It is cool, with a spare bed, a chair, a desk with a lamp and drawers. The walls are bare.

The forest is bright, with a lot of oak and other deciduous trees. All are tall enough that I can't estimate the height.

The path is clear, and looks traveled, but narrow. Only one person at a time can pass. But it is brown dirt, not bent green grass.

The path dead-ends at a small creek, about five feet across, and shallow. The water is clear enough to see the pebbly streambed, and it doesn't look more than three feet deep, though looks are often deceiving.

It is a simple blue mug with a cover, clean.

The key looks like a housekey; it is brass-colored and serrated.