Darion looked at the group. The forest between here and Percvale's edge was the same forest they had come through: the Bogoarts, the wolves, the Horned Yuimons, the fifty angry birds.
Walking back through it meant walking back through all of that, plus whatever else had moved into the area since they passed through.
The forest didn't stay still. Predators followed prey. Territories shifted. The path they had taken in might not be safe on the way out.
Who knows what deadly creatures they might encounter now.
How many of them, and maybe it would end up taking an archer's life unexpectedly. Darion remembered the hunts he went on when he first became Baron.
While they were good, he had lost knights. It happened in hunts. The forest was unpredictable, and no matter how skilled you were, there was always a chance that something would go wrong.
