While the original plan had been to fly directly to the elven capital without stopping, reality quickly imposed itself on the plan.
The druid had already gone more than a week without properly sleeping. The trip from the capital to the village had cost him seven days of continuous flight, staying awake purely by willpower, and asking him to make the return trip without rest first was neither reasonable nor safe for anyone riding on top of him.
Mark wasn't in any condition to endure a flight of several consecutive days either. His body still felt heavy from the week of unconsciousness, his joints ached, and the constant wind at that altitude had worsened the headache he'd been carrying since he woke up.
So when the druid said he needed to land to rest, Mark was the first to agree.
The hippogriff descended into a somewhat wooded area that the armored elf pointed to from above, a small clearing between the trees that was open enough for them to set up a basic camp.
