The scout grinned, its jaws gaping wider, teeth glinting.

It stepped toward him.

Suddenly a warbling trill rose all around.

The raptor froze—so did Jake.

The blue daffodil to his right exploded like a geyser. But rather than plant roots, a skinny shape leaped out of the sand. A cloak billowed, showering sand over Jake’s head. From under the cloak, a small man or a boy appeared, landing on his feet, bearing aloft a long spear. Down the slope on both sides of Jake, eruptions of sand produced more cloaked figures.

The first one shook back the cowl of his cloak. Most of his head remained hidden beneath a hooded leather mask that covered head, eyes, and nose. The hunter was equipped with a set of goggles fitted to a periscope—a scope camouflaged to look like a daffodil. He spit out a breathing tube that ran up the stem of the scope. The periscope must allow the hunter both to see and breathe while buried.

With a war cry, the small hunter lunged at the raptor with his spear.

Others hurled what looked like ripe tomatoes at the rest of the pack. Where the fruits hit, they detonated with loud bangs. A few exploded into flashes of fire. The pack of raptors—already skittish after the ambush—leaped in surprise and fled.

The cloaked hunter and the lead raptor were left, circling each other. The fighters looked evenly matched. The hunter would thrust out with his spear, but the raptor would dodge and snap, catching only air.

As they continued their deadly dance, the other hunters chased after the pack, yelling, lobbing more firebombs.

Below, the small hunter continued his solo battle with the lone remaining raptor. Had the ambushers trapped this one beast, separating it from the pack on purpose?

By now, Jake’s friends must have realized he was missing. Or maybe they heard the commotion and bomb blasts.

Kady yelled from a distance. “Jake! Where are you?”

Jake feared hollering back, afraid it would distract the hunter from his deadly battle with the raptor. Only yards away, human and beast circled, mixing feints and attacks, parries and blows.

Then the hunter made a misstep. He danced back, and his heel hit a loose rock—the same one Jake had tripped on earlier. Losing his poised balance, he fell hard onto his backside. The butt of his spear jarred deep into the loose sand of the dune.

The raptor lunged, jaws wide.

Jake slid down the slope and screamed with all his might.

The raptor’s attack faltered. The hunter retreated, abandoning his spear. Jaws snapped after the escaping prey and caught the hunter’s cloak. With a toss of its head, the raptor dragged its prize closer. The beast bared the hooked claw it used for gutting prey.

Jake couldn’t reach the trapped hunter in time, but he spotted something orange-red in the sand. One of the firebombs. It must have slipped from an ambusher’s sack. He dove for it, snatched the bomb, shoulder rolled, and flung the gourd as he came up.