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The saurian's jaw unclenched and it's head jerked back. The arm of the deinychious fractured with a sickening crack as it twisted it the wrong way against the set of Rachel's jaw. The tip of the Javelin was like a tiny silver button on its abdomen, and the dinosaur swung from side to side, curled on the ground. It gave short, high sounds, almost like the barking of a small dog, until the death throes subsided and the barks were replaced with gurgling and grunts. Steam rose as the animal voided its bowels and lay still.

Korchaw fell back to all fours and lowered his skull so that Taralina could step down to the ground. She strode over the the deinonychus and yanked her javelin from it before looking to Rachel. There is a sense that she is sizing up her wounds.

"Raptor bite," she said. "Your tribe have shaman? Medicine crone?"

"Hmmmmmm."

Taralina watched her thoughtfully, as though making a complicated decision. She drew a stone knife and knelt by the dead raptor, whereupon she patiently began skinning, sectioning and cleaning it.

"Me, also," she said as she worked. At first it seemed like she was going to go on, but no more words came.

The raptor was tough and scrawny, but Taralina studiously stripped it of what meat it possessed and bound it up alongside its scaly skin, storing them away to be prepared later.

"You are lucky," she said as she was finishing, "Deinonychus hunt in pack. They wipe out my whole tribe. Make stampede."

Taralina leaned meaningfully on her javelin, like a staff.

"Not so many, anymore. I hunt them."

"Yes. You are weak and small. In my tribe, we leave you for lions," Taralina said, pausing for a grudging moment, "But my tribe is dead. So is yours. The Gods will it that we meet."

"Our village was ruined by stampede. We make camp or look for other tribes."

"Then we make camp."

Taralina dropped her javelin and began climbing a nearby tree with stable-looking branches. As she climbed she would occasionally kick down straight-looking ones until a small pile amassed.

"Have cured skins for tents on Korchaw's back," she explained casually, grunting as she kicked down another sturdy limb, "We make shelter and cook and cure raptor."