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Message: <blockquote data-quote="The Shaman" data-source="post: 3039130" data-attributes="member: 26473">The paras spread out along the ridgetop and peer cautiously over the side, taking in the scene.The steep wall of the ridge falls away into a rocky gorge, the bottom a hundred meters below where the paras lurk. A narrow trail, barely the width of a pair of boots side by side, snakes its way down the steep wall of the gorge to the rolling floor of the defile.Perched on a small rise in the bottom of the gorge is a small white structure with a dome perched on top. From the ridge the paras can see what appears to be low stone or brick walls, perhaps, or maybe the ruins of another structure, a dozen meters from where the tomb sits on its tiny rise.Narrow streambeds cut deep into the sandy floor of the gorge. Hugging the base of the wall are lonely palms, while scattered shrubs dot the thin terracotta soil.A flash of movement catches the eyes of Pyotr and Marcel – black vultures perch on rocks near the bottom of the slope, the object of their attention lost amid the boulders. Marcel sees a jackal skulking around as well, eyeing the vultures warily.As the rest of the paras take cover, the captain and Nedjar gather their striped robes around them, concealing their submachine guns – only their combat boots give away their true association as they set off down the narrow trail, picking their way carefully down the steep slope. It takes several minutes for the two men to reach the bottom – watching their progress from the top of the hill, the paras can see that the trail passes just above where the jackals and vultures have gathered. In fact the two men are close enough that a pair of the vultures spread their wide wings and leap from the rocks where they rest and fly away with slow, heavy wingbeats. The capitaine and the légionnaire pause briefly to observe the animals then continue on toward the tomb and the cluster of low walls. The two men conduct a quick search of both structures, then Nedjar sweeps back his hood and raises his submachine gun high overhead.“Let’s go,” Kat orders, and the ragged line of paratroopers descend the steep, narrow trail. Reaching the spot above where the scavengers hang about, the paras see the object of their atttentions: a dead donkey lying in the rocks, legs awkwardly askew. A pair of jackals with bloodstained maws stare up at the men on the trail cautiously, their meal interrupted – another vulture takes flight, but several more wait patiently for the jackals to eat their fill before gorging themselves on the donkey’s torn flesh in turn.“Lost donkeys, my ass,” says Ortu as he glances at the scene, then looks up at the ridgetops overlooking the gorge. “Putain fels.”Reaching the lower end of the trail, the legionnaires cut across the rolling ground to the tomb. The whitewashed bricks are pitted and the paint flaked. Drawing near to where Capt. Martini and Nedjar stand, the paras get a closer look at the low walls - constructed of unpainted mud bricks, two appear to define the outline of a building that has since disappeared while the others enclose a small cemetery with crooked and broken headstones. The walls of the gorge loom silently over the funereal tableau.“The marabout of Abd-el-Hamou,” Capt. Martini says, nodding at the old white tomb.</blockquote>

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