You continue along the stretch of sand, flanked on your travels by the grey cliffs and the gently churning sea as it ebbs away, as if forced to do so with the rising sun. As such, whilst the line cut by the cliff face through the sand remains relatively straight for the most part, the beach becomes larger and larger. Once it reaches 120ft across however it seems to stop growing as the see settles, leaving a 4oft area of wet sand sparsely littered with debris, albeit none that would be expected from a large ocean vessel as the wood is too smooth to have been in the water for long.<br/><br/>Rud leads the way, explaining as best he can how families work for his people. They seem to place more stock in which nest you come from, each nest consisting of 4 maybe 6 families. Eggs within a nest are often mixed up, and so it isn’t a matter of importance to his people which family they were from since it is often unknown. Instead, the nest replaces the importance of the family, and honourable deeds, fighting and sacrifice, reflect well on someone’s nest. His people do not record history, keeping information only long enough to pass it on to the humans or elves in return for some craft item. In the cave of the “rakiit” as he calls it however, they do keep a map of the lands around their home. He also knows that his people have been on the island for at least 7 generations, but not before the other two.<br/><br/>Presently, after about three hours of walking that would have only taken you two, the cliffs begin to fall away and the sand beneath your feet becomes darker, more resistant to your foot treads. Ahead, soil replaces the sand in front of the cliffs, eventually leading to a forest of light green trees and pale, high reaches grasses with thick, straight stems.  “This laand, human and elf,” Rud says, indicating an oddly shaped hill in the distances. With a loud chirp he bows elaborately several times, before turning and preparing to ascend, unfolding his wings with a sign of relief. You are puzzled at what he indicated, the glare of the early afternoon sun hampering your vision. Your keen elven eyes however adapt quickly and then you see it: a short, unmarnned lookout tower atop the flat hill, it’s a fort of some kind.