The last dinosaur hesitated, his thirst momentarily forgotten as he studied the small creature by the water. His instincts warned him—where there was one survivor, there could be more. With deliberate slowness, he lowered his head, sniffing the air as his keen eyes scanned the surrounding rocks and withered vegetation. The wind carried faint traces of other scents—musk, decay, something metallic.

Moving with cautious steps, he circled the pool, his tail brushing against the cracked earth. Behind a cluster of boulders, he discovered a scattering of bones, picked clean and bleached by the sun. Some were small, belonging to creatures like the one drinking at the pool, but others were larger—familiar. His chest tightened as he recognized the shape of a frill, the curve of a horn. Another of his kind had died here, long ago.

A rustling sound made him freeze. The small creature by the water suddenly bolted, vanishing into a crevice in the rocks. The dinosaur's head snapped up, his muscles coiling. From the shadows of a nearby canyon, a pair of glowing eyes reflected the sunlight. Then another. And another. The air filled with low, chittering growls as shapes began to emerge—lean, furred predators with elongated jaws and razor-sharp claws. They moved like a pack, their gazes locked onto him.