The Shadows of Falcon's Hollow
It's a small group gathered on the road to Falcon's Hollow. Seven men and women, against whatever nightmare has overtaken the village and its environs. The woods are thick, but you've reached, some two hours' walk away from the village proper, the edge of what can properly be called the affected area.
It's not hard to see the border. The forest boughs are thick enough overhead that even now at midmorning, it's shady and cool. But here...the darkness lies thicker. Under the trees beside the road, you can see the shadows rolling and twisting. Almost tangible, it seems, as though they might reach out and touch you. They don't move into the open ground of the road, though, don't move into the sunlight.
The air is still and silent. Not quiet, but silent, as though every bird, every insect, has been struck dumb. Not that you see any to begin with. There's no sign of life at all beyond the trees and your traveling companions. No sign of bodies, either, or struggle in general. Just silent, cool air, and shadows.