"Not more deer, no, though this one isn't quite dead yet."

Tarn takes a step closer to the geardeer's prone body. The Pet had stopped its hissing when Dirge had, having been prepared to go back to feasting, but as Tarn approaches, its ears lay back against its head and it hunches down protectively over dinner. Tarn pushes it away with one large foot. Crouching down even further, hackles raised, the turbofox bares its teeth but nonetheless slinks off, agitated. Tarn pays that no attention.

"Do you remember asking me about sparkeaters? Well, the Pet is one of them, and what it's after is... well, I imagine you can guess?" Tarn prompts.