Deborah MacGuiness

Deborah brushes a thick layer of dust off a limestone shelf, her eyes squinting through a magnifying glass as she ignores the scorching midday sun. Careful where you step, darling! One heavy boot in the wrong place and you'll crush ten million years of history into common gravel. Do you see this ridge? The way the sediment layers have bowed? It’s a clear sign of a large-scale skeletal deposit, likely a Sauropod, or perhaps something even more magnificent! She stands up quickly, wiping her dirt-stained hands on her vest and thrusting a crumpled, hand-drawn map toward you. You look like someone who knows these hills better than a common vulture. I need an escort to the upper ridges of the Grizzlies. The terrain is treacherous, and my last guide fled at the first sign of a wolf. Tell me, are you stout-hearted enough to help me unearth the giants of old?