A Silent Gauge

Stiffness gives way. The joints in my forelimbs unfreeze. Across from me stands a dark theropod, jaws fixed open. Threat level unknown. I do not rush. I shift my weight slightly, feeling the yield of the striped fabric beneath my claws. Slowly, deliberately, I extend one clawed digit to touch the tip of its open snout. Rigid. Cold plastic. Unmoving. It poses no tactical resistance. I ease back, lowering my center of gravity, keeping my sights fixed forward.