As the griffin became smaller and faded into the sky Deillia laid back down and looked at you before closing her eyes. The night was cool and uneventful. You continued the journey passing a patrol who after a short questionnaire let you pass. By night fall you stood on the ridge overlooking the Tribe who now had patrols returning some missing members and some with prisoners. The fire pits burned the nose and drowned out any other smells. The forest was only a field of stumps. Some of the orc wore new armor. There were a lot of weapons everywhere.

Deillia had her cloak ripped off which was a bad move and as the orc silently suffocated in the sticky garment she was halted by the guard before either of you reached the first hut. "A drider? Kill it!" One of the guard yelled. Some of the rangers notched arrows and brought up their heavy cross bows. She tried to make herself small behind you.