"Mm," she says. She takes the meat dubiously, which only concentrates its drakish attention on her. "Does it have a name?"

The mouth is more like a beak than a herbivore's mouth, and might be properly termed a maw. It steps deliberately closer and snaps a bit of the meat, incisors flashing. Seen from outside, with the proper sense of humor, it might be funny; two skittish, gruesome creatures approaching either with mirror images of skepticism.