It's cold. There are pictures on the walls, and a table, a closet and a chair.
It's dark. The trees are pines, growing close together so that no sunlight hits the floor.
The path is narrow and winding, with no obstructions other than patches of grass, clearly visible, but abandoned.
It is a stream, a stone-floor creek with clear, cold and fresh water running slowly.
It is a cup made of clay, bright-brown in color and matte in texture, chipped on one edge.
The key is large, old and rusty, probably unlocking a large mansion's iron gate.