The last dinosaur's thirst overpowered caution. His massive frame lumbered toward the water, each footfall sending tremors through the cracked earth. The smaller creature darted back with a hiss, its spined tail bristling, but he paid it no mind. Lowering his wedge-shaped head, he plunged his snout into the tepid pool, gulping the lukewarm water in desperate swallows. His throat convulsed with each drink, the liquid trickling down his parched gullet like life itself.

The water tasted of minerals and old rain, but it was glorious. As he drank, his eyes remained half-lidded, watching the smaller creature from his peripheral vision. It had retreated to a cluster of rocks, its scaled hide puffing in agitation. When he finally lifted his head, water dripping from his jaws, he noticed something strange—the creature wasn't alone. Shadows shifted among the stones, more of its kind emerging, their eyes reflecting the harsh sunlight. Dozens of them. Watching. Waiting.

A low growl reverberated in his chest as he straightened, water still dripping from his chin. The creatures didn't attack, but their presence was unmistakably territorial. Their claws scraped against stone, a chorus of warning. The pool, it seemed, was theirs. And he had just trespassed. The last dinosaur bared his teeth, his tail lashing once—a silent challenge. The standoff hummed with tension, the air between them thick with the unspoken question: fight or flee?