You walk onward for several minutes, passing the tower. Here, you notice, the path is relatively level for quite a long stretch, and is framed by low grass growing to either side. It is bumpy in a few places; in low spots, small puddles reflect the blue of the sky. The air smells moist, of wet stone and wet wood.

Feathers, large and small, white and black and brown and brilliant red, dot the path and stand out against the green of the surrounding grass and other bushes and plants. Over the sounds of your footsteps on stone, birds can be heard, twittering and chirping and singing nearby, and cawing in the distance. A black flying shape swoops by you and zooms to the top of the tower, flapping to a stop and perching on the edge of the tower's widest portion.

You stop briefly and survey your position. To the west, the path splits in three. To the east, the path continues for a short while, leading up to the side of what is now clearly a very large building.