Wisp hoots musically and flowingly, translating as quickly and gracefully as he can manage. Given your empathic bond, it isn't too hard to convey your intentions to the expectant mother.
Squawking enthusiastically, the two heads shove toward you the orc corpse you spit on. You step back (5 ft. step) and she shoves the corpse to your feet.
She's offering it to you, Tall magic-one, hoots Wisp, because you've marked it.
Squaaaw--kk! The griffon turns its eagle heads to both sides and the yellow eyes scrutinize you, Lucius.
I think you would be wise to take it, Tall magic-one.
Artemus, its your turn. You're an eagle, and Quidam's whirlwind is blowing up leaves and dust nearby.