Early morning fogs rose from the river. He waded through an eddy of warmth swirling slowly between bank and goal, a heavily wooded island, cloud hidden, Spanish mossed limbs penetrating opal curtains. He felt time evaporate a hundred million years as he entered the past earth. and knew the river damp smell was once familiar to a dinosaur, that nothing had changed, that his particular world's sights and sounds were truant. Reaching shore, he had no idea how close he was to the nest of guarded eggs, as she burst forth through fog, the Great Blue Heron, screaming in the very rasp of God, a cry so terrible that he became a wee twitchy creature, scurrying to evade scaly winged masters of his new world.