It was a slow walk back to the camp. Ryan was worried about the possibility of further appearances from the Tyrannosaurus, although Cutter assured him that it had gone in the opposite direction. Nonetheless they were careful, the decreased light making all of them a little edgy. As it turned out, they met very little on the return journey, however. A young Torosaurus busy gnawing at a gnarled old walnut tree glowered at them as they approached, but made no real objection when they stopped to gather some of the nuts. It seemed more wary of their fire than it was of them, although when Cutter attempted to take its photograph with Stephen's mobile, it made a half-hearted attempt to eat the phone. Beyond that they saw nothing but a solitary Alphadon, scuttling about with its fur ruffled up against the cold, foraging for insects in what remained of the vegetation. Smoky eyed it suspiciously.

"Is that a rat?" he asked. Cutter shook his head.

"Not really. Anyway, it's cuter than a rat."

"Rats are pretty cute," said Stephen, and threw one of the walnuts at the creature. It snatched it up off the ground, then ran away to eat it in private. "All rodents are."

"You wouldn't think that if you'd slept in some of the places we have," said Smoky with feeling. Cutter smiled across at him.

"Try inadvertently sharing your tent with a hungry Capybara. Although to be fair, they really are cute. Helen didn't look too impressed, though."

"Actually, I thought at first that it was Helen," put in Stephen. Cutter laughed a little at that.

"At any rate, rodents are a fascinating group of animals. You should try to get to know them a little better, corporal."

"Maybe." Smoky sounded extremely doubtful, which clearly amused Ryan.

"Trapped in a world of giant carnivorous lizards, and it's rats that he's worried about. You're lucky that these two have signed the Official Secrets Act, sunshine. Otherwise you'd be bringing the British Army into disrepute."

"It's the whiskers," said Smoky. "Them and those tails. At least with a T rex you've only got to worry about the teeth."

"Speaking from recent experience," Cutter told him, "the teeth are more than enough. If it hadn't been for one very angry Alamosaurus, Stephen and I would have got rather too well acquainted with those teeth."

"He's about to regret not having been able to get one for closer study," said Ryan immediately. Cutter, who had already opened his mouth as though to continue, abruptly closed it again.

"Well it is a shame," he said in the end. Ryan laughed.

"Another day, professor," he said, clapping the older man on the shoulder. "Another anomaly."

"We've got to escape from this one first," pointed out Smoky. Ryan shrugged.

"Well if we stay here then there's even more opportunities to collect teeth, aren't there." He glanced up at the sky. "Come on now, folks. I've had enough of tramping about in the dark. It's long past due that we were back."

The campfire welcomed them long before any of their companions. Big and bright, it lit up the horizon, and encouraged them all to walk faster. By the time that they reached the camp, they had collected a small honour guard of soldiers, cheerfully detailing another attack from a band of Ryanosauruses. They had cooked a second, and it was over a meal of walnuts and roasted dinosaur that the little band of explorers related some of their adventures. Pressed into it by Smoky, Cutter told the tale of their encounter with the Tyrannosaurus, although his heart was really not in it. His mind kept being drawn to the Parasaurolophuses, and particularly the babies. None of it really seemed a matter for rowdy fireside chat. When the story came to its end, Ryan shook his head.

"I distinctly remember telling you both to be careful," he said. Cutter smiled a little, his mind drawn back over all that he had seen.

"It wasn't all bad," he affirmed, somewhat sleepily. Neither he nor Stephen had mentioned their rescue of the small creature that had been stuck in the mud. Somehow, by unspoken agreement, they had decided to keep it between themselves. Ryan looked sceptical.

"I'd rate nearly being eaten as fairly high on the list of bad things. Still, we'll save that argument for another time. We've walked for miles, and we need some rest, or we're going to be good for nothing. Winchester?"

"Sir?" The sergeant was seated nearby, clearly in charge of maintaining the fire.

"Wake us in a few hours, or if something tries to eat us. In the meantime, try to keep this lot quiet for a bit. I could sleep for a week."

"Sir." Winchester repeated the order for silence at such volume that it rather negated itself. "Don't worry. Quiet as mice, us."

"Yeah," muttered Ryan, settling himself down on the hard ground. "Giant prehistoric mice. And nobody tell me there's no such thing."

"Please do," put in Smoky. Stephen smiled.

"Stick around here for long enough, and you never know what you might find. Sleep well, though, hey." A stone's throw away, Smoky began to settle down, and appeared to give no answer. He said something, however, as he lay back and closed his eyes. To the soldiers scattered around, it sounded like a rather resigned "Bastard."

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