Here is a wide open space carved in the rock, roughly circular and no more than twenty yards in diameter. The cliffs loom high on every side, providing shelter from wind and weather, but a great opening very far up lets in sunlight and sky. A thin jet of water, perhaps a daughter-stream of the river that pours into Caldron Pool, cascades down the western cliff face and feeds into a deep pool the color and clarity of a well-cut emerald. The ground, except for a ring of vegetation surrounding the pool, is dry and sandy. A single ancient larch tree grows tall near the north wall.
All around, the cliff face is etched and pocked with half-open tunnels and dark holes, entrances to small caves hollowed out years ago by the long work of water on stone. Some are fitted with wooden doors and appear inhabited, but many still yawn empty. Up above, ledges and crevices in the rock provide nesting spaces for eagles and hawks. In the east wall, through a wide crevice like a wound in the stone, the forests of Lantern Waste are just visible.
Lanisen sits just outside one of the larger caves, one that looks quite lived-in by now, tending a little cookfire.
Pheeobe comes running in from the East as fast as she can and catapults into the water, making a huge splash deep into the water where she doesn’t come up from right away.
Lanisen glances up and raises his eyebrows, watching worriedly. He gets to his feet, just in case.
Pheeobe pops up after a few beats and dog-paddles to the edge of the water before collapsing.