The dense fog that had take to hanging about heavily in the low branches of the jungle canopy had at least one practical upswing - it deeply enhanced a dramatic entrance.
A gift that was lost on most residents.
But Miguel was happy to take their forfeited turns; he was just disappointed that they didn't notice.
He would find a good, murky patch of air and stealthily conceal himself in the flora. Then as his "friends" were standing about talking about the alarming air quality trends, he would wait for the perfect moment to strut out of the darkness with a flourish of his nearly wings.
Today was no different. There they were, standing in a small clearing, uttering their concerns over the uncomfortable temperatures and the increasing rates of asthma. No style. No flair. No attempt even to add a bit of colour or intrigue to the conversation. They stood limply, tails flaccidly dragging on the ground, collecting dying leaves as they moved.
It's not that hard to drape your tail elegantly, thought Miguel. He had decided long ago that his fellow Caenagnathus(es?) were a lot cause when not a single one showed up to his "Cretaceous Etiquette and Elegance" class. His sole participant was a Styracosaurus whom he had stumbled upon when he went out searching for all of his "tentative" RSVPs.
To his credit, if he thought so himself, that Styracosaurous was now very capable of commanding a room with a swoosh of her pointy frill. Where before witnesses might have scattered, now they would stare.
No one can dampen my sparkle without my permission, Miguel affirmed as he stiffened his pose, legs locked into formation, tail feathers spread.
He emerged. Head - high. Beak - glistening. Feathers - pristine. Nature - his fog machine.
Entrance - unnoticed.
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