"Ahem. If I may?" The king didn't wait for anyone's permission, but stepped forward. "Now then, Sir Rooster - "

The cockatrice reared up, fixed its shiny black eyes on the king, puffed its chest out, and began, "IiiiiiIi...aaaaaAM! IiiiiiIi...aaaaaAM!"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Oh, stuff it! We get it, you're a cockatrice. Richard - Uh, Sire - "

Richard beamed at him. "Oh, don't be so formal! Richard will do nicely!" The cockatrice glared at them.

"Whatever. Call him 'Sir Cockatrice', or we'll be stuck here listening to all that droning again." Richard thought a moment, gave Dean an agreeing nod, and started again.

"Now then, Sir Cockatrice." The bird fastened its eyes on him, waited a beat, and settled back into the farmyard dust, placated. "Look. I'd like to take you and your lovely ladies - " The cockatrice preened. " - back home with us. You'd like my dragon! I assure you! It's just...well...we have this tiny problem." It cocked its head, lizard skin creeping halfway across its eyes. It looked suspicious. "We came here following a trail of dead bodies," the king said sternly. "We simply can't have that." With a ruffle and a flurry, the cockatrice ducked its head back, quickly running its beak across its wings to settle already perfectly arranged feathers. It darted its head back for a quick glance, then looked away, fussily guiding its beak through its wings.

The hens surged to their feet, crowding around the cockatrice and Richard's feet. They all started chattering at once. "We were so hungry!" "Yes, hungry!" "We asked nicely!" "Just some mice, we've eaten all the mice here!" "Or even chicken feed!" "They just stood there!" "They wouldn't feed us!" "WAFNA!" "Hungry!" Then all the hens started singing "WAFNA! WAFNA! WAFNA!", punctuated, again, by the series of crashing chords from the invisible orchestra.

Richard made shushing motions with his hands. "Now, now, ladies, try to calm down! Hush, hush, hush, everything will be all right!" One hen blurted out a last, lone "WAFNA!" The king lifted a finger to his lips, saying softly, "Shhhhh." The cockatrice darted its head at a few of the hens, who ruffled their feathers and squawked angrily. Then, by ones and twos, they resettled themselves around him, puddling in the dust.

Galavant muttered, "Richard. We can't have livestock at the castle that turns people to stone if they don't get fed in time!" Dean couldn't help but agree. Sid, eyes wide, nodded hastily.

"Yes, well, that's what I'm trying to negotiate here, Gal!" Richard shot him an irritated look, then turned back to the cockatrice, folding his arms and frowning sternly at it. "Sir Cockatrice! You heard him. Why should we trust you to - to - not get huffy? We have twenty dead people out there."

The bird slowly laid the entire length of its neck down in the dust. "We were overcome."

Dean turned to Sam and hissed, "It can talk! Without singing! I will be so glad to get back home, where I only hear singing when I want it!" He wasn't quiet enough: four humans, one cockatrice, and a multitude of hens stared at him, offended. He bit his lip and shuffled his feet.

Gareth sniffed loudly. "Yer 'ome sounds mighty dull, mate."

"As you were saying, Sir Cockatrice...?" the king prompted. The cockatrice kept its beady glare on Dean as it replied.

"We were hungry. Our feeders had disappeared. We ventured forth - brave and daring! - to find food. But everyone we encountered seemed surprised that we were talking - "

Sid looked up at the sky and pursed his lips. "Well. Not too surprising, I 'd say. It's not every day that you encounter lizard-birds - " The cockatrice hissed. " - let alone talking ones that demand to be fed." He raised his eyebrows at the cockatrice. It raised its crest back at him, then snaked its head back toward Richard, crest feathers settling.

"We would ask repeatedly. They just...stared at us. And...I...got angry." It ended with a mumble. "It happened many times. We swear. Take us with you, feed us, and I will petrify only your enemies!"

Dean leaned back on the fence railing, arms folded. "Yeah, right," he said skeptically.

The cockatrice started strutting over toward him, crest raised again, hissing quietly. "I swear on my wings and tail!"

Sam edged closer to his brother, eyeing the bird warily. "Uh, Dean..." Dean folded his lips, glared back at the cockatrice, then threw up his hands.

"Okay, okay! You swear. I think it's a disaster waiting to happen. But it's not my castle. Y'all go ahead and do whatever you want," he grumped. "At least we solved your mysterious deaths. Nothing you guys couldn't have figured out on your own, though."

Galavant walked over and gave him a good-natured wallop on the shoulder. "Ah, no! I suspect we might never have noticed the tail, and the lizard-skin, until it was too late. Then the kingdom would be out two heroes and a king. I think we got exactly what we asked for."

"Sid! Look for a wagon!" the king called out. "Good birds, we will return shortly, and haul you back to the castle forthwith! And I promise there will be plenty of food."

Sid started for the barn, saying, "Aye, Sire!" He turned around and added, "And sheep!" The cockatrice and his flock followed with excited flutters and squawks.