Kallen gestured with his hands, a look of utter horror on his face, words seeming to have failed him. "Are…are you certain Gann?"
"Yes Grandfather," the boy said, sounding hurt that he wasn't believed, "I saw it for myself. They've all been stripped too. The Nesting Grounds have been violated!"
"Nesting grounds?" Sheppard asked uncertainly.
"Kallen and his family have tended the Herds of Telosia for as long as anyone can remember," Teyla said softly, "The Nesting Grounds are where the breeding mothers go to lay their eggs and raise their young. From there some are taken to be raised as milkers, others to be slain for food and materials, and still others to be raised for breeding."
This didn't clear his confusion any. "What herds?"
Teyla frowned slightly in concentration. "That's all we know them as. They have been here…"
"..As long as anyone can remember," Sheppard answered for her.
She nodded. "Yes. While every planet has its own animal population, the Herds are special and only one milking female can be given to a village. Outside the breeding facilities and the Nesting Grounds, they tend to kill each other if there is more than one around. Our own milker died a few days before you first arrived. They are the primary givers of nutrients to our people."
"Their feathers, fur and beaks are valuable commodities," Kallen said wearily.
"Feathers, fur and beaks?" McKay asked incredulously, "What kind of creatures are these?"
Kallen continued as if he hadn't been disrupted. "We sell these, both in their raw form and various crafts, along with the meat. On other worlds, a milker is sometimes killed and stripped with the body left to decompose. A female's fur is far softer and easier to work with than that of the beasts we slaughter. Her feathers are shinier and take die better and her beak is more malleable.
"There are those who trade valuable items for these, and because of this there are those who would do anything to obtain them."
He paused in his explanation to swallow convulsively, "However, on Telosia, the Nesting Grounds and breeding facility are considered sacrosanct. No one would dare to…"
"Obviously somebody's dared," McKay muttered. His face had a ghostly pallor to it.
Sheppard glared at him, but the physicist studiously ignored it. "Well, why don't we all go and take a look, shall we? See if there's anything we can do to help."
Kallen looked at him hopefully. "You would really offer your help?"
"Hey, I hate poachers as much as the next guy."
McKay grimaced as he followed the others out of the cramped tent. His ankle hurt, and, though Sheppard was right about it not being broken, he was certain there would be a gigantic bruise. He wanted to stay behind and study the chairs some more—the material they were made out of was incredible! They were light as a feather and yet extremely sturdy.
Besides, just the thought of some weird looking animal lying decomposing was enough to make him nauseous. He had seen the work of poachers up close before and had no desire to do so again. However, Sheppard-The-All-Mighty had given an order and he supposed he'd better follow it.
It didn't take them long to arrive at the Nesting Grounds once they had cleared the crowded Market. The smell was the first thing to hit them, and McKay had to clench his teeth to keep his breakfast from returning the way it came. Then he saw the grounds themselves.
Sheppard stared at the horrific sight of the bloody bodies littered across nests the size of a car. He stepped up to the one closest to him and sucked in a surprised gasp. It was a cross between a bird and some kind of large cat—a griffon. As he knelt down beside it, he noticed strange tracks near it. They looked like sled marks, but only went out about six feet before they ended abruptly.
Before he could point them out to Kallen, he heard a loud retching noise and looked up in annoyance. McKay was standing way behind the rest of the group, upending the contents of his stomach on the ground.
"Just great," Sheppard muttered, "He's also got a weak stomach."
"Man," Ford said, dismay evident in his voice "What kind of monster would do something like this?"
"A monster," Teyla responded, her voice lacking its normal emotion.
Kallen fell to his knees and began praying to the Ancestors. It was remarkably similar to the one the Athosians used. Gann, the boy, stood close by, tears running down his chubby cheeks. Sheppard stared at them. While in his opinion, these were just animals, he understood that to Kallen and Gann they were charges. Charges they had failed to protect. He knew what they were feeling far more than he cared to admit.
"Teyla, Ford, see if you can find anybody who might have witnessed the attack."
The two of them nodded, and Ford snapped off a smart salute before they began moving across the grounds.
Sheppard walked over to McKay and grabbed his arm. "I need your help. Get a hold of yourself and lets look at the area. See if we can find any evidence."
"What are you, Sherlock Holmes," McKay muttered. At least he was standing up. And his face had regained its color.
Sheppard smirked. "Quite right, Watson," he said in a fake British accent, "The game's afoot."
"Oh, you're just the funniest man in the universe."
"I know. Here," Sheppard pointed, "Look at these tracks. What do you make of them?"
"So now I'm Holmes?" McKay retorted, but looked at the strange markings on the ground, studiously looking away from the body of the griffon. He frowned and rubbed his chin. "I'd say maybe they were from some kind of sled. But why do they just disappear?"
Sheppard shrugged and began walking towards another corpse. There were no tracks by this one. McKay followed at a slower pace and made a circuit around the body. He exclaimed loudly and Sheppard jogged over to him. The griffons were at least as big as a small pick-up, not including wing span. Sure enough, there were more sled marks, exactly like the other ones.
"A flying sled?"
"Makes sense. Especially if the creatures can fly. Kallen?" Sheppard asked the old man, who had walked up as Sheppard spoke.
"Yes, the breeders can," Kallen answered, "but we cut the wings of the milkers before we send them out."
"These are breeders?"
"Yes."
McKay seemed to have recovered from his weak constitution and was going on in an excited manner. "Do you know of any kind of flying machine that anyone around here uses?"
To their complete astonishment, the old man's expression closed and he said in a hard tone, "No. Nobody around has anything like that. Perhaps it is best that you all leave. Now. I am sorry I couldn't help you, but I'm certain that you can find what you need at the Market." And with that he turned and stalked off, grabbing his grandson as he walked past him.
"That wasn't normal," Sheppard remarked casually.
"Think he's lying?" McKay questioned just as causally.
"Through his teeth."