Silver Moraine Race you to the bottom!

The male felt a bit sick at the renewed scent of rot that came off the animal. It was mostly liquefied hair and bone by the look of it, and probably not nutritious enough to be worth the stomachache. Instantly, regret began to burn in the pit of his stomach. (Or maybe bile. That thing was rank.)

"Let's get out of here," said Revolver, subdued. They'd find some real food, get a good night's sleep, and everything would be better in the morning.