They rounded a bend and found themselves at the edge of a beautiful little clearing, a bright, chuckling stream running through the midst of the greenery and flowers of a spring meadow. Light streamed down from a gap in the clouds, uncannily lighting only the clearing and none of the surrounding forest. A quantity of logs and kindling was piled up near the stream.
Tarkyn sent an image of a fire with a query. He didn’t want to assume anything in this strange place. The silver fox sent back a picture of the woodfolk and sorcerers seated around the fire, eating and drinking. Then the little fox trotted over to a large, green drawstring bag that was lying under a large old sycamore and gave a sharp yap. When Tarkyn approached to investigate, the fox shied away but stayed close enough to watch
