Eryops

Eryops lived in the space between water and land, and it owned both. Squat,

broad, and built low to the ground, it rested in the shallows with only its

eyes above the surface — watching, waiting, utterly still. It had no need

to chase. The world came to the water's edge eventually, and when it did,

Eryops was there. Its jaws were wide and lined with teeth designed for one

thing: to close and not let go. It was not elegant. It was not fast. It was

simply in the right place at the right time, every time, with the patience

of something that had learned the oldest lesson in the hunter's book: that

the world feeds those who are willing to wait. The shallow waters of the

Eldergrowth were full of strange and experimental life. Eryops ate most of

it. Not because it was the strongest, but because it was the most patient.