The moon silvers the jungle.
A snow-cone floats.
Cold wind chuckles.
Odors are wet and acrid.
Animals screech and caw.
Succinct. Also worth pausing over. Evalyth, a military Krakener, sets off to avenge her Atheian husband murdered by a Lokoner so the reader is less likely to focus on sights, sounds, smells or sensations.
President Trump threatens missiles as I type. I return from future post-Technic civilization to current Western civilization. And we will all be here in the morning.
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