The dinosaur lumbered toward the skeletal remains of a withered tree, its branches twisted like bony fingers reaching for the sky. He lowered his massive body into the scant shade, his muscles groaning with relief as he settled onto the cracked earth. His heavy breath stirred the dust around him as he closed his eyes, allowing himself a rare moment of rest.

The wind whispered through the dead branches, a hollow sound that seemed to echo the loneliness of the world. His thoughts drifted—memories of lush forests, of roaring rivers, of the cries of his kind fading into silence. A deep ache settled in his chest, not just from exhaustion, but from the weight of being the last.

A scuttling noise snapped him back to alertness. His yellow eyes flicked open, scanning the ground. A small, hardy lizard darted between the rocks, its scales dull but alive. The dinosaur watched it with something akin to wonder. Life—however small—still clung to this dying world. The lizard paused, as if sensing his gaze, then vanished into a crevice.

The dinosaur sighed, his breath hot against his own scaled arms. He knew he couldn’t stay here forever. The sun would move, the shade would vanish, and the hunt for survival would begin anew. But for now, he allowed himself to simply exist, to feel the ghost of a world that once was.