Narrator:
Just before dawn, Jhereg rises to take the reports and start a new day. He yawns heavily. While the late night bothered him little, trying to sleep in a tent lit to the exclusion of all shadows was most uncomfortable to his albino eyes. He yawns again and tries to get the headache to go away. It's not a morning headache, it's a late afternoon-after-a-full-day-in -the-sun kind of headache. He swears to himself bilingually, using elven and common words to express his displeasure that the morning should start on such a bad note. He's not a morning person, anyway.
Jhereg: [to himself]
A pox on morkons everywhere, especially the little ones.
Narrator:
Before he can go and start getting the morning reports, the first report of the day comes to him instead. It's Schol, who had spent the night exploring west and now has returned.
Schol:
Hello Jhereg, I've been to the cursed forrest. Nothing much between here and there.
The forest itself isn't too dangerous. A small group could make it too the castle. I think a large group would attract something large's attention and that could be painful.