1 The First Act [The Lost World] - The Hunt (1)

My eyelids snapped open; something had startled me into waking up. Distant sounds of hoarse squawking vibrated in my eardrums, falling on inattentive ears - the sounds of pterosaurs feeding close to the ground after having found an abandoned carcass. The fight they were having on who would get the tastiest morsels out of the carcass had woken me from my afternoon slumber.

I heaved myself to my feet and looked at my surroundings, craning my long neck to see if anything was happening in my territory. I spotted faint markings and droppings on the ferns and tree barks lining the banks of the river; close to the entrance to the thicket and lumbered toward it. I sniffed at them and immediately cringed; the foul smell was no doubt from the droppings of scavenging dinosaurs; commonly called the Rugops. They must have come to my territory searching for prey I had caught to steal it again; just yesterday I found them snooping around the banks of the river after I had done my hunting and saw that they were there to scavenge at my stockpile of meat. They found it even after I had carefully hid it under the covers of bushes. I immediately chased them away but the need to hunt even more than I already had dawned on me, and I realized how hard things would be in the future if I let this keep happening.

I was determined to stop them from stealing any more meat. I came up with an idea to sniff out their hideout and hide until they appear so that I can pounce on them when they least expect it; at dawn maybe. That was the time when they would just be waking up - since they were diurnal and were only active by day. I could make them think that I was the top predator and was not to be messed with by killing some members of their pack, and by scaring the rest of them out of their wits. That would keep them away for a few months at most; but not forever; nothing could do that. They would mourn their dead, cry, howl for a few days but would be up and about the next day, ready for revenge. I would be waiting for them then. It didn't matter.

And so I plucked up my courage and set off for my quest; as important as it was I had to be careful since I would be putting my life on the line. My choices were to starve to death in the hands of the Rugops or to put up a fight and I had chosen. I had no regrets left if I were to die and so I had no fear. That was the way of the world. This world, anyway.

I bounded into the trees and was soon inside the wet woods and following the Rugops' scent; winding around tall deciduous trees and wading through murky swamps with only my instincts of survival and determination that kept me going.

As I made my way through the last of the marshlands and onto solid ground, my snout suddenly picked up another scent; a different scent. The scent of a plant-eating dinosaur; the unmistakable smell of grinded leaves and stone and rotting vegetation that would drive predators crazy for miles around. The smell of prey.

I immediately looked around; my narrow head swaying left to right in desperation, my spirits lifting up at the thought of food after long days of failed hunting. In the hazy distance, through clumps of trees and their upturned roots, I saw movement. Adrenaline kicking in, I lurched into motion; my feet kicking up dirt and soil into the air all around me as I picked up speed. Zigzagging through trees and leaping around high roots my mind was taut and focused; only one thought remained: food.

As the distance closed between me and the prey - we were only a few yards apart - the bloodlust clouding my brain dissipated and the pang of rationality flooded in and I stopped short of my tracks. I groaned as the last of the effect our prey had on us predators escaped me, and I fell on all fours.

Before I could make head or tail of the situation I was in, as wisps of bloodlust still encapacitatated my eyes, my hunting instincts kicked in and I shot forward, my toenails digging into the damp soil, unleashing chunks of earth into the air.

The air was thick with moist and heavy with fog that filtered through the treetops; the croakings of male bullfrogs that filled the scene and the soft thud of the hooves of the plant-eater were all the noise I could hear.

With the whipping and whistle of wind in my stride; I stopped short of a few yards from my prey and began following in a discreet distance. My feet were making soft pounds on the earth as I tried to keep away from the plant-eater's field of vision.

Through the trees and the haze that covered me perfectly, I could see the Ouranosaurus as it reared up on its hind legs to sniff the air; sensing the danger it was in, its tiny, low-set eyes started to dart this way and that.

It stopped for a moment and honked loudly into the distance ahead; at something in front but far away. Possibly its herd, I thought. Then I would have to quicken my stride if I were to take it down before it joined them, as it would be safe in numbers. The hunting would be hard if hundreds of the plant-eaters were already aware of my existence.

As I started to lengthen my strides, the Ouranosaurus looked my way and I could almost see its eyes widen in fear as it stood up on its rear legs and pound away into the distance; its long legs making short but swift steps and its huge frame shaking in accordance to the rhythm of the feet, and its tail going left to right behind it; all the while honking and calling for help to its friends that were far ahead.

My first thought was to bound after it, but something held me back. I didn't know what. The Ouranosaurus was running into the faint mist and I would be left behind if I didn't hurry. But it wasn't fast. As it turned out I could pretty much keep up with it so long as I loped instead of walking and didn't drop my guard. My fingers that ended in razor-sharp claws twitched and flexed and I knew they were longing to be buried into flesh and to gouge out the tasty meat inside.

As if by reflex, I ran after it as fast as I could. But I was a Spinosaurus. A big predator. The biggest predator, actually. I was thirty feet long and running wasn't one of the things I was good at. My power lied in strength and long limbs, with long claws as long as a human's arm. They were my main weapon in fights against rivals for territory rights and of course, for hunting too.

But after running for a few yards, I stopped. My instincts told me to stop running and to just follow it, to observe it. I reluctantly agreed and walked onwards, keeping an eye on the footprints left by my prey on the damp soil and sniffing the air so as to not lose its scent.

I climbed and ducked, it was too steep to leisurely walk. I had come upon a hill and was now trying to find a way over it. I stepped over fallen trees, ducked under low-slung branches, and waded through shallow rivers and streams - the further I went the murkier it got, until I found myself knee-deep in a bog.

The smell was sickening, swarms of flies and insects were buzzing over a carcass some distance away and the stench drifted into my nostrils, making me retch. Algae and mucus floated on the water's edge and rotting ferns and wilted trees stood pathetically, their stems and trunks sticking out everywhere, reaching for a grasp, calling for help, for any glimmer of hope left in their world.

And then I heard it. A whining noise; a bleat of cry; a call for help, but it was so weak and the noise so faint I could barely hear it under the buzzing of the flies. Somewhere ahead of me, with my eyes strained, I could make out another figure; half-drowned in the bog I realised it was the Ouranosaurus which scent I had been following all this time - the prey I was tracking down.

It was calling for help - I thought - at something ahead and after a few moments I heard a kind of reply in the distance; the same strong honking noise, several of them, and I knew it was the herd it was calling to. They must be some distance away from where the bog ended. Poor thing, it must have gotten stuck just before it could join them. Was this what my instinct was trying to tell me? There should be a good grazing site in a clearing through the trees just over there, where the whole herd would be.