I hate forests. I thought to myself as I struggled through yet another clump of bushes. Everything ached, my feet hurt from tramping over rough ground, my arms and body hurt from moving branches and getting slapped by leaves, my head hurt because of the noise coming from the small army I was leading. I sat down on a stump heavily, I was not going to go any further into this blasted place tonight.
"Make camp!" I ordered. The men hurried to gather branches for fires, set up tents and pull out provisions for dinner. We had not stopped in a clearing, so they were scattered among the trees. Soon, five cooking fires had been set up, and the smell of coffee and meat stew was rising into the canopy. I took a loaf of hard bread and a bowl of the stew before anyone else, then went back to my stump to eat it.
"Sir, look, a light in the distance." A young soldier said coming up to me with a mug of coffee in his hand, pointing with the other. "Looks like someone made camp up there." I took the coffee and looked in the direction the soldier was pointing.
"Look at that." I said, sipping at the dark brew in my mug. "Consider it noted, now get out of here." The young soldier dashed away, back to his tent. A camp, up the mountain from me. It was a fortunate development. I finished my meal slowly, keeping an eye on the distant fire the entire time, then, I roused my stiff limbs and set off in that direction, going silently as I had been taught. It was the best way to hunt Elves.