It's an anonymous but nice hotel room where I have stayed many times before. A cool breeze wakens my skin as I lay amongst soft, white bed linen before reaching to the cream bedside for my overturned watch to see the time.
The forest is in twilight, which highlights the thousands of pins above me belonging to a dense Fir forest.
The path is gravelled with pale stones, clearly marked and wide. It looks fresh and well kept.
It's a small stream. Trickling from my left to my right a steady form of clear spring water.
A stainless steel flask in a leather case. It could be easily clipped onto a belt, or saddle.
The key is old, with an elaborate top but a simply cut bottom. It appears to belong to a door, perhaps an old wooden gate.