Who knows what could happen if you leave a twenty-first century Labrador running wild in prehistoric times? Everything you’ve learned about time travel is clearly meaningless, which means that any tiny alteration could have disastrous consequences in the future. That dog is rambunctious, too. Realistically, Betsy ending up in the belly of a rampaging dinosaur is probably the safest possible outcome for the security of the space-time continuum.
That doesn’t mean you can bear to watch it, though. You turn your nebulous, metaphorical back on the impending carnage and set about finding a suitable host for your floating consciousness.
But something isn’t right. You’re used to drifting effortlessly on your way to a host body, but here, all movement is like swimming upstream. To make things worse, you already feel yourself losing your foothold in this reality. Instead of being pulled back into your native time period, though, you’re just sort of… dissipating. You need to get yourself into a body—any body—fast!
If you take the quickest route and get yourself back into Betsy, turn to page 16.
Wait, isn’t Betsy about to be dinosaur lunch? If you make for the T. rex, turn to page 37.
If you’re committed to muddling on and finding a third option, turn to page 234.