The room is cool, but not cold. There are two beds in the room, of sorts; one is a narrow futon, big enough for one person, the other is a futon mattress spread on the floor. Both have institutional-green sheets.
There is a fireplace in one wall, but it is stacked full of books and has clearly not been lit in years. On the mantle over the fireplace are small stones - dull, intrinsically worthless, just stones. There is a computer on a desk in one corner. The monitor has a blind over it, which on closer examination is a sushi rolling thing.
The trees are tall, and crowd the area. Their leaves are green and plentiful. They are eucalyptus trees, for the most part, mixed with Australian pine.
The light is dim.
The path is narrow, but easily followed because it is the only part of the area not heavy with fallen branches, rocks, and other obstructions. The path itself is well-trodden, and the leaves thick underfoot are tamped down firmly.
The water is a small, muddy river. The water is brown, stained with tannin from the trees and mud. The river is slow.
It is an old Coke bottle that some thoughtless bastard has littered the forest with. The label is somewhat faded with time and the elements.
It looks like a key to an old-fashioned lock, the kind with a straight shaft with a tab sticking out the end. It is very rusty. I don't think it unlocks anything any more.