Modek
"Darkling. Hunters, eaters of flesh. Don't care if beast or elf or human. All flesh they crave. Even trolls. Lucky just one. Not stay here is best."
Onward, along paths faint and illused. The forest grows more and more oppressive the farther you get from Thistle Hold. Strange sounds, creaking, clicking, breathing, just behind the next tree, or the bush you look at. Nothing there, at least that what you can see in the full dark. No sky, no stars above.
Modek stops and gathers you all, and fingers a broken branch on the side of the 'trail'.
"A root cave, dry." He points in the direction of the branch.
"Must see if anything else camps inside first, before goes crawlings in and --" he claps his hands loudly together and giggles.
"Bad day."
He gestures, clearly wanting one of the armored people to go check. You can see where the bush has been moved aside by someone passing. Not a trail, but not unmarked either.