As the group sits around the camp, the fire slowly dimming and the rain still falling, a murder of crows rises suddenly from the woods and flies away in a shroud of caws and yelps away from its dark pines and off into the clouds.
Sol frowns, he may be young, but he knows the dangers the wilds tend to hold even here. He favors the light of day greatly.
"If I can't deter any of you I just have to go with you, but I still think we should just go to The Claws and rest there. The rain is just going to keep going on any fire we have."