Wheeling Gull Isle dance with me and shake your bones.

a rumble ceased accipitra’s investigation. she froze as the vibrations of the earth and the air washed over her like a wave, following something acrid and crude — a scent so profound she felt her nose recoil. 

accipitra bundled her legs underneath her, clumsily retracting each limb in the wounded manner of a spider smashed underfoot. this scent was foul, it was unpleasant! it woke in her a need to evacuate; not just from the giant, but from within. 

the odor was so powerful it caused her gut to quench. abruptly she threw up a strand of white milk mixed with bile, w followed by a doleful hiccup. there was no escape, but maybe she could back up until she hit the den wall.