As you travel, the clouds above seem to crowd the valley ahead. A certain stillness hangs in the chilly air. there is no song of birds, nor rustle of trees before you. The scent of soot begins to burn the inside of your tender and parched palette.
The mountain creek which has led you here has swelled into a notable valley stream. Over the course of the day as the stream grows, so to does the flora. The air becomes thick. A dense fog, snowing with ash sets in around you. You find the sensation irritating your throat and chest, but you manage still.
The brush breaks about the stream, revealing that which was a blaze recently. A small village lay in shambles, smoldering. It must have caught fire during the night.