Oliver couldn't help but blush at "grade-A snout". He was happy that he could actually do something to help his new friends. He continued down the trail carefully, kicking small rocks over the side so that the others wouldn't trip over them, all the while keeping his head down. His nose started to go numb as he dragged it through the snow, determined not to lose the scent, which was getting stronger.
At the bottom of the cliff, he noticed something that looked like a large piece of cloth propped up to make a small room. A ... tent, right?
"Hey guys, this way," he called behind him, traversing the last bit of the cliff down to the bottom. "Be careful, it's really steep here!"
He managed to make his way to the bottom of the gorge and gasped at what he saw. Indeed, it was a tent, but it had been torn apart by wicked claws. The tent itself was stained with blood, and a foul smell was wafting out from within it. On the snow-sprinkled ground around it were a variety of complex gadgets. By the way that their screens were blank and unresponsive when Oliver pushed a button with his paw, they appeared to be broken.
The blood stains on what was left of the tent scared the little Growlithe, and the putrid smell coming from inside the tent made him feel sick. As soon as Pyth got to the bottom of the gorge, Oliver retreated behind him.
"Those poor hoomins must have been killed by the Infected," he said, his ears drooping. "I wonder how long its been since this happened? I hope that they aren't still around here..."
Last edited by Saphira on Thu Jan 05, 2012 1:15 pm; edited 1 time in total