Waves of heat rise up from the plain, taking entire clouds worth of moisture with them. It is stifling to say the least. The trail leads straight over a short but cavernous crack in the ground, spanned at the narrowest pinch by a bridge of stone. The height is daunting, but the trip to the other side is a brief one.
The thorp begins almost immediately on the other side of the chasm, a prominent selling-house advertising "ravine tours" on a sign that swings from the porch. This house, though old, is well lit and clean. The rest of the thorp, however, is positively ancient by comparison. As you emerge into the center of the place you see a crude stone bench—dew-dappled and moss-covered—surrounded by a circular garden with flowers of cobalt blue.
By necessity, each of the few dwellings that circle the bench is also tasked for selling the goods and services of those who live there. The trail continues on the other side of the bench, between "Frida's Belladonnas" and "Benchford General Goods", and out into the wide world once again. From that direction also comes the bleating of sheep, followed quickly by the sheep themselves, led by one shepherd and trailed by another.
As you march along the trail, fallen pine cones crunching beneath your feet, the tall trees towering above you, the sound of trickling water meets your ears; your first sign that Kaawa is near. Soon after, you come upon the characteristic piles of stone that flank the trail, the cairns standing both as gate and sentinel for what lies beyond. The trail continues past the cairn, but you take the less-traveled path through the underbrush. The air turns crisp, and clear, and you know that out into the wood just a little more is the spring that supplies the inhabitants of the thorp.
Only just before you emerge from the green does the burbling of the spring give way to another sound. No, many sounds: many people laughing at the same time, the trill of a tinflute, a boastful voice, and then a melodic response. As you pass between the small, sturdy houses from behind, you smell the sweet, nutty wafts of a food vendor selling honeyed pine nuts. You enter the clearing proper and see a simple stage that has been built out of cloven trunks where an acrobat deftly flips several times before feigning a botched landing. The small gathering of local folk laugh in concert again. Your heart lifts: you've reached Kaawa by the Way.
