Firefly Glen due to an internal explosion, it breaks into two parts

Perhaps there had to be something wrong with Kincaid, too, for someone to look at the slightly unhinged fire in Nine's eyes and finding it comforting. It was, after all, quite hard to hold hands with the type of person who'd lean over the edge of a canyon just to see what was at the bottom.

That's a promise, he says, cocky but jovial, and looks up to whistle a quick tune-- two notes, one short and the other long. 

He squints towards the horizon; there were indeed some carrion birds tracing low and lazy circles against a sky that bloomed with purples and pinks. A poet would call it morbidly beautiful, but Nine would call it food. Good eye, he picks up into a trot, and the summer breeze carries with it the heady smell of meat, tinged with something darker.

The buzzards look at his approach with critical and beady eyes; in true Nine fashion, he launches himself at them, and his bared teeth catch the weak sunlight. There's something surreal to the whole tableau.