The room is warm with a light breeze entering through the open window. The air is damp as it caresses my face; I smell the fresh rain. The sky is party cloudy and is blocking out the bright sun, however there is still enough light to illuminate the room in simple shades of gold. The linen draperies billow, blocking my view of the rest of the room.
It is early morning, around 8:00. The air is cool and moist. I can't hear my foot steps on the soft pine needles. The Sequoias tower above me, but I feel protected instead of alone. I can only see the trail in front of me; the areas to each side seem to be obscured by fog.
The path is a well trodden trail, although it is completely covered by brown needles. It curves farther down, at a point I am unable to see. It is only wide enough to hold two people. Although there are no signs of human interaction with the forest, the path is well-tended to.
The water is fresh and clear. It is a stream, flowing rapidly. It is about six feet wide and curves from left to right; I am on the left. There are smooth rocks in the stream, but the water parts around them. The water is blurry, as if someone took a photograph and smudged the ink.
As I cross the plank bridge, I notice a lamb skin flask. It is braided on two sides, and made of the softest thinnest leather. It has been reinforced with a plastic container, which is not visible from the outside. The mouth-piece is a simple cork stopper, which is still wedged tightly inside.
I pick up a key, which I discovered in the middle of the path. It is black iron, and reminds me of the one belonging to my bedroom door. The iron is cool to the touch. Although, it is a skeleton key, the design is not intricate or coherent, merely a celtic design.