Dance of Dragons

by Juan-Pablo Pina

80 million years ago...

Djadochta Formation, Mongolia...

The sun was high. 

The dunes were tall. 

The dust was sharp. 

To be expected, as this was one of Earth’s more arid regions. However, unbeknownst to him, this little dinosaur was about to become one of the most spectacular remnants of his world.

He was a young male Velociraptor, a dinosaur known for its famous role in a certain film from 1993. However, unlike those dinosaurs, the real Velociraptor is only about the size of a turkey. But it’s still a dinosaur. And a hungry one at that.

The young male, who had a pattern similar to that of a serval, stalked across the Mongolian sands. He had recently been outcast from his birth pack by his older brother who had bested him in a courtship battle. Ever since then, he was a loner, a feathered assassin hardened by the elements and abandoned by his dinosaurian brothers and sisters. The most he had been able to eat was the occasional dry carcass which was usually riddled with scavengers like insects or other dinosaurs. So he trekked on, the sky turning a deep purple and red as the sun dipped behind the walls of a distant canyon. Even though it was sunset, it was terribly hot, the soft sand stinging and scorching his feet.

Pat-Pat, Pat-Pat, Pat-Pat… 

Gronk!

The theropod stopped in his tracks and perked his head up. He sniffed the air while his eyes darted in all directions, scanning for what might have been making the strange noises. He stooped low, hoping to avoid attracting attention. But then, ambling out from behind a distant dune, he saw what was making the noise: a Protoceratops.

These pig-sized herbivores were distant relatives of far more mighty dinosaurs like Triceratops and Styracosaurus. Despite being herbivores, these protoceratopsids are some of the most aggressive animals in all of Cretaceous Mongolia, far more than even Velociraptor. With a beak like a parrot’s and the attitude of a wild boar, these tiny tanks are worthy opponents. But desperation can cloud one’s mind. Especially when the mind in question is a hungry one.

So the swift thief bent low and began to stalk, his footsteps slow and planned. The low hiss of the desert wind and sand allowed him to remain inconspicuous. The Protoceratops, meanwhile, continued its ignorant and brash foraging, not anticipating that it was being watched. All while the raptor looked on at its prey. But something was nearing. Not far away, hurricane-force winds had gathered, creating a huge sandstorm that was barreling towards the dinosaurs. For now, it was just a streak of golden brown on the horizon. But every second it grew and grew, wiping out any sparse vegetation in its wake and collapsing or reshaping whole dunes. For the young carnivore, though, now was no time to worry about that. It was time he got his food.

SKREE!!!

RONK!!!

With an ear splitting screech, the swift thief lept out from behind the dune, arms and jaws wide open. The Protoceratops let out a terrified roaring shriek and immediately took off into the desert. 

Right in the direction of the sandstorm.

The raptor’s claws dug into the sand before being propelled forward by the rest of the leg, its talons and powerful feet acting like running cleats, meaning that every time the Protoceratops looked behind it the raptor was just a little bit closer like a horrific yet fluffy phantom with teeth.

Despite being only the size of a turkey, Velociraptor was a lethal predator. With the tenacity of a hunting dog, a calculating mind like that of a New Caledonian crow, and bioweaponry as deadly as a Japanese blade, these animals are what would happen if nature made martial eagles terrestrial and gave them a bite as strong as an American alligator’s.

Once they reached the base of a dune, the two dinosaurs realized that they had hit a wall. There was nowhere else to run. The Protoceratops turned to face his assailant and stood his ground, snorting and throwing his head upwards in an attempt to thwart the carnivore. But the Velociraptor was unfazed. 

Shunk!

He leapt onto the Protoceratops, sinking his raptorial claw deep into the animal’s scaly flesh. Most small-to-medium theropod dinosaurs do not give their prey the gift of death, instead extending their suffering as they feast with indifference. Same here.

SQUEE!!!

The protoceratopsid squealed in agony as blood gushed onto the sand. Unbeknownst to the oblivious dinosaurs, though, the sandstorm was nearly upon them. But the saurians continued their combat.

The Velociraptor tried to claw at his quarry’s eye, hoping to distract the herbivore and allow him to deliver the coup de grace.

Crunch!

SKREE!!!

The predator screamed in agony as the Protoceratops bit down on his arm with its beak, the crunch of bone and flesh a revolting and sickening sound. The herbivore roared in a triumphant rage, still trying to throw off its assailant. Easier said than done when your attacker is a terrestrial eagle from hell. Eventually all manner of strategy and thought was thrown to the wind, instead resorting to a craze of teeth and scales.

Everything became a desperate need to kick and run and bite. Blood flew onto the sand. This manic, this blur of red blood and golden sand may seem like a regular fight, but there was something far darker going on.

Although rare, every animal can go into what some may call a “primal rage”, where the victim goes berserk and desperately tries to claw and scream their way to survival. Oftentimes it is caused by a sensory overload, a sort of “henhouse effect” as biologist Forrest Galante put it. Like a fox in a henhouse, the sheer sensory overload sends the subject into a maniacal frenzy where survival and victory is a top priority, even if it means overexertion or taking a hell of a beating. Examples include the placid crocodiles in Myanmar turning savage at the sight of WWII Japanese soldiers and humans going mad in an attempt to thwart an attacker, regardless of it being an animal or person. And here, it meant fighting tooth and claw to make it out alive. However, this also means that all the subject’s awareness of their surroundings is almost completely lost.

KAA-THOOOOMM!!!

Seemingly out of nowhere, the world became sand and sound and then…nothing.

The sandstorm had arrived.

In their desperate need to come out on top, the two dinosaurs had fallen. When the sandstorm hit, it did so with so much force that the entire sand dune had collapsed like a house of cards. Insects and scraggly vegetation all tumbled down while the raging sandstorm whipped up spires and swirls of dust and sand so fast that standing in it would feel like getting dozens of bee stings. The dinosaurs, however, were now immortalized.

Their desperate and maniacal fight had kept them in the perfect place at the perfect time. The raptor’s claw sunk into the herbivore’s side. The beaked jaws of the Protoceratops locked onto its assailant’s arm. The theropod’s tail erect in its agitated state. The flesh, blood, and feathers would not be preserved. But the spectacle would. 

In 1971, a Polish-Mongolian expedition would find this remnant of an ancient age and come to glorify and study it. It represented the brutal and gory truth of the predator-prey relationship that has been ongoing for millions of years. 

A hunt is not an elegant and thrilling chase. Instead, it is as though death is suddenly targeting you and you must do everything in your power to make it out alive. On the other hand, failing to kill your quarry means that your hunger, one of the most deadly things about life, will continue indefinitely. Ergo, you must do everything in your power to ensure that you have a chance of ending your hunger. Both sides have just as good a reason to win, making the pitifully foolish line between good and evil that much more blurry…