Kitadani Formation, Japan, 114 Million Years Ago

Dawn breaks from the horizon, its red light bleeding into the dark sky. The emerging sun's radiance reveals the silhouettes of what resides in this darkened land. At this time, Japan has yet to become the large island of our modern day, instead, it's still a part of mainland Asia.

Littering what will one day be Mount Haku is a forest of conifer trees of varying heights. Autumn has caused these trees' green to become shades of red, orange, and yellow. Mild winds blow their spiny leaves across the warm, humid air. Meanwhile, it also wiggles the pinecones off them, causing them to plummet to the ground below. What may seem like a damaging process is crucial to the tree's reproduction. Inside each cone is a batch of seeds that will be released into the ground and eventually grow into more conifers. Dark shapes of early birds fill the air, filling the forest with their tweets and chirps.

Atop this canopy is where the land's largest resident can be seen. Poking out the top of the trees are the heads of Fukuititans. They are members of the sauropod clade of four-legged dinosaurs known for long necks that support smaller heads. For the Fukuititans, their heads are blunt, short yet relatively large with a mouth full of spoon-shaped teeth. A combination of their massive, upward-raised necks and their proportionately taller, robust forelimbs allow these heads to reach nearly 16 feet into the air. Although not the biggest height a sauropod can reach, it's just enough to get the tallest conifers of their habitat. Like many sauropods, their long neck is balanced out by a shorter tail.

Their skin is a mosaic of small, bead-like scales interlocked with larger ones. These scales are primarily ash gray with diagonal, charcoal stripes on their neck and stomach sides. By contrast, the skin of their underbellies is a solid, pearl river gray.

A hidden part of this forest lies in the shadows of the trees and Fukuititans. Peering rays of early morning light show various, rat-like mammals scurrying on the tree branches. They crawl across the brown bark, catching and eating the many beetles and cockroaches that writhe and fly here. These same tree trunks rise from a dirt floor littered with vegetation. This bed of greenery is primarily cycads with a few rare ferns mixed in as well. Fungi cover various parts of the plants, ground, and trees here. Some are in the form of mushrooms while others are banana-shaped ergot fungus.

It's also on this floor that the beetles thrive in the thousands. Such an abundance of insects makes this a perfect feeding place for one of the area's smaller residents. Plopping down from above a different kind of dinosaur that lives here. It's a pigeon-sized Fukuipteryx, whose name means "Fukui's wing." As its appearance may suggest, it's one of the earliest known birds. It doesn't yet have a beak, but a beak-shaped mouth, covered in black, scaly skin and filled with small teeth. The tail of this ancient bird is short and stubby, in contrast to some of its other dinosaur relatives. However, it retains the clawed feet and hands of the theropods from which it evolved. Like many birds, its form, aside from its hands, mouth, and feet, is completely covered in feathers. This body plumage is primarily light, sky blue with dark blues coloring the wing feathers on its arms and legs.

Stepping and scurrying across the twig and pinecone-littered forest floor, the Fukuipteryx enjoys a plentiful bounty of insects. Little is this early bird aware that such a smorgasbord has its risks. Lurking within the taller foliage around the dirt patch is a killer.

Encased within the shadows of the deep foliage is the top predator of Early Cretaceous Japan. This is Kuro, a male Fukuiraptor. He's a lightly built, 300-pound member of the megaraptoran clade of two-legged theropods. Much like other members of his clade, he has an elongated pair of forelimbs. Each one is equipped with three fingers that each sport a large, sickle-like claw. His slender body is supported by two, powerful legs and a long, stiffened tail. Powerful jaws filled with serrated teeth lay upon his large head. A coat of reddish-brown feathers blankets most of his body. Only his snout, hands, feet, and belly lack this plumage, instead exposing dark-brown, scaly skin. His most striking feature is a crest made of backward-pointing feathers colored in a golden yellow. He also has a circle of black feathers around each of his silver eyes.

Inchingly, Kuro approaches the small Fukuipteryx, blissfully unaware as it munches on insects. The predator's steps remain silent thanks to fleshy padding on the bottoms of his feet. All that is heard from Kuro is faint, drawn-out breathing. This sound is so quiet that not even the Fukuipteryx can hear it despite being a mere two feet away. At 16 feet long, Kuro vastly outsizes his intended prey and thus could easily make a meal out of it but only if he catches it.

With a powerful burst of speed, he sprints through the foliage. He jumps from the thick batch of vegetation over the Fukuipteryx. In a split second, the ancient bird starts to flap his wings at the sight of the pouncing predator. As Kuro lands, the Fukuipteryx manages to rise off the ground, narrowly avoiding his clamping jaws.

Tens of feet off the ground, the primitive avian disappears into the tall wood of the forest canopy. Kuro lets out a soft hiss, staring up at his escaped quarry. This is far from the first potential prey that has escaped his grasp. Such a loss normally wouldn't be a problem for the young adult Fukuiraptor. However, it's been nearly a week since he was last fed. If his luck doesn't change soon, he could risk death from starvation. With little time to dwell on his failure, Kuro moves forward through the forest.

***

Nearly half an hour has passed since Kuro's last quarry escaped. Despite this, he's failed to find anything that could potentially satiate his hunger in these woodlands. His body has already started to appear thin, even for a Fukuiraptor. Gurgles and grumbles nearly continuously emanate from within his empty stomach.

The clock is ticking and the only way to stop it is with a meal. With no luck in the woods, his best chance is to find food elsewhere. Now that the frequency of trees is lessening, it won't be long till he reaches new hunting grounds.

He soon finds a freshwater stream, one of many that occur in this area. Rocks of various shades of gray litter the riverbed with some large ones poking out of the surface. This ceaseless body of clear water is filled with a variety of life. In between the river floor rocks are stuffed with various freshwater mussels in addition to ramshorn and river snails. Carried by the pull of the stream are seed shrimp and small particles of algae. These are occasionally swallowed up by passing bowfin fish. Softshell and pond turtles reside here too, resting on the shore rocks and swimming through the river water.

Such a plethora of life won't serve as good prey for Kuro. Fish are too fast and slippery for him while everything else in the water is far too small and obscure to find. The closest thing to a suitable meal here is the turtles, but their shells are too hard for Kuro's jaws to penetrate. Alas, it appears he came for nothing.

Suddenly, a loud splash sound occurs, causing Kuro to jolt his head to the left. Curious, he lurks upstream, hiding himself in a bed of cycads on the way. Shortly, the predator finds the source of the sound, a whole new animal entirely.

It is a Tyrannomimus, a Japanese member of the ornithomimosaur clade of ostrich-like dinosaurs. As such, it sports a small head with a toothless, beaked mouth and large eyes. This same head is carried by a slender, turkey-like neck. Its body is short yet robust with a long, stiff tail growing from the back of it, making it nearly six feet long. A pair of long, muscular legs allow it to stand nearly as tall as an average human. Each of these legs has a long foot with three, strong, short toes terminating in hoof-like claws. Two short, powerful arms grow from its body, each sporting a hand with three fingers that end in large, blunt claws. White feathers coat it with black ones on its arms, neck, and around its eyes. Bright red feathers form a cap-like circle on top of its head. The exposed, scaly skin of its hands and legs is primarily black while its beak is a dark brown.

Blissfully unaware, the male Tyrannomimus spends his days wading in the river catching small fish in his mouth. When coming across larger ones, he would whack them out of the water before clawing at them on the surface. Afterward, he takes the scarred fish and swallows it up, piece by piece. Rather than returning to the stream, he instead struts into a grove of taller cycads.

Kuro follows his desired prey, hidden by the vegetation. Soon, his quarry was next to another Tyrannomimus. This one is a female that lacks the red coloring atop her head. She simply sits on the ground in a roosting position.

But with the male now present, another surprise reveals itself. The head of a baby Tyrannomimus pokes out from between the female's wings and body. Its feathers are vastly different from its parents, being a soft brown with vague spots of white mixed in and a spot of yellow upon its head.

Gazing its eyes on the father, the chick lets out a series of peeps and chirps. These sounds become more rapid as more youngsters pop out from between the crevices of the mother's arms. The father reaches his beak toward the fledglings, pieces of shredded fish sticking out from the end. Immediately, the chicks peck at the fish pieces, swallowing them bit by bit.

For the Tyrannomimus, this grove is a perfect place to raise a family. As for Kuro, it's another prey opportunity. He may not be able to take on two protective Tyrannomimus parents, but if he's lucky, he may be able to snag a chick or two. It's a big risk for a small meal, but it's one he's willing to take.

Kuro begins to creep further through the cycads, his eyes fixated on the Tyrannomimus chicks. He keeps his body low to prevent being seen by the parents. The chicks leave the comfort of their mother's arms, unaware of Kuro watching just a mere two feet away. His hands gently start to splay out, ready for the moment to strike.

As Kuro prepares to pounce, he pauses, now as still as the conifer trees behind him. Three shrill, coarse cries begin to pierce the air, the echoes reverberating from a mile away. Shaken, the young Tyrannomimus retreated to their parents, stuffing themselves under their mother's arm feathers.

Alas, another hunt has been ruined. However, the calls carry a different meaning for Kuro. They are the territorial cries of another of his kind. Like their avian relatives, Fukuiraptors use these terrifying calls to mark their hunting grounds. The less faint the echoes, the closer wanderers like Kuro are to a rival's domain. If he were to be found, the other Fukuiraptor wouldn't hesitate to attack him... or worse. So, Kuro marches away to search for prey elsewhere, preferably without provoking another Fukuiraptor.

***

In a short time, the famished predator enters the higher woodlands. Here, a lessened quantity of trees grow scattered on the sides of a dormant volcano. Cycads are still present yet are still rarer than in the lowlands. The ground here is much more exposed, revealing a mountainside that's carpeted in dirt, dead branches, fungi, and many variations of rocks. Winds become stronger the higher Kuro climbs. These gusts carry many of the loose conifer spines, causing them to dance through the air. The river also flows through here, sending down rainwater that was long trapped at the top of the summit.

It is this stream that Kuro follows up the side of the dormant volcano. Gradually, he stops, letting out frequent, hissing pants. His head drops to the side of the stream, allowing him to gulp up the enriching liquid. He may have yet to satisfy his appetite but at least he can quench his thirst.

Suddenly, a series of low honks and bellows vibrate around Kuro. He ceased his gulps, raising his head in response to the kerfuffle. His head turns all about before he sets his sights further upstream.

Only tens of feet away is an unassuming herd of nearly 20 Koshisaurus. These are early relatives of the duck-billed hadrosaur family of herbivorous dinosaurs. As such, their heads sport a familiar, duck-like, keratinous beak covering their mouths filled with batteries of tightly packed, diamond-shaped teeth. These heads are held up by a short, yet muscular neck growing from a stream-lined, 10-foot-long body balanced by a long, tapered tail. They have four limbs, the hind ones being longer and allowing them to transition from both quadrupedal and bipedal stances. Their front limbs are shorter and are easily pulled up during their two-legged posture. The scaly skin of these herbivores is primarily rust orange with horizontal streaks of black on their back and sides as well as a peach white underbelly.

Despite being a few feet away on the other side of the stream, the Koshisaurus herd doesn't notice Kuro. Rather they keep their focus on chewing on and ingesting the foliage around them. The answer lies in the wind. At this altitude of the mountain, most noise is silenced by a great, howling, gale. This strong breeze muffles the deep honks and otherwise loud chewing of the Koshisaurs. Kuro lets out a brief hiss and even that is hushed by the summit winds.

For the herbivores, this puts them in a vulnerable position but for Kuro, it's the perfect hunting opportunity. Like his previous hunts, he stays low to avoid the eyes of the Koshisaurs. He slowly steps across the stones on his side of the river before entering the foot-deep water. The light splashes from his footsteps are also muted by the roaring draft.

Now on the other side of the river, he stands less than a foot away from an oblivious Koshisaur. As the unmindful herbivore continues grazing, Kuro uncurls his claws. His mouth gently opens, revealing a thin string of saliva connecting both jaws as he eases toward his prey.

Suddenly, Kuro ambushes the unsuspecting Koshisaur. He digs his claws into the herbivore's hide. His mouth bites and clamps down onto the back of his prey. Frightened, the Koshisaur lets out a series of loud honks, alerting its herd mates. The rest of the herd peer up to see the injured herbivore attempt to shake off Kuro like a bucking bronco.

It hastens downhill with the rest of the herd as the predator continues biting and clawing its body. Kuro tightens the grip of his jaws as he's tossed back and forth. Abruptly, he gets hit by the branch of a tree, knocking him loose from his prey. He lands with a thud, kicking up a small cloud of decayed conifer spines. With the blood of his prey staining his mouth, Kuro stands back to spot the escaping Koshisaur.

With a forceful swiftness, he bolts down the mountainside. The forest becomes ever thicker as predator and prey travel down the slope. It isn't long before Kuro catches up to the injured Koshisaur. As the two become neck and neck, the hill gradually becomes steeper and steeper. The herbivore starts to have difficulty balancing his body and maintaining his speed. Kuro seizes the opportunity and jumps toward his prey. This time, he strikes the Koshisaur with both his feet. The strong kick knocks the herbivore off balance, sending him tumbling down the rest of the mountainside. Kuro is also knocked down in the process, his body spiraling as he rolls down to the bottom of the hill.

***

After what feels like a minute of spinning along the mountainside, both predator and prey finally stop. Kuro gradually stands up, his body wobbling from dizziness. He shakes his head before gazing upon where he landed. Here, the small stream that travels the mountain meets the larger river of the lowlands. The orange light of dawn sparkles and reflects off the water's surface and onto the trees on both sides of the stream. Stones litter this canal in a greater abundance, mostly being small pebbles with the occasional larger rock mixed in.

On one of the larger stones is the Koshisaur, lying on its left side. It huffs and wheezes as it struggles to lift its head. Lines of crimson flow from its mouth as well as the claw and bite wounds on its back and belly. Kuro steps toward it, prompting the injured herbivore to let out another loud honk. Its head falls sideways before starting to breathe more slowly and heavily. The predator's jaws leisurely crept open, strands of saliva dripping off of his lips.

Swiftly, Kuro lunges his neck forward, snapping his jaws onto the Koshisaur's neck. Crimson leaks as the predator's teeth sink into his prey's windpipe. The herbivore lets out a weak groan, one that slowly fades as life leaves its body. Finally, the herbivore grows still and breathless.

At last, Kuro has acquired a substantive meal. With little hesitation, he chomps into the side of the dead herbivore. Scratching and squishing sounds occur as the predator takes out bites of flesh before swallowing. He repeats the process, slowly depleting the plentiful carcass.

Suddenly, the young Fukuiraptor pauses his feeding. He lifts his scarlet-stained head above the corpse. Kuro observes his surroundings, alerted by a familiar, recurring sound. It's the piercing cry he heard earlier. This time, the call is much louder and turns into a surrounding echo within seconds.

Shortly, a two-legged silhouette steps out of a batch of ferns, three feet away from Kuro. It stalks through the shadow cast by the trees. The guise of its shade fades as the light of dawn drapes its body. Standing before Kuro is a sight he is all too familiar with, another Fukuiraptor. This is Sawa, an older, more experienced male. His greater age is signified by his feather crown which is a brighter shade of golden yellow.

Kuro squints his eyes as he locks them with old Sawa, a hiss escaping his mouth as it slowly opens. His older rival returns the hiss as he creeps out of the tree shadow. Sawa lets a series of growls and snaps, attempting to shoo Kuro away from the fresh carcass. The young predator firmly presses his left foot on the dead Koshisaur, his growls further intensifying to match those of his foe.

Promptly, old Sawa sprints toward Kuro. With built-up speed, he leaps off the ground and kicks the younger Fukuiraptor. Kuro is sent forcefully to the ground, his body dragging and tumbling on impact. With his youthful adversary knocked away, Sawa directs his attention to the lone carcass. As he steadily approaches it, saliva begins to drip from his mouth. Drops start to litter the skin of the corps as his head hovers over it.

Before Sawa can sink his teeth into the dead flesh, a sharp claw strikes him. The older Fukuiraptor lets out a loud, shrill cry as he's sent backward. In the reflection in the river water, he can now see a red gash on his face. It runs diagonally from the middle of his snout through below his bottom lip.

The elder Fukuiraptor looks back to the corpse to see the originator of his cut. The younger predator now stands atop the fallen Koshisaur, his arms splayed out and his jaws open as he lets out his cry. Sawa may have rights to all kills within this territory, but Kuro isn't willing to give up his prey, at least without a fight.

The young killer hops down from the corpse, prompting both Fukuiraptors to start circling each other. Their growls and hisses fill the air around them. The water of the river beneath them ripples with every step. Both Fukuiraptors splay out their arms and uncurl their clawed fingers. Soft, orange light continues to bathe the predators as the wind carries conifer spines around them.

Their circling slows down as both Fukuiraptor's growling amplifies. Instantaneously, they rush toward each other. They attack with a blinding fury of scratches and bites. Many are dodged, but a handful leave their marks. Ripped-out feathers fly through the wild breeze. Crimson drips into the wavering stream.

In this intense struggle, Sawa rakes his younger opponent's face, forcing his head downward. Kuro returns by leaping and punting the older predator. A splash erupts from the river as Sawa crashes into it. He quickly stands back up to once again face his intruding adversary.

The Glaring light of the sun reveals the damages of their battle. Both Fukuiraptors have small parts of their feather coats missing and brighter scarlet staining what remains. Exposed skin shows punctures and grazes, bright red leaking out of them. Kuro also now sports a gash on his face that will likely become a scar. At a slight diagonal angle, it runs from under his eye and through an open gap in his lips.

Both Fukuiraptors remain still as a tree as they continue to stare each other down. Only mouths move agape as they growl intensely. Simultaneously, they each step one of their feet backward while lowering their bodies. Both once again freeze, their only movement being the blink of their inner eyelids.

Their silence is broken as they both leap off the ground and toward one another. Kuro and Sawa pass each other, piercing the skin of one another with a single strike from their claws. Great white splashes bound up into the air as they return to the ground.

Silence deafens the area as the river water settles and the Fukuiraptors become still. Their pants and huffs sharpen with each passing second. The inflating of their stomachs as they breathe is the only movement outside of the trees wiggling with the air.

Drops of blood fall into the stream, creating small clouds of crimson. Kuro drops forward a single step, holding his left arm over a gouge on his stomach. Sawa points his eyeball backward as he continues breathing. As he does, the sounds of his breath start to change. Short, frequent huffs shift higher in pitch. Slowly, they change into long, drawn-out wheezes. As the elder's breathing reduces, his eyeball bounces back to the center before his pupil starts to dilate.

He drops forward, breaking the surface of the river. Now partly submerged in the shallow river, his breathing grows ever louder and less common. A cloud of scarlet leaks from a rip in the skin of Sawa's throat and into the flowing stream. His gurgling wheezing intensifies to a much greater degree. He seizes these noises as his pupil stops dilating and his body freezes after contorting backward.

The younger Fukuiraptor rears back up before witnessing the fate of his enemy. At last, Sawa's long reign has ended. Now, it is Kuro who lays claim to this territory and with it, his fresh kill.

What started as a hunt for a greatly needed meal quickly turned into a fight for both his food and his life. With Sawa now dead, Kuro now has a greater range of potential prey to call his own. As the daylight shifts to yellow, the victorious Fukuiraptor gorges down on the meat of the carcass. Such a prize is a more than worthy one for winning an intense clash under the rising sun.