( while the woods are indeed lonely, dark and deep, it's clear that you're not the first brave soul to venture forth. campsites are scattered along your path, many of them abandoned; however, over the course of your journey, you might stumble upon one that is not.

a fire blazes merrily in its centre, a rudimentary spit assembled over the flames. closer inspection reveals an impressive shank of meat roasting slowly, its edges just beginning to crisp.

its scent is rather inviting. )

I hope you don't mind your meat unseasoned. ( the voice belongs to a man — who, you can assume, is responsible for the current set-up. every now and again, he'll reach over to turn the spit to keep the meat from burning. ) Sadly the previous inhabits didn't think to bring along any spices.