Episode 1: The Salvaged Job

The night feels oppressive, as though the dark constantly pushes in to find purchase against the light from your fire. There is no wind tonight, which ironically adds volume to the silence that surrounds you. The snap of the fire is your only accompaniment as you keep your watch over an uneasy sleep. Trusting your teammates, you do find sleep, and take your turn at guard.

Nothing happens.

It is now morning. The fire burns low even as the sky begins to brighten, and a soft breeze arrives across the grassland like a welcome visitor, cool and comfortable.

The morning sky is clear.

No wait, there it is, coming up from the direction of the valley.

At this time the raven is close to half a mile away, as its black silhouette is easily visible against the clear morning sky. It is making headway towards your vicinity, and you estimate it flies within an altitude between 60 and 80 feet in the air as some birds are wont to do. The raven does not approach on a direct line, occasionally flapping its wings to gain lift in the breeze one way, then coasting to the other.

Given what you know of bird flight, unless something distracts it, the raven should arrive fairly soon.

Nothing else seems to be in the area, either on land or in the air. The raven appears to be alone.

The sun has crested the horizon, casting a morning glow upon the veldt. A flock of a dozen tiny birds, no bigger than your finger, flit amidst the grass with quick and high-pitched chirps, picking off the spikelets and moving on. Maribel also chews on some nearby grass, tail swishing slowly in contentment.

The sky is clear, and the raven's black form stands out distinctly as it coasts above your camp, using its wings to hover amidst the breeze.

There is a loud and surprised SQUAWK! from the raven before it erupts into a tiny fireball. When the smoke clears, not even a wisp of ash remains.

A minute passes, and there is no other activity that you can see in your area. Even the wind has seemingly been shocked into silence.

Eventually, nature resumes its course. Those tiny birds resume their chittering as they flit between the grass, Maribel chews something contentedly, and the fire begins to die out.

You enjoy a morning meal and break camp to resume your journey. For the remainder of the day, you are not bothered by anything except the weather, which is pleasant. The skies are clear.

The following day, the kopjes become more frequent as you travel, and as the sun rises to its zenith, you are forced to weave your way through rockier terrain. The wind has started to pick up, but you are sheltered from the brunt of it thanks to the outcrops and hills. Clouds have begun to roll in, casting intermittent shadows at the periphery of sunlight.

There is nary a sound save the passage of your footfalls and the faint whistle of wind through the rocks. Due to the terrain, you find it difficult to see the next turn and your field of vision has become limited.