The Crop-Watcher’s temple stands empty now in Goldendale, stout boards covering its windows and doors. The streets are quiet, but for the cawing of crows and occasional cautious footsteps. The fields are parched and brown, save for a furrow here and there that grows lush and green. Few people are left, and those that survive do so only because the Straw God allows it. Goldendale's fields are hungry for fresh blood.
A single crow perches on the house’s roof; at the sight of the characters, it flies away, cawing loudly.
8. Fields
The fields around Goldendale are a bizarre mixture of dry, barren crops and healthy, growing wheat. Most farmers’ fields are totally barren, while a handful of fields have one or perhaps two green furrows.