In the shadow of the magnolia tree, you leap up on the back of the old dome-head dinosaur, using the deep cracks in his skin for grips. Soon you’re sitting comfortably at the base of his neck, fifteen feet above the fighting.

Maybe from this high up you can look at the trees for signs of an archaeopteryx.

The fighters have churned the ground up so much that it’s hard to see through the dust. You see a slightly smaller, younger dome- head come toward you.

Your pachycephalosaur stirs and grumbles. You feel his powerful muscles ripple beneath his hide. The other dueling has stopped. All heads turn your way.

And here you are, sitting on top of this old dome-head. No won- der he was resting, watching in the shade. Those scars all over his head are from fighting all his life. He was waiting until one of the others had enough nerve to challenge him. He’s the leader of the herd!

With a growl, the dome-head you’re sitting on lurches forward. You grab on tight as he shakes back and forth.

The challenger lowers his head. Your champ lowers his head. There’s no way to slide off safely.

KA-BOOM! The collision feels like an earthquake, but you hold on. The young dino gets the worst of the clash. You see him wobble away. He crashes to the ground, out cold in a cloud of dust.

The spectators honk. They back away. In another cloud of dust a second young dome-head gallops up toward the champ.

This time you’re sure you’ll be hurtled into the air at top speed. That is, if you aren’t crushed to death!

Time to get out of here.

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