biohazard

She stood over him the way he imagined the mythical giants would tower over the mortals in their fields. A great tower of ice imbibed with an eternal fire, which flared despite his grovelling. In an effort to sink lower in to the earth he wiggled and pressed himself back, becoming an ink stain - a shadow that barely matched the giant's breast. The sound of her avalanche voice shook his very bones, and for a handful of tense moments Tiarnan doubted his choice. This was not safe, this was utter stupidity. A mountain could devour a child like him. And yet he could not undo his decision, and dared not try to escape from beneath the pressure of her presence. When prompted the boy mewled like a wounded animal - for surely he was that, at the very least, driven so thoroughly by hunger - and began to chant the only thing he could: "Silvertip! S-s-silvertip, please," The sound of his desperation made his words slip and slur, his teeth wanting to grip shut, but he couldn't become silent yet - the glacier woman needed to understand him. "Mountain, Tiarnan, Silvertip, yes, please -"