Tibor would whisper a prayer to his god, asking that he judge the little batiri as it ran. While he expected to be treated by the solum sound of a funeral bell, signalling the spell taking effect, no such sound came. Either by way of its own will, or by the mercy of Kelemvor, the creature had resisted the spell.

"[color=007236]We need to move quick. No matta what it say, dat batiri could have him a change of hart. Decide he not okay with us killin him friends. Go run off an warn dis Klarg we coming. Take him chances wit whatever de bugbear give him for de information.[/color]"

With that, Tibor would turn and head towards the tracks he'd found. While the batiri had seemed to be telling the truth, the tortle knew well how quickly a creature's truth could change once it was no longer staring death in the face. If it could so easily turn itself against its comrades from before, what was stopping it from deciding to turn on their wagon and halfling driver once they were no longer there to protect them.