The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: The air's crisp, with a hint of cedar smoke, as a crescent moon hangs impossibly inside the curved horns of a massive, stone bighorn sheep sculpture. The surrounding terrain's a jagged expanse of rocky badlands, with crystalline formations reflecting the pale, pre-dawn light like shattered glass. A faint tremor vibrates through the ground, and the stillness is heavy with the promise of impending rain. Uh, the wind's just picking up, and the silence is broken by the sound of trickling water echoing off the canyon walls, but the moon's not moving, like, it's fixed inside the sculpture.