The rider replies tersely, as the last of the five riders gathers a small chest that was lying under the owl's body; possibly the cargo it was carrying.<br/><br/>The group takes flight, and, within two hours, arrives at Starsong Hill, a surprisingly large encampment, deep in this forbidding swamp.<br/><br/>Rising from the marsh is a low hill of solid ground, encircled by a thick ring of trees. Dozens of pinpoints of light dot the hill, small lanterns filled with fireflies, each hanging from a tree platform or the upper reaches of a conical tent. Many elves silently emerge to watch you fly overhead. The elven leader produces a sleek, silver horn of some sort from a saddlebag and blows one wailing note similar to a loon's cry.<br/><br/>Near the hill's peak stand three large trees, and built into their boughs are wooden structures. One glows softly with luminescence of its own and seems to be a temple. Another looks to be a public building or town hall. The third, and your destination, is the smallest of the three, a cozy-looking tree house set above a large pool.<br/><br/>The riders dismount when they land, and the leader asks the party to wait outside, while he heads in to speak with their leader.