The Yason had already knelt down by his own hen, the javelin set down on the ground and a knife brought out in his hand - another stone blade, sharpened and thinned to usefulness from his cutting-wheel. He knew from experience that the Krell device (or at least he had come think of it as a Krell instrument, from what Milan had indicated of the place) would not cut flesh and bone, be it his own or to butcher freshly killed game. But it was useful in fabricating something that could.
"English?" he repeated, glancing over at Gerald. He used the flat end of the knife and his palm to remove the feathers en masse, but paused long enough to indicate the bird. "Hen," he answered in Efferian.