[Ice Festival Grounds, Junction of Paths]
Climbing high into the winter sky, an old oak stands surrounded by smaller aspens, the empty boughs of the younger brood reaching up to the ancient tree in mock adulation. Separating the heavy growth of the grove, several paths leading to unknown destinations wind their way outward from the oaken sentinel. Tiny bells tied to the heavy barren limbs chime faintly on the winter breeze. You also see a rickety wooden cart with a small sign tacked on the side and a very small door leading into a brightly painted wagon.
Obvious paths: north, south, east, west.