Neither of us moved.
At last I said: “That was a pit raptor.”
Nobody said anything as the waves crashed against the rocks and the pterodactyls squawked.
“Out on the point? That’s impossible.”
“No, it’s not. They’re night hunters. They’re just beginning their workday.”
“But—”
“Shhh. Listen.”
The sound came again—briefer, this time, more succinct, as though the animal was moving.
I looked around the room—my heart pounding, but there were no windows, no way to tell what was going on outside. “We’ve got to go. Like, now. Before—”
“But, don’t you see? That’s what I was trying to tell you. We took the top down.”
I froze, feeling as though the walls were closing in—like I might actually pass out. But then—then it just passed, I can’t really explain it, and I was myself again (the “cool
