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Swavelli and Seffe both loved the beach, though she knew it was for different reasons. Swavelli was built for diving and fishing, and would spend hours at a time wading and swimming, sometimes hunting for fish but other times just for pleasure. The water slid gracefully off of her scales when she came back onto land, which combined with the hot sun meant she got dry almost instantly. Seffe was another story. He was up for splashing around in the shallows, and investiga...

The twins Fainel and Frasil were still small, but made up for it with sheer energy. And in a pack as small as theirs, entertainment was hard to come by. Vanim was doting but awkward, and not very “fun” by the definitions of hyperactive, curious hatchlings. Their older sibling-adjecent-relation was something of a troublemaker, too, which made him a much more attractive target for nagging and prodding. On one warming spring day, Kyrien was picking around at the stamp...

Cryolophosauruses had a particular hunting style. They didn’t have the stamina of the larger theropods on the island, nor the powerful pounces of the raptors; they couldn’t chase their prey until it tired or heckle it in a large pack, peppering it with wounds until it collapsed. But they had speed and a swift bite, and they had to use that to their advantage. One strong bite to the back of the neck to end things quickly was the ideal way for a hunt to go. ...

Swavelli had made good on her word; she was on a mission to find the ocean. She’d been trekking through the bayou for weeks, on the hunt of where the sun set every night. And she’d made good on her unspoken word, too, because Seffe was still with her. Both of them had grown significantly on their journey, and Seffe had learned many words, much to Swavelli’s chagrin. There were times where his constant chatter about what kind of frog t...

The first thing he remembered was being moved around, shuffling around in his eggshell. He didn’t know at the time, but it was his mother, rearranging the eggs in her nest. The eggs were close to hatching, so she was naturally anxious, wanting everything to be just so when her new babies made their way into the world. But one thing bothered her more than anything else, and that was this egg in particular. It was a strange shape. Too round...

In the aftermath of the “crow incident,” Finch and Knot were effectively grounded for the better part of a month. Dove and Pipit weren’t exactly happy to find them being heckled by a murder of crows, and Dove gave them both a very lengthy lecture about “knowing your strength” and “not getting into fights you can’t win.” Whatever. Finch was too busy being boiled alive by shame to really hear any of it. Her stupid idea had nearly gotten her killed. It nearly got ...

It was a crisp spring morning on Isla Kera, and a family of cryosaurs were beginning to stir. Sandstorm, after scenting no predators on the breeze, allowed her hatchlings to follow her out of the cavern they using for shelter. Sandstorm herself didn’t mind staying out in the open, but with her little ones, she didn’t want to take the risk. Vanim was the last to emerge, and he carefully trailed behind his mother. He didn’t join his siblings in their rough...

In hindsight, Knot understood that this was a bad idea. He’d also known that when Finch first asked him. But he’d gone along with it anyway, because if he didn’t follow along, his cousin would have gotten herself into even bigger trouble. …Though, it was hard to imagine any trouble bigger than the kind they were in right now. “How was I supposed to know there would be so many crows around?” Finch hissed at him, her spittle close...