They all look around, trying desperately to see through the thick woods surrounding them.
What 'herald' means, none could be for sure. Scout is what the others decided, preparing for the worst.
I can't believe I didn't smell the scoundrel on the approach. The stench of battle and my new travel companions must have masked it. The tiefling topped the hill as we prepared to move onward. He commented with an air of superiority his surprise that we even ventured in this section of forest. Pointing out the strange configurations of sticks and bones lining the treetops the tiefling pointed out the warning signs to ward off trespassers. We had seen them, but chose to ignore them. Did the innkeepers family do the same?
If not for the tiefling's offer to assist us with information for our quest, it would have been easy to find a reason to dispatch one of his kind. It would be a disservice to the innkeeper to allow old traditions of hatred between my kind and his to cloud the mission at hand, but trust will not come easy.
We followed him back to his home.
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