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Sandy points up. A root system—weak from the quake—dangles near a crack in the ceiling. Too high for one. But if Dawn stands on Sandy’s shoulders (horrifying for Dawn, hilarious for Sandy)…
Sandy runs to Grug, but stops. Turns back. She opens her mouth—and instead of a roar, she hums a single, wobbly note of Dawn’s lullaby.
They burst to the surface, muddy and tangled in roots. The two families stop mid-fight. Grug has Phil in a headlock. Eep is holding a punch aimed at Hope’s face. the croods 2 a new age
Sandy stops biting. Her eyes go wide. She wriggles closer and rests her tiny, rock-hard head on Dawn’s shoulder.
The hole seals behind them.
And for one quiet moment under the moon-bright sky, the Croods and the Bettermans are not two families. They are a new kind of pack.
Sandy’s lip quivers. She pulls a scrap of fur from her loincloth—a piece of Eep’s old tunic. She holds it out. Sandy points up
Sandy steals Phil’s toupee. She does not hum. She eats it.
As the chair crumbles, so does the cliffside beneath the dining pavilion. The ground opens with a roar. In the chaos of falling figs and rolling woolly mammoths, two figures tumble into a newly formed sinkhole: (feral, four years old, bites first and never asks questions) and Dawn Betterman (fluffy, sweet, has never touched dirt without a gardening glove). But if Dawn stands on Sandy’s shoulders (horrifying