Deep within the boiling black clouds, he saw occasional flickers of lightning.

The sky had lowered until the boiling clouds brushed along the surrounding walls of rock.

Even without his spectacles, he could see the boiling clouds swirling over his homeland.

Through the arched openings he could see the boiling black clouds that hugged the ground.

I looked up at the boiling clouds overhead, lit by the dancing lightning moving among them, deadly beautiful and luminous.

Berry sat, mesmerized by the churning mass of black boiling clouds in the distance.

They filled the cabin like a boiling cloud, dead but not gone, with gargoyle faces and huge clawed hands.

Within minutes, the sky above them was dark as night, and the first flashes of lightning cracked through the boiling clouds.

He looked up at the boiling clouds.

He grimaced and looked down at the boiling clouds.