The room is comfortably chilled. The furniture is almost exclusively made of various types of wood. The room is small and simple. There is no one else there. I don't know where the room is, but I have a feeling that it is in the forest somewhere.

The forest is dark and shadows dance everywhere at the edges of my vision. Here and there a ray of sunlight gently lights the forest floor. The trees coniferous, tall, and very, very old. There's a sense of mysticism. I have no idea where I'm going, but I feel almost giddy and intrigued. No one else has been here.

There is no path that I can tell. There is no undergrowth, however, and the forest floor is covered with pine needles. Every direction looks similar. I feel more excited than afraid. I'm glad to be alone with the opportunity to explore a previously undiscovered wood.

I see a quiet, patiently babbling brook that is running down from my right to my left. The water is clean and pure and I stop to take a drink and wet my hair. I'm tired from hiking, but I want to continue. I think about following the stream.

The vessel is a sturdy and strong hand-made wooden cup. It's old and covered in dirt so I turn around and clean it out in the stream and use it to take one last drink before moving on.

The key is rusted iron and it has been buried in the pine needles and dirt for some long time. It's large and solid. I'm sure it will function properly if I clean it up. I'm not sure what it opens, but again, I'm excited and hopeful. Maybe I'll find out?