A young dinosaur was standing in front of his mother. She had been terribly injured while trying to defend him from a monster, and she was now laying on the ground, limp and weak. Something was happening to her, he was sure, but he didn’t know what.

“Please get up,” he begged her.

“I’m not sure if I can,” she whispered.

“Yes, you can.” He headbutted her. Panic was rising in his chest. “Get up.”

She pushed her legs together and struggled to stand. He watched in horror as she took one step forward and immediately slumped back over. He still didn’t fully understand what was happening, but he had a creeping feeling that whatever it was, it was something very bad.

As he watched in discomfort, she spoke up again: “Dear, sweet Littlefoot…”

“Wait,” he cut her off. “Wait… This didn’t happen to me.” The dinosaur rolled her head over to look at him. “What do you mean?”

“My name’s not Littlefoot. It’s Drew. And I’m not a little dinosaur, I’m an adult human.”

“Is that so?” Her expression was difficult for him to read. Was it surprise?

“Yes. And this didn’t happen to my mom. You’re not my mother. This is… this is someone else.”

“Really?” She looked just as placid. “Littlefoot…”

He was growing frustrated. “That’s not me! This isn’t my story!”

“Let your heart guide you,” she continued. “It whispers, so listen closely…”

“No! I want to hear my story!”

She grew quiet. All that could be heard was her ragged breath before she spoke again. “I’m sorry. I don’t have any advice to give you.”

“That’s fine,” he said, already feeling a bit weird that he was the one having to console his dying mother. “But please, what do I do next?”

She seemed to be thinking. The silence was killing him.

Finally, she said: