Kronk stood at his stall in Cutlass Valley, flipping fried dino chicken with his worn wooden spoon. The sizzle and pop of hot oil filled the air. He served hungry customers all day, but his mind wandered to bigger things. He dreamed of hunting the legendary dino vulture, a creature no cook had ever caught. With its meat, he could create the perfect spicy cutlass nuggets—a recipe that would make him famous across the valley. But he couldn't hunt from a stall. He needed a real place, somewhere customers could sit and taste his creations. Every coin he earned went into a clay jar beneath his counter. Last week, he'd sketched plans on dried hide—a restaurant shaped like a giant bucket overflowing with drumsticks. The entrance would look like a cave, drawing people inside. He'd call it Kronk's Fried Dino Chicken. Once he built it, he could save enough to buy proper hunting gear. Then he'd track down that vulture and change everything. The dream felt close enough to touch, just beyond the next batch of orders. Three months later, Kronk pushed open the cave-like entrance to his new restaurant. The building rose above him like a massive bucket filled with oversized drumsticks. Inside, he'd set up tables made from tree stumps and hung torches along the walls. In the back kitchen, his giant mortar and pestle waited. He'd traded half his savings for it—a rustic stone bowl with a wooden wheel crank on the side. The thing stood as tall as his chest. Now he could grind rare spices into powder, blend them just right. Each coin that came through his door brought him closer to buying tracking gear, closer to the hunt. The restaurant was ready. The recipe still needed one last ingredient, and only the dino vulture could provide it. That afternoon, Kronk climbed to the roof of his restaurant. He pulled out his new spyglass—metal tubes that slid out with a click, crystal lenses catching the sun. He'd bought it from a trader that morning with the week's profits. He pressed it to his eye and scanned the cliffs beyond the valley. The world jumped closer through the glass. Birds circled in the distance, but none had the right shape. The dino vulture flew at dawn and dusk, the trader had said. Kronk would watch every day until he spotted it. His restaurant would feed the valley while he searched. And when he finally found that creature, he'd be ready to hunt.