“Don’t react!” Torryn warned the party. They’d followed the small, wild elf Vashti from the clearing where she’d been assailed by orcs to reach a seemingly unremarkable place in the deep forest. But no sooner had he issued that warning than the foliage all around them erupted with dark skinned elves threatening them with short spears. Ytharra dropped to one knee and threw her arms around Garuu’s neck to reign him in, keeping the beast from lunging into the fray. Both she and her large grey wolf companion had sensed the wild elves closing in around them, just like Torryn had, and his first instinct was to defend his mistress. “Vashti,” the obvious leader of the wild elves, clearly marked by the elaborate bead work on his decidedly limited cloths and the tattoos which cover his ample exposed skin, addressed her sternly. “Why do you bring strangers to our camp?” “These strangers were sent by Fenmarel Mestarine to save me from being defiled by orcs, father,” she explained, clearly unhappy with his scolding tone, but respectful non-the-less. “I offered them food and safety for the night in gratitude.” “You wouldn’t have needed to be saved if you had stayed in camp as you were told to,” he further admonished her. Then addressed the party in a stern, but congenial, tone; “I’m Ragarth, elder of the Windstar tribe, I thank you for your service to my daughter and honor her offer of food and safety… the lone wolf has graced us with bountiful hunts today… we offer to share that bounty.” “We’re most honored,” Torryn replied, bowing respectfully. His experience with wild elves was limited, but he knew they seldom let strangers anywhere near their camps; appearing from the shadows to warn travels away without violence if at all possible, but willing to fight to defend their tribe when necessary. “You seem to know our ways,” Ragarth spoke to Torryn directly, “are you known to our people?” “I had the privilege to be amongst the Woodenhawk tribe briefly,” the wood elf responded. “By what name are you known?” the wild elf leader inquired. The others didn’t understand this whole exchange, thinking, as most do, that the disparate tribes of nomadic elves had little contact with one another. However, a network of runners, which move from one tribe to another, kept them informed of each other’s movements and important events. “My name is Torryn Audark,” he advised respectfully. “But the Tree Ghost Uthgardt call me ‘dark wolf’.” Ragarth clearly recognized Torryn’s totem spirit name, eyeing him with more respect as he stated; “This name is known and honored by our people… I welcome you into our camp!” Syn and Ytharra exchanged knowing looks. They where getting used to the fact that Torryn “mysterious” past seemed to include encounters with just about every significant group in the forest… and surmised that a gorgeous woman was somehow involved!