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The grave didn't faze him as he trudged forward, finding a slight path through the garden. It was a necessity although the placement hit him as odd for multiple reasons. It was far from a battlefield burial and it wasn't in a designated plot. He almost missed it to be honest. The concept and placement began to unsettle him the more he thought about it- over time the lemon grass would feed from the nutrients of the buried body. Call him uncultured but that was not something he's enjoy thinking about at dinner time. Either way, this wasn't his land, his culture or his methods. With that he pushed it from his mind and was sure to warn his crew of the grave with a simple hand point and a tap to his forehead. Something to be cautious of.

The jungle was dense- something he hasn't seen since SERE school, something he really didn't want to exert himself through either. Bygones, he supposed and reached back for his water bottle, calling back to the other human.

"Anita, hydrate please," he stated checking for a branch before him before looking back, "Pasha and Cruz, we good?"

Always check on your soldiers, you're only as strong as your weakest member. Trox had to make sure that wasn't him. If you spend so much time worrying about everyone else you forget to care for yourself. His feet are fine, his eyes are protected, and he was hydrating. All good things. Trox reached up for his cap, lifting it and rubbing a hand through his sweaty hair. Humid and jungle. Awesome. What's worse is the tall man always ran warmer than most. He didn't like the heat and that's why he chose helicopters. No rucking and no environment aside from the cabin. He smiled and looked back. The sigel was most effected by the gruesome sight, he tried to act on that.

"Hey, Pasha," he paused. Oh god how did he interact with people, "have you ever been in a helicopter? What about you, Cruz?"

Great Trox, he thought to himself, you're a broken record.

Pasha was distracted by the memory of the grave. She offered Cruz a small smile, trying to keep her worry in check for the Frei as he called her name. She didn't even hear Trox call for a status check until he repeated himself. Her blue eyes were big in her slender, solemn face.

"A helicopter? No. This is...the farthest I've ever been." It was true, she realized with a twinge. In all her years, she'd never been but an hour or two away from home. She politely looked to Cruz for his answer, and almost bumped into the human in front of her.

Why had they stopped?

Melisande followed Troxel's gaze upward, but didn't have time to register what the man said. Before she knew it, the forest exploded into a flurry of noise and feathers, and the Sigel reacted before she thought.

Her curls came loose from the knot at her neck as she spun, launching herself at Cruz. Pasha threw her arms open wide, trying desperately to wrap herself around the Frei before the murder hit. Her wings would protect her back, but Cruz's lovely fins would be tattered and torn if the birds attacked!

Forced hydration was a common practice in the military. Normally the command of 'drink water' would be called out and everyone would respond in time with the same cry before upending a canteen to their lips. He adjusted his enthusiasm for the request to best fit the current situation of course, but couldn't hide a smile from tugging at his lips. He too drank again from his water bottle before returning it to the designated pocket.

"No, neither of you?" He turned back addressing the conversation of the helicopter ride, "I'll have to take you up in one sometime."

He was optimistic. To be honest, Harrison had no intention of giving anyone here a ride. It was an act to lighten the mood... That being said if pressed he would fold, Harrison Troxel is a man of his word.

As he hacked through the brush, long legs making short work of the sense underbrush, he felt a slight unease. He wasn't a fan of birds in general. Let alone big dark ones living in herds. The aversion, he supposed, started with their s**t, hit a few points in what they can do to the inside of your engine mid flight should they decide to fly and become minced meat, and ended with the talons and beaks looking exclusively for eyeballs. He shuddered and was all the more grateful for the shooting glasses perched across his nose.

Then they flew towards them and he panicked. Harrison Troxel, a full grown man of 32, standing at six foot three inches, let out an undignified shout as he ducked behind a tree and flung his arms over his head. It was only then that he remembered his group and pulled out the flare gun to use as a weapon opposed to a signal. The flaming blast would scatter the birds should be need to.

"Watch your face! Everyone duck!"

The storm of feathers and shrieks was terrifying, but Pasha clung tight to Cruz, grateful she'd been in time. She'd tucked her head in right beside the Frei's, and as they'd lifted their faces and he spoke to her, she flexed a wing gingerly. Her own feathers were mussed and rumpled, one feather obviously broken at a strange angle. "I think so. Are you?" She was sore, but only a little, and aside from a few black feathers tangled into her curls-

Unbelievably, the flock wheeled. Melisande's eyes went wide, dark flapping forms casting shadows across her pale face. It wasn't over! It wasn't an accident, they were attacking! Her hands tightened on Cruz' shoulders, and she prepared to spin him around when a shot rang through the forest. The Sigel cried out, wings snapping open in shock. A moment later, a smoking corpse crashed to Anita's feet and flopped in the tangled undergrowth before stilling.

The calls of the terrible birds were fading, but Melisande's breath came in short gasps. Blonde curls stuck to her damp cheek and caught against her lips, black feathers like smudges of soot.

"They...they..." Never had the Muse been assaulted before, and the shock of it still pulsed through her. Once had been an accident, but they had turned around! She realized she was still gripping Cruz, and Pasha let her white knuckled fingers unclasp.

"You saved us." For the first time, she took a moment to truly look at Troxel. She'd tried to protect the Frei, but it had been the man that had protected them all! As jarring as the shot had been, the idea of what could have happened made her feel cold even in the oppressive heat.

He thought the worst had past after the initial flyby, following the murder with his torso. Then they hair pinned and swooped back. There was no hesitation when Trox pulled the trigger of the flare gun. The motion was fluid, arm tightening as the slight recoil flowed through his wrist to elbow. He reset. The bird he hit went down in a mass of burning flesh and feathers- maybe a proper example to the rest of the flock. He was stone in that moment, temper raising. He didn't have time for suicidal, psychotic crows nor did he want to have to rationalize another flare lost to the cause of fending them off.

"Don't thank me, just keep alert," He said after a moment of silence, a breath and a pause to regain composure, "I'd rather not need to fire another round, yenno?"

He forced a smile and looked back at the crew, bending to pick up the shell the flare left behind and slid it into his pocket. Old habit of collecting brass. Even if it was plastic brass. Besides being a bit ruffled, his team didn't look worse for wear, no scratches and everyone still had two eyes. That was definitely a bonus. He'd normally take a visual account and drive on but these people required a bit more compassion, or maybe they deserved it. They didn't sign up for this- well they did. But they wouldn't have had any idea of what to expect prior to volunteering their aid. They were here because of generosity and compassion and should thus receive generosity and compassion in return.

He shook his head, it was all garbled upstairs to make any sense of the situation. Instead he took a breath and kept his tone light and friendly.

"Everyone alright?" He slid the flare gun back into his pocket after making sure it was on safe, "Anita is right, we'll keep moving. Make sure you're hydrating."

He honestly didn't read into Anita's warning. To Harrison, Crows were birds and birds were birds. Intelligence or recognition weren't really associated to the squirrels of the air. So he drove on into the brush, pausing only to remove a red lens flashlight. This was another habit he couldn't give up. Red light has a wavelength of 620–740 nm- it doesn't emit as white light and would keep their position relatively hidden. He didn't have a need quite yet but wanted it at hand for when the sun actually does leave them.

Harrison pressed on into the woods, a bit more alert than before and quiet. No need to make nice anymore, people were rattled and he has proved his worth for the time being. Right now he wanted to focus on keeping the group safe. He stepped over a log, holding a branch to the side and motioned Meli and the crew to go through- branch resting on his back as he pulled out the map for a map check. They hadn't strayed from their azimuth and his pace count had been pretty consistent. He estimated their location and looked for any terrain features to confirm it, any dips in the ground that would be significant enough to be plotted on the map in contour lines.

Melisande actually leaned into Cruz' gentle touch, letting the Frei twist and smooth her curls as best he could. She dropped her eyes as Trox refused her thanks, and tried to regain her composure. He was right...being thankful wouldn't help. She had to do more than that.

Regretfully, she drifted away from the other Raevan's help, leaving several of the black feathers still tangled in her hair. Her ruffled military bolero was okay, but her layered tanks were caught and torn in places, which let the color of her inner tank peek through in bright patches. There was a scratch on the back of one hand, and one of her large primary feathers still dangled at an awkward angle, but aside from that the Muse was remarkably unscathed. She sighed in relief, still filled with a fluttering nervousness.

"I'm...okay!" She tried to answer Harrison's question as brightly as she could, putting on a brave front. There wasn't much to do now but follow and search...and the Sigel did her best to keep her eyes and ears open for any sign of Kyou.

The dimming light, however, was a concern. "Do we need-" She twisted to ask Anita about the camp, too shy to ask Troxel, when something buzzed past her with a high pitched whine. A little bug...and more than one! Pasha's wings snapped open reflexively, and she gave them a good stroke, trying to shoo the gnats away. It seemed to work for a moment, tiny bodies tumbling in the current, until they regrouped and Melisande realized they weren't focused on her at all.

"What...what are they? What are they doing??"

"Do we need?-- hm?" Trox looked over his shoulder at the quiet question. Flushing profusely upon noticing it wasn't directed at him. Then the scene played out before him. He took a moment to let it sink in and tried not to make a stereotype regarding the female gender and creepy crawly things. Instead he bit his lip and glanced toward the ceiling of their forest, gaging the amount of sunlight they had remaining- yes. As the evening started driving up to them more bugs would come out of the woodwork and feast on their skin. This wasn't news to him. He had insane decisions to fish at 0500 in the morning. Troxel was often an all you can eat buffet to the local mosquito populace. He'd only recently gotten smart about 100% Deet sprayed onto his clothing and the use of dryer sheets in the boat.

Regardless, he looked to the map again- really wanting to get closer to the base of the cliff to set up camp. A good hard point, easy to find on a map, easy to register to help if need be. In order to make it there in time, he needed his group to be a little faster paced through the underbrush. He got it, really he did, but even Harrison was feeling the exertion and started to hide his discomfort on the situation a little less efficiently.

"Hey, hey... Bugs happen, okay? Cover up your arms and chest," He dismounted his ruck and pulled out his fleece- soaked in 100% Deet and with a hood, "Cruz, slip this on, pull the hood up and then all you need to worry about are hands and face."

He tossed the fleece over to Cruz before unzipping his windbreaker. He moved over to Anita, giving a sheepish look.

"It's gonna be a bit big, here..." He helped Anita into the jacket, taking each wrist and velcroing the strap snug on each wrist, barring gnats from crawling up the sleeves. He even went as far to zip and cinch the hood tight too, "Sorry... And if it stays bad?"

He gave a slight eye roll, not at the reaction but more at the dwindling light, the crows- a defeated look of 'great, what s**t storm will hit us now'.

"We'll start burning green leaves, smoke keeps them at bay, makes their legs feel weird and they can't land and bite..."

He felt like a parent which definitely meant he was crossing some boundaries. He reached up and pulled the strings further down, closing the face hole the hood of his windbreaker meant even further.

"... just in case. I hear west nile is less than amiable as far as diseases go." Trox said before releasing the bungie at a distance that wouldn't catch Anita in the face but definitely had a small amount of spring to it, "boop..."

He smiled and patted her shoulder before heading back to the front. Without his jacket, his arms were a bit more exposed to the full scratching and slashing the underbrush had a tendency to do to someone who was blazing a trail. It was also very evident he was wearing a belt holster complete with 9mm Beretta. He reached back and pulled his shirt further down over the gun before returning his ruck onto his back.

"You okay, Pasha? Nothing eating you? Your jacket there should be doing the trick..." He called as he pushed forward, "Also if we keep moving the gnats won't be able to 'keep up' per se..."