"Incredibly clever," Clint says, slowing as a much smaller dinosaur, still taller than the car, steps out into the road in front of them. It turns to make eye contact.

Clint remembers this part; he doesn't even look for the other two, just shifts into reverse. "Hold on."

He looks behind them, pressing the gas down until they're out of the triangle of raptors, lets off the gas and pulls the steering wheel around. The tires squeal as the car turns in place, and he quickly adjusts them back into forward gears before hitting the gas again.

Velociraptors.