Before you can get out another word, it whips its red-crested head back and forth, its toothless beak agape, gulping air as it deals the Land Rover a blow with its one good wing. Your vehicle shudders and settles at a steeper pitch.
At the same time, quick-witted Brett reaches around behind the seat for the rifle she stashed there. She loads it and tries to open her door but something is blocking it. Uttering a second shriek of desperation, the pterosaur whacks the passenger side of the Land Rover hard. Your vehicle lurches to the side before coming to rest.
Brett pushes on her door again. No luck. She hands you the gun with a brief "Aim for the eye, and be super careful."
You hesitate. The pterosaur deals the Land Rover a third blow.
"You got this, Guth."
Gripping the rifle, you practically crawl out of the Land Rover, keeping down. The injured pterosaur watches you intently, cannily, despite its obvious pain. It pants, giving you a face full of foul breath. Its one good wing convulses.