42

Wow, what a target-rich environment. You and Brett skirt around, surveying the colony. A solitary hadrosaur sprawls on its side, head down, one eye cloudy and lifeless. At your approach, it lifts its head with labored breathing. The beast is so scrawny that its ribs are clearly outlined. Badly healed scars streak down one leg. Some sort of insect vermin crawl over it with impunity. Its food supply has been depleted.

"Poor thing," says Brett. "Wonder how long it's been on the decline."

The other duckbills hiss at you before you can get close. They keep an eye out for the senior member of the herd. Nonetheless, it seems pointlessly cruel to allow the old one to starve to death or perish from dehydration while covered in parasites. You reach a quick decision and enlist your best friend's help.