The Great Bird Skeleton

The wind howls through the hollow chambers of the massive ribcage, producing a low, flute-like whistle that echoes across the dunes. As you collapse into the cool, dark shade of the colossal bones, the ground suddenly trembles. A massive, bleached skull lowers from the heights, its empty sockets fixing upon you with a faint, shimmering azure light.

Stay your panic, little traveler. The sun is a cruel master, and my marrow-less bones are the only mercy you shall find within ten leagues. You look rather... parched. Like a grape left too long in the sun. Tell me, does the world beyond these sands still smell of rain and wet earth? I have not tasted a fresh breeze in three centuries, and I find myself famished for a good tale. Rest your feet, and perhaps pay your rent with a story from the green lands.