The brambly forest opens out onto a glorious white beach. A grey, weather worn wooden sign labels this stretch of shore 'Many Fish Bay' in what you assume to be three languages, though only one recognisable to you, the other two, one like bird foot prints and the other a fluent script of symbols, you asume both are of the Tir. The sand is a shimmery mixture of snow white sand and irridescent shells. Overhead seagulls and fishing osprey wheel and shriek catching fish from the brine. The azure waves lap into the shore, white foamed and soft rustling. The seaspray tickles your nose as you walk along the soft sand, the surf hits the obsidian rocks, those jagged black teeth that gnawl the far end of the beach and continue out to join the reef. Far out to sea there appears to be a reef, it's not too far out but it's no stroll either. You can either swim out or struggle back to the forest through the dense undergrowth