You are in the forests of North America, 75 million years ago.

It is night. The moon was barely visible through the thick canopy of the late Cretaceous forest. You stand paralyzed with your flashlight, the silence broken only by the chirping of insects. Then, the sound changed—a low, rapid clicking noise, like dry twigs snapping in sequence.

Two yellow, avian eyes appeared in the bushes, followed by another pair, then a third. They were small—hardly reaching your chest—but their movement was terrifyingly efficient. A Chirostenotes stepped into the faint light. It was covered in dark plumage, its long, slender neck swaying, and a tall, bony crest crowning its head.

They didn't roar. They didn't threaten. They just moved in a pack, circling fast on their long, powerful legs… assessing you as just a midnight snack or a threat intruding their territory…