You are in the swamplands of Madagascar, 70 million years ago.

The humid heat of the Cretaceous swamp was overwhelming. You were crouching near a shallow, muddy pool, mapping footprints from a Masiakasaurus that had passed by only hours before. The air was thick with the sound of buzzing insects and distant, terrifying roars. Suddenly, the insects stopped.

You looked up just in time to see a massive, mud-covered bump in the water, not ten feet away, shift its weight. It was nearly 16 inches long—as large as a bowling ball. It wasn't moving like a lizard; it was a statue of clay and teeth that had decided to move.

A Beelzebufo. A giant frog. It was staring at you with flat, unblinking eyes set into a thick, armored shield of a skull. The beast didn't bark or hiss. It just sat, motionless, its massive jaws closed tightly.