We raced back towards the elven camp, our hearts pounding with every stride. Thankfully, the bears were waiting for us, their powerful limbs carrying us swiftly through the dense forest. Their speed allowed us to outpace any dark elf pursuers. I risked a few glances over my shoulder, but the forest remained silent and empty – a welcome relief.
As we burst into the camp, the elder we had spoken with earlier emerged from his tent, flanked by a contingent of elven warriors. Their eyes widened at the sight of the wounded commander and his squad. "Quickly," the elder urged, his voice filled with concern. "Bring them to the healing tents. We have potent herbs that can mend their wounds."
The elves moved with practiced urgency, their hands flitting over the wounded commander and his men. Alderon approached, his voice a low rasp in my ear. "Stay vigilant," he cautioned. "We need to ensure those dark elves haven't tracked us here."
