Rûdhchamion peered into the declining fog, thinking. He was still wary of the riders though a few rays of the sun were beginning to penetrate the dimness. Strangely though, he thought, it seemed that the darkness threatened to overcome daylight more often. Glancing about, he decided to take a chance and jumped down from the tree to investigate.
“Stay where you are, I will be but a moment,” he said to Anarya quietly. To the young wolf he said, Khelek, alert us of any sign of unexpected company.
He felt the ground damp beneath his boots. The dark elf strode a few meters from the oak, and from behind an elm, checked the location of the men. The mortals were no longer there, and he was going to move further onwards when he spotted them partially hidden among a cluster of trees a few meters from their original location. Another group had joined them. He was getting closer it seemed to those he had long sought for.
He smiled grimly.
The dark elf did not notice something long and thick, slithering towards him, hidden by the thickness of the fog along the forest floor. Then faster than a blink of an eye, Anarya and the wolf-pup watched horrified as a root-like tentacle wrapped the dark elf’s leg. More tentacles appeared from the ground as the elf struggled, his knife in one hand, desperately slashing from the evil horror that had come from the earth.
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