Mustard yellow flowers covered the hill, slowly devouring the few remnants of needle-straight grass that had survived the corrosive rain. Jahvor liked to chew the spiky blossoms, claiming some use as an aphrodisiac, but Eliedor, watching pulp drip from his teeth, seriously doubted its effectiveness.
“What we doing here, boss,” he said, voice about as pleasant as an insect’s drone, deep in your ear.
Eliedor raised one gauze-wrapped hand skyward. “Investigating a body dump.”
“I don’t see any—“
There was a whine high above, then Jahvor’s surprised scream, as a corpse slammed into the ground, misting everything in red.
(Written for The Prediction. Challenge words: aphrodisiac, chew, gauze)