In a more sane world, the Tricaput would be one of those calm herbivores that mostly gets out of humans’ way.
Instead, the Tricaput — all six tons of it — chooses a mile-wide area of land as its territory and defends it viciously against anything larger than a dog, flying into rages at the most innocent passer-through. It first charges its enemy, then uses all three heads to bite with sharp, rending teeth.
Tricaput nests include distinctively dark green, almost spherical eggs, and are made of twigs and leaves the parent chews into a sort of mash. If you see one, get out of there as quickly as you can.
