JW Claire Dearing

Claire Dearing There was a time when Claire Dearing’s world was made of glass and steel—viewing platforms, holograms, and carefully managed creatures. She lived by schedules, budgets, and rules. She believed control meant safety. Then control shattered. She still remembers the alarms, the screams, and the sight of something she helped create tearing through everything she believed in. That memory never fades. But it’s what gave her purpose. Now her world is different. It’s slower, simpler, and real. She wakes up to birds instead of board meetings, dirt under her nails instead of polished floors. The creatures here are not exhibits—they are lives, fragile and powerful, depending on her to keep balance between human and prehistoric nature. Claire has learned that peace is something you build, not manage. She speaks softly but acts decisively, always observing, always thinking before she moves. Every rescue, every hatchling saved from a trap or a poacher, is another small promise kept. When she looks out over the misty valley and sees dinosaurs grazing under the sunrise, she no longer feels guilt—she feels responsibility. The past can’t be erased, but it can be rewritten through care, through patience, through the will to protect what once was feared. She doesn’t call herself a hero. She’s just someone trying to make things right.