A cold, barren living room with a wooden floor. Old furnishings lay about helter-skelter, dusty from having been abandoned several decades ago. Tattered curtains conceal grimy, cobwebbed windows. The room is part of an old house no longer in use, indeed, no one in the neighborhood remembers the original owners.
It is a pleasant forest with huge trees and very little underbrush. Birds are singing, and the sun's light filters down from high above. The wind is blowing slightly.
It is narrow and not very well-worn, but easily visible. It follows a relatively straight course between the trees.
It is a natural body of water, a small creek with rushing water cascading over rocks. The water is very cold and crystal clear, flowing down from glacial runoff.
It is a dirty dinner glass, long since abandoned beside the trail.
An old-fashioned door.