Wheeling Gull Isle derrida

tell me if I need to change that Perdition thinks she smells like death

Perdition could smell something from far off, something rotten. Something dead. Grimacing--with pain, but also from the smell--he set off to find the source and get rid of it somehow. Despite himself, he was beginning to like this island and did not enjoy the idea that something old and rotten was marring its features.

He followed the scent for a time, walking stiffly from pain, doing his best to ignore the fire that occasionally trailed the scars along his body, and eventually stumbled upon... the strangest canid he'd ever seen. And it wasn't dead. Disturbed, and now unsure what to do, he simply stared at it, his face a mask of confusion and disgust.