A rain settled over the valley, drizzling drearily over the tents they had set up. The river that led out to the mouth of ocean rose slowly, lapping at the mud of the beach.

Hlíf felt the weariness soaking into her bones alongside the rain. She drew herself to the tent of her chief, announcing her presence with a raspy tone. She settled on the ground with a sigh as she was accepted in, wiping at the mud on her cheek. It only smeared.

“There’s a camp of elves to the North,” she murmured lightly, trying to get her report over with so she could return to sleep. “A Valanian caravan was passing to the east, but neither seemed to know of our presence here.”