Anthony had always enjoyed the views of the mountains. Looking down upon the world was among his favorite recreational activities on the island. Sure, the mountains had bustling predator populations, but Anthony had a revolver. He had always been able to shoot predators away. He had caught himself daydreaming one day, on top of Far’s Peak. He snapped out of it to a strange sound. Snorting, maybe growling. It sounded somewhat distant. He figured it was a sabertooth or snoring dinosaur. He continued, until he heard a slight roar. He figured it was a horribly lost baronyx, so he turned around, gun in hand, ready to shoot. However, what poor Anthony did not expect was a pack of vicious large theropods with teeth like steak knives. They tore into him, his screams echoing through the lowlands of the mountain. Blood scattered everywhere as the pack mauled him to death. Poor, poor Anthony.