“Ah,” Ambrosia says, as she returns through the trees, wet hair dripping water down her shoulders, running rivulets between her breasts. “So we should expect more part-beetle-people, and other similarities…” she sighs. “Um, do you know what happens if you, um, eat something like that?” She blushes. “I mean, we wouldn’t want to leave any bodies around for scavengers or similar if they’re potentially dangerous. Or anything like that.” Her stomach chooses that moment to announce its<span style="font-style: italic">hunger</span>for breakfast with a loud rumble. “Yes. We wouldn’t want to endanger any… scavengers. They fill a vital ecological niche.”