Finally their number had dwindled to one, a gaunt and gamy fellow named 
Everett, whom we tried to stretch out for as long as we could. During those 
last few days, Everett was constantly looking around for his companions. Like 
all plant-eaters, he had eyes in the side of his head and could see in almost 
all directions. Everett seemed to think that if he could just swivel his head 
around in the right direction, a big healthy pack of duck-bills would suddenly 
rotate into view. At the very end, I think that Everett may have put two and 
two together; I saw him blink in surprise once, as if the
light had finally gone on in his head, and the rest of that day he was very 
quiet, as if all of his half-dozen or so neurons were busy working out the 
implications. After that, as we continued across this burned country where 
Everett had nothing to eat, he became more and more listless and whiny until 
finally Utahraptor lost his temper, lashed out with one leg, and there was 
Everett's viscera sitting there on the ground like a sack of groceries. Then 
there was simply nothing to do except eat him.