[b]Herbert West[/b]

The little thing stumbled away from the carcases from which it had emerged, it tripped over an arm. Oddly enough, the little thing seemed disoriented itself. It seemed to follow the sound of his voice, however, and walked toward his shoes. It hopped up on top of Harbert's boot.

It did not answer him, it had not vocal chords. It did, however, make a sound. Click-click-crackle-clack. Bones somewhere near where the back of its throat should be ground together to make the grating rickety-sound rather than a chirp or a song like a normal bird might have...