Heron Lake Plateau feeling my way through the darkness

His words were trapped in Screech's head, so he couldn't stop the girl with Ceara's face from slinking her way in to the den, the way Niamh's doppleganger had. Soon she was nestled close just like his other caretaker, and the fear became so great that he couldn't even make a sound. Being trapped in your own body was hard, but not recognizing that body? Feeling like you were merely a pilot, a watcher, was so much more disorienting.

As the bird began to get torn to pieces, Screech's eye turned to regard the pile of meat and a small wave of saliva filled his mouth. It wasn't quite enough to whet his tongue or cause him to drool, but the body demanded fuel. As Ceara pushed some of it towards him, he was already trying to will up enough energy to reach and grab for it. He snapped those teeth, grabbed for the meat, and might've grabbed her in the process — the body had bad depth perception after all.

Whether he bit her by accident or not, the meat filled his throat and didn't want to go much further. He began to choke on it; as he wheezed and coughed, the pain in his head refreshed itself, until such point that the meal came tumbling out of him again in a puddle of foamy saliva. The soil drank this in, and he sagged against his caretaker in the next second.