They were suddenly all around us, but Urbo — our guide — seemed calm enough, so I left my sword in its sheath. One of the party cautiously came forward and spoke to him at length. As he answered, Urbo pointed back along the path from whence we came, and then forward, presumably towards our destination.
As the two conversed the others filtered closer through the brush into view: stocky and muscular for Elves, primitive, a marked contrast from the Black Coast clans. Beside me, Bougnard whispered, “They look disappointed that they won’t get to eat us.”
“The conversation isn’t over yet.”