Across the way, Big Tina stood atop a pile of rocks shouting down at her mother, who’d come from the FUPA to gather her back. The ballerina dinosaur had single-handedly taken out a fire lance tower and protected dozens of crawlers from getting burned alive. Her magical, ever-repairing feather boa was black and scorched. The massively pregnant Kiwi shouted up at her. Mongo was there, too, bouncing in circles around the allosaurus as she waved her wand angrily at her mother.
