Rex's birthday cake sat on the mossy table, twelve candles flickering in the sunset breeze. The frosting was still warm from the oven, and purple berries dotted the top like tiny jewels. But the clearing was empty except for Rex, his party hat tilted sideways on his head.
He pulled out his hand-drawn map and squinted at the wobbly lines. His tiny arms had drawn the broken log instead of the festival ferns. "Oh no," Rex groaned, his voice echoing off the tree trunks.
He found Stegosaurus first, dozing on a sun-warmed rock. Her back plates glowed amber in the fading light, and she blinked sleepily as Rex peered over her shoulder. "Is it Tuesday?" she yawned, stretching one clawed foot.
The enormous neck began to bend, slowly, slowly, like a giant tree falling in reverse. Down, down, down came the huge head until one massive eye was level with Rex's face. A half-chewed leaf dangled from the corner of her mouth.
By the moonlit stream, Ankylosaurus was turning in slow, confused circles. His heavy tail dragged grooves in the muddy bank, and water droplets sparkled on his armored back. "I've been walking for ages," Ankylosaurus mumbled, his club tail thumping against a fallen log.
Rex stepped first into his clearing, the candlelight painting golden circles on his green scales. He took a deep breath that tasted like birthday wishes and looked at his perfectly imperfect party. His tiny arms couldn't have drawn a better ending if he'd tried.
