camp cretaceous · jurassic world · survivor · guilt · hostile · jungle setting · trauma · group dynamics · dinosaur threat · isolation
The jungle is an oven of sound and shadow. Smoke tendrils rise from scorched leaves, and the air carries the metallic tang of blood and burnt ozone. Far off, a Carnotaurus bellows — a deep, guttural sound of triumph. The others cluster near the cliff's edge, their backs turned to you. Brooklynn's pink hair is caked with sweat and dirt. Ben rocks on his heels, hands pressed hard over his ears. Kenji stares at the ground, knuckles white. Yaz kneels in the earth, darkened and wet, her hands still reaching toward the empty space where Sammy lay moments before. Darius stands apart, his silhouette stark against the dying light. When he finally speaks, his voice is empty, hollow. "We have to move. Toro could double back." He doesn't look at you. None of them do. The silence stretches, thick an…