Surrounded on all sides by the Orphic Forest is the Champ des Fleurs--the field of flowers. True to its name, one cannot walk on the ground without almost stepping on some small ground-flower. Flower bushes and stalks of all kinds and colors grow, so the specifics of the area change greatly with the seasons. Along the edges are crape myrtles: thin, gnarled trees with explosions of glossy leaves. Come summer and fall, the leaves turn crimson and each tree becomes covered in a froth of small, clustered blossoms in shades ranging from red to white to lavender. And then the blossoms fall away, and come winter, the field is empty and dry.

A wide sinkhole located at the heart of the cypress swamp, for most of the year it is invisible, only felt as a steep drop off in the muddy bottom, and noticed only as a more open spot between the trees. In the dryer months, though, when the water sinks, the pool empties, leaving a limestone crevasse deeper than a tree is tall. Visible amongst the mosses and pitting is a narrow ledge spiralling down to the bottom. Some think a cave entrance lies at its end; others speculate the depths unfathomable. Regardless, it is dangerous as it is intriguing.

A break occurs in the Orphic Forest, right before it becomes the swamp. It is a beautiful meadow, all basking in the shade of live oaks, each one thousands of years old. Their trunks are monolithic, reaching with tireless patience for the heavens. Their branches stretch as crooked arms, rising and falling, reaching above the tallest heads or being low enough to use as jumping hurdles. There is grey, stringy spanish moss hanging from most of the branches. The ground is carpeted in fine grass, small flowers (white violets are the most apparent), and the small leaves of the old oak trees.

The river of forgetfulness, a sprawling watercourse a mile wide at some points, with hidden eddies and swift-moving currents beneath its otherwise peaceful surface. The waters are dark, clear, and sweet, unusual for a flat-bottomed river. The banks vary with its course; in some places overhung by forest, in others choked with reeds. Crossing is made easier by the prescence of sandbars and shoals, and by numerous oxbows.

The docks were constructed several centuries ago by human hands, and abandoned at the same time period as the town. They are in equally perserved condition, for all that the former is of wooden construction. The cyprus planks and pylings have proved surprisingly rot-resistant, although they are blackened with age, and bedecked with moss and lichens. It is several miles upstream from the delta, and thus the water still runs clear and sweet.

Someone lived in the Ruins once, someone once chose to come and go there. They built a road, circling around the town before heading in two directions: one heading north through the Orphic Forest, and one winding south through the wetlands, heading to the sea. The road segment that goes through the Cyprus Swamp and Turtle Marsh is raised high above the floods, while the forest road is level with the ground. All along its length is wide enough for many unicorns to cross, shoulder-to-shoulder, and has worn bumping throughout.