Her rumbling belly harasses the hushed evening. She slows alongside the delicate forget-me-nots, remembering her lesson. If she doesn’t deliver the message, she won’t eat anytime soon, but if she can’t sneak by the dinosaurs, she may never eat again. She should have brought Ki; a dog would help distract them.

Crouching by the gate, she scans the grassy expanse. It isn’t far to the shelter, but the dinos run fast. She spots them. If she’s silent, she stands a chance. Otherwise...

​

The gate squeaks.
Their heads rotate.
Her heart drops.
One scuttles her way.
She darts across the open field.
The others chase behind.

​

They aren’t big – less than half her size – but there are six, all with talons. Sharp. Dangerous. Her scarred thigh offers proof.

​

The closest engages.
Instinctively, she kicks.
A muffled thump.
She connects.
They scatter.
She bolts.
They regroup.

She careens through the dilapidated door, startling the workshop’s sole occupant.

“What’s wrong, Honey? The chickens chase you again?”
“They’re dinosaurs, Daddy.” She huffs quick breaths and wipes her nose with the back of her hand. “And they’re scary.”
“Dinosaurs, huh? Where’d you hear that?” He turns his head, hiding a smirk.
With a measured inhalation, she narrows her eyes imperiously. “Mrs. Lee said so in class. She said all birds are dinosaurs.”
“That so? Then why did such a brave adventurer face down a flock of wild dinos?”
“Oh,” she giggles at the compliment, forgetting her ordeal. “Mommy said to come eat dinner.”