Orro stalked out of the kitchen and grabbed the head with his long claws. “Please don’t tell me you’re going to cook that,” I said. “Of course I’m going to cook it.” He waved the head around for emphasis. “Might I remind you that you’re on a limited budget?” “What if it’s poisonous?” Jack asked. “Preposterous!” Orro growled. “This is clearly a Morean water drake.” He tucked the severed head under his arm and walked into the kitchen, dragging the neck across the floor behind him.
