The boat flows smoothly forward.

[Tunnel of Sorrow]
The heavy air stirs, not in a refreshing breeze, but merely an eddy in the dank, reeking closeness of this swampy waterway. Oddly shaped dead-white flowers rise from the brown water, the scent of rotting meat wafting from their trumpet-like bells as clouds of flies swarm around them.
Obvious exits: none.