Wheeling Gull Isle dance with me and shake your bones.

a small battalion of sneezes moved across her throat. each one sent accipitra further back, until at last all occupied forces had vacated and she was left with snot hanging from her nose. 

the giant moved, its thunderous voice spilling over her in a series of drumming tremors. she understood nothing, but brightly parroted back: woo-woo!

she was mesmerized by the totality of black that this one’s fur possessed; streaks of rust and white made their home on her fur’s pitch patchwork, but it was towhee’s eyes and deft movement of her paws that captured accipitra the most. towhee’s eyes stared brightly out of a dark face like the fusion of a pair of incorrigibly smoldering stars; each leaving a comet streak in accipitra’s vision that confounded her more than towhee’s belch had.