Dimetrodon, Ely Kish
The rain tapped on the forest’s leaves and left no room for other sounds. It spattered on Diadectes’ body and dripped into the mud. The damp smell of earth was everywhere. Mold was blooming. Somewhere in the distance small amphibians were chirping. Diadectes swayed between sleepiness and anxiety. The rain made it difficult to detect predators, and the sun had never broken through the clouds to warm the body.
This was Dimetrodon’s advantage. It slid silently from the vegetation like a grotesque ghost, emerging from the green to clamp toothy jaws on Diadectes’ hind leg. With a violent jerk, Dimetrodon flipped its prey to its side. The big amphibian emitted a pained whine and batted Dimetrodon’s side with its forefeet, punching the predator, trying to push away. But Diadectes was weak, tired, unable to wrestle free from Dimetrodon’s bite.
Blood pulsed from the wounds and mixed with the puddles on the forest floor. Dimetrodon held fast, waiting patiently for Diadectes to lose all its strength. Then the predator could feed.