“That means they’ll be taken to Laothkund. If they get that far they’ll be beyond help,” Courynn mused in an ominous tone. The cities of the Wizard’s Coast south of the woodlands have never been part of Aglarond and, though their grip on it was weak, Thay controlled that one. It didn’t bode well for the two score men, women and children that had been herded from their ruined camp to the menhir circle by a dozen orcs. “There’s no time to get aid from Relkath’s Foot,” Talice sighed regretfully. “We’re going to have to save them.” “Just a moment ago you were accusing us of being involved in their capture… now you expect us to help you rescue them,” Nymara snapped spitefully. Since she’d emerged from the shadows the half-elf had done little more than insult and demean them, holding herself up with an air of authority seemingly based on nothing more than her knowledge of how to work the menhir and inclusion in some organization that arrogantly referred to itself as the Masters of the Yuirwood. But, surprisingly, Courynn seemed to accept this dominion without question. Although, from what she knew of him, he’d likely try and rescue the villagers with or without the druid. The world outside the ancient stone circle blurred and shifted, then it snaped back into focus. However, it was different then before. They were still in the Yuirwood, but in more of a lowland area based on the flora and topography. It was obvious that they were in the right place, the trail of the abducted villages was unmistakable and there had clearly been no attempt to hide it. “They’re certainly making this easy,” Nymara snarked, motioning to the tracks. “Even I can follow that.” “That’s what worries me,” Courynn warned. Orcs weren’t known for the cleverness or stealth, but even they wouldn’t leave such a blatant trail unless they didn’t care if it was followed, and he was still concern about who had worked the menhir for them. After about an hour’s trek they discovered why the orcs had been so flagrant. The trail led them to a rough hued dock on a small tributary of the river Yuir, just like both he and the half-elven druid had suspected it would, but they also knew that all hope wasn’t lost just yet. “There’s a steep set of falls not far downstream,” he commented thoughtfully. “They’ll have to port their boats around it or go overland. If we move fast, there’s hope of overtaking them before they reach Laothkund.” The trio made good time heading south along the riverbank, but Nymara struggled to keep up with Courynn and Talice as their woodscraft allowed them to cover the uneven terrain with greater ease. About an hour into the trek she noticed a hawk that seemed to be circling ahead of them, then realized that she’d seen it fly into the menhir circle when Talice opened the portal, observing; “We seem to have an avian stalker.” “That’s Arcas… he’s been my faithful companion for years,” Talice advised with an affectionate smile. “Any chance he could tell us where they are?” the star elf inquired. “That’s likely what he’s circling,” the druid explained. She’d been keeping an eye on the hawk the whole time.