While the rest are making their way up in the dark, Sena is looking for tracks. "Hmm... looks like... nearly a dozen people passed up this way, a couple of weeks ago. It doesn't look like they've left, either," she said. "I suspect resistance."<br/><br/>Atop Whiterose Hill, at the end of the overgrown track, lies a weed-choked cobblestone plaza. To one side stands a vine-draped bell tower. Facing the plaza, the weathered doors of the abandoned abbey hang askew.<br/><br/>Amvaraen comments that she might be able to sense their presence, if she were in her natural form... though that would, almost certainly, alert anyone inside. As it was, they were remaining moderately stealthy. Just as she finishes saying that, though, she perks up, and silently hushes everyone, straining her ears. "The creak of a bowstring," she said, in a hushed tone, gesturing towards the abbey itself.