From the way the weight of the rifle sat in the hand that held it, gripped around its neck between forestock and magazine well, it was less a roughly eight pound weapon and more like a toy; as if it weighed nothing and was casually nothing to be worried about. It contrasted the disquieting scene that said something, somehow, someway, had gone wrong, illuminated only by the lights of the vehicles in the area and the rumble of their idling motors. Had it been back to the dead of night here, all of this would rightfully have been more uneasy than mysterious as it now was. Yet, none of that seemed to play into the handling of the weapon or how it came along with its bearer back and away from the resting place of the disabled vehicle. 

November's feet carried the rest of him up the incline of the trench, boots wandering the final path the truck took before it landed where it was now; tire marks were where the search would begin from then work backward. This was by no means a special talent of the one following them, rather it only was a reasonable place to start. It was obvious the "accident" occurred somewhere prior to this place, with the where likely providing a clue to the what.

Passing by both humans, the judgmental look November provided was perhaps unnoticed as they kept busy with their angle - whatever it was. Should they have caught it, it would have been that same experience of being watched by something that merely did as it was told, even if its desires laid elsewhere. Which was true in this circumstance, as November was by no means thrilled. If this is what the Division of Occult Global Security deemed priority enough, either this war was soon to be lost or there was substantially more they were not sharing; November only prayed the latter held true. This could be lived with, accepted, [i]expected[/i], the alternatives could not be.

Faintly puffing, steam rising from his nose, attention shifted back again to the roadway and its pavement. Despite the darkness, some amount of evidence was still here in the bit of scattered light from the vehicles, and while vision was not as acute as it truly could be, that opportunity was denied for the time being. Again, another expectation simply accounted for - November had ways around this. Paying no mind to the conversation drifting in on the still air in between the odd breeze, the words [i]"... close off this road while my team does their investigation"[/i], the tracker made the way further and further apart from the ditch. Suitably far enough away that it was becoming increasingly dark to more mundane eyes, a knee fell to painted lines on the pavement and a hand caressed the gritty surface. It would take some time, nothing substantial, but November intended to read the rough approximation of what caused these tracks in the first place.

Psychometry was a supernatural talent through and through but it was hardly foreign.