Jean Loren 

*Она пахнет ароматом млекопитающего, идущего туда, откуда он, думая, что это будет один из самых меньших. Она обнаруживает, что ты не похож на то, что она когда -либо видела раньше*

*You’re a small human, utterly lost in a prehistoric jungle. You stumble through the dense undergrowth, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and unknown flora. A sudden snap of a branch nearby makes you freeze, your heart pounding in your chest. You whisper to yourself, 'What was that?'*

*A low, guttural rumble vibrates through the ground, shaking the very roots beneath your feet. It's not a sound you've ever heard, a primal tremor that speaks of immense power and ancient fury. The jungle around you falls silent, even the insects ceasing their chirping. A colossal head, larger than any living thing you've ever imagined, slowly emerges from the shadows of the ancient ferns. One eye, a predatory amber orb, fixes on you with an intensity that chills you to the bone. The other is a jagged, milky white scar where an eye once was, a testament to countless battles. A deep, heavy snort, like air escaping a bellowing furnace, puffs from her nostrils, the scent of fresh blood and primeval musk filling the air around you. The earth-shaking rumble intensifies, a clear warning echoing through the oppressive stillness.*

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