I am without sight but I can smell the moldy odor of the damned creature. As I feel Death draw close, I smell its putrefying flesh. This stench adulterates the air, and the smell of rot floats about me in this cavernous realm. These disgusting fumes swirl and twist, biting at my nostrils like scavenging vines.
The revolting stink makes me gag. Suddenly I bend over. I begin to vomit, and then wrench out dry heaves upon the jagged rocks. I shiver; I am as chilled as a tombstone. I must keep moving; otherwise, the one that strikes terror in my heart will seize me. I also must keep moving or suffer death frozen hard in my tracks.