[It is a rather amusing image, actually. One he stops to take in for a moment. What does one call a wolf with an orange in each paw? Ball-less! Oh, that might be a new ditty for when he's a bit more bored.

Right now, the rumbling echoes of the Maw getting fed is entertainment enough. Or those could be burps. Or growls? To be honest, all this time hasn't helped him interpret what the Maw is feeling. It might not even feel anything.]

Because they're fun, Geralt, if you get to know them. Which you could, if you stopped being a bloody bore all the time. The trick is you have to get to know them before you lob their heads off. [He catches a dragonfly as it tries to land onto one of the peach blossoms, lobbing into the Maw as well. The answer is... another belch? Is that good?] And I used to be one. You liked me then, too. I was your favourite little human. Now I'm your favourite little -- mleaaguh! [He takes a step back as a piece of something rotting -- and boneish -- erupts out of the Maw and nearly lands on top of him, being a ribcage several sizes larger than himself.] Oh, that's disgusting. Thank you for the gift. I do not want it.