A thick haze fell upon the forest of Cunnington, forming a dense, moist blanket that blocked out what little sky was visible through the treetops. Clusters of thorns, poisons, and other hazardous plants sprawled across the bases of the tree trunks, making way only for a small dirt path that cut through the fauna. Here and there were a few small critters: In the thorn bushes lie an elusive Blightfrog, a small, green and purple, blotchy, sticky, and nimble species of frog infamous for the intensely potent poison that coats its back and stomach. Upon the largest tree branches perched the Harrowcrows, who sat patiently, their beady red eyes piercing through the fog that surrounded them. The rich purple feathers that decorated them glinted in the moonlight, revealing the true size of the bird to anyone who was unlucky enough to see them; roughly three feet tall, carrying a wingspan of over six feet wide, and a beak longer than a human finger.

Throughout the forest croaked the Blightfrogs who were searching for mates, and cawed the Harrowcrows to alert their flocks of anything they deemed prey -- rabbits, deer, mice, bears (although a larger flock was necessary to take down a bear, thus making them uncommon targets). The calls echoed through the trees in a rhythmic, almost musical pattern. Crooak croak. Caw! Caw! Crooak croak. Caw! Caw! Caw! Occasionally, the calls would be broken up by the sound of flapping wings and rustling bushes as the Harrowcrows found their prey. 

At the beginning of the small dirt path, three children from the village of Cunnington crossed into the woodline upon the orders of a letter they had each received six hours prior. Their destination was a clearing towards the center of the forest, where they were instructed to wait.