The campfire was just a campfire, digging through it and spreading the few cold ashes about confirmed it as so, maybe a few small animal bones tossed in after whoever ate the meat from them.<br/><br/>Moving to the north side, Medea set to work. The hours crawled by as Medea poked and prodded at the sandy hillside. This was the part of adventuring that nobody spoke about, the labor and footwork required to find those lost troves of wealth and knowledge. The stories always had a gate or cave mouth and the heroes just kicked down the door and vanquished whatever was beyond. There were moments where her stick pushed easily through the sand, and she set about digging, but it only amounted to an air pocket.<br/><br/>It wasn't until the sun was at its highest point today did she find the barrow's entrance. It was easy enough to move the sand out of the way, but that above it wanted to settle down and fill in what she dug out. For every ten weight of sand she dug out, another tenweight practically slid into place. Still, she made progress and towards the afternoon, hot and sweaty from her labor, she felt confident that the area she dug out wouldn't simply collapse back into place and erasing what she accomplished.<br/><br/>There were no ostentatious decorations at the entrance, it was a simple arch and a simple corridor made of plain stone, roughly worked and mortared. It was about ten feet high, giving Medea plenty of head room. There was ample room in the tunnel, being about twenty paces wide and stretch about sixty paces inward where the remaining sunlight managed to dimly light the end of the tunnel outlining two doors there.