By the time Elandris was making his way to the ground, Karrlandren had spotted fresh tracks.  The others had been older and faint, likely those of woodsmen and hunters, a small group that had been in the area a few days prior.  They had been busy though, their tracks criss-crossing the area around the destroyed raft, and likely they had been responsible for it's destruction.  The fresher tracks were almost certainly the cause for it.<br/><br/>Larger then a human's boot prints, and far heavier.  The spacings were wider and longer, and they moved with all the grace of a rutting bull.  When Elandris reached the ground, Karrlandren eased his sword in it's sheath and caught Elandris' attention with a grunt, nodding his head towards the tracks in question. A couple hours old at most, and while he had never actually tracked Orcs before he had made the educated guess as to the source of the tracks.<br/><br/>Longstep let out a disgusted snort as he caught wind of something and tossed his head angrily, and astute ears would soon catch the deep, gutteral rantings of Orcs in the distance, approaching with no rush and still several minutes away.  They did sound rather pleased with themselves, however, perhaps indicating an unpleasant end of whomever had destroyed the raft.