Your senses swiftly return to you and you stand, your outsider heritage allowing your eyes to pierce the gloom. You are however less than impressed with the items you have been granted, pulling at the cloth around your neck with annoyance. Not made to withstand such force the fabric frays then snaps, falling down away from your neck and exposing your breasts and belly, stopping only at your waist. Deciding it is worth it – barely- to keep the baby rattle you proceed down the only way you are given.<br/><br/>The air is still and quiet as the walk down the corridor, hugging the shadows, of which there are many. Faintly you can hear what sounds like the babbling of a small stream, but it is far away. Presently you reach a fork in this labyrinth of thorns, each at a 45 degree angle. The left passageway leads to a dead-end 50ft away, but before that a mass of thorns rears up, its shape vaguely humanoid. The right side passage also has an item of potential interest, as 30ft away a sack, about the size of your head, dangles from the arched ceiling. Beyond this the passageway continues for another 5 paces, before turning sharply to the left.