Atticus was the one who had made the decision to follow it. Cade did not resist the choice. In part because he was already exhausted, his legs aching from the walking. Too tired to continue through the heavy bush, and too tired to argue with the ex-commander.

It was strange, but his legs still ached from his time in the land of the Tritons. Months had passed for the others, yet for Cade it had been a few days. He was fortunate that his wrist seemed to be healing swiftly, now only hurting when he touched the livid, pink-scarred skin, rather than each time he moved his arm.

With each step, Cade examined the footprints, making sure that the trail was safe. Or as safe as you could be with herbivores out there—certainly he wouldn’t describe an elephant in the wild as safe, and the herbivores here were equipped with far more than tusks.

A stegosaurus alone could use its tail spikes to punch through a stone wall if it was so inclined, and the snap of a sauropod’s tail would knock one of the sequoias toppling. Not to mention the ceratopsians, with their spiked, shield-like heads and horns like a bull on steroids.

Still, Cade’s initial impressions were good, the ground mostly engraved with the great, round indents of long-necked sauropods and the chicken-like hopscotch of small, birdlike dinosaurs. The latter, he guessed, were the Compsognathus-type dinosaurs that Quintus had lived off at Hueitapalan.

As for creatures, they hardly saw anything at all. Only the flitting of flying beasts high above, and the rustle of leaves in the undergrowth.

For though the legionaries had tried to dampen the clanking of their armor and the shine of the metal, the tramp of their feet, coughs, snorts, and swears meant they made more noise than a school canteen.

Any animals that were predated upon would be giving the approaching sound a wide berth. Unfortunately it wasn’t these animals Cade was concerned about.

And then, he saw it. A muddy print, almost lost in the mud, trodden into near oblivion by the boots of the legionaries in front of him.

But the three-pronged print was unmistakable. A theropod. Large enough to fit a car tire within it. He didn’t know how old it was, nor what beast had made it, just that it was definitely a carnosaur. And he only knew that much because he had seen one just like it in the sands of the arena.

“Atticus!” Cade called.

The man at the front stopped, a frown of annoyance on his face as he stalked back to Cade. Yet to his credit, he crouched to observe the footprint. Even measured it with the span of his hand, giving a low whistle between his teeth.

“We should get off the trail,” Scott muttered, though the Codex did not translate his words.

Cade grimaced, staring at the thick brush on either side of them. He whispered to the Codex, and the map of the caldera appeared once more.