It would be no fun at all to eat these poor things, Claudia could already tell--despite their glow, the texture and scent of them was like sheep, easily led, bowing to any raised hand. She wrinkled her nose at the suggestion, cutting a narrow look Lestat's way with her lips pursed, and dropped heavily off of the fence to daintily dust her fingers together. "I thought there would be a boy..." she explained, though she couldn't smell anything richer than the glowing sheep, and didn't hear either a snoring or errant thoughts anywhere nearby as she searched for where a stablehand might be napping in the straw.