Congregation

Everything fell into the eerie silence of anticipation, and that's when they could hear it.
Krraaa! Krraaa! Krraaa!
The cleric frowned.
"Tell me those are rooks," he indicated black birds, swooping in and out of sight.
"Crows," the ranger grimmed, eyes narrowed, ears pricked. "We better be stealthy."
They crept through the undergrowth, until they came to a small clearing.
With very fresh, very open mass grave, crawling with cawing blackness.
The paladin moved to step into the open.
"Don't," the ranger pulled him back, pointing at two crows perched on branches, seemingly keeping guard.
"Who know who they serve..."