Ick

Passing through Port on my way to visit Eloise after her ordeal, ghoulish interest nagged at me until I found myself unable to resist a peek at the carnage along the quayside. It was horrendous, as the beast had been partially butchered and the last bits floated there, awaiting removal. It was surely a giant. I quickly produced my lavender water scented kerchief to cover my mouth, but it wasn’t enough. It may never stop smelling of rotten death in Port Babbage. Why must they always migrate in the heat of summer, these awful creatures?