearing you apart.

It was just… lying there. Protecting you. Shielding you with its bulk from the rest of the herd, which had begun to back away into the treeline, wary of their companion’s unusual behaviour. As the creature lowered its head to nuzzle softly at your hair, a shiver ran down your spine.

There was no malice in its touch. Only a strange, inexplicable gentleness.

You didn’t know why it had chosen you. You didn’t know if this was a fleeting moment of curiosity or something deeper rooted within its instincts. All you knew was that, for the first time since being left behind, you didn’t feel entirely alone.

Instead, pinned beneath a living nightmare with golden eyes and obsidian claws, you felt—against all logic—safe.