Out in the multiverse, somewhere between the “humans have two thumbs” reality and the “tardigrades are the size of buses” one, lies a green and vibrant planet chock-full of delicious, giant-creating oxygen. This planet is home to an unimaginable number of fauna and flora that towers over their pathetic Earth counterparts, with a delicately balanced ecosystem that survives and thrives off of deadly competition between the species. And deep within this vibrant, green utopia lies a forest. A forest that contains countless species that really benefitted from that asteroid being a few meters off-track.

  From slithering snakes to sharp-toothed reptiles, this particular forest’s floor is a never ending dance of eat-or-be-eaten. Many of its species evolved to stay above the space of ever-deadlier predators that is the floor, some having sprouted wings and having learned to stay high above the canopy. Some having evolved to make a home in the trees themselves, hollowing out their trunks or spinning webs within their branches. For them, evolution has chosen a slower, less dangerous way of life. Instead of sharper fangs or longer claws, they’ve evolved loose skin with which to glide with, or spinnerets with which they could use to spin webs.

  But, within this forest, some remain on the forest floor. Smaller scavengers, stealing their next meal from more successful killers. Medium-sized ambush predators or pack creatures, using the element of surprise or the superiority of numbers to survive. Inevitably, some of these predator-hopefuls don't make it. But while some species die and provide nutrients to their betters, some survive. And those who survive go on to pass their genetics down to the next generation, subtly improving their chances of survival, one step at a time.

  And yet, even in such a hostile environment, where most would consider surviving until the next day to be the ultimate goal, there are those who rise above and not only survive, but thrive.

  A thump-thump-thump reverberates through the air as the smallest prey scatters and crawls underneath rocks and up the trees, their instincts screaming at them to flee or die. From the dense foliage a giant emerges, her beaked head swaying from side to side, her sharp eyes picking out every scuttle and every movement. This giant moves on two long, powerful legs, thick around the top with corded muscles and tapering down into elegant, almost delicate-looking forelegs that end in four triangle-like toes, each one capped with wickedly sharp claws.

  She ruffles her speckled feathers, her wings all but useless for flight but still useful for short glides and giving her the necessary lift to pounce from above and kick taller foes with her hide-tearing talons. She slows her movement, her eyes narrowing as she peers into the forest, tracking the movement of smaller prey that’s frankly not worth her time. Smaller prey might be easier to catch, but with her calorie needs being as high as they are, she’d have to hunt them for the next few hours in order to feel satiated and she does not have the time.

  She takes a deep, impatient sniff, the forest coming alive to her senses, her brain flooding with the smells and sights of potential prey. She comes to a stop, her footsteps going from the staccato “thump-thump-thump” to a pure, practiced silence.

  She sweeps her head from side to side, sniffing the air a few more times in the hope that she could pick up any smell that could betray the whereabouts of her next meal. She’s feeling more and more impatient, more and more frantic the longer she looks.

  Millions of years of evolution have carefully-selected every aspect of her with two primary objectives in mind: Crafting the perfect killing machine that can thrive at the tippity-top of the food chain; and creating a caring and nurturing mother that would do absolutely anything for her babies. And right now, her nurturing instincts are driving her crazy, insisting that she hurry on back to her clutch of eggs already.

  She pauses as that stray thought pierces the pang of hunger that’s been gnawing at her stomach. Her eggs. Her beautiful, vulnerable eggs. Each one the size of a melon, mottled brown and grey to better blend in with the dense leaf litter on the ground. Each one holds within it a new life, a new potential. A new apex predator to roam the forest floor. Each one precious enough to her that she’s willing to fight and kill to protect them, and has fought and killed many, many times over the last few weeks to do just that. And yet after countless battles and many hard weeks, she will continue to fight for them, until they have finally breathed their first breath in this world and have learned from her all that she could teach, much like her mother did for her.

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  While she’s one of the few alpha predators in this forest, she gets hungry just like the rest of the forest’s denizens. Her size, speed and strength ensures that she can deal with any unlucky egg-stealer that tries their luck while she’s there. She’s been diligently looking after her nest for the last month and a half, only ever leaving them for a few moments at a time in order to hunt. But during those brief periods of absence, she’s already lost three of them. Just thinking about her lost eggs has her clacking her hooked beak in irritation, the crisp snap of her powerful jaws silencing the flying creatures lying in the treetops. She can snap through bone as easily as twigs, but she couldn’t stop three of her precious babies from being snatched away, their lives stolen before they could even begin.

  Suddenly, she senses movement out of the corner of her eye. With a start she freezes in place, her head swiftly swinging to the side to better see with her massive eyes.

  For a moment, the forest silences as she locks eyes with an almost-too small creature with scaly skin and four legs. It tenses up, its mottled flank desperately trying to blend it into the foliage surrounding it, the creature frozen in uncertainty about whether it’s too late to hide or if it’s too early to flee.

  Unfortunately for this new prey, it’s already too late. Her eyes have been honed over years of hunting in this forest. This creature can’t escape her immaculate gaze. She’s already locked onto it, And with a vulnerable nest due to hatch any day now, she has no time to be picky.

  Without a sound, she breaks into a sprint. The small creature gives out a weak cry, flaring out a dorsal fin behind it in a weak attempt to look bigger. But it’s far too small to ever be a threat to her, and she’s fought much larger prey and won. Without a pause, her powerful legs pound into the dirt, the claws on her feet digging in for added friction and letting her get up to top speed in no time. Surprised by her speed, the small creature is too late to flee, and within a few bounds it’s caught in her grasp. She steps onto the thing, raising her beak high into the air before bringing its sharp point down onto its skull with a crack to finish it off.

  She digs in, holding the fresh kill down with her claws and tearing strips off of its hide with her powerful beak. She swallows the meat down whole, sating her burning hunger just that little bit more.

  After a few minutes, the hunger pangs have calmed down. With over half the kill gone, she could spend more time getting to that long-forgotten feeling of being full. But already, she’s feeling the call to get back to her nest. With every bite that fills her belly, that feeling grows stronger, until she gives up the rest of her kill in order to rush back as quickly as she can.

  She quickly sprints through the forest, the rhythmic “thump-thump-thump” of her footsteps clearing the way of any pests. As she gets to her nest, though, she notices a smell drifting in the wind: A sharp, dangerous smell that sets her feathers rustling.

  She crouches down over her nest protectively, her head sweeping from side to side in an attempt to find the source of the smell.

  From the treeline comes crashing the new threat: A massive spinosaurus, its jaws already open and snapping towards her. With a surprised chirrup she ducks its initial grab, her claws stepping over and digging into the dirt next to the soft and vulnerable nest of eggs.

  The spinosaurus sweeps its head to the side in an attempt to knock her over, clipping her side and sending her stumbling away. But before the Spinosaurus can turn around and attempt another snap, she brings her sharp beak down, hitting its shoulder blade and penetrating deeply.

  During this scuffle, however, while both combatants are otherwise preoccupied with the vitally important task of “Kill-or-be-killed”, a foot goes misplaced and slides across the dirt, smacking into that all-too fragile nest and knocking one of those watermelon-sized eggs right out of it.

  This egg, now freed from its twig-and-leaf prison, proceeds to roll right down the hill, smacking a bush along the way that veers it just an iota to the left, and taking it directly into the hollow of a tree trunk. With a final, physics-defying twist, this egg falls perfectly inside of it and down, down, down the rabbit hole.

  It smashes through the roof of the aforementioned rabbit's home, falling a few feet further down before finally landing on the dining room table, smashing the tea set that sat impeccably upon its back. The table’s front two legs snap like twigs and falls out from underneath it, turning it into the perfect ramp from which the egg rolls right off of, smashing with force into the rabbit’s front door and disappearing into the world beyond. The aforementioned rabbit, white furred and coated, watches as the egg rolls off into the distance. For a moment, he considers the damage that was just wrought upon his poor domicile and considers panicking, until he snaps open his pocket watch and checks the time. Unfortunately for him, panicking would have to wait. He was currently late for a very important date.

  The egg rolls past a garden with white roses painted red, falls into a golf hole, and ends up slipping through the membrane between worlds before being spat out through the hollow trunk of a dead tree to finally rest on the grass.

  Hearing a rustling from nearby, a small group of goblins decides to go and investigate. Using their keen noses and better-than-average eyesight, they spot the egg with ease, their faces twisting into expressions of joy as they gaze upon their newest treasure.