Chapter 22: Readers Only Need the Title, But an Author Has Plenty to Consider

Ceratosaurus One returned to his habitat to find Ceratosaurus Two already waiting for him, a Parasaurolophus leg clamped firmly in her jaws.

Their ruse was simple, perhaps even infantile to a human or to Carlo, but for a Carnotaurus, it was just right. 

As Ceratosaurus One approached, Ceratosaurus Two took the initiative, dropping the leg on the ground to let him eat first. Although she had exerted considerable effort tearing the limb from the carcass, she knew it paled in comparison to the tension Ceratosaurus One had endured while facing off against the Carnotaurus. 

As for Ceratosaurus One, while he had been sent tumbling, there was a heavy element of performance in that roll; it was a calculated move to keep the Carnotaurus's attention pinned. The Carnotaurus had been misled by Ceratosaurus One's size, viewing him as a genuine rival for the kill, which made him overly cautious and gave Ceratosaurus Two the space she needed to operate.

Once Ceratosaurus One began to feed, Ceratosaurus Two dropped her reservations and leaned in to join him.

The two theropods pulled simultaneously, ripping a massive chunk of flesh from the bone. Sinew snapped, and blood slicked their muzzles, sliding down the raw meat before dripping from the center. Ceratosaurus One and Ceratosaurus Two locked eyes, looking for all the world like a couple sharing a single Pocky stick.

Romance among carnivores is a grounded, unpretentious affair, though, admittedly, it wasn't much of a "good time" for the Parasaurolophus.

A moment later, they pulled with a synchronized jerk, tearing the thigh muscle apart. A fresh spray of blood intensified their feeding frenzy. Virgin-dino One felt a wave of shyness; he looked away, unable to meet her gaze, yet secretly hoping for another "moment" like that.

Neither Ceratosaurus had successfully made a kill on their own today, but their cooperation had pushed their relationship to a new level. It was safe to assume that when mating season arrived, Ceratosaurus One's courtship would be exceptionally smooth.

He can do it! He can easily do it, damn it!

…

Dr. Grant stood before the monitors in silence. In his mind, he was applauding, a quiet sense of awe washing over him.

"Brilliant."

He wasn't admiring the Ceratosaurs' "tactic" specifically; he was admiring the dinosaur ecology as a whole.

For a long time, he had been trapped in a misconception. In his eyes, carnivores engaged in disputes to establish higher authority within a hunting ground. But he was wrong. Why would a carnivore need a hollow "throne"?

Certainly, if an ecosystem contains a true apex predator like a Tyrannosaurus rex, achieving that status is the ultimate prize. But what about the Ceratosaurus? Together, they could have fought the Carnotaurus, seized the entire kill, and taken the "top spot," but then what?

The Carnotaurus would always remain a challenger. If either Ceratosaurus were ever caught alone, the consequence wouldn't just be a loss of status; they would face the Carnotaurus's retaliation for stealing its food.

The Carnotaurus might not be as powerful as a T. rex, but it wasn't something a Ceratosaurus could push around at will. Two Ceratosaurs might not be able to kill a Carnotaurus, but one Carnotaurus could certainly kill one Ceratosaurus.

Lowering their ecological standing was their best survival strategy. This "theft" appeared to be a victory for the Ceratosaurs, but in reality, it was a triple win:

The Carnotaurus won once: He secured the higher ecological niche.

The Ceratosaurs won twice: They obtained food while avoiding further conflict.

"Haha, this is killing me! Those two are so smart."

Unlike Grant, most of the employees in the control room were simply marveling at the cooperation.

"Did anyone save that clip? That's 100% going into the documentary!"

Humans always forget to respect nature. For animals that exhibit surprising intelligence, they offer praise; for those that seem dim-witted, they offer mockery; for those that threaten them, they offer death.

Grant hadn't been afraid of these living dinosaurs once, or rather, he hadn't revered them, until he stood face-to-face with them. How many people could accept that a "stupid" animal could kill them as easily as a man kills an ant?

"Oh my god, the way those two Ceratosaurs are eating together is so romantic," a female employee sighed.

The comment drew several stares. To most, the scene was a gore-fest. Lady, you've got nerves of steel.

Suddenly, Grant spotted an anomaly. He turned to the staff, his voice urgent. "Enlarge the feed from Camera 14 in Sector 2! Now!"

On the big screen, a new window popped up, obscuring the "candlelit dinner" of the two Ceratosaurs.

Carlo was working hard, dragging the Triceratops carcass deep into the jungle. It was slow going and exhausting work, but he was determined.

"He's moving the body. Why?" a staff member asked.

"I don't know," Grant replied shortly, his eyes gleaming as he tracked Carlo's movements.

The Triceratops was massive. Even with portions already eaten, it was a heavy burden for Carlo. If he could have heard the humans' confusion, he would have told them: Why don't you go ask the "Magic Compsognathus"?

Compsognathids are the best scavengers in the dinosaur ecosystem, but they lack any sense of professional ethics. After all, if there's fresh meat available, who wants to eat carrion?

Carlo had seen those little thieves nibbling on his kill and decided to "pantry" the food in a tree. He had selected a crooked tree, reminiscent of an African acacia, located within their territory but a safe distance from their main nesting site. It was perfect.

Dragging it was manual labor, but he had infinite stamina! Hard work does not equal "tired" me.

The hollow in the crooked tree was two meters off the ground, but that didn't stop him. He had already finished off the meat along the Triceratops' spine, so he snapped the neck bone and, gripping the tail, began to strip the spinal column away.

One rib, two ribs... Is this the large intestine? Gross. That's a gift for the Compys.

"Is he... caching food?" Grant mused. It wasn't entirely strange; research suggested even the T. rex might have scavenged, and large carnivores having food-preservation habits wasn't unprecedented.

Carlo dismembered everything except the head and stashed the pieces in the tree. Standing three meters tall, the process was relatively easy. He left the scraps clinging to the bones and the entrails on the ground for the Compsognathus to deal with.

As for the Triceratops skull... well, he'd let the Compys clean it first. This was Carlo's first major trophy; he was going to take the bone home for his collection.

The brush rustled behind him. Carlo knew it was Caroline, likely following the drag marks.

"Roar…"

Caroline let out a low huff, visibly confused by Carlo's behavior. Carlo looked up and chirped an explanation. A look of genuine bewilderment flashed in her eyes.

We can do that?

Regardless of whether Giganotosaurus had a history of food caching, they did now.