Mahra soared unseen on soft silent wings, looking down over the incredible mixture of tents, shacks, dogs, rats and men that made up the encampment. The dampness and smoke was doing little to disguise the aromas of human waste and rotting rubbish strewn everywhere; if she could have held her nose she would have.
Her sight, when in the form of the owl, was excellent, even in this near darkness she could see almost every detail and wasn't having any trouble finding the tents she wanted to search. The three friends had studied the camp at dusk while perched on the cliff high overhead, and had agreed upon several possible locations where the skulls might be, if, of course, they were still here. Two of those locations she had already dismissed; one had just been full of damp firewood, the othe
