As the horse drinks Aslon walks slowly around the area, his eyes taking in the shadows and shifting branches, keen on not being caught unawares. With a sigh his finishes his sweep and stops beside the horse. Reaching out he gives it a firm pat on the neck. “Poor thing. Living in such a place as this. It must be hell.” At his touch the horse looks up at him, but as he speaks it drops it's head back down. He chuckles lightly to himself as he watches. [i]'I've got to head towards the palace, but I don't think I should take this one with me. If I were to be spotted they may fire at me and hit her. She's provided me a touch of life I did not think to find here, and I would be shamed if I were to put her in harm's way'[/i]

With that thought in mind Aslon looks up, seeking out the sun. As soon as he's got his bearings he turns back to the filly and opens his mouth to bid her farewell and freezes. The movement is subtle, but his heart begins to pound as her ear twitches slightly. [i]'She hears something'[/i] he thinks, his heart rate spiking momentarily. [i]'No, I mustn’t panic'[/i] Taking a deep breath he backs into the nearest tree and using it's roots he calls out through the earth to locate the source of the sound. Cursing under his breath as he detects another rider and a pack of dogs heading towards him, the young elf steps away from the tree and quickly makes his way to the edge of the stream. Kneeling beside the softly babbling waters he pulls out a small pouch and opens it.

Scooping up a small handful of mud he murmurs a short incantation and adds the muck to the pouch. Before entering the forest he'd taken a handful of the dirt from the outskirts and placed it inside. The incantation acts as a cloak, spreading the smell of soil across the flesh of the one carrying the pouch so that they can't be tracked by their scent. It had been confirmed that the lord of the lands keeps dogs by one of the previous scouts who’d sent the information back by messenger hawk before vanishing. Using the knowledge Aslon's master had come up with a way to mask the scent of living creatures with just a little dirt and an incantation to the spirits of the land. Since most of the Deadwood it, well, dead, he had a hard time wording the incantation to use the least amount of magic possible, but eventually he was successful. The only thing is the soil needed to be replenished once in a while, and it is best to use the most living soil one can find. 

Standing up with a huff Aslon pats the horse one last time before taking to the trees. His heart skips a beat as just as the horse passes out of sight he hears the sounds of dogs and the creak of leather. Stilling as to not draw attention to himself the young elf listens carefully. At the sound of a blade being drawn his muscles tense. A cold chill runs down his spine as the rider begins shouting to the woods after him. Despite the panic that rises in his chest at the nearness of one who wishes to take his life, a white hot flash of anger at the creatures words makes his hands long to take up his bow and fire an arrow strait into the arrogant bastard's mouth. [i]'No Aslon, you can't attack. Not yet. Only as a last resort. You are a scout, not a soldier'[/i] A low growl makes it's way past his lips, too quiet for the dogs to hear and with a deep breath he takes off towards the palace.

He moves at top speed, trees flashing by almost unnoticed as he focuses on keeping his footing. Once or twice he's forced to divert off track because of one undead thing or another in his path. He pauses in the middle branches of a large dead elm as he notices a change in the light. Cursing under his breath he looks this way and that until he realizes the sun is too far down to ascertain it's direction. With a growl he casts his senses out and looks for anywhere safe to wait out the night. Eventually he settles for an outcropping of rock on the side of a large stony structure not too far from his current position. He's forced to drop to the ground, not wanting to try his hand in the twilight at navigating dead branches.

[i]'If it were completely dark I would be able to see just fine, but this twilight messes with my senses. And after the sun completely falls, the abominations roaming this land will be stronger. Yes, it's best if I wait out the night'[/i] His brows furrow as an old crumbling building comes into view. It looks like an old human guard house, the kind that was situated in small towns for the local militia. The trees have grown right of the it's walls, some larger branches hanging over the top where the roof and many of the top stones have fallen away to leave the interior open to the stars. Casting about constantly the young elf makes his way inside and steeping over the rubble he makes his way carefully up to the second floor. 

Scattered about are broken down beds and barrels of what he's sure must have held mead. Walking over to the stairs to the third floor he looks up to see the dark blue sky of dusk. [i]'I'll stay here. That way I'm not directly under the sky, and off the ground at the same time'[/i] He casts a critical eye over the branches above. [i]'I can escape through the trees should they find me in the night'[/i] he surmises, and with that he finds a clear spot large enough to lay down in and with a soft sigh, he settles down on the hard wood to rest for a short time. Rest, before the real monsters wake for their evening fun.