Finn set out his chair and sat with a sigh. His gaze roamed out over the flat land of the plains. It was full-on dusk, the golden orb had already sunk below the horizon, leaving pink clouds in its wake. The sky had lost its brilliant blue and was slowly going a darker indigo. A lone hill rose in the near distance, the only outcrop to break the flat monotony. Stormcloud stock camp was a permanent site; they used it every year, and so it was set up well. There was a permanent water source, a natural billabong a few hundred meters away, which was being inundated by bird life settling into the gum trees for the night. The symphony of the birds and night insects was a wonderful backdrop to the encroaching evening.
Except for the dratted crows, who were sitting in the tree nearest the mess tent
