The river led them out of the forest, winding out onto fern-covered plains. The stream had narrowed here considerably, until it had become more like a creek with slow-moving, crystal clear water. They could see fish swimming near the bottom - some like the coelacanth they'd been catching, and others that looked a little more familiar. Far away, they could see a herd of grazing dinosaurs that Micky called 'parasaurolophus.' Once, they'd even seen a large group of long-necked monsters they all recognized; Peter called them 'brontosaurus,' but Micky said that they were probably brachiosaurs, given the time period they were in. Davy and Mike just agreed that it was just very cool.

It was all very beautiful, although without the shade of the trees around them, the sun seemed abnormally hot. Micky attempted to cheer them up by noting that having a sunburn from prehistoric times would be pretty neat, although his voice really did nothing to make anyone feel better.

"We shoulda just gone back the way we came," Mike said. "Woulda only taken us a few hours." He glanced back at Davy, who'd stopped to rest again. Even with the crutch Peter had made for him, staying on his feet was getting harder and harder. Even so, Mike had to hand it to their diminutive percussionist - he wasn't complaining, and he really, honestly tried to keep going as long as he could.

"Don't forget, mate," Davy said, out of breath. "We're still gonna have to make camp again before mornin' I'd rather be by this li'l stream here than next to -what was that thing again, Micky?"

He shrugged. "Not sure. Some sort of relative of spinosaurus, but it was pretty small. Doesn't mean anything, though, 'cuz I'm sure there's a bunch of dinosaurs that haven't been discovered yet. Hah. We mighta been the first to see a new species."

"Dangerous, though?"

"Oh yeah."

Davy nodded, leaning on Peter, who'd sat down just behind him. "That's all I need to know."

Mike, shielding his eyes from the sun with one hand, pointed across the plain to a rise in the topography, where a sheer rock wall cast shade onto the ground. "Guys, I think that's where we're goin'. The river opens up a bit in… Oh, about a mile, then I bet we'll find that hill Micky fell down right on the other side of that wall."

For awhile, they talked about where they'd make camp. Far enough from the irritating dinosaur that lived in the deep water of the river close to where they'd arrived, but close enough so that they could reach the apparition of home before it faded away in the daylight. They'd have to get closer before they decided on an exact place, but Mike thought the shady area under the rock wall looked fairly promising.

They heard a soft hooting nearby. High-pitched, almost like a songbird. At first, they thought nothing of it.

"Hey, why d'you suppose those guys out there don't have feathers, while Fido here does?" Peter asked. He was trying to keep the little dinosaur out of the water, but it seemed the little guy had become absolutely enamored by the fish. He kept trying to catch one.

"You mean the parasaurs?" Micky asked. "It's just like back home. Some animals have fur or feathers, others have scales. Don't forget, Peter, most of the animals around now are dinosaurs. They kinda have to fill every niche nature has to offer."

Again, they heard the hooting. It was fairly distant, back in the treeline some few thousand feet away.

Euugh-oo. Weuu-oo.

Fido's head snapped up, a small fish in his jaws. He swallowed it whole, and then responded to the call.

uu-ghoo. Euu-woo.

Peter, oblivious, said, "Hey, everyone, Fido's like a little parrot!"

Mike, however, was looking toward the trees. He could see their eyes - brightly-shining pinpricks, catching the afternoon sun despite how currently distant they were. They moved among the trunks, some stepping out into the light…

There were so many of them.

"Guys, I don't mean to alarm anyone, but we gotta get goin'. Peter, keep that thing quiet!"

"What's goin' on, Mike?" Peter asked, hoisting the little dinosaur onto his shoulder.

The adult deinonychus, having heard the return call of the little one, were all cautiously retreating from the safety of the trees. Rather than being cloaked in the dull colors of the infant, these were all quite spectacularly beautiful - half of them were a crimson red, while the other half were cerulean blue.

"Mick, help me with Davy," Mike said, his eyes on the deadly flock as he wrapped one arm under Davy's shoulder. Micky took the injured boy's other arm, and together, they pulled him to his feet.

By now, a group of at least twenty had gathered outside the forest, and the call came again.

Eeeuw-woo. Hooo-woo.

Fido squeaked, but one look from Peter kept the little guy quiet.

But the flock was relentless. A couple of them hooted again, and when they received no reply, a bark-like call emanated from several in the group.

"Shall we run in terror, then?" Micky asked.

"Oh yes, let's," Mike replied.

Suspending Davy between them, Mike and Micky started off toward the rock wall in the distance, with Peter following close behind. It seemed like a horrible choice of direction, except for the fact that it was the only option they really had. To the left was the river, behind them were the raptors, and if they went right, Mike was absolutely sure they'd run into the very place where they'd met up with the giant dino-crocodile that tried to eat them minutes after they'd arrived.

"They're getting closer!" Peter cried. Mike picked up the pace, but given the fact that they were practically carrying Davy, they couldn't go much faster.

"Maybe there'll be caves in the rock!" Mike said, trying to sound hopeful. He could see a few darker areas - maybe somewhere they could hide until the pack of predators decided to move onto other things.

As they neared the rock face, though, it became quite obvious that the depressions he'd seen there were far too shallow for them to use to escape. They might be able to delay their demise for a minute or two, but ultimately, they'd fall prey to the deinonychus that were chasing them.

But it was too late to change their course. As they neared the cliff wall, some members of the flock branched off, closing them in from all sides and forming a semi-circle around them. Without any escape, the Monkees found themselves backed up against the rockface, with the entire pack of raptors looking far more dangerous and imposing than the small creature that was still perched on Peter's shoulder. Micky, never the brave sort, half-hid behind Mike as the dinosaurs cautiously closed the distance between them; Davy had let go of them both, and stood with one hand on the rock, the other on Peter's shoulder.

"Not ready to die," Micky whimpered.

Mike had nothing to say to that. Somewhere in his mind was a little voice urging him to tell Micky not to be such a wimp, but it somehow felt as it it would be a little hypocritical to vocalize it, considering his own knees were shaking. He couldn't even manage to say something profound, like 'it's been an honor working with all of you,' because his mouth was dry, and he felt like he was about to throw up.

One of the crimson deinonychus stepped forward. Her color was a little darker, much less showy than the brilliant blue creatures that stood here and there among the others. Still, despite this, she had the same blue patches around her eyes that Fido had.

She hooted softly.

Fido replied, wiggling excitedly on Peter's shoulder before he jumped off, onto the dusty ground. Peter tried to catch him, but as soon as he reached one hand forward, the crimson deinonychus snarled. The sound was so terrible, that Mike couldn't help a high-pitched squeal of terror.

The baby trotted up to its mother, and the two touched noses. It would have been sweet, except for the fact that it was only prolonging the inevitable. With nowhere else to go, the future looked pretty bleak and very painful. Perhaps with so many of them, it would all be over fairly quickly, although Mike couldn't help a glance down at the scythe-claw on the feet of each member of the flock. That would hurt, whether it ended up being over quickly or not.

The infant's mother turned, barking once to the others, who stirred restlessly. Some of them started forward, although they seemed confused by the appearance of their quarry, and never made it more than a few steps. Eventually, though, this dance would end. In preparation, Mike slung the guitar off his back, ready to use it as a weapon. He would mourn the loss of Blondie if they made it out of this alive.

The crimson leader finally leaped toward them, and Mike, the will to fight suddenly gone, turned toward Micky at the same time Micky threw his arms around him, and somewhere, in the middle of it all, one of them brushed the strings of the guitar and played a weak rendition of a chord.

A few seconds later, they found themselves uneaten. Curiosity getting the better of him, Mike peered over his sleeve to find the entire flock staring at him and the guitar.

Micky whispered, "Play somethin'," Mike!"

At the moment, he wasn't completely sure that he could. His entire knowledge of how to actually play the guitar had abandoned him in order to make room for all the terror. Even so, he forced his fingers to find the right frets, and played another chord. And another. Until he realized that he was playing 'I Wanna be Free.'

Micky tapped his foot on the ground and smacked the cliffside with his palm, improvising a drum beat. Eventually, Davy began to sing, and while his voice wasn't at its best, it wasn't horrible, either. Without a bass, Peter improvised a low harmony.

And the dinosaurs, completely still, listened.

One of them tilted its head. Some of them swayed in time with the music.

Had it not been a completely serious situation, the boys would have found it ridiculous and almost comical - here they were, playing a gig for prehistoric animals.

Were they animals?

As he played, he could see something in their eyes - an understanding, an appreciation of this unknown thing that they were hearing. The boys weren't just soothing the savage beast here, it seemed. They were introducing these thinking, feeling creatures to the wonders of music.

But the song came to an end, and Mike couldn't for the life of him, come up with anything else to play. Even as the crimson female with the bright blue eyepatches approached him, he couldn't make himself remember anything else from their library of songs. His fingers still grasped the neck of the guitar as if they were stuck there, as he finally came face to face with the large deinonychus.

She turned her head to the side, observing him, one red eye focused on his brown ones. How could he not appreciate the intelligence therein, even though he was sure he was about to die? Mike waited for it, anticipating her teeth around his neck - maybe, as smart as she was and as entranced by the song as she'd become, she'd do them all a favor and make their deaths quick and painless.

But then, he heard a chord.

He hadn't played it.

The dinosaur was looking down at the strings, one claw hanging off the bottom one as her eyes turned to Mike's fingers on the neck of the guitar. She grunted. Almost mechanically, he moved his grasp a couple frets downward, and the crimson female strummed the guitar again.

"…Clever girl," Davy said.

She continued to play with the strings as Mike moved his fingers. Eventually, together, they managed to put together an interesting melody; the female deinonychus apparently had an ear for music.

After a while, she either grew bored with the guitar, or decided she'd heard enough. Rather than make the boys into dinner, though, she turned and hooted at the others, who immediately turned and ran off toward the distant trees. Gently, she picked Fido up in her jaws, and with one last look back at Michael and his guitar, followed them away.

"What just happened" Mike asked, numbly.

"The coolest thing I've ever seen or will see in my whole life," Micky breathed. He slid down the rock face to the ground, closing his eyes and twining his fingers in his hair.

"Good thing we didn't rip apart the guitar," Mike said, relaxing slightly now that the danger had passed. "'else we'da been goners. Knew I kept her around for somethin'." Smiling weakly, he patted old Blondie, sitting down next to Micky. He elbowed the other boy, adding, "Next time ah tell ya we ain't pullin' the strings off my guitar…"

"Won't argue. I swear."

"Good."

Neither of them missed the fact that Peter was crying softly. Davy was gently rubbing the bass player's back.

"I knew I couldn't keep 'im," Peter moaned. "But— I didn't even get to say goodbye!"