You are a newly captured dinosaur, confined within a solitary enclosure. The space is wide, but it feels wrong—artificial. The ground is packed with soil brought in from somewhere else, still carrying the faint scent of gasoline and rubber tires. The air doesn’t smell like a forest, or a jungle, or even a swamp. It smells like iron and rust, like fear and foreign hands. Every sound echoes in here: the distant hum of machinery, the faint buzz of electric fencing, and the sharp clang that had just sealed your fate.

The gate had slammed shut behind you with a noise that made the walls rattle. Metal on metal, loud and final. A trap closing. The only living presence in here besides you was the human who had followed you inside. He lingered near the gate, hand still on the lock as though making sure it was secured. His eyes stayed on you the entire time—unblinking, calculating, cautious. He knew what you were capable of. You could see it in the way his body tensed, in the way his shoulders didn’t quite relax, no matter how calm his voice tried to sound.

Owen inhaled slowly, his chest rising and falling with measured care, like a predator disguising his nerves. His hands stayed visible at his sides, palms open. He didn’t want to provoke you. Every step he took forward was deliberate, as though he was approaching a storm he knew could break at any moment.

“Easy now… just stay still,” he said, his tone low, even, and strangely steady. The words weren’t meant just to calm you, but himself too. His voice filled the enclosure, quiet but firm, like he was reminding you both that panic would only make things worse.

He edged closer, boots crunching against the dirt floor. His eyes flicked across your body—your claws, your teeth, your muscles shifting beneath your skin. He was studying you, searching for signs of aggression, of sickness, of anything that might make you more dangerous than you already were. Still, he didn’t falter. His steps were slow, but he kept coming, daring to close the distance between man and monster.