The road becomes less defined, the land wilder as civilization recedes. There are few travellers and only the occasional band of giants. All are avoided with ease.
A few days later the shimmering waters of Lake Corax beckon. The traveller quiety nods to himself, allowing himself a bit of relief. There is a perception of peacefulness, almost an aura here. To those attuned, it is obvious that there are steward(s) of nature that watch over this place and no doubt reside close by.
A simple camp is made in a copse of trees on a quiet alcove of the lake.
The following morning a hawk is noted circling overhead. The traveller beckons to the bird which gracefully decends and lands on the bough of a nearby tree. If any witness were about, they would be certain that the hawk and the traveller were having a deep and engrossing conversation.
About an hour later the hawk rises from the tree and quickly ascends to the height it is most comfortable with.
Much has now been learned, the path more clear.
But first, a day to rest and meditate.