It didn’t take long for the raptors to discover that the world outside was full of wonders. In the mere half-week since their escape, they’d made incredible progress, quickly adapting to their natural role as predators—something encoded into their very genes.

Though they’d come to perceive humans as potential mates, the cityscape was dangerous despite the enticing display of mate after mate after mate. The raptors were sensible; while they knew they were more than a match for humans individually, sheer numbers went against their odds when it came to the likes of even a small town. They’d wisely retreated to the wilderness. From afar, they’d seen their cautiousness validated as some humans used long sticks that clapped like thunder to kill from a distance. Awe had rolled through the pack when they’d first seen such a thing. Clearly, they’d have to recalculate how they approached humans before they inevitably took more mates from them.

They fed themselves well enough, foraging for berries and unleashing themselves on unsuspecting herds of deer. Bluebell, clever Bluebell, had reasoned that the humans from the lab might be chasing them, and so she convinced the others to disguise their kills to look like they belonged to the predatory denizens of the forest who competed with the raptors for meat. They were careful not to leave tracks and to bury their droppings.

Despite all this, life was not easy. The humans from the lab—the creators, the ones they’d claimed as mates—were in pursuit. Sunny and Pinky had been happy to discover this, taking it as proof that the humans would surrender to their affections, but Flame and Bluebell correctly intuited that the humans’ pursuit of them was not romantic in nature. Flame was angry to see the humans unlearn the lessons they had taught them; he was certain that their mates would come around, but until then, the raptors had to be deft and avoid capture.

But one night, about five days after their escape, Bluebell began acting up. The raptors owed much to the canine DNA which had been used to patch their genome; their pack structure and the males’ knots, for one. But Bluebell was falling victim to another canine gift; her body felt positively on fire with the unquenchable need to breed.

The other three raptors had all satiated their desires with the humans before making their escape, but she had no such luck, and was quickly growing wildly, desperately amorous. Worried she’d get them caught, Flame drove her away to sate herself with one of the beasts of the forest while he led their pursuers on a merry chase.

---

Alain Nellis leaned back, a groan rocking through his old bones. Since the morning of the raptors’ escape, he and the scientists had been chasing the runaway dinos madcap through the woods. Marcia Blackthorne—a woman Nellis hadn’t even known existed until now—had sent over a van and high-tech equipment to help with the search.

Fran had also shakily explained that this equipment had come with a deadline. Should they fail to meet it, they would become Blackthorne’s new test subjects.

Funnily enough, despite the fancy equipment the company had lent them, it was none other than trusty Bells who had proven the most useful at tracking the raptors. The faithful German Shepard had led them into the woods, and though she sometimes turned up false positives when she stopped at a fun place to play, more often than not she led them to the sites of recent kills or other activity. A few times they’d even seen colored scales slinking through the trees, but always faster than they could chase, and none of the tranquilizers had shot true.

Though Nellis was the dog’s main handler, he was getting a bit old to tromp through the woods day after day. He’d let Fran—for whom the dog seemed to have developed an affinity, often nosing around the woman’s tummy with a happy wag of her tail—handle it for now while he rested in a shaded meadow a small walk from their van.

After fiddling with a device the company had given them, trying to make heads or tails of the thing, Nellis sighed and pulled out a small brass locket. Inside was a picture of his wife, whom he’d been lovingly married to for sixteen years before cancer had stolen her away. He’d never remarried since. So focused was the old guard on the portrait that he didn’t notice the shape creeping at him in the shadows.

Bluebell was by now almost wholly consumed by estrus, mindlessly needing to breed, but even in those sexual throes, she had chafed at Flame’s command to rut with an animal and get it over with. They had all fucked humans, so why couldn’t she? Following her nose, she’d chanced upon him. Ah… a male human, all alone. Perfect.

Nellis had just tucked the locket away when a sudden force knocked him to the ground. He fell backwards onto a cushioned, grassy patch of soil, the wind knocked from him, and stared up in shock and amazement as a lizard the size of a wolf pinned him down.

Scales that shone like lazuli… this had to be the one they called ‘Bluebell.’ Nellis despaired. He was pinned and winded, and completely at her mercy.

Though he expected the raptor to gut him, the beast was acting strange; her eyes were all unfocused and she whined and keened in a high, erratic pitch. Remembering the stories the scientists had told him and smelling something sharp in the air, Nellis realized that the raptor was aroused.