They followed the trail of stone bodies for what seemed like hours. At least the long walk, leading the horses between bodies, stretched the kinks out of Dean's legs. He thought he might actually not be lame for life, after all. Then they went up a slow rise, and at the top, peered down into a gentle swale, with a tidy farmhouse in the middle. A barn was off to one side, and the area between had been roughly fenced in. A flock of brightly colored chickens pecked and scratched in the yard, with a rooster strutting around guarding them.

Dean peered beyond the house, eyes flicking across the scrubby grassland. "Hunh...looks like this is the end of the trail." He shot a glance at Sam, whose lips folded with determination as he nodded back. Both became more alert and wary, scanning the house, barn and yard, as they moved forward quietly. Sam slowly pulled out his machete. Dean pointed with a quick, two-fingered gesture to the house, a nod indicating that he'd check the barn.

Their quiet, cautious walk forward was ruined by Richard, coming up behind Dean and peering with bright, interested eyes over his shoulder. "What? You two just suddenly turned into hunters - right before our eyes! Astonishing! Should we be tiptoeing, too?"

Gareth hissed a quick shushing noise, shooting the king a reprimanding look.

Dean stopped dead, dropped his head, sighed, shook it, and then lifted it again. He stared at the scene in front of them, and gritted out, "We were going to go in there quietly, see if we could flush the monster out. But I guess that's a no-go now. Right?" He glared at the king.

"Oh. Oh, dear." Richard's mouth dropped open. "Oh, my. I do apologize! But I've never really been a hunter; spent all my formative years being king, y'know." His head drooped, his long, lavish hair falling around his face. He looked so hang-dog that Dean couldn't stay angry. He clapped Richard on the shoulder.

"S'all right, man. The whatever-it-is is probably long gone. No harm, no foul. Sammy!" Sam relaxed, re-sheathed his machete, and strode back to them. "Guess we'll just check everything out without the sneaking..." Sam gave him a rueful nod. "So. C'mon."

They all headed to the gate. Sid dashed before them, opened it, and gestured them in with a sweeping bow. He commented to Dean, as he passed, "I do like to at least do something!" Dean grinned back.

They all stopped at the edge of the yard, watched as the chickens scattered away from them, clucking nervously. The rooster, more bold, planted himself between them and his harem, began strutting back and forth, giving them a dangerous look from beady black eyes.

"Now that is a handsome bird!" Richard commented. "Big, too..."

Gareth worked his jaw, eyeing it. "Just a rooster, Sire. Nasty critters. Got all clawed up by one when I were just a lad." He glared at the bird, fondling his sword hilt.

"Oh, lighten up, Gary! If everyone here is dead, these poor things must be starving." He turned to Galavant, eyes lighting up. "Gal! The castle needs a flock - ". Galavant just shook his head fondly.

"Um. Actually, Sire, no, it doesn't," Sid murmured softly. He tilted his head back, stared at the sky, pursing his lips. "Buuut...Maybe there are some sheep?" He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"Nonsense! We can always use more chickens!" Richard stepped forward, but was stopped by Sam's arm thrust across his chest. Sam was frowning at the birds.

"That's not a rooster," he said. "It has...it has...a tail?"

They all stopped to look more closely.

It was, in fact, quite beautiful. Its neck and back were iridescent blue-black, shining in the sunlight. The crest was a striking black and orange, raised now at the perceived danger. Its wings were orange and red, with cream and black under feathers peeking through. But. As Sam had pointed out, it had a tail. A long, lizard-like tail.

"Now, even I know that's not right," Galavant murmured, frowning at it.

"And look at its chest," Sam added quietly. "And legs." Its chest was bright cream in color, but there were no feathers; it looked like very fine lizard scales. The black legs had no feathers, either, and were extremely muscular.

"Why - it's like a little, feathered mini-dragon!" the king crowed.

Galavant rolled his eyes. "We already have one dragon at the castle. Richard. We don't need another, no matter how small it is," he pointed out. Richard looked at him with a wide, delighted smile.

"Yes! Don't you see? Tad Cooper is lonely! He needs a pet! We can bring this flock of - of whatever-they-ares back, and Tad can have fun chasing after his pet - pet - So what is it?" he finally concluded.

While they had been talking, the rooster-thing had been watching, and slowly pacing closer. At this point, it fluffed its feathers threateningly and spread its wings wide. Sam and Dean swiftly drew their machetes, ready to deal with it if it flew at them, but instead it started dragging the tips of its wings in the dust of the farmyard, stalking in a circle. The cream chest started growing, inflating like a cream-colored lizard-skin balloon, to the point that it was twice as wide as originally. Then it stopped pacing, fixed its beady eyes on them, and started booming in a startlingly deep bass chant, "IiiiiiIi...aaaaaAM! IiiiiiiIi...aaaaaAM! IiiiiiIi...aaaaaAM ayoungandhandsome, ayoungandhandsome, ayoungandhandsome coooooOCK-a-TRICE!" The invisible orchestra that seemed to be everywhere in this strange place punctuated the chant with eight rapid, discordant chords. Everyone stared at the rooster-thing, astonished.

Dean closed his eyes. In a resigned voice, he said, "Right. Even the fucking birds sing in this place."

Sam snickered. "Birds sing everywhere, Dean." He winked. Dean glared at him, offended.

"Not like that, they don't!" he snarled.

"This is...most unusual!" Richard breathed in awe. "I must have it for Tad!"

The rooster started pacing again, in the other direction. Then it inflated its throat and chest again. "Aaaaaand! Aaaaaand! Iamawesome, Iamawesome, Iamawesome aaaaaaaaand FIERCE!" The rooster-thing stopped again, skewering them with its eyes.

"Fierce." Dean's jaw worked. "Yeah, right. I'll 'fierce' you, you goddamned - " He took a step forward, but Sam gripped his arm, held him back.

"Dean. It's a cockatrice! That's what's been turning everyone into stone!" he hissed. Dean stopped dead.

"That thing?! Dude. It's tiny!"

"Well. Not exactly 'tiny'," Galavant observed, with a thoughtful tilt of an eyebrow. "Not big, mind you. But - "

The cockatrice started pacing again. Its wingtips stirred up little puffs of dust as they dragged on the ground. "Aaaaaand! Aaaaaand! Iwillprotectmymates, Iwillprotectmymates, Iwillprotectthem from eeeeveryTHING!"

"So why isn't it turning us to stone?" Galavant asked, curious. Dean's head whipped around. Their eyes locked. Now that he thought about it...

"That's a very good question," he murmured in answer.

The cockatrice took a step toward them. "Buuuuuut! Buuuuuut! Weareveryhungry, weareveryhungry, weareveryhungry riiiiiiight NOW!" It stopped and stared at them. The invisible orchestra unexpectedly crashed out the eight rapid chords again. They all jumped, startled. The cockatrice moved forward another step.

"Oh! He's hungry! Poor little fella!" the king crooned, taking a step forward. Gareth's jaw worked; he looked at his king with exasperation.

"Moit I remind you - Sire! -that that 'poor little fella' offed about twenty people?!" he ground out.

"Aw. I'm sure he didn't mean to!"

"WAFNA!" the cockatrice cried out loudly, wailing. The hens in the background repeated it in chorus, and the orchestra joined in. "WAFNA!" The hens sang it again with the orchestra.

Sam was listening, head cocked to the side, a thoughtful frown on his face. Dean elbowed him. "What the hell is 'vafna'?"

"I recognize this piece," Sam murmured. "It's from the Carmina Burana..."

"Carmina what-ana? Dude. What's 'vafna'?!"

"Woe."

"Whoa?"

Sam slid him a repressive look. "Woe. Sorrow. Sadness. That kind of 'woe'."

"Oh. Woe."

The cockatrice drooped down, settling its chest onto the dirt, black and orange wings spreading out around him like a puddle. No inflated chest this time; it just moaned, "We are all sooooo huuungry!" The hens sang out "WAFNA! WAFNA! WAFNA!" The orchestra crashed in the background. "Pleeeeeeeeease, Pleeeeeeeeease, feeeeeed us!" Four 'wafnas' came from the hens, lamenting loudly, then there was a pause, the orchestra crashed, and the hens sang, "HA-HA!" Then everything was quiet.

The cockatrice peered at them with its beady eyes, waiting. The hens crowded close behind it, all snuggled into the dust, their eyes on the group, too.

"Great," Dean muttered to Sam. "Now what?!"

A/N: The cockatrice is singing 'Ego Sum Abbas' from the 'Carmina Burana'. For a nice interpretation, go here: /BTzGqnOx_rc. My pastiche is not quite correct on the phrasing, sorry! And many, many thanks to IowanCorn on AO3, for suggesting the monster sing, too, and whose idea of plainsong made me think of the Abbot's Song.