The room is warm. My big, comfortable bed sits right in the middle of the room where I lay curled up in my warm blankets relaxing the day away.
Thick, green, needly pine trees. I can hear the fallen needles crunch when I walk. The sun barely shines through the branches.
It is not easily navigated. Lots of dead pine needles and cones scatter the ground. Nobody has traveled this path before. It's almost non-existent.
It's a natural, narrow trickling stream of water rapidly flowing through the middle of the forest. The water is clear but contains debris from surrounding trees.
It's a very old canteen. Probably left behind by a lost camper.
It's a small, silver key. Probably to the door of a house or building of some sort.