Standing in the middle of the plains is a gnarled old tree. It is below a slight rise in the open moor, giving it a little bit of shade from the sun. The tree is an oak, but so twisted that it is barely recognizable. Around it is a ring of sand, soft and harmless. Warriors bring their apprentices here to train, and it is also a good place to hunt for small animals that have taken shelter behind the tree. The tree has been here for as long as the Clans came remember. Not even the elders say differently.
