The dinosaur's claws dug into the dry earth as he gathered loose stones, piling them with deliberate care near the abandoned nest. Each rock was placed with a reverence, a monument to the possibility he dared not speak aloud. The tower grew, uneven but sturdy, casting a jagged shadow across the cracked ground. He stepped back, his yellow eyes scanning his work. It was crude, but it would serve. A marker. A promise to himself that he would return.

The wind howled through the canyon, carrying with it the scent of distant storms. He lifted his snout, tasting the air. Rain. It had been so long since he'd felt it. His scales prickled with anticipation. If there was water coming, perhaps there was still life out there—something more than bones and dust.

He turned away from the stone marker, his tail dragging a deliberate line in the dirt behind him, another sign for his future self. The horizon stretched endlessly, but now there was a purpose to his steps. He would find the source of those tracks. He would learn what had made that nest. And if there was even the slightest chance that he was not alone, he would not let it slip away.