The peaceful tranquility of the prehistoric delta at sunrise was an illusion. Here stalked the last survivor of an ancient lineage. It was a monster, with horns, a devil. A here of tiny Anabisetia felt thunder in the Earth and fled. Something was coming. Something big. Something deadly. Something menacing. The Carnotaurus stomped into the marshes, emerging from the forest just as the sun poked over the horizon and brought golden amber light to the world. The shadowy silhouette, outlined by rays of light, moved forward and it roared. This was a predator, and she needed to hunt - not for her own sake, but for the hatchlings at her nest. Her mate had died four days earlier, killed by a bolt of lightning. Now she was alone, and she had to bring down a herbivore by herself.
She sniffed the air and detected the smell of injury. She decided to follow it down the river towards the ocean. A flock of Pteranodon circled overhead, anticipating a kill and hoping to scavenge some meat. The remains of a dinosaur large enough to feed a Carnotaurus would make welcome change from fish and small lizards.
Migrating towards the southern continent of Antarctica for the summer was a herd of iguanadontid Loncosaurus, an unbroken line of meat which lead down both ends of the beach for miles. Soon, the predator's senses payed off - a female had been injured during the storm four days before when a blast of wind collapsed a tree onto one of her back legs. It was clearly broken and she was falling behind. The Carnotaurus would have to wait a while for the rest of the herd to move on - a wounded Loncosaurus was one matter, but a herd of healthy adults was quite another.
As night fell and the Cretaceous moon lit up the scene, the procession of Loncosaurus was nearing an end. The Carnotaurus had been following the female for the whole day and she had fallen behind the migration. Finally, she collapsed from exhaustion and the herd moved on without her. This was the Carnotaur's big chance. With a loud bellow, she burst from the trees and charged the female.
The Loncosaurus stood up, frightened and ready to fight to defend herself. She lashed out with her thumb claw and caught the Carnotaurus across the snout. The Carnotaurus was largely unscathed and charged with her dealy pair of horns. The Loncosaurus sidestepped the charging female, but one horn still caught her in the wounded leg. The Loncosaurus was in agony, but unwilling to be killed by this beast. Her thumb claw caught the Carnotaurus in the eye this time. The Carnotaurus roared with pain. She would never see out her left eye again. In a rage, she grabbed the Loncosaurus's neck in her jaws and clamped down, then shook until the creature's screams had died down to a gurgling and then ceased altogether.
She ate her fill and carried the rest to the nest, leaving the rest of the kill to scavengers. But the damage was done - the one-eyed female would never be the same again.
Flies and mosquitos flocked to the rotting flesh, and one mosquito noticed blood on the thumb claw of the Loncosaurus. She sucked it up eagerly, then flew away to avoid a Pteranodon. She landed on a tree, and I think we all know what happened next…
Carnotaurus wasn't as big as T. rex, but it was still awesome. I mean, it had a gigantic pair of horns sticking straight out of it's freaking head!! And of course, in The Lost World, they could turn invisible, which is truly epic. A dinosaur with horns and invisibility simply can't fail to be awesome. That is not logical. Oh dear, I sound like Spock…
Even though Carnotaurus would never win in a fight with a Giganotosaurus or Carcharodontosaurus, they could still be amazing villains. Some scientists think they might have rammed prey animals with their horns, which would make them the only known predators to do so. I can imagine a guy fleeing a Carnotaurus running into a garage or something and pulling down the door just as the two horns come out on either side of his head. Now that is awesome.
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