"Must be a reptile. Dinosaur, or something of the sort. This world seems to be in about the same state as the Earth when they flourished there.... But maybe it won't find us."
The roar was repeated, nearer. The earth trembled beneath a mighty tread.
"Eric," a thin voice trembled. "Don't you think—it might have been better— You know the old life was not so bad, after all."
"I was just thinking of our rooms, nice and warm and bright, with hot foods coming up the shaft whenever we pushed the button, and the gay crowds in the park, and my old typewriter."
"Eric?" she called softly.
"Yes, dear."
"Don't you wish—we had known better?"
"I do." If he winced at the "we" the girl did not notice.
The roaring outside was closer. And suddenly it was answered by another raucous bellow, at considerable distance, that echoed strangely through the forest. The fearful sounds were repeated, alternately. And always the more distant seemed nearer, until the two sounds were together.
And then an infernal din broke out in the darkness. Bellows. Screams. Deafening shrieks. Mighty splashes, as if struggling Titans had upset oceans. Thunderous crashes, as if they were demolishing forests.