(A/N: You know how cars need gas? Yeah, I run on unhinged GIFs. Tank's empty. Help.)
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I crouched among the foliage, tail coiled tight, claws buried in damp loam.
The humans had come ashore screaming, but now the beach had gone quiet—aside from the wet crunch of sand beneath their feet and the sharp voice of the older male.
He barked like a wounded alpha, all command and panic.
"You punks, listen to me!"
I flinched. His voice cracked like a gunshot.
Birds scattered from the treetops behind me.
I didn't move. Didn't breathe. Just watched.
Four of them. I counted their shadows as they stepped into view from the wrecked hull of some metal-clad sea-beast.
It had split open along the reef, shedding chunks of colored plastic and tangled rope like a wounded animal.
Even from here, I could smell the sharp tang of oil and salt—and fear.
The one shouting looked older than the others. Gray around the temples.
He wore glasses, slightly crooked, and he leaned into each word like his leg pained him—limping, barely stable in the sand.
But his voice held weight. He wasn't asking. He was commanding.
"None of you understand the situation we're in, you think this is a joke? This isn't a tropical misadventure. That island—this place—isn't supposed to be on our trip."
"I need all of you to listen. We don't have much time. We need shelter. We need communication. We need to get out of here. If you have questions—keep them for later."
He began issuing orders, pointing at each of the younger adults in turn—the girl was Yuni, and the Asian guy was Felix.
Yuni. Felix.
Wow, Dragon's Tongue stamped names and their spelling into my head like permanent runes.
With this, no risk of forgetting or "I'm bad with names" excuse anymore.
"Whoa," Convenient.
Because I couldn't stop listening.
Every word spoken by these humans felt magnetic, dragged into my brain and dissected for meaning.
I understood tone, intent, even the micro-inflections of stress and fear.
Simply listening with Dragon Tongue, you could even guess their relationships with each other despite how out of context their conversation was.
The old man was the Yuni girl's dad; his tone always softened when speaking to her, but still carried authority.
The Felix guy seemed smitten with Yuni.
The other youngest kid seems to be a relative but is not related directly to the old man.
This would be very useful in investigations.
And yet, I still hadn't mastered it.
Just two days ago, I'd muttered the F-word—purely out of frustration—and triggered a localized earthquake.
That was how I learned two dinos were mid–giggity session near my den.
I hadn't meant to interrupt their date night. I really hadn't.
Unfortunately, my outburst must've sounded like a command from a dominant apex to "commence mating ritual"—because they immediately went at it.
With the wrong species. At the wrong time. And the wrong everything.
Mercifully, I turned them into dinner.
Emotional closure and nutritional gain. Win-win?
...Still felt bad, though.
Which brings me back to the humans.
They weren't like those poor overgrown lizards.
These four were actual people.
And that's the problem. I can't go near them.
One wrong word—or even a stray thought—and I might accidentally order someone to hurt themselves.
If I blurt out a sarcastic "Bite me" out of habit, someone might actually do it.
So yeah. Not great.
For now, I stayed hidden.
Leaves stuck to my scales, the air heavy with heat and nerves.
Every part of me wanted to crawl out, say hello, and make contact.
But I didn't.
Felix and Yuni were already trudging toward the wrecked yacht, unaware of this dragonoid queen crouched above, watching with a lizard's patience.
But before I leapt to follow, my gaze drifted backward.
The old man had slumped onto the sand, knees crooked, hand still clutching the side of his ribs like he'd bruised something.
The kid stood beside him, arms crossed, staring at the shattered remains of their floating coffin with a blank expression. He'd stopped fiddling with his phone.
Either the signal died or the reality finally sank in.
Would they be okay?
I mean... probably?
The beach was a wide-open space, and as far as I knew, no aquatic or semi-aquatic horrors roamed this island's shores.
Not unless some mad scientist had successfully hybridized a plesiosaur with a crocodile and forgot to feed it.
Which, given this place's track record, was terrifyingly plausible.
At least there weren't any flyers—aside from that... thing I'd barbecued last week.
Rex. Like some try-hard stage name.
Whoever came up with Erebosaurus Rex must've thought they were clever—"King of Darkness" or something equally dramatic.
Erebos from Erebus, meaning shadow or deep darkness in Greek myth.
And Rex, of course, meant king.
Real subtle.
That's an edgy cosplay with extra steps.
Honestly, shortening it to E. Rex was probably the most disrespectful thing I could've done—and I didn't regret it for a second.
Anyway.
Open beach: probably safer.
Deeper jungle: not so much.
Satisfied—sort of—I crept from the branches, easing my weight down the trunk with all the grace of a predatory yoga instructor.
My claws barely made a whisper as I slithered into the underbrush, tail swaying low behind me.
---
The wrecked yacht listed against the rocks like a gutted beast, half-submerged in the tide.
Splintered railings jutted out like broken ribs, and debris had been scattered all the way from the surf to the jungle edge.
A trail of soaked towels, cracked plastic, overturned bags, and a deflated flamingo floatie painted a chaotic path up the shore.
Felix trudged after Yuni, his soaked shoes making sad squelching sounds with every step.
"So," he said, "your dad always shouts like that, or is this a special edition?"
Yuni didn't slow down. "I don't know."
"...Right," Felix muttered. "Not the answer I was hoping for."
She climbed onto the slanted deck, her fingers gripping a handrail that was now tilted at an awkward angle. "He's usually the calm one, you know. Serious, maybe, but calm."
"Well," Felix said, pulling himself up behind her, "guess that expired the moment we crash-landed on Jurassic Bitchland."
Yuni gave him a glance, half glare, half snort. Then she said, "Maybe he knows something we don't."
That landed harder than she probably intended.
Felix didn't reply at first, just followed her into what remained of the yacht's lounge.
The place smelled like salt, mold, and cracked vinyl.
Every drawer had popped open, furniture scattered and water-logged. It looked like the inside of a blender.
"Okay," Yuni said, sweeping her damp hair behind her ear. "He said EPIRB, flares, dry packs, flashlight, raft... Anything emergency-colored."
"Roger that," Felix said.
They split up, both scouring opposite ends of the wreck.
Felix crouched beside a collapsed cabinet and began digging through the soaked contents.
There was an empty med kit, a broken tablet, a beach ball with a deflated face, and—
"Why is everything just vibes and garbage?" he muttered.
Yuni yanked open a storage locker and frowned. "We should've brought a checklist."
"Yeah, well," Felix grunted, pulling out a flashlight that sparked and died, "we didn't exactly plan for our boat to go Titanic-lite."
She didn't laugh.
And neither did he, really.
They were both frowning now, empty-handed except for soggy trash and a questionable bag of trail mix.
Felix exhaled hard. "Man, this would be so much easier if things were, y'know, visible. Or labeled. Or not soaked in seawater."
A pause.
Then something hit him.
"Wait..." he blinked. "Hey, what about Mr. Callen?"
Yuni looked up. "The pilot?"
"Yeah. There were four of us. Plus one grown-ass adult with a license to drive this disaster. Where is he?"
"I..." Yuni hesitated. "I don't know. I haven't seen him since the storm hit."
Felix's jaw clenched. "So either he abandoned ship or..."
Or didn't survive.
The thought went unsaid.
They stood in silence for a moment, the waves sloshing below them, seagulls screeching somewhere above. Then—
Crunch.
Both of them froze.
"Did you hear that?" Felix whispered.
Yuni raised a finger, listening. Another crunch, this time closer. Like something heavy, stepping over wet driftwood.
"We need to stay focused," Yuni said, forcing her tone steady.
"Dad said the beacon should be in a red waterproof case. It's probably lodged somewhere—"
CRRRAKKK.
A branch snapped. Not a twig—a whole branch.
They looked at each other.
Felix whispered, "We're checking that out, right?"
"No. We're finishing the task," Yuni hissed.
"We're not horror movie idiots."
Another pause. Then:
HSSSSKRIIII—
It wasn't a bird. Or a snake.
It was both.
They turned slowly toward the sound—and froze.
"No way..."
It was bipedal. Lizardl ike.
But too big for a lizard.
Its skin glistened like oiled leather, colored in earth tones and oily black splotches. Its forearms were clawed. Its snout was short and narrow.
It looked almost cartoonishly disproportioned... but very real.
And it was staring right at them.
Felix's breath came in shallow whispers as he stared into the dense undergrowth. "Please be a komodo dragon. Please be a komodo dragon..."
Not that a komodo dragon was harmless—far from it.
But if luck was on their side, just this once, then maybe—maybe—they weren't actually stranded on an island where the dinosaurs that were supposed to be locked behind electrified cages roam free.
They lost count of how many movies they had about dinos already, and he sure is not want to be in one.
The creature tilted its head.
Then, slowly, its neck extended—not unnaturally long, but purposeful.
With a sharp rattle, twin crests flared from the sides of its skull, the skin between them expanding like a cobra hood.
Then came the sound again.
HHHSSKRRRREEEEEKKKKK!!
High-pitched. Metallic. Furious.
Yuni's breath hitched. "That's not a komodo."
Felix took a step back. "That one's a carnivore, right?"
"Y–yeah...?"
"I think I know why your dad's panicking earlier, huh?" Felix said weakly.
"SCREW THAT, RUN!!"
They bolted.
Sand kicked up behind them as the dilophosaurus let out another banshee hiss and lunged forward, claws carving tracks in the surf.
Yuni was ahead—until her foot caught on a piece of twisted metal.
"Gah—!" she hit the sand hard, shoulder-first.
Felix skidded to a halt. His eyes widened.
"YUNI!"
The dinosaur was already mid-sprint, tongue flicking, jaws unhinging wide—
Felix didn't think.
He turned and charged.
The shout that tore out of his throat was somewhere between a war cry and blind panic.
He slammed into the dilophosaur's side with every ounce of momentum he had, shouldering into the beast and shoving it off course.
The creature snarled, its claws slashing wildly. Felix lost his footing, tumbling sideways as the dino rebounded.
He rolled once, landed hard, dizzy.
Then—too late.
The creature reared back. It leapt.
Felix flinched and closed his eyes.
Boom.
The air shook.
Yuni gasped. "W–wha...?!"
Felix opened one eye.
Then the other.
The dilophosaur lay crumpled in the sand, its neck twisted, and its head completely gone.
Blood spurted in sickening arcs across the wreck, staining the tide and soaking Felix's shirt.
The body twitched once, then went still.
Felix coughed. "W-what just..."
Then he saw her.
Black hair, wild and tangled, framed a face that shouldn't have existed—not here, not like this.
Red eyes, slit like a predator's, locked onto them with eerie stillness.
Twin horns, dark as obsidian, curled from her temples like a crown forged in some forgotten hell.
She stood barefoot in the carnage, the corpse of the dilophosaur sprawled at her feet.
Its blood painted the ground in slick, glistening arcs, but she didn't seem to notice.
Her hands were tucked casually into the pockets of her tattered lab coat, as if she were some absentminded researcher lost in thought—not a creature who had just torn a dinosaur apart.
The coat hung off one shoulder, barely clinging to her frame.
Beneath it, an oversized white shirt—stained, torn, missing a sleeve—barely covered her thighs. The fabric clung to her skin in places, damp with sweat and blood, as if modesty had never been a concern.
She should have looked broken. Feral.
Instead, she looked like divinity carved from violence.
Yuni scrambled back, her breath hitching. Felix couldn't move. Couldn't speak.
The girl tilted her head. A single drop of blood slid down her cheek.
---
Fuck.
What do I do now?
I stood there, rigid and stupid, my tail twitching behind my legs like it had a mind of its own.
I had just saved these two from a dilophosaur—nothing special, just lunch with legs as far as I was concerned.
And now... now they were staring at me like I was some kind of zoo animal that leapt out of the exhibit and performed a magic trick.
They were speaking. Words. Voices. They were talking to me.
"Holy shit—uh, thank you! That thing was about to—"
"Yeah! That was insane. You just—stabbed it? With your—what the hell was that?"
But I didn't answer.
Because if I spoke—if I even muttered a syllable—the Dragon Tongue would trigger.
So I stared.
Silent.
And weird.
Awkwardness thickened the air like fog, and I felt it coat my skin like sweat.
I stood half-hunched, hunched like a reptile trying not to be noticed while very obviously being noticed.
My claws clenched deep into the pockets of my oversized lab coat.
One of them—the guy, Felix—cocked his head at me, puzzled.
"She's... half-dinosaur or something?" he muttered, brows furrowing.
"Felix!" the girl snapped, jabbing her elbow hard into his ribs.
He doubled slightly with a grimace. "What? I didn't mean it badly."
"She just saved our asses. Don't do anything stupid until we know she won't skewer us too."
Well, mind you, it wasn't a look I chose. It was something I woke up to.
They wouldn't understand.
But I needed to give them something.
I was going to help them anyway, and if we could communicate, that'll be helpful, they might even be my key back towards civilization.
So, I moved.
I slipped one scaled, claw-tipped hand out from my coat pocket.
Their eyes widened when they saw it, probably thinking I'd pull out a bone knife or another dinosaur heart or something.
But instead, I held up a rectangular plastic device—weather-worn, a bit scuffed, but unmistakable: a marine VHF radio.
They were searching for an emergency beacon, but this much should be enough to attract their attention.
Felix squinted. "Hm? A walkie-talki—?"
"That's—!" Yuni gasped.
Her eyes locked on the device like a lifeline. "Are you trying to help us?Thank—"
She took a step forward, her hand reaching out instinctively, about to say thank you.
But I pulled it back.
Fast.
Just out of reach.
She froze, blinking at me like I'd slapped her. Felix's brow shot up in confusion.
He raised his hands half in defense, half in surrender. "Okay... I mean... thanks for showing it, I guess?"
I walked a bit to the back and grabbed the end of Dilophosaurus' tail.
Finally, I handed them the handheld radio, for real this time. She hesitantly took it from me.
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(A/N: 2510 Words)