The shadows grow long as you meander through the canyon, rucksack heavy on your back. This pass is a shortcut to the city, but little traveled for tales of banditry. Strange, you haven't seen any signs. No telltale smoke, no tracks, no arrows... If this is place is inhabited, it's soley by you tonight, you decide, and set about making camp.

The sun sets beyond the canyon walls and night falls like a curtain, the glow of your fire and the stars, cut in a ribbon of blue-black by the canyon walls, see you to sleep.

A shadow descends on a night breeze, landing nearby, hardly stirring up any dust. It stands, a tall figure, bulky in the dark. Its silhouette is strange, legs shaped oddly, and appearing as if cloaked. It approaches the fire, just enough to assess you, just enough for his own features to be lilluminated. A harpy. Male, sleek and strong, feathers bronzed in the firelight. He turns to your belongings.