Flycatcher Downs Ring ring, the bartender please?

Cotillita, as she was now called, offered no name. She was slavering when he arrived, a wretched, hungry creature. Sriracha watched her eat and found pity in his heart. She was a broken thing, but with food, safety, and patience, she could be mended. Of this he was sure.

The meat was gone as soon as Sriracha dropped it before her, so fast that he feared she would choke. She didn't, but he was still afraid she would puke it up anyway. (He was more afraid that she'd puke it up and then eat it in front of him, which would be gross.) Too late, he thought that maybe letting her drink her fill was a poor decision. Would she puke that up? 

The second the food was gone, Cotillita demanded more, and also said that she felt disgusting. At least, that's what he understood. I think you're eating too fast, he said. Did you even chew? It made him feel bad to hold back the rest of the food, though. He wouldn't deny her that, after she had probably been starving for weeks. So this time, he took a smaller strip and chewed it thoroughly before spitting it out on the grass in front of her. Go slow, señorita, you've got time. Nobody's gonna take it from you, I won't let them, he promised.