Weary and grimy, sore from a fight lasting deep into the night, a Sicklemouth lands a blow to his rival’s leg, ending this season’s fight for dominance. Some among its kind may loathe this cheap way to end the fight, but alone on the black cliffs, who will know but the heavens?
Freezing temperatures are global and the world is still. In Hell Creek, grey snow falls to the ground. The skeleton of the once titanic red wood trees loom into the distance, with wind howling around the trunks. Before us the most common organisms we see are fungus.