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The adult T. rex is none other than Goddesszilla.
She’s breathing heavily, the stink of rotting flesh blowing towards us, overpowering the smell of the dead Parasaurolophus. She takes a step forward—a long stride that brings her body into the open—and her foot makes an imprint in the ground. Whereas the Carnotaurus and Allosaurus were lightweight for their size, T. rex is all bulk. She probably weighs six tons. Her head is even bigger than Death’s. We won’t stand a chance if she gets anywhere near us.
Tyrannosaurus rex is actually the same length as Allosaurus, but it’s like comparing a Rottweiler with a Greyhound.
Blood is dripping from her neck. When I say dripping, it’s relative to her size; for me it’s more like pouring, and it’s her blood. There’s a gaping wound that reveals th
