The earth shook.
As the giant meteor, many kilometres across, crashed into the planet, it disappeared in an explosion of energy.
Dust and steam rose into the air. They went up and up as great mountains of cloud that built and toppled and billowed and spread until they surrounded the whole planet.
A blanket — that’s what the clouds were like.
But not a blanket that gives protection. Not a blanket that gives warmth.
This blanket was a smothering blanket. It smothered the earth below it. It kept out the sun’s precious light. It kept out the sun’s precious warmth. It kept in the smoke that rose from volcanoes, so that the smoke mixed with the dust and made the cloud thicker. And made the earth darker.
Dagger-mouth slept for a time. It seemed natural to sleep when it was dark.
But hunger still gnawed inside him. His eyes felt hot and he coughed, but no lumps of gristle emerged. He just coughed, on and on.
Dagger-mouth felt cold. Coldness always made his legs heavy and slow. But some dream (if that’s what it was) of being strong, of trying harder, made him push with his legs.
Yes, they were working now.
With little light to guide him, Dagger-mouth let himself follow his ears. The stream that fed into the crocodile’s pool — he could hear it now.
As he moved, a scent came to him. Of course. The young one had been nearby. His mouth nudged the raised mound of her back. She groaned and stirred a little. Then she slumped and was still.
Dagger-mouth took his time. Step by step he moved towards the water.
When his foot stuck in the mud he knew that he was near.
He waited for a bit. It would take all his strength to release the foot and turn.
But this was a good place to be.
It had been too quiet back near the small tyrannosaur.
Here there was movement.
Not just the water. Yes, he could hear the water.
But he could hear other movements too.
Splash!
A crocodile …
Something slithered past his leg. A lizard maybe or one of those quick little furry things he used to see but never really noticed.
Ha.
Something was moving close by. Dagger-mouth closed his burning, runny eyes and tried hard not to cough.
Whatever it was, it had stopped, not far from him.
So many things were moving about here near the water. King of the hunters — that’s what he was. Not long now and he’d have one of those things, and the gnawing pains inside him would ease.
Dagger-mouth focused all he could on his ears and nostrils. Sound and scent — they would do the trick.
There now. Ready. Go for it.
ATTACK!
Dagger-mouth tried.
His brain told and told his muscles to go.
But coldness was taking over now.
The prey had moved.
Dagger-mouth was not certain which way it had gone.
King of the hunters.
Not lurking now.
Out hunting.
Yes, focused and poised to attack — that’s what he was.
But what was it that he was focused on again?
* * *
Splash.
A crocodile went into the water and swam away.
From a reed, somewhere between the blanket of dust and the water, a lone frog began to call.
Croak, croak.
Then, softly at first, from across the pool, a second frog replied with its song of life.
Croak, croak. Croak, croak. Croak, croak …