This strange landscape, carved by scouring winds and vast ancient rivers, might appear empty of life. But here, in Asia, hidden in these narrow canyons, is a new family of Velociraptors. The young are just a few weeks old.
In the far south of the planet, on the islands of the Antarctic peninsula, winter brings months of freezing temperatures. Here too, being part of a family brings benefits. A thermal camera reveals a huddle of glowing bodies. Imperobator: hunters. Like most dinosaurs, they are warm-blooded, but to stay warm, they need a lot of food, so they must make a kill every few days if they can.
This six-foot-long dinosaur, a troodontid, is one of the smaller members of the theropod group. Its huge eyes give it acute sight, even in this smoky gloom. And for its size, its brain is one of the largest on the planet. It is the most intelligent, adaptable, and successful hunter in the Arctic.
Few land-living hunters venture here. But one does. A type of dinosaur, Velociraptor. Their bodies are kept warm by feathers, but they can’t fly. They are, however, exceptionally agile. And just as well, one false step here could bring disaster.
He did a quick mental scan of his body. There was no pain — only an indescribable strangeness, like he no longer quite fit himself. Like he’d been reduced somehow. Re-sculpted.
The raptor ruffled its feathers proudly and said “Thank you.”
The pronunciation was decent, for a dinosaur, and the tones were mostly correct.
“Why are you here?” It added, shuffling forward a few steps, its head bobbing slightly, it’s eyes keenly alert. “Do you mean to challenge my claim to this hunting ground?”
fossilsandfeathers:
Starter for @ingxn
The little raptor skittered to a halt and cocked it’s head in surprise.
“Oh? What are you doing here?”
“What are you doing talking?” Gerry asked abruptly, as he stared at the little feathered dino in his path. Sometimes, he wondered if the tropical heat was getting to him. Maybe he was hallucinating? He just wanted to finish out the year with InGen and get the hell out of there with his pension and life intact.
It was far too late to run for the tranq rifle, so he blinked once, trying to ground himself. “Okay, little guy, I don’t have any food for you.” He remembered the island-wide advice, including his own: don’t run or show any sign of weakness to these animals, though he’d never seen this kind before. If one needed proof of a connection between dinos and birds, they wouldn’t have to look much further than this one. “Nice feathers.”