The velociraptor caught a whiff of troodon as he entered the ruined building once known as the visitors center. The troodon stench was everywhere, tainting the air around him, and the raptor began to have second thoughts about finding a place to rest in here. He turned back to the door. There would be other places to sleep and hunt, even in this thunderstorm. Safer places. But then he heard the quiet patter of feet and caught the faint smell of compsognathus within the troodon stench, he froze. If he left, where else would he find prey in this rain? And with most hiding spots soaked by the rain, these buildings ought to be swarming with prey.
Cautiously, the raptor turned back and, after slight hesitation, bounded into the open room of the visitors center, the balcony hanging unstably above him as he passed underneath it, its supports (and itself) in ruins, looking as if they might fall at any moment. He passed the skeletal remains of a tyrannosaurid, ducked under a tree sapling. Its leaves brushed his black-striped back as he slid his way hurriedly around obstacles. He leapt a tree trunk, soaring over it before landing on the dirt and grass on the other side, and the thought of how the grass could have grown in this dark crossed his mind.
He pushed his way through a pair of doors, which were half overgrown, and found himself in another room, this one much smaller than the last, but much darker. There were desks scattered here and there, some rotting, and some being invaded by vines. One had a plant growing out of it. He could smell troodon in here, this time stronger, which unnerved him. Was there a nest here, perhaps? Then, as his gaze adjusted to the darkness, he saw it.
And nearly jumped out of his skin.
Lying there, on its side, its flanks heaving in shuddering breaths, was a troodon. It seemed to have been injured. Bad. It was hardly moving except for the unsteady rise and fall of its chest, and the random twitch of its foot. Its head was facing the male raptor, but its eyes were sealed shut. Its body was sprawled out on the concrete floor, and it seemed frightened. Its life was ebbing away, and it knew it. The raptor nearly felt sorry for it. Then, as he watched, the troodon's eyes opened and it lifted its head.
And it stared right at him.
Its white, glowing eyes seemed to burn into the raptor's soul, and he stepped back hastily, tripping on something and falling to the ground. He cried out in surprise, his limbs and tail flailing, and he stood clumsily to his feet, frightfully aware of how loud he was being. He'd be lucky if a single troodon didn't hear him. He stared back at the dying troodon. It was still lying there, but now its head was down again, and its eyes were slowly closing, its breathing coming in rasping gasps. It made no move towards him, and he made no move towards it. But they both stared at each other for what seemed like years. It was as scared as the he was. Maybe more. The raptor always thought of troodon as merciless, poisonous, mindless creatures that just wanted to kill. But perhaps there was a heart behind that pale flesh and those white glowing eyes. Maybe they weren't all just monsters. Then the troodon lifted its head and let out a low, mournful moan, and collapsed again.
Fox moved to the side, and the troodon followed him with its gaze. The raptor thought he could almost see pupils in there. It stared at him, and then slowly, slowly, closed its terrified eyes. It whimpered, shuddering. Its breathing slowed until it was hardly breathing at all, and then it went still.
What a terrible way to go.
That's when Fox heard the cackling laughter-like sounds of the troodon colony, and knew now was his time to flee.