<blockquote>GQ turned that thought over for a good long minute, watching blankly as the pteranodon screamed some more and then swooped in a circle over them. Maybe he was hallucinating. He had a couple holes in him, and they probably weren't in real good shape; maybe he'd gotten an infection, caught a fever. Maybe he was dead, and he'd gone to dinosaur-obsessed nine-year-old GQ's idea of heaven at the same time he was getting a taste of his own: Croc, right there with him, still looking after him, even though he'd popped his clogs like the useless breakable mammal he was.
Then again, a cranky dude shouting about "real magic"—as opposed to the stuff he'd already been using to murder people for fun, presumably—had also tried to banish them from his lair with a glowy stone, so.
Maybe he couldn't actually rule anything out on the basis of the pteranodon alone.</blockquote>
➤ the one where they end up in a place inhabited by other crocodile people
