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The smell of burning flesh was unmistakable. It unsettled the young acolyte. As the group entered through the remains of gates Mira's hand hovered over her hunting knife. Who or what was responsible for this destruction? She passed several cabins, some were turned into unrecognizable piles of wood. A whispered prayer of protection was repeated steadily as she walked. It took away some of her trepidation and fear, ushering her forward. 

Mira turned to the bearded man of smaller stature. 
[color=Lightsalmon]"Burt do you need me to tend to your cuts before we continue?"[/color]