The Black Cairn was, inconveniently, located about a day and a half of a leisurely track away from Irris. Conveniently, there was a hunter's lodge a little past the halfway mark of the journey, and Arthur and Clark had directions from Marissa that would let them reach it before nightfall. To add to that, some kind soul had painted marks onto trees that Arthur noted every couple of minutes, helping him ascertain that they were on the right track.

That is to say, Arthur felt at ease regarding their current situation, and the remnants of tension he'd been carrying ever since their job gone wrong were finally seeping out of his body. He could not remember why, but it seemed that he liked hiking in the woods, the simplicity that nature brought. A bush rustled, and he spotted the ears of a hare prancing by. Arthur took in another lungful of rich, clear air, and marched on.

A little behind him, Clark was also clearly having a good time. Every once in a while, he paused to munch on a herb or another, sometimes veering off the path. Whenever he fell behind, he would take a series of leaps that made wildlife scatter in all directions.

Clark was silent, too. It seemed that even his usually talkative self needed to recharge after their time in the city.

They had a quick break for lunch near a cheerful brook. Arthur gladly ate a hearty sandwich Marissa had packed him, while Clark, claiming not to be very hungry after his snacking on the go, found a particular weed growing near the brook that was apparently something of a delicacy, and was munching on it thoughtfully.

Once they were done, they walked, and walked, and walked some more, and just as the day turned towards the evening, they reached a clearing where the cabin stood.

The cabin was spartan but functional. It was certainly no more than ten by ten feet, with log walls and a thatched roof. The door had a token latch on the inside, but both windows were just square holes in the walls, letting in both fresh air and drafts. Inside, there was a shelf and two logs that could, if one squinted, pass for a table and chairs. About half of the remaining area was covered with a layer of straw that was evidently intended for sleeping on.

And that was it.

Arthur guessed they had about an hour until dark. He debated going out to scout the surroundings but, in the end, decided against it. He did a token lap around the cabin and found lumpy, uneven ground and a rusting shovel against the cabin's rear wall. Evidently, this area had already been thoroughly searched for treasure.

He stood for a while, taking in the landscape. The trees were majestic; the grass of the clearing tall; the sky was faintly coloring pink as the sun got lower. The leaves were rustling, the birds were chirping, and there must have been a pond nearby, as Arthur became aware of frogs croaking in the distance.

They croaked, and they croaked, and they croaked...

"Hey," Clark called out, leaning out of a cabin's window. "Is it me, or are the frogs being unnaturally loud?"