The group gathers their supplies and pushes into the jungle. Vines snag at their clothing. Mud sucks at their boots. Humidity wraps around them like a wet blanket. Two hours pass in a haze of sweat and effort, hacking through undergrowth that closes behind them moments after they pass.
The trees begin to shake.
Birds explode from the canopy in a shrieking panic, wings beating frantically. A roar splits the air—deep, primal, hungry. Something enormous crashes through the jungle, snapping trees like twigs. The sound grows closer. Louder.
Another roar rolls across the jungle like thunder. Water in a nearby puddle trembles, sending ripples across its muddy surface. The trembling becomes shaking. The shaking becomes violent splashing.
Three scurries up the trunk of a large palm tree to scout what’s approaching. Above the canopy, he can see a large scaly dome crashing through the leaves, moving in their direction. “It’s another reptile, this one gigantic! It’s coming our way! Run!”
The party scatters, diving behind the thickest trees and boulders they can find. They press themselves flat against bark and stone, barely breathing.
Moments later, the massive, scaly biped bursts into the clearing.
A Tyrannosaurus Rex stands atop a shattered stand of trees, crushing ferns beneath feet the size of dinner tables. Its massive head swings back and forth, nostrils flaring. Yellow eyes scan the jungle floor.
The captain, slower than the rest, stumbles in his attempt to hide. His injured leg buckles. The last sailor rushes out to help him.
The T-Rex’s head snaps toward the movement.
In three thunderous strides, the creature is on him. Massive jaws close around the sailor’s body. The man doesn’t even have time to scream. The dinosaur’s head tilts back and the sailor disappears.
The T-Rex stands still for a moment, sniffing the air. Then it turns, crashing back into the jungle. Trees crack and fall. The sound fades slowly into the distance, leaving only the usual sounds of the jungle—insects, wind, the calls of distant birds—slowly returning.
The party waits. No one moves. Finally, Nesquo signals the beast is gone, and they emerge from their hiding places. Without speaking, they gather their gear and move on, giving the T-Rex’s path a wide berth. No one looks back.
They trudge through the jungle, the weight of loss heavy on their shoulders. No one speaks. The sailor’s death replays in each mind—the sudden violence, the helplessness in the face of such an enormous creature. The devastating loss of one who had been with their group since the beginning of this journey.
The encounter has sharpened their senses. When Grapalt’s boot sinks into ground that looks solid, he jerks back immediately. The earth ahead shivers and shifts. Quicksand. The party picks their way carefully around the treacherous patch, testing each step before committing their weight.
Relieved to be past the quicksand, they spy a large pile of leaves and vines in the middle of the path. Thinking little of it, they approach to go around the pile. It rises from the large shallow hole it was hiding in. The comrades, surprised by this ambush predator, watch it attain a height of nearly 10 feet on two thick, pillar-like legs. What might be a head turns slowly, tracking the group. A maw opens. A bellowing trumpet call deafens those who are closest.
Nesquo pales, gasping, “That’s a shambling mound!”
But before he can warn them, they draw weapons and move in to attack. The creature, surrounded by the party hacking at it, responds with a massive wallop to Three, who flies backward into one of the trees.
Astrid delivers a mighty blow and the creature steps backward…into the hole it just stood up from.
It teeters, then with a crash it lands on its back in the depression. Its thick legs kick helplessly in the air and it bellows in rage.
The party, unable to believe their luck, ponders their next move.
