It's not so much hot or cold as it is stuffy. The walls are an off-red; there are black teak and natural wicker dressers against the wall. Mostly the walls are bare. The floor is lacquered wood parquet, and there's a small fuzzy rug down that slides if you try to walk on it. There's a black-framed mirror near the door. The windows are letting sun in, but they're shut.

The trees are mixed: some pine, many more maple and oak and birch, and some I don't recognize. Sun is filtering through and illuminating some of the lighter leaves, making them seem fluorescent. It smells a little piney and also loamy. I hear a woodpecker far away, but not many bird calls just now. Maybe I'm too loud, and have scared them.

The path is relatively wide, but not packed down. It's soft like a lot of the soil is actually decomposed leaves. The occasional tree root sticks up, but it's easily avoidable unless you're very klutzy like me. It looks like a tree may have fallen across the path about a year or so ago; it was sawed into pieces to reopen the path. No one took the wood away, and it's setting there rotting. Some mushrooms are on it.

It's a creek with a wide path cut but a rather small trickle of water going through. At one time there may have been fish here, but not anymore. There are tadpoles growing in a stagnant little pool that isn't flowing. All of the water, both moving and still, is cold and a bit muddy.

It's a crushed beer can. Not really in its natural habitat, is it?

The key is old and ornate-looking. It's clean, though. It seems like the kind for a piece of furniture -- perhaps a bureau or a desk.