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1303

"Did anyone spot which direction they came from? Did they come from the direction of the city, or from the cathedral? Or somewhere else entirely?"

1303

"No, they're birds. I've been watching for people with guns," Phebia grumbled as she raised her carbine and sighted the crows.

13:03 - day two

Pahr glanced over at Phebia, and raised an eyebrow. He shook his head as he hopped out of the halftrack and knelt, pulling the charging handle as he sighted the formation of birds through his scope. He slowed his breathing, taking careful aim, and noted the shape of the formation as he exhaled and squeezed the trigger.

A sharp, but quiet clink sound was all anyone heard as the rifle's bolt cycled; this was quickly followed by four more clinks, and five of the birds fell from the sky in succession. Pahr reached for another mag before the last bird could get away; it had banked wildly away from the others as it began to fall.

1303 Day 2

Phebia braced herself in the bed of the truck as Pahr hopped down. She followed one bird in particular as it started to wheel through the air as its fellows began dying. She pulled the trigger twice in rapid succession but cursed as her shots went wide. The passage of her las-bolts superheating the air and sending the bird tumbling. She adjusted her aim and fired again this time causing the last bird to explode as its body vaporized from the hit leaving only a few ragged falling feathers to mark its passing. With the last bird dead she calmly removed the charge pack from her carbine and loaded in another. She wedged the partially used one under a strap on the pack nearest to her to let it recharge in the sun.

With business taken care of she turned and spit vehemently over the side. "Throne damned witches."

13:03 - day two

Pahr loaded the fresh magazine, put his rifle on safe, and hopped back into the halftrack. As he slumped back onto the bench, he turned and nodded to Phebia; it had been some nice shooting, using a las carbine.

"Continue..." he growled toward the front cabin.

1305

"Right. Good shooting." Marco nodded, then gunned the engine and began driving as fast as the engine would let him.

"Does anyone think its a bad sign that we're fighting the birds now?" Enrick muttered.

1305
"As if the whole planet is getting turned against us? That someone with a knowledge of witchcraft is undoubtedly our enemy? Then yes."

"More along the lines of now I know I'm not going to get much sleep but whatever does it for you." Enrick giggled under his breath. Shifted and leaned back over for some sleep.

1305

"We'll need to be far more vigilant from this point on." Marco commented darkly. "If the enemy does indeed have a psyker amongst them then our job just got a lot more dangerous. We must assume the enemy has spies everywhere. Men, beasts, maybe even the trees. Trust nothing."

1305, Day Two

Trask looked up from his muttered prayers and laughed ironically. "I'm sure none of us trust anything much right now, anyway. But this is no surprise - if there's talk of raising a daemon, we already knew that a sorcerer was involved. It's just unsettling that we made a move to elude our prime suspect of treachery, and yet somehow someone still knew to train these things upon us..."

1305

Karibi swerved slightly to avoid a hole in the road before replying.

"For all we know those things could have been following us since we first arrived, so whoever set them on us need not necessarily know where we are. Though if those birds had some means of communicating with their master, which is most certainly possible, then whoever's watching us will know all about where we are and where we're going."

1306

"We'll be on guard, but there's nothing we can do aside from that at the moment."

1306-2000 Day Two:

After the crows are dispatched the journey becomes one of terminal boredom, with nothing to see or do but sleep, look at the scenery or chat with your fellow acolytes. The road barely counts as such and most of the trip is spent bouncing in your seat, causing your teeth to gnash together. Still there is the unmistakable feeling of being watched, that remains with you until the driver finally pulls off at what is unmistakably a rest point. Obviously used by pilgrims, the area is dotted with old fire pits and surrounded on all sides, save the road by large boulders.

It seems a good a place as any to brew up a warm meal and catch some rest.

1306 - 2000 Day 2

Phebia kept a sharp eye out for the rest of her shift, looking for both humans and animals that might be taking too keen an interest in their passing but noticing nothing. When her turn was up she sat down in the truck's bed and began to organize one of the packs she claimed as her own, singing softly all the while.

1945 Day 2

Phebia leaned back against one wall of the truck bed. "I was thinking, it might not be worth it to push all the way to the Abbey as fast as we can. If a witch is arrayed against us they could use their sorcery to track us far more covertly than with the flock of ravens. Perhaps the animals along the way were possessed but not made to follow us? Why tire ourselves out if any hope of a covert approach is gone?"