Paul closes his eyes and appears within the camp. He can see a number of tents set up in an orderly fashion. There are two stripped down half-track trucks near by. They have been cannibalized almost down to their frames and there are the remnants of other vehicle frames and parts around also. On the edge of the camp there looks to be a grave site with seven mounds and crude headstones. No one seems to be around, but Paul can see lots of tracks leading off deeper into this strange landscape. Also now that he is hear in the direction he can just barely make out what looks like a line on the horizon… golden in color it is very thin and small but it might be a long ways off…
Going into each tent, Paul sees a strange mixture of Spartan military lifestyles and exceptional luxury; plain camp beds adorned with silk cushions and covers, bottles of champagne and beer, simple stoves with where used to cook fine (in tinned) food, which was eaten off enamel plates. There are also a few old, brown and faded items of personal significance; pictures of sweethearts or family, all dated before 1941. One tent, however, is different; it seems to be a workshop and library. There are books that Paul recognizes as magical lore tomes, some quit rare, and the basic paraphernalia of alchemy.
The silver wolf circles the camp and can find lots of tracks, almost all of them leading deeper into the darkness. The trail is fairly obvious now, and she can hear something out there, but can’t identify it at all. She is almost certain that there is no one in that camp right now… in fact most of the smells of two-legs (and something else) are at least a week old.
)
