As he marched his way along one rise and clambered high along the next, Cormag's nose was low enough to almost skirt the dust. He followed the roseate smell of fowl - the smell which reminded him of the chickens back at the farm. He was certain that his investigation would bring him to another place like it.
As he came over the hill he walked face-first into a tumbleweed that sat tangled against some stones. It felt like diving in to a hay bale, except those stones were sharp and immobile, tripping him up immediately.
He went down with a hard smack - crushing half the bundle, and spooking a bird from its hiding place in one grand motion; the bird screeched and ran rather than flew, zipping away from danger.
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