He was trembling all over, and in his mouth there was a taste like bitter smoke.

He drew a sharp breath, tasted bitter smoke at the back of his throat.

He could almost hear the screaming, taste the bitter smoke that filled the air.

Ash and bitter smoke drifted through the site.

He lit one himself, and blew a long cloud of the bitter smoke.

Resolute coughed at the bitter smoke, not wanting to think about inhaling Force.

The clear summer air between the two armies was filled with drifting veils of bitter, black smoke.

Within moments the room was fogged with bitter smoke.

The gun fired, bellowing noise at the houses, drifting the bitter smoke back where the two officers talked.

And my mouth tasted the bitter smoke of the blast.