The last dinosaur hesitated, his instincts screaming caution. The small creature by the water didn't flee—that was unnatural. His claws dug into the earth as he surveyed the area, his sharp eyes scanning for any hidden threats. The wind carried a faint metallic tang beneath the scent of water. Something was wrong here.

With a slow, deliberate step backward, he kept his gaze locked on the pool. The small creature suddenly darted away, disappearing into a narrow crevice in the rocks. The dinosaur's muscles tensed as a low hum filled the air, barely perceptible but unmistakable—machinery. This wasn't just a watering hole. It was bait.

A shadow passed over the sun for just a moment. His head snapped upward, but the sky was empty. Yet the sensation of being watched prickled along his spine. The land wasn't as dead as he'd thought. Someone—or something—was hunting. And he was the prize.

Turning away from the water, he forced himself to move silently, his massive body navigating the terrain with surprising stealth. Every rustle of pebbles, every shift of his tail was measured. If there were traps, he wouldn't spring them. If there were hunters, they wouldn't find him easily. The last dinosaur wouldn't fall today.