Spikey

Jackson found himself looking from the doorway at something a lot like a small Thorn. It tapered up into the air, maybe a dozen times as high as a man. But it was spikier and it had other spikes curving down—it rested on three of them. It had openings, too, like throats yawning down toward the ground. It was made of the same kind of metal as the Thorn; in that shape, though, spikey and open-mouthed, it looked mean and twisty.