Firestone Hot Springs filled with cancers and poppy tarts

it became apparent rather quickly that something wasn't quite right with this particular meal. there was a sour tinge to the typically metallic flavor, and it felt a little too soft — slimy. it was easy enough to ignore the stranger's indignant words, and the paw looming in his face, but peregrine simply could not stand for such a grotesque meal. he lifted his head with a haughty snort, mouth blood-slicked and words slightly lisped around the grume and gristle clinging to tongue and teeth.
what does that mean? he spat out first, bloody bits flying with each word. the foundling didn't wait for an answer before he continued. this is disgusting. what did you do to it? it tastes like someone peed on it. it only took a moment or two for the boy to realize the implication behind the statement, a realization which promptly pasted his ears to his crown. n-not that i've ever tasted pee! the addition arrived with an honor guard of intense aggression, as if the stranger had already accused him of it. in peregrine's mind, they might as well have. but before he could follow up with more unwarranted aggression, he felt something rise up his throat with an alarming speed. it all happened too fast for him to stop it, or direct himself elsewhere. within moments the pup had vomited up his scant meal right back onto the source with a horrible retching sound like nails on a chalkboard. the resulting mixture was equal parts chunk and liquid, releasing acrid fumes into the air on contact and further aggravating the pup's already-tender stomach. he continued to retch loudly, despite his best efforts to force his throat to stop contracting so violently, and quickly descended into misery.