The Dalish elf, almost unbeknownst to him, took a deep breath of fresh air once they had gone a decent distant past the city limits on proper roads. These areas were heavily populated, but there was still a crisper air in the less disturbed places such as an underpopulated road. Once they entered the forest, he moved to the front of their traveling party and little past them to not only act as a guide but a scout, weaving in and around foliage with the grace that was innate to all elves. The more obvious trail that began a mile down the road was the one their missing herbalist had no doubt used, and this path through brush Airthel was leading his new companions was over rougher terrain that constantly changed elevation, but it took a much more direct route to the grove where Airthel assumed to find the young deathroot.
Airthel knew most people would have trouble keeping up, but the men following him had all shown that they were more experienced than the normal man. Corriach, the barbaric man who probably spoke the least out of all of them, was becoming less mysterious to the world-traveled Dalish. In his time in Fereldan, Airthel had come across information and legends on the Chasind when he was studying the Korcari Wilds. Although his main focus of research was his people, the Dalish was, predictably, interested in all masses of nature and things of the like. He didn't spare a worrying though for him in this situation because he knew the Chasind man was at least as comfortable out here as Airthel was himself. The other elf packed light and moved fast, so the Dalish just hoped he held the stamina to make it through the trek; but that was because he did not know Angelo, and had no idea of his capability. He had a similar worry about the Warden's armor, but figured the man had probably been traveling in it for quite some time.
Airthel was sweaty, but far from exhausted, when he finally reached the grove of possible deathroot. He went back and signaled the group, though they were all alert either way, and they quickly found a blood trail. As the armored man inspected it, and tasted it which Airthel found to be quite strange, the elf looked around. There were plenty of places for deathroot to sprout, but he saw no evidence of the plant from his position. He looked on as the party fanned out, and was about to warn them that the scent might have attracted something when the Warden cried out in alarm.
Airthel, in a smooth practiced movement, hastily drew his bow as the sound of vicious snarling echoed from down the path. He knew charging wolves, who probably arrived to inspect the area like the adventurers, would see this as a challenge, and unfortunately would only let them go in they retreated. He knew this would end in a fight, and so he slid a Dalish arrow from his quiver. Moving quickly into view to see what was happening, he watched as several arrows, almost identical to the one in his hands, embedded themselves into three wolves, taking them down. Briefly, he wondered if that was where the deathroot sprouts had gone. He drew his bow and focused on the charging wolves. The Dalish loosed his first arrow at one of the three trying to run down Angelo, but it was down by the time the arrow made it. Two wolves pelted past the bottleneck, back into the grove. Airthel held his bow aloft, another arrow within his grasp, and let fly on the one closest to him. The wolf staggered, then tumbled into a heap, its momentum still carrying it forward. The elf pranced aside as the wolf's body barreled over where he had just been standing: he hadn't noticed before, but its coat was alight with flame. He reached for it carefully to see if he could retrieve his arrow, but it was already burning.
As Corriach finished off the second wolf, Airthel moved forward toward the Grey Warden and Angelo, salvaging his last arrow on the way. He knelt near a wolf with a Dalish arrow. and inspected the feathers and point. "I know this arrow," he mumbled to himself, although he couldn't place it. He hadn't been this south in a few months, and most of his stays with different clans were short. He couldn't place this arrow, even though he recognized it. He wondered again if these elves had taken the deathroot, and, if so, they had accosted the human having thought of this and their temporary foraging ground. His clan hadn't been that way, but in his experience those of his people who lived closer to humans, ironically, had less of a tolerance for them.