Strange days had indeed befallen them. Krek drew the most attention. Old hatreds ran deep between their races though few could recall the origins. There’d been virtually no contact between Minotaur and Elf since the fall of Ipn Shal. Guards escorted the small yet steadily growing group through the neatly ordered rows of camouflaged tents. Cook fires made Dakeb’s mouth water, even though he’d eaten but a few hours earlier. He detested travel rations of any sort. Thoughts of a freshly cooked meal entertaining him, he arrived at Faeldrin’s command tent. Their escort bowed before returning to his duties. Faeldrin greeted them with open arms and a warm smile. The Elf Lord looked refreshed and surprisingly young considering how long and difficult their trek to the mountains had been. “Ah, my friends. It is good to see you again. You’re late though. We were beginning to get worried. This close to the Deadlands the dangers become extreme,”
