Once near the bottom Clay leaps off the bird hitting the ground with a hard unsteady landing. Beneath the shade of the sheer cliff side the ground was much cooler, dry but cool.
A sturdy gust of wind picked up the sand and threw it around.
Rare shrubbery and the odd weed was the only sign of life. 
Clay picked himself up, dusted himself off and started moving.

[the first leg of the trip will be mostly uneventful. Those that notice a flock of birds in the distance will see one suddenly fall from the sky and everyone will hear the soft echo of a distant sniper rifle. 
Eventually after hours of walking you see a small outpost nestled, and almost hidden between two large rocks.
Two tall rows of wire fencing creates a perimeter along with dangerous jagged scrap metal of all sorts.
Roughly constructed lookout towers sit in each corner of the small compound. Shifting shadows indicate a gunman within.
A large iron door with an eye slate symbolizes the only safe way in.]