I looked at my feet. They were buried up to the knees but the bog around here was more mixed up with the water from downstream and so was not as uptight as where it got thicker ahead; where the Ouranosaurus was slowly dying in the watery grave. I could still hear its weak call. I knew the herd up ahead would not wait for it and would be on the move again as soon as their leader gave the call to go; they always abandoned the weak and the ones who couldn't possibly endure the long journey to their breeding grounds, which was located further south - in the warmer parts of africa.
I looked again at the Ouranosaurus in front of me. It wasn't moving anymore. Its calls had also died down to the tiniest whimper, and soon they were gone too; and it went silent. I could almost feel it going limp. It would be a perfect meal for the pterosaurs, but any land-based predators who got close enough to be able to feed from it would soon find themselves stuck as well. I had often seen bodies of them spread out around a carcass stuck in the bog like this one.
I tried moving my feet, hoping that I wasn't stuck already. To my great delight I was able to lift it, though it was very hard work since the mud down there had already set in. Bit by bit, little by little, I was able to make my way toward the banks; towards the shore.
By the time I reached the shore it had gone dark and the sun had set. I had by now and by all means lost the scent of the Rugops and did not know where I was to go next. The prey I had been chasing I couldn't feed on, even though it was right in front of me, already dead and conveniently stuck, and I hadn't even needed to deliver the final blow that would kill it - I always hated doing that. It was frustrating.
I could hear the distant groans and low calls of the Ouranosaurus herd as they got ready to sleep. They didn't know I was here yet. It could be the perfect opportunity to strike. I could try to find one that strayed away, one that preferred to be alone and target it. It would be much easier.now that they had lowered their guard, even though some would most surely be on the lookout. I had the advantage though; the element of surprise, which was crucial for hunting in these parts - particularly if it took place in the dense forest.
I made my way as quietly as I could around the edge of the bog and through the trees to where I thought the clearing would be, and where I would find the many herbivores spread out asleep. But I didn't break through into the clearing and didn't get too close, of course. Their smell and the noise they were making were enough for me to know where I was and to get my way around.
I knew that I wouldn't be the only predator to hunt at night like this and to target the sleeping Ouranosauruses. Small carnivores called Troodons prowl the night searching for prey. There would be competition and I was ready for it.
It was a while before I saw the first of them. I was hiding in amongst the undergrowth when I heard scurrying and then small figures passing by, their eyes shining, illuminated by the full moon.