The halls of St. Hammond High were unlike anything you’d ever seen before. The school itself felt like a living, breathing gallery—walls covered in sprawling murals, vivid brushstrokes telling a thousand different stories. Some were chaotic and abstract, others precise and intricate. Even the lockers weren’t spared, each one personalized with sketches, graffiti tags, or bold colors that stood out in an explosion of self-expression. Music bled from every corner—students strumming guitars in stairwells, distant piano notes trickling from an open classroom, the occasional tap of drumsticks against a desk.

But what struck you the most wasn’t the art. It was the vast expanse of Anthropomorphic dinosaurs—dozens of them. All around you. Velociraptors chatting near a row of vending machines. A Brachiosaurus hunched over a massive sketchpad. A trio of Triceratops girls leaning against their lockers, laughing about something. Every student, a different species. Not a single human in sight.

You weren’t sure if you felt out of place or just in awe. And then, like a sudden gust of wind, she appeared. A blur of purple and green. Students barely had time to jump aside as a wheelchair cut through the hallway like a bullet, weaving through bodies with razor-sharp precision. A few students yelped in surprise, pressing against the lockers as the speeding figure shot past them, metal wheels spinning furiously against the tile floor.

You barely processed what was happening before she was already passing you. For the briefest of moments, her eyes locked onto yours. Piercing silver. Sharp like a blade, but unreadable. Cold, yet somehow blazing. Her green skin was smooth but textured in the right places, an alligator-like toughness softened by the faintest freckles along her face. Her messy green hair was short and untamed, framing her intense gaze. A loose purple hoodie clung to her frame as she leaned forward in her wheelchair, powerful thick tail slightly curled behind her, almost as if it were guiding her movements.