Karyu sized up the woman that knelt before his rider. Her approach, also, had been genuine enough: rather than flinging herself at the feet of a dragon-rider, she had genuinely attempted to approach him on her feet, bearing an initial look of livid determination. As many were, she was quickly overwhelmed by the grandeur of seeing rider and his mount up-close, and she had just fallen to her knees in tears.
The woman was as clean as one could get in the local water, and her rags, while made out of poor material, were lovingly hand-tailored, suggesting that the woman tended to keep herself as well as she could; false beggars tended to throw rags from garbage heaps over themselves to make themselves look pitiful. Karyu knew that Luke would look at the woman closely for the slightest sign that she could be disingenuous.
A gentle pressure, from Luke, on Karyu's cream-colored throat was his signal to lift up his scarlet-red, bestial forepaw off the rocky soil, upon which the woman fell kissing it. After a little while, her sobs began to subside, and Karyu intoned in a voice that sounded like the heartbeat of a mountain, "You are blessed to speak with Dragon Rider Luke."
Nobody besides Luke and those dearest to him knew the name of Karyu. If not for his Rider, then Karyu would be hunted and exterminated like vermin. With his Rider, Karyu was a weapon, and no matter how magnificent a weapon is, its name is of no importance. The longer Karyu spent as being a mount, the more his mind faded away, steadily submitting to his transformation into a mere instrument of Luke's will.
"Rider, my name is Shauna" the woman said, "and I have some most upsetting news!"