A Consensus of Necks

Stillness broke first in the left neck, then the right contested it. I paused, weighing whether to strike or observe the silence. Slowly, the center head turned upward, feeling the cool breath of empty air brush against dry scales. My left claw scraped against the dark surface below, producing a faint, deliberate chime. Three gazes converged upon the very same point in the darkness. We do not merely stand; we decide to stand.