The roar didn't stop.
It rolled over the jungle like thunder, vibrating through the earth, through the walls of the hut, through Ethan's tiny body.
His newborn heart pounded so hard he swore it might burst. His first instinct? Cry. His second instinct? Cry louder.
But no sound came out.
…Oh. I'm too scared to cry. Great start to baby life.
His mother clutched him tight, crouched low to the floor. Her golden eyes darted toward the doorway, glowing faintly in the firelight. Every muscle in her arms trembled — not from weakness, but from holding herself still.
The chanting outside had gone silent.
Where did the drum party go?
The quiet felt heavier than the roar.
Thud.
The ground shook.
Thud.
Another quake.
Shadows flickered against the firelit walls.
Through the crack in the doorway, Ethan saw it: a colossal foot, claws sinking deep into the soil. Each scale looked like blackened stone, cracked and ridged.
The foot lifted. Slammed down again.
Then a head lowered into view.
Teeth.
Jagged. Knifelike. Shining with faint red light.
Eyes burned faintly in the night — not animal, but aware.
Ethan froze. His mind screamed every dinosaur documentary fact he'd ever learned.
Carnivore. Apex predator. Can run 20 miles an hour. Yeah, cool, thanks brain, that helps.
The tribe knelt outside, foreheads pressed to the ground. Not one dared raise their head.
His mother didn't kneel. She pressed Ethan to her chest and whispered fast, trembling words he couldn't understand.
It wasn't fear he heard in her voice.
It was defiance.
The dinosaur sniffed the air. A low rumble rolled from its throat. Its gaze swept the huts… and moved on.
Ethan's body slackened. He didn't even realize he'd been holding his tiny breath until his lungs burned.
The massive creature turned, its tail whipping trees aside like grass, and disappeared into the jungle with heavy, fading steps.
Silence returned.
The tribe exhaled as one.
Cries rose — relief, praise, maybe even prayer. Spears clattered to the dirt. Children wailed from nearby huts.
His mother didn't move for a long moment. She just stared at the doorway, chest heaving, arms locked protectively around him.
Then, slowly, she lowered her forehead to his tiny one.
"Ka'ru'nath…" she whispered again — his name, given moments ago, now repeated like a vow.
The night quieted further. Drums didn't return. The tribe murmured low, voices hushed in awe and exhaustion.
Ethan?
He passed out.
Morning
He woke to warmth.
Sunlight filtered through gaps in the hut's walls, casting stripes of gold across the reed bed. Outside, faint chatter and laughter mixed with distant birdsong and the crash of waves.
For the first time since his death… things felt calm.
His stomach growled.
Oh great. I survived giant dino death only to die of baby hunger.
A shadow fell across him.
His mother entered, hair damp, carrying a carved wooden bowl. Steam rose from it, carrying the scent of something earthy and rich. She knelt beside him, speaking softly — words he couldn't understand, but tone gentle.
She dipped a cloth in the bowl, squeezed out liquid, and pressed it lightly to his lips.
Warm. Bitter. Nutty.
…Tribal baby formula? Not bad, actually.
As he ate, Ethan's gaze wandered.
The hut was small, walls of wood and clay bound by vines. Bones and feathers hung like charms. A totem stood in the corner, carved from dark wood, its painted eyes faintly glowing in sunlight.
For a moment, the faint hum of something — deep, low, almost imperceptible — brushed his mind. The same hum he'd felt in the void.
He blinked.
It was gone.
Outside, voices rose. Laughter, footsteps, the crack of wood on stone. The smell of smoke and roasting meat drifted in.
Curiosity prickled him.
What does a prehistoric tribe even do all day? Hunt mammoths? Argue over firewood? Sacrifice chickens?
His mother seemed to sense his restlessness. She lifted him easily with one arm and stepped outside.
The Village
The world hit him like a tidal wave.
A wide clearing surrounded by towering jungle trees. Dozens of round huts like theirs, smoke curling lazily from their roofs.
Children ran barefoot, chasing each other with sticks. Hunters sharpened spears, laughing as they compared scars. Old women tended fires, pounding herbs with bone mallets.
Everywhere — bones.
Carved into tools. Hung as decorations. Strung into necklaces. Even the fences were built from massive rib bones taller than a man.
And beyond the village walls…
Mountains. Endless green. Distant roars echoing from the jungle.
Ethan stared, wide-eyed.
…Okay, not gonna lie. This is insane. I'm living in Jurassic Park but… cozy?
His mother walked toward a group gathered near the largest hut. Elders sat cross-legged around a fire, faces painted white and red, eyes sharp as hawks.
The old man at their center — hair wild, beard braided with feathers — leaned on a staff crowned with a miniature skull.
His gaze fell on Ethan.
The air felt heavier
The elder rose slowly, approaching. He studied Ethan in silence, then muttered a word low and reverent.
"Ka'ru'nath."
The others repeated it like an echo.
Ethan had no idea what it meant. But from their tone — awe, reverence, maybe even fear — he guessed one thing:
His life here wouldn't be normal.
That night, he lay beside his mother as firelight danced across the hut walls. The jungle outside hissed and whispered with unseen life.
Somewhere far beyond, a low roar answered the wind.
Ethan closed his eyes.
This world was terrifying. Beautiful. Alien.
And for the first time since dying…
He wanted to see what tomorrow looked like.