Every one; every soft-thing that she saw through the hard-air,
and even the ones beyond. Nothing escaped the perfection that
was she, the dominant predator of the island. She could smell
the big prey beyond the walls, she could hear the bleating and
crooning notes of their numbers off on the island.
She could not see them, she could not get them.
But the old rex knew they were there.
She knew many things; she was by no means dumb, of course,
though she was not of the same intellect of the deep-claws or the
soft-things. InGen truly created a beast of frightening predatory might,
however. She did not remember much, for that was not her way.
But for as little memory she had, she could remember the one
she saw in the crowd that gathered to gawk, to croon and cheer and
gasp at the blood coated fangs, the cries of the goat ceasing abruptly.
The one soft-thing that shifted nervously.
Her eyes were good, and she recognized-
-remembered [him.]
Lost prey; injured but escaped;
prey almost gotten. She remembered his scent.
She remembered his blood.
She remembered his f e a r.