The smell came first, and tickled evilly at Barnabas's sensitive nose. Acrid and rotting, as Barnabas came to, it also woke Skaran the pack-rat...
"You smell that?" Hissed Skaran. His whiskers, shivering glass in the moonlight. Barnabas took a deeper sniff and his eyes shot wide open. He quickly covered his muzzle with his hands, leaned into the bushes behind him and threw up as quietly as possible. "I'll take that as a yes then." Skaran quickly rose, and trod silently over to Kralla. "Mistress Kralla! Wake! We have company!"
"Company, mistress. Fairly bad company I'd say..."