We’re taking a short rest. Even as I survey the land, for every new life form we encounter, I feel like the land is surveying us. Almost as if everything is evaluating, sizing us up—friend or foe, hunter or hunted.
I spotted more of the winged creatures overhead, circling parts of the island. Every now and then, they dive down toward the ocean, grabbing something from its depths and swallowing it whole. I’ve noted a change in behavior after—it clearly has some sort of strange psychoactive affect. (“Psychovultures” could be a good term, at least until I am able to properly classify them.)
The creatures become aggressive, attacking other creatures recklessly. Two even attacked each other, streaking across the sky in a violent ballet. Crashing into one another, grappling and biting, fighting tooth and claw as they plummeted toward the ground. I swear I felt the impact from the fall.
Packard is ready to move out. Will record more when I can. My hands are shaking…is it fear? Or exhilaration?
