Radagast sits on the gnarled root just as before, pale and drawn, his finger still tracing the same dirt-pattern. This time the shape is answered by ash at Tuiwen's feet, the cleansing mark gone cold.
Radagast the Brown
It is not only watching now. Someone from the White Council has told it how to hunt you.
The Hooded Sentry stiffens beside the root, hand tight on the hilt. In the dark beyond the hedge-line, a low stir passes through the firs, as if the forest itself has heard the name of the traitor.
Saruman
Then the beacon was never for search alone. It marks Tuiwen for taking.
Radagast the Brown
Aye. The net closes with purpose now. They know who matters most.
The ash at Tuiwen's boots trembles, then lies still. Somewhere farther in the wood, an answering shadow shifts toward the slope, patient and certain.
“"It will follow us wherever we go. Let us take shelter in Rhosgobel."”
SUCCESS (Legendary Agility, rolled +2)