“The others?”
“I had little ones, you know,” she says, her skeletal visage giving the distinct impression of a frown. “I don’t know what happened to them.”
The Tyrannosaurus chuckles. “Well they’re dead, no doubt. I get the feeling it’s been more than a few lifetimes since we last saw our skins.” And then, realizing that he has said the wrong thing, he adds: “But I’m sure your babies lived a long time and didn’t get eaten.”
This elicits another ethereal laugh from the creature, albeit one that is more halfhearted than the first. “Very kind of you to say, brother. Of course, back then you would have tried to eat my entire family for your evening meal.”
“Yes, well, we are beyond such things now,” he responds awkwardly.
He remembers, nevertheless, the raw and pungent odor of fresh blood.
