That night, I dreamed about a clutch of light-blue eggs with brown speckles, nestled safe in a scoop of soft soil, bark, and pine needles. It felt like I was guarding that nest for days—until I woke up to morning light shining in my eyes.

I was back in Dr. Jacob's house, lying in a borrowed bed. And I almost didn't want to get up, until the smell of bacon reached me.

After brushing my teeth and running my fingers through my hair to sort out my curls, I pulled on a pair of blue jeans and a rainbow-striped tee and padded toward the kitchen.

"Thanks for lending a hand this morning." Dr. Jacobs' voice carried down the hall. "My back's getting a little too bad to bale hay."

"This animal—the horse—I like it." The male voice tiptoeing through that sentence stopped me dead in the hallway. It was raspy, warm, and very, very quiet. Some of the sounds that should've been sharp came out soft.

That wasn't Dad.

I paused near the kitchen doorway and peeked around the corner.

Dr. Jacobs stood at the stove, looking over her shoulder while frying pancakes. Winnie lay at attention between her feet, waiting for falling crumbs.

"Dogs. Too friendly." Pine sat at the table, facing away from me. "But a horse—it waits. Then trusts."

Warmth washed through me like swallowing a hot drink. I'd never heard it out loud, but I'd recognize his voice anywhere.

Pine had been talking in my head this whole time, so hearing him in my ears wasn't a huge deal. But I knew how nervous he was to try a totally new language out on strangers when he couldn't listen to his own voice. If he was talking to Dr. Jacobs, almost getting mauled by Deinonychus yesterday must've have pushed him to a new level of trust.

He'd made it clear in Dallas that once this whole Crow fiasco was over with, he planned to float on back to the great beyond. So, for selfish reasons, I didn't care if he was bonding with horses or people. The way I saw it, the more that tied him to the land of the living the better.

Dr. Jacobs flipped one last silver dollar pancake out of the pan and switched the stove off. "Some of my best friends are horses." She turned to face Pine, picking up the silver dollar with her fingers and dropping it right into Winnie's open mouth. "They're very social. Very sensitive."

"And they're like—" Pine tipped his head to watch Winnie snarf down her mini flapjack. I couldn't see his face, but I could imagine the frown. "—like dogs? Not for food."

"Right." Dr. Jacobs set a plate stacked with pancakes on the kitchen table. "But horses help us. They're strong and fast." She pulled up a chair and smiled at him. "You're a little horse crazy, aren't ya? You gonna keep riding?"

Pine rested his chin in his hand and looked out the window, hiding his face.

But for just a second, I caught his expression.

Soft eyes. Clenched jaw.

After what he told me at the pool, I expected him to look sad. But I didn't expect him to look torn.

A shadow crossed Dr. Jacobs' face, but when she noticed me at the door it disappeared in a sunburst of a smile. "Mornin'."

"Hi." I hurried to sit down at the table, a little ashamed of eavesdropping, and scratched my cheek to hide a sidelong glance at Pine.

He returned a sneaky stare at me from under his bangs.

We both broke into a smile at the same time. No hard feelings, I guess.

"Your dad just left for the Hemming," Dr. Jacobs said. "Takes a while to get to and from town. Your mom should be home in a bit." She served up the pancakes and slid me a double-decker.

As I drizzled some syrup over melting butter, I noticed something on the table in front of Pine. A brown, glassy rock chipped into a spade shape, like a spearhead the size of my whole hand. It reminded me of some of the artifacts on display in the Neanderthal exhibit at the Hemming.

"Did you make that this morning?" I asked.

Pine's shoulders relaxed by an inch. "Yes," he said. I almost didn't hear him.

How early was he waking up? It was, what, eight-thirty on a Sunday?

I stretched my hand across the table. "Can I see it?"

When he rested the stone in my palm, the cold, jagged texture immediately set off a flashback—looking through Crow's eyes that first night on the Paluxy River, feeling this weapon in his hand. The chilly, flaked edge, sharp as a razor. The smooth-gripped core, heavy as the head of a hammer.

A chill washed over me. "A knife?"

Pine frowned for a moment like he was searching for a better word. "A tool."

That wasn't what it felt like when Crow held it. But when I flipped it in my hand, I tried to reframe it from Pine's point of view.

It was pocket-sized and satisfying to hold. When I rested the sharp tip against the wooden tabletop, it actually nicked the finish.

And then I remembered Mrs. Hemming's upside-down teardrop pin. What had she called it? A handaxe?

"So, what does it do?" I asked, passing it back to Pine.

He reached for an apple in the fruit bowl at the center of the table, sliced it with the cutting edge of his handaxe, and passed me a wedge. "Everything."

Suddenly, by the table, Winnie sat up and raised her ears.

And less than three seconds later, Martina crashed through the front door. "Let's see that raptor," she shouted through the house.

Pine nearly choked on his apple.

She slid into the kitchen on squeaky sneakers. "How are you still eating breakfast? It's dinosaur time."

"I'm gonna need somewhere safe to summon it first," I said, shoving a forkful of pancakes into my mouth. "Unless you want a dinosaur hunting you down Hunger Games style."

"I got a spare horse stall," Dr. Jacobs said.

"A horse stall, huh?" It'd be sturdy and high-walled, and the gate would latch shut. So, unless Deinonychus could open doors like its Jurassic Park lookalike, that might not be a half bad idea.

I glanced over at Pine. After he'd experienced all five pointy ends of the raptor, it only seemed fair to check in with him before I brought it back. "Are you ready for this?"

He tossed his handaxe and caught it between his fingers by the bladed point. I guess he came prepared.

"I'll try to make him as friendly as possible," I said. "Worse than a dog. You'll have to push him out of your lap."

"No biting," Pine said. "That's enough."

After breakfast, I grabbed my guitar and we all went out to the stables—except for Winnie, who stayed locked up in the house, just in case something went wrong. Which it wouldn't.

On a totally unrelated note, Dr. Jacobs brought her rifle along.

Anyway, the empty horse stall looked secure enough. The split door had a wooden gate on the bottom and a steel-barred window on the top, and both halves latched shut from the outside.

Dr. Jacobs closed the door and gave it a firm tug before she pushed a stepping stool up to the barred window. "All yours."

I got up on the footstool, took a deep breath, and kicked up a southern rock riff.

A hot wind blew through the barn, strong enough that Dr. Jacobs had to hold her hat down.

In the stall, out of the clay floor, Deinonychus began to form.

He struggled out of the ground nose-first, almost like he was squeezing out from a burrow. The red clay sculpting his body thinned and fluffed into layers of soft feathers.

Looking at him through binoculars back at the quarry, this raptor seemed like something I might be able to walk on a leash. But as I watched him fill the horse stall, I worried this might be more dinosaur than I bargained for. Maybe he was as tall as a Great Dane, but he was longer than a horse. Would he even fit in the stall?

Luckily, as the last of his long tail emerged and fluffed out, the white fan of feathers at the end left just a couple feet of wiggle room. Not a lot of clearance, but enough to turn a tight circle.

The raptor stood. Each of his scaley feet had two ostrich toes splayed in the dirt, with one wicked meat hook claw carefully held off the ground. It almost looked dainty, like the Queen of England sticking her royal pinkie out at a tea party.

He shook off a cloud of dust, sniffed the air, and clapped his golden eyes on me—and bam. His fight or flight switch clicked into violence mode.

Every fiery feather on his body rose and his white wings and tailfeathers spread wide. He flattened his body close to the ground, snapped his killing claws to the ready like switchblades, and let out a crackling hiss.

His wave of insta-rage nearly knocked me off the stool.

I caught the steel bars between us and steadied myself inside and out. After Sarsaparilla, taming this tiger would be a cinch.

Eyes closed, I let out a long breath as I entered his mind. I shifted his focus to my tiny, squishy hands on the barred window. Hands that couldn't hurt him even if they wanted to.

"See?" I pulled out of his mind and uncurled my fingers from the bars to show him. "Totally safe."

His spring-loaded muscles relaxed. His feathers and tail lowered. He tucked his wings up near his body. His eyes were still glued to me—but now, that flashing warning light had narrowed into laser-guided curiosity.

I was getting way too good at this.

"There you go." I turned to face the others, presenting Deinonychus with a Houdini flourish. "One child-friendly dinosaur."

THUD. The door at my back shuddered.

I meant to jump off the stool. But it felt like I teleported. Because in one short scream, I was suddenly behind Pine, digging my fingers into his arms, heart slamming in my chest.

Dr. Jacobs took a big step back from the rattling latches, her hand on her gun. "Holy moly."

Deinonychus hung on the window ledge, grinding his claws into the wood and staring through the metal bars.

Seriously? He tried to jump me? While my back was turned?

He dropped off the door, disappearing from the window.

I detached my fingers from Pine's arms and slumped to catch my breath. If there hadn't been steel bars between us, I'd be chili meat.

"I thought he wasn't scared," Martina said. It wasn't until now that I realized she'd flung herself all the way into the tack closet across the hall.

"He's not." And maybe that was the problem. "Nuke, Bitey Face, Sarsaparilla—once they weren't afraid of me, they either befriended me or ignored me. But to this guy, if I'm not a threat, I'm . . ." Having been inches away from becoming Frito pie, I almost didn't want to say it.

Pine pulled the trigger for me. "Prey."

Martina crept out of the tack room. But this time she came out armed and ready, a shovel in her hands.

"Some bodyguard, huh." Those words were supposed to come out on a laugh, but they just sounded wobbly. I'd have to find a way to show the raptor I wasn't a monster, and I wasn't food.

"Can't you control him?" Dr. Jacobs asked.

"Only if I focus." But then, there was that one time I needed to find Sarsaparilla. With the promise of tiny, skittering snacks, I was able to get Nuke to track him down on his own. "I can send them pictures. And connect those pictures to make ideas. If I want them to run on autopilot, it can't be too complicated. But still . . ." Maybe that would work.

I stepped back onto the stool and looked down at Deinonychus.

He licked his own nose like he hadn't just tried to go Tasmanian Devil on me.

I couldn't just snap my fingers and turn him into my pet. Considering how long it took Pine to understand the whole tame animal thing, I doubted Deinonychus would ever catch on. He was too wild to see me as anything more than junk food.

But raptors hunted in packs, right? What if I could get him to believe I was another Deinonychus? Would that be the closest thing to a friend?

Pushing into his mind, I pictured myself as the raptor he was calling when we found him. Snow-white feathers and dusty brown bars. A few pounds heavier, a few inches taller, a few levels stronger. Golden, owlish eyes.

I felt stupid doing it. This was one short step away from grabbing two feather dusters and flapping my arms.

But even while I was still painting a dinosaur over his image of me, I watched his tiny, pinpoint pupils swell into two huge, black circles, filling his eyes. His throat feathers fluffed up.

"Whoa, Nelly." Dr. Jacobs lowered her gun, just slightly. "You did something right."

Slowly, he stepped close to the window and put his narrow nose between the bars, snuffling the air. His body feathers puffed out and his bunny-ear tufts perked.

He let out a soft, rippling hoot. His throat vibrated.

I wasn't ready for that sad little coo to poke my heart like it did. But after he'd almost skinned me alive, I also wasn't dumb enough to stick my hand through the window. Not yet, anyway.

Dr. Jacobs suggested we wait with the door between us for a while, just to let him get used to being around people.

As long as I stood in eyeshot, he was all purrs and snuggles. But when we paraded Dr. Jacobs, Martina, and Pine past his window, he shrank back against the back wall, hunched low, evaluating them with pin-point pupils.

At least he wasn't hissing. I'd call that progress.

When I came back to the window, he peek-a-booed his bright yellow eyes over the sill and gurgled.

"That's so weird," Martina said. "You're like catnip to him."

Dr. Jacobs ran back to the house and came back with a container full of lunchmeat from the fridge. She, Martina, and eventually even Pine spent the next few minutes dropping turkey slices through the bars while I focused on piping the raptor some human-friendly thoughts.

The sandwich meat wasn't much, but a snack break would keep him going past the fifteen minute mark. Plus, a little treat here and there seemed to improve his opinion of anybody who wasn't me. He didn't even have to love anybody. All we had to do was get past the urge to kill.

This was probably the gentlest introduction to the modern world that any of my dinosaurs ever got. And it kind of worked. By the time we ran out of cold cuts, he'd actually chilled a few degrees.

"Hello?" Mom's voice echoed through the stables.

I froze on instinct. I was so used to doing stuff like this behind her back, I almost forgot that taming the raptor was part of the family plan to keep me safe.

"Over here," Dr. Jacobs called.

Mom joined us in the aisle. Her eyes lingered on Martina and her shovel for a second, then flipped to the gun strapped over Dr. Jacobs' shoulder. "Don't tell me." She looked into the stall and groaned. "Oh, Lord. I hate this one."

"Everything's under control." Dr. Jacobs got a rope from the tack closet and looped it into a lasso. "Actually, I think we might be ready to take this a step further."

"What do you mean?" Mom asked.

"Face to face," Dr. Jacobs said. "No bars. If it's okay with you."

Mom grimaced like she was peeling off a Band-Aid, but in the end, she just sighed and said, "It's part of the plan." Once she'd made a deal with Dad, she never went back. "As long as Cecelia is ready."

Ready as I'd ever be. But I glanced at Pine. I didn't want to try anything that would give him more PTSD than he probably already had.

He gave me one word. "Careful." Then, privately, Don't do the Crow's work for him.

"Right." Going through all this trouble only to let his raptor kill me would be pretty embarrassing. I turned back to Dr. Jacobs. "Let's do it."

She reached through the bars and dropped the lasso around the raptor's neck, knotting his short leash off on a tie ring. Then she propped the rifle against her shoulder and aimed at his slender skull, point-blank. If anything went wrong, she could shut the whole operation down in a snap.

That was about as safe as I could ever get. Still, I could feel Pine inches from my back, watching over my shoulder, ready to pull me out of danger.

Martina stood to the side, ready with the shovel like it was a folding chair at a wrestling match.

I braced myself, too, ready to withdraw the raptor. If he decided to pounce, I'd only have a split second.

Dr. Jacobs nodded to the door. "Evie, would you do the honors?"

On a silent count to three, Mom lifted the latch.

The door swung open.

Deinonychus took a few short steps out, eyes trained on me.

I knelt down to his level like I'd greet a dog. "Hey."

"Don't touch him." Dr. Jacobs kept her voice low. "Let's just see what he does."

After the longest, most intense second of my life, he shimmied to ruffle his feathery coat and let out a purring whistle. He sounded like a happy little train.

Martina laughed nervously. "He's really in love with you. What did you do?"

"I made him think I'm another raptor," I said. "Like part of his pack."

Dr. Jacobs and Martina exchanged a confused look.

Heat rushed to my ears and spread across my cheeks. "It sounds dumb out loud. But it's working, right?"

"No, yeah. I mean, it is working. It's just"—Martina hesitated like she wasn't sure how to break the news—"Deinonychus don't hunt in packs."

"What?" I glanced between her and Dr. Jacobs. "What about the movies?"

Dr. Jacobs just shook her head.

"I mean, they might," Martina said. "But there's evidence that they actually fought each other sometimes." She glanced at Mom, and her voice got small. "And maybe ate each other?"

"Cecelia," Mom said through her teeth. She looked ready to slam the door on my dinosaur if things got ugly.

The raptor's obsessive, gripping stare suddenly felt very sharp.

I took one big step back. Maybe this was a mistake.

Suddenly, he swept his wings open, spread his tail feathers wide, and dipped into a deep bow. He flicked his head up to pin me with a yellow eye.

The quick movement made me jerk backward. For a second, I thought those spread wings were his threat display.

But in a flash, he slicked all his feathers flat, lifted his head high, and stood on his toes—straight as a post.

I narrowed my eyes, pressed back against the far wall. "What the . . . ?"

He swept back into the bow, like a knight kneeling in front of a queen.

"Uh." I glanced between Dr. Jacobs and Martina. "What is he doing?" It looked like yoga. Or community theater. Or a stroke.

Pine dropped his handaxe and busted out laughing.

Then, like they realized something at the exact same time, Dr. Jacobs and Martina cracked up right along with him.

This was the exact opposite reaction I expected. I glanced around, trying to figure out what the heck I was missing. "What?"

Pine doubled over, too busy laughing to answer. Zero help there.

"It's—it's a dance," Martina managed to choke out. "A courtship dance."

Mom snorted and covered her mouth.

Dr. Jacobs rested her forehead on her rifle, practically crying. "He thinks you're cute!"

My face went hotter than a teapot. "Oh my gosh."

Now, watching the raptor's tippy-toe dance and Shakespeare bow, the like-like came through loud and clear.

"Look at him go." Martina clapped her hands, struggling to gasp between giggles. "That's boyfriend material."

I covered my face and watched through my fingers. Why was a giant orange bird confessing its love for me as embarrassing as a public promposal?

"What do I do?" At this point I was begging for help.

"Take him to dinner," Martina gasped, wiping tears from her eyes. "Lock him down."

At this point Pine had collapsed against the wall, laughing so hard that sound wasn't even coming out anymore.