Once outside the thick, high walls of Qorlander Bay, the three companions search for a spot for the druids to meditate quietly while the archer stands guard.  The area is in many ways reminiscent of Midrath Koar, but in an older brother sort of way.  The trees are ancient, gnarled things rising up ten stories high.  Their leafy canopies completely obscuring the sky.  Xamador is less of a jungle and more of an old-growth forest.  The air is cool and slightly damp, refreshing to the lungs.  The smell of loam and flowers and spicy evergreen wood permeates everything and a taste of danger, sleeping and undisturbed for the moment, tantalizes the tips of their tongues.

It is peaceful, contrary to the warnings of imminent, powerful danger given by the guards as the three of you departed.  The sounds of the city, already dampened by the thick wall, fade rapidly as you disappear among the trees.  At last there is a suitable spot to rest.  A clearing with several fallen (felled?) trees and their trunks allow places to sit if one is so inclined.  The dirt and dead leaves are soft enough to sit on as well, but there is no grass sprung up, even after the length of time these tress must have been lying like this.

There are berries on several bushes, a reddish orange type that grows in individual round berries as clusters.  Other fruits, none familiar, and nuts grow in the trees around the clearing as well.  If edible, they might provide a decent afternoon snack.