Haunted Wood for the rotting (mtr.)

And all the while it took him to reply, the roseate only crept ever closer and closer; until she was mere lengths away. But even from here, she could smell the decay on him, of him; see the disheveled hide, rippling, stirring the colossus’s near-Herculean figure with absent intentions of its own. Nesrine wonders how many before her have suffocated within their depths — one way or another, all things considered. 

“Have room for one more?” she enquired, breathing Vengeance’s pestilential incense in as she did. She dared another step closer, and another; her words seething from her as a glint of ravenosity flickered in ambered eyes. Take him in a skirmish, she would no doubt mind... but what if for herself?

A soft, chittering rumble lurked in the back of her throat — she didn’t try to hide that, nor the way her dark nostrils flared.