"The burning.. The surge. The absence. Where once I dwelled... One was sent on its behalf. She tasted of you... Your flavour was appealing. You would not carry the stain, were this not so."

But sabra's visual attention seemed fixed upon the remnants of the food offering. It had more immediate relevance to her. "Yes," she agreed. "Because it is. There's no hunt here... It reeks of convenience." Then she eyed Valerie with logical suspicion. "Your trophy wall must be poor, indeed."

Because these items of human food were all the same, weren't they? No challenge involved. No hunt. No capture. Hardly worth even qualifying as prey.

"Keep the next for yourself. I prefer the undead."