"Howling Wind Valley... over there."
He referred to the place names mentioned in the notes and the rugged terrain before him.
Quickly and accurately determining the direction.
The northeast, where the wind is stronger, mixed with faint wailing sounds, the terrain steeper and deeper.
There wasn't a hint of impulsiveness.
Legolas slipped into this familiar yet dangerously unpredictable "hunting ground" like a drop of water merging into the sea, quietly and silently.
His footsteps were as light as a ghost in the forest, every step precisely placed on thick moss, exposed sturdy tree roots, or stable rocks, minimizing noise, as if his soles were padded with velvet.
His body leaned slightly forward, center of gravity lowered, muscles taut like bowstrings, maintaining a perfect posture for both sudden speed or instant concealment.
