Raschen sighed as they walked. He stroked beneath his muzzle in contemplation, his ears flicking this way and that.<br/><br/>"Possible..." he muttered in response to her theory as he tried to come up with one of his own. "A fist raising to the sky..." He sighed as he thought before blinking. He reached into his satchel, taking out an old Hume Tome. From before the time of the Warren. It read in the Hume's language: "<span style="font-style: italic"> Devastation in History"</span><br/><br/>"There is an old Hume device known as a Warhead. It is too difficult to produce now for Hume to possibly possess and any remaining from the Hume era would be unusable at this point, so long after the end...but the shape...a fist raising to the sky.." He opened the tome to a page depicting Hiroshima. He held it up to her, showing the massive cloud bursting up miles into the air from the epicenter of the explosion, the storm of fire, rubble, and dust resembling a rising clenched fist.<br/><br/>"The tomes say "Nuclear warheads" were the most powerful weapon Hume's possessed and that their existence is what lead to the fall of the Hume those centuries ago...It says the air left behind by these weapons of mass destruction would destroy living tissue and sometimes mutate it should it be lucky enough to not simply be eaten away. " Raschen sighed some and looked to her in his curiosity of what this could mean. "I have read on how these weapons behave..so long after the fall of the Hume, the weapons would be useless and it would be near impossible to create them again so maybe the focus should be on the force needed to create such an explosion...maybe a talent of combustion and detonation?"<br/><br/>As he offered theories his ears flicked to Devlin's whistle, the ar trotting up to meet the pair. Jeb spat a bit of black tar into the sand nearby before pointing down at a sprawling track. Raschen looked back, meeting eyes with Devlin, waving his arm for the Canine to join him. As he came to his side Raschen knelt down, running his paw tip through the thin sludge that lined the swiveling track. "Mucus.." he mumbled to the tracker. He watched as the mucus turned to water under his purifying touch. "It is serpentine..." He muttered, absolutely sure of it. "The Cotl...exist.." He stood, looking to point-eared companion. "Can you determine how long it has been here? Maybe a direction of travel? This track is none too fresh, even I can tell, and it is cut off by the winds moving the sands and ashes."