Sheepeater Cliff it's the end/friend of mine

yoink dis mine

a sneeze somewhere nearby -- riley stood at attention, feeling a prickle of unease tease his ruff.

he can smell the various, overwhelming scents of decomposition; of organs softening into the dirt and darkening it a wine-red, of the waxing scent of flesh curling, the edging of mucous and matter souring into a pulpy mash.

normally, it'd be delectable cuisine -- but riley was unsettled by the sneeze.

"who was that?" the male called as he came around a secondary bend. here, the author of such a noise was obvious -- a rakebone waif sitting amid the cairn-pit.

something about the charnel display made riley's heartbeat go up. stupidly, he remained.