Eshket's heavy brows crimped together as she focused her eyes on the scrap of parchment. She squinted, tilted her head, then sniffed prodigiously. Only that last action brought any recognition, and a baring of fangs - her first show of any kind of aggression since entering the lodge.

"This was carried by an elf," she said. "An elf in green clothing was found sneaking about our camp four nights ago. I tracked its scent into the pass. This scent." She nodded at the scrap. "Our warriors killed it."

She glanced at the scrap again. "I have not seen this thing, nor the thing marked upon it."