A clap of thunder shook the rocky wall Fane was leaning against, shaking it to its foundations, reverberating through her spine and shoulders, down to her fingers on the hard earth. She had her eyes closed, listening to the storm. The storms were intense here; and near-constant. It was the only comforting thing about the place, to her mind. The atmosphere was thick and cloudy, and constantly held a faint odour, like a plant was rotting somewhere. But there were no plants here; none that would rot, anyway. All that she had found seemed like they were more likely to crumble into dust than go through any other kind of decomposition process. Thistles, thorns, and bits of dry moss were all there were to be found within a day's walk of this place. No, if anything grew here, it was stones. Gigantic stones, chunks of mountain and cliff possibly struck asunder by the constant storms. The air crackled with static, and sent a shiver crawling across her skin, causing her scalp to prickle as her tangled black mop felt like it stood up on her head. If there were only a breath of wind, it might have felt like home. Mobius was always under electric storms; the jade-green skies were positively crackling with them, dying down only at night; whipping winds and storms had necessitated the magnificent domes which enclosed the cities in carefully-venthillated peace. But outside the domes, moving people and things between cities, especially travelling by air instead of the swampy, treacherous land, that was when you really got to experience the true wonder of Mobius. Fane sighed as she leaned her starved back against the wall of piled stone, waiting for the next thunderclap. She should have been sleeping; this being what passed for 'daytime' on a planet with three suns that they'd seen so far. It never really got Dark dark, but there was definitely a cycle when the fog got thicker and the shadows deeper, and that was when the things came out. The things that necessitated the wall, the things that had necessitated grouping in this camp, the things that Fane stayed up at night to help fight off. They didn't know if they had a proper name; everybody on site just called them the Jackals. She didn't know why; there was no such word or thing on Mobius; and the person who suggested it admitted that they looked nothing like the creature which served as their namesake. However they were dark in colour, frightening, and they did prey on the weak and dying. So she supposed the name was not totally inappropriate. She'd learned of many new things since her 'arrival' who knew how long ago. There was no real system of keeping track of time here. She'd tried making marks on a stone, but gave it up after about eighty. There were a few people who were newer here than her; most of the rest of that group had died on arrival. Someone in camp was a doctor, said that they'd been subjected to some kind of incredible shock. Fane remembered feeling dizzy and nauseated, and passing out almost immediately upon finding herself in this place, but nothing about how she got there. No one seemed to remember that. Someone tripped over the toe of her worn leather boot, and she startled back to alertness, scowling angrily after whoever had done it. It was difficult to tell though; everybody seemed to be moving in one direction. Shifting her focus from the storm to the hushed murmur of what passed for a crowd, she heard words of new arrivals, strangers, and new blood. Gathering herself up, she dusted off her ragged clothes as she followed along to 'the landing site' just outside camp. Everyone seemed to drop in the same spot; an unfortunately sharp crag about twenty meters from the camp. Measures had been taken to level the turf after someone 'landed' right on the edge of the crag, fell over, and promptly split their head on the rocks below. They didn't die immediately; it might have been more merciful if they had. Still though; no one arrived in tip top shape. Whatever it was that plucked them from their homes and dragged them to this waste did a number on them by itself, without being dropped into a world of noxious fumes and hard stones. As she exited the temporarily-open gap in the wall, Fane hefted the leather coil at her side. She wished she'd been carrying something more useful than a winda bridle when she'd found herself somehow transported here, but there wasn't much to be done about it. And, properly rearranged, it made a serviceable whip and rope. Looking at the density of the fog, she guessed there was a while yet before the Jackals would come to try yet again, but just to be safe she picked up a sharply-angled rock as she passed it and started tying the end of the long strap around it as she walked.