The orange shimmer of the time window blinks out.
"No," you gasp. "No, wait." Gone. But…but it can't have been thirty minutes. And yet you know that it was. You hardly dare to glance over at Brett's stricken face.
You sit there in your battered Land Rover. Your heart pounds. Your body aches. Brett doesn't look much better. Upon seeing that, a wave of emotions buffet you. Mainly, you feel…
Before you say a word to Brett, your friend says with a laugh, "Guth, you're grinning like a maniac. The Cretaceous lifestyle really agrees with you." Yes, it's true. The morning finds you camped along the river midway between the lake and the waterfall, which is where you witnessed the RV's arrival just a few short days ago. You feel reasonably secure situated between the swift-flowing current and some rock ledges that you can scramble up if something untoward comes your way.
During a tasty breakfast highlighted by a fine fresh fish that Brett caught and roasted over the campfire, you two evaluate today's big decision about whether to stay longer or try for home. The second (and final) time window is slated to open at noon at the pterosaur's nest. Yes, of course there may be more windows, but you can't be sure if they even exist, much less that you'll be able to access them.
"It's high time we caught a break," Brett declares, "though I wouldn't count on it. We need to have backup plans in case things head south."
Backup plans. Her words cause you to cringe. "How do you make God laugh?"
"OK, I'll bite," Brett replies. "How?"
"Make plans."
For once, your lover doesn't chuckle or even smile at a joke of yours. Then you see why. A fresh burrow sits in the clearing, one that you don't recall spotting yesterday. While you watch, fresh dirt is flung from it. Soon, a pink-eared mammal pokes its long, quivering snout from the hole. Then out pop two more. The first one's main interest is in a breakfast of insects. The second one spends its time grooming the third. Neat!