Seobaak stopped again and glanced around, then gazed up at the sky. The sun had already begun to sink towards the mountain range in the distance. Seobaak quickened his pace, starting to wish he had brought a horse.
By the time he made it to the outskirts of the forest, it was well past sundown. Seobaak stopped suddenly, and, looking around, spotted a small flicker of fire just off the path.
Smiling faintly, he stepped towards the fire. Around the firepit were three unoccupied log benches. Sitting down on the closest bench, Seobaak began to laugh. It was a strange laugh, humorless. It almost sounded more doggish than human.
"Oh Acheron, you thought I couldn't hear you? Don't underestimate me."
There was a slight pause, then an odd rustling sound. Finally a young man stepped out of the shadows and approached the fire. He was plain and average looking, more so than Seobaak. The only thing slightly off about him were his long, pointed ears. He wore a dark green traveling cloak, as this was the color of servants in Battlebrook. His clothes were torn in many places, and his face was scratched and bleeding.
"I'm sorry sir," Acheron said, bowing. "I wanted to be sure you made it here alright."
"I believe I am perfectly capable of walking through a forest in broad daylight."
"Apologies," Acheron repeated nervously.
"Yes, enough apologies for now," Seobaak said, studying Acheron. "Where is Adrian?"
"He got caught up in a fight with a daereg a few miles back. You know how those creatures are, totally senseless."
"Sorry to hear that," Seobaak replied, sounding relieved. "Did you bring what I asked for?"
"Yes sir, right here, sir." Reaching into a pocket in his cloak, Acheron produced a small pale vial.