The last dinosaur exhaled sharply, dismissing the strange scent as yet another trick of the desolate land. His heavy footfalls resumed their rhythm, each step sinking slightly into the cracked earth before lifting again. The wind howled around him, carrying whispers of a world long gone—once teeming with lush jungles and roaring rivers, now reduced to this endless expanse of dust and regret.

His throat burned with thirst, but he refused to let it sway him. Survival had taught him the dangers of false hope. He had followed mirages before, only to collapse at the brink of exhaustion. Better to wander aimlessly than to chase another illusion.

As the sun dipped lower, casting elongated shadows across the barren plain, his tail dragged behind him, leaving a faint trail in the dirt. His muscles ached, but he didn’t stop. Stopping meant stillness, and stillness meant thinking—about the past, about the emptiness, about the unbearable weight of being the last.

Then, a sound. Faint, but unmistakable. A distant rumble, like shifting rock or... something else. His head snapped up, his yellow eyes narrowing. For the first time in years, his instincts screamed at him to listen.